King of Ithaca (41 page)

Tyndareus sighed, resigned to Odysseus’s inexplicable sense of honour. ‘I may hold sway over my brother in many things, Odysseus, but he’s very sensitive about his daughter.’

‘I’ve seen that already, though I’m also told he has little love for her. Perhaps he’ll be glad of a chance to see her married off.’

‘No king has much use for female offspring; they’re more trouble than they’re worth, as I will gladly swear by any god you care to name. But he relies on Penelope far more than he knows, and might think twice when someone asks to marry her. Especially if that person is
you
, Odysseus. He never liked you.’

‘And today hasn’t improved his opinion,’ Odysseus said, thinking aloud. ‘But nevertheless, you’ll persuade him for me?’

‘I honour my debts,’ the king reassured him. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

Chapter Twenty-three

T
HE
F
OOT
R
ACE

The palace gates yawned wide to allow Icarius’s speeding chariot into the courtyard. Its wheels spewed up plumes of dust as they traced great arcs across the enclosure, following the circuit of the walls twice round before the king leaned back on the leather reins and brought the vehicle to a sliding halt. The four horses stood hock-high in a brown mist from the dirt they had ploughed up, stamping and snorting impatiently as their master spoke calming words from the chariot behind them.

Half a dozen attendants rushed out of the stables as Icarius stepped down. Beating the dust from his cloak, he watched three of the men unharness the team of horses and take them away to be fed on corn and white barley. The others dragged the chariot over to the stable and tilted it against the wall with its pole pointing up at the sky, before covering the body of the vehicle with a large tarpaulin.

Grudgingly satisfied with their efforts, Icarius turned on his heel and crossed the courtyard towards the main entrance of the palace. His work had given him an appetite and he was just beginning to look forward to a good meal when Tyndareus appeared, blocking the doorway with his well-fed bulk.

‘Welcome back, brother. Did you find anything?’

‘No. The overnight rain has washed away all hoof-prints, so I assume he has escaped through the mountain passes by now. Though I get a feeling that’s not the last I’ll see of him. But right now I have a voracious appetite to satisfy. Do you want to join me?’

Tyndareus stepped aside to let his brother pass. ‘I’m ahead of you,’ he said. ‘There’s food waiting for us in the hall. You see, I’ve a little request to make of you.’

Icarius did not wait to ask, but made his way at once to the great hall where two slaves were waiting to serve him. Tyndareus sat and watched him satisfy his hunger, wondering how his brother would react to the notion of Odysseus as a son-in-law, or how best to cajole him into accepting.

‘I’ve some news for you. Good news, I think you’ll agree.’

‘Oh yes?’ Icarius mumbled through a mouthful of pork. ‘The best news would be that you’ve finally chosen a husband for Helen and the palace will soon be free of suitors. They’re starting to show signs of restlessness, you know.’

‘Not yet. But it’s good news, nonetheless, and involves your daughter.’

Icarius carried on eating as if nothing had been said, but Tyndareus refused to play his brother’s games. He knew he had caught his interest, whether Icarius acknowledged it or not, so he determined to keep his silence until he received a reply. Eventually, after another mouthful of food, Icarius spoke.

‘Which one?’

‘Penelope, of course. Odysseus feels ashamed that one of his men was responsible for the offence against her. He wants to restore her honour by marrying her.’

Suddenly whatever Icarius was swallowing lodged in his throat and brought on a fit of choking. One of the attendant slaves stepped up and irreverently thumped him between the shoulder blades, sending a half-chewed blob of meat flying from the king’s mouth into the fire, where it fizzed into destruction. ‘
That
pauper,’ he rasped, still struggling for breath. ‘I’d rather see Penelope die than marry a trumped-up commoner.’

Concealing the pleasure he took from his brother’s discomfort, Tyndareus offered him a cup of wine. ‘You should be more generous in your opinions. Odysseus may not be a powerful man, but he has a fine mind and a strong character. He’d make a good son and, besides, I have an inkling Penelope likes him.’

‘Do you indeed? And where does her opinion come into this matter? She’ll marry who I tell her to, and I have no intention of giving any daughter of mine to an upstart prince without a kingdom to his name. Why should Helen have the greatest suitors in Greece flocking to her, when Penelope has to make do with beggars and peasants?’

