The Oracles of Troy (The Adventures of Odysseus)

‘Are you threatening me, Eupeithes?’ Penelope asked. ‘If you want proper leadership, why don’t you introduce a law that simply allows the Kerosia to elect a new king? If you’re so determined to seize power, why do you need me anyway?’

‘The Kerosia doesn’t have that power and Eupeithes knows it,’ said Mentor. ‘He needs you for legitimacy, my lady. The people won’t support an elected king, only one with a lawful connection to the royal line – one chosen by you. And after what happened the last time he tried to take the throne by force, he wouldn’t dare seize power again without the support of the people.’

‘He wants to put his own son on the throne,’ Laertes said, looking at Penelope. ‘It’s obvious he’ll insist you marry Antinous. Don’t let him, Daughter.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Eupeithes defended himself. ‘Penelope will choose her own husband. I will not stand accused of forcing my own son onto the throne. Any Ithacan would be able to plead for Penelope’s hand.’

‘And if I refused?’ she asked, tartly. ‘If I decided never to remarry, regardless of whether my husband is assumed to have perished or not?’

‘Then I cannot be answerable for the consequences. If that meant civil war and the shedding of innocent blood, then you would only have yourself to blame.’

Penelope sat down and stared at Eupeithes, but his face was so full of false concern that she could not bear to look at him any longer and turned her eyes to the open doors of the great hall, through which she could see the bright sunlight filling the courtyard. She thought of Odysseus, far away in Troy. She wondered what he would think of the way she had allowed the Kerosia to slip from her control, and of her decision to send Telemachus into virtual exile in Sparta. One thing she could be sure of, though, was that he would expect her not to give up. Things were darker now than they had been in all the years since her husband’s departure, but she still had the upper hand. The people of Ithaca supported Odysseus, and sooner or later the king would return. Until then, it was her duty to buy time and delay Eupeithes’s sudden push for power. And at all costs, she had to avoid forcing the old traitor into resorting to arms. If he knew the consequences of usurping power, there were plenty around him who did not. They would demand a show of strength if Eupeithes could not promise them a clear route to the throne. And she was the only one who could offer him that.

‘You leave me no choice, Eupeithes. I agree to your proposal.’

A wide smile spread across the merchant’s face, while behind him Antinous, Polyctor and Oenops congratulated each other openly with handshakes and pats on the back. Mentor kept his silence out of respect for the queen, though his frown spoke of his disapproval. Laertes simply shook his head.

‘This is folly, Daughter. I’m not so old and bitter that I don’t know what you’re thinking. I was king myself not so long ago, and I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to have the threat of civil war hanging over my people. But to just give in to these pretenders? There are better ways to prevent bloodshed.’

‘But you didn’t find them when you were king, did you Father. And as long as I am queen, I will not sit by and watch Ithaca fall back into division and war.’

‘Then I hope you know what you’re doing, Penelope,’ he said

‘I hope so too.’

‘More wine,’ Eupeithes commanded the servants waiting in the shadows beyond the circle of chairs. ‘We must seal your agreement with an oath before it is announced to the people.’

The members of the Kerosia raised their cups to be refilled. As one of the maids poured wine into Antinous’s krater, Penelope saw their eyes meet and the flicker of a smile cross the young girl’s lips. Melantho was only recently married – to Arceisius, Eperitus’s squire, before his return to Troy – and yet the queen knew in an instant she was sleeping with Eupeithes’s son. The thought made her sad for Arceisius, and even angrier with the war that had brought so evil a legacy upon Greece.

After her own cup had been refilled, she watched Eupeithes pour a libation into the flames and lift his krater into the air. Oenops, Polyctor and Antinous did the same and were reluctantly followed by Mentor and Laertes. Penelope remained in her chair, holding her krater firmly in her lap.

‘If I’m to agree to marry another man,’ she said, ‘it can only be on one condition.’

‘It’s too late for that now,’ Eupeithes said.

‘Not until this wine touches my lips.’

‘Then what is it?’ he snapped. ‘What condition must I agree to to obtain your promise?’

‘You suggest we should presume Odysseus is dead after two years. That’s too vague. I say we consult the oracle at Mount Parnassus, to ask the Pythoness when my husband will return. If he has not returned by the predicted date, then I will willingly remarry.’

‘And if the oracle says he will never return?’

‘Then I will choose a new husband within the year.’

Antinous stood up angrily.

‘I protest. She’s trying to delay –’