‘Because she’s
my
daughter, of course!’ Tyndareus snapped. ‘I’m the eldest of us, Icarius, and whoever marries Helen will inherit the throne of Sparta. They won’t get that from taking Penelope to wife, will they? That and the fact that Helen is the most beautiful woman in Greece, if not the world.’

Icarius shrank into his chair, withdrawing under Tyndareus’s vocalization of his own superiority. But his proud spitefulness forced him to bite back.

‘She certainly has the looks of a god,’ he retorted.

Tyndareus stood, his eyes blazing at the accusation. ‘Watch your wayward tongue, brother,’ he warned. ‘Now let’s say I’m
telling
you Odysseus would be a good choice for Penelope. Don’t you always say the girl gets under your feet? More than once you’ve said how you’d love to be rid of her. Well, now is your opportunity.’

‘Damn you, Tyndareus,’ Icarius squirmed. ‘Maybe I would allow it, if you insisted, but the truth is I can’t.’

‘Can’t?’

‘No. Someone has already asked to marry her. One of your guests.’

‘That’s ridiculous. They came here for Helen, not Penelope.’

‘Not this one, I think. He came here with Ajax.’

‘Zeus’s beard, Icarius. You don’t mean Little Ajax, do you?’

‘Yes, I do,’ Icarius confirmed with a nervous nod. ‘He asked me after the assembly this morning. He’s besotted with her, in a way I’ve never noticed anyone to be interested in Penelope before.’

‘Perhaps you should pay more attention to what goes on around your daughter, then. But I wish it had been anyone other than that Locrian hothead. There’ll be trouble if he gets refused for Odysseus’s sake. They hardly see eye to eye as it is.’

‘That’s good,’ Icarius said. ‘For all of Little Ajax’s anger, I’d much rather have Penelope married to a real prince than a scheming mendicant like Odysseus.’

Tyndareus was in a dilemma. He wanted to honour his promise to Odysseus, who had helped ensure there would be no disagreement when Helen’s husband was chosen. Equally he did not want Little Ajax’s temper to threaten the hard-won peace that still existed within the palace walls. Especially not over a minor princess such as Penelope. Then an idea came to him.

‘Perhaps you’ll let them decide the matter between themselves.’

‘There’s nothing to decide, is there?’ Icarius replied. ‘I intend to allow Little Ajax to marry Penelope. Odysseus can go to Hades for all I care.’

‘I don’t think you should make any rash judgements, brother, especially as I’ve given Odysseus my word that I’ll get a reasonable answer from you. Why don’t we let them compete for her? A javelin-throwing contest, perhaps. Better still – a boxing match. A woman loves nothing more than to see two men spill each other’s blood for her sake.’

Icarius knew better than to cross his older brother once he had made up his mind about something, but long years of being the inferior sibling had taught him how to manoeuvre around Tyndareus.

‘I can see you’re determined about this. Well, as Penelope’s my daughter, perhaps you’ll condescend to allow me to choose the nature of the competition?’

Tyndareus had already decided to offer Little Ajax a substantial bribe to under-perform in whatever sport was chosen, so happily nodded his agreement. As an ally he believed Odysseus would prove to be worth the expense.

‘Then I suggest a foot race,’ Icarius said, hardly able to suppress a smile. ‘Three days from today. I’ll agree to give Penelope to whoever wins.’

Odysseus groaned. ‘A foot race?’

‘Are you concerned?’ Tyndareus asked. They walked alone through the corridors of the palace on their way to the night’s feast. ‘I’ve watched you during the morning exercises and you look fit and strong. What are you afraid of?’

‘Little Ajax is the fastest runner in all of Greece, my lord. He may not look quick, but I’ve heard he can outrun any man alive and could even match Olympian Hermes in his winged sandals. Icarius has fooled you, I think.’

Tyndareus scoffed at the notion. ‘Maybe. But perhaps I’m not as stupid as my brother thinks: I’ve offered your rival a bribe to run slower than you – without making it look too obvious of course – and he has accepted. So much for love, eh?’

Odysseus was not convinced, though he did not say as much to the king. They reached the tall wooden doors of the great hall and walked up to the dais, where the other kings and princes awaited them. Little Ajax was there and nodded to them both in a surprisingly civil manner, which naturally made Odysseus suspicious. They took their usual seats and began the business of eating the food the servants brought to them and dousing their beards with the wine they poured into their cups. But after a while Odysseus rose from his seat and asked to be excused. To the surprise of the other high nobility he walked over to his own men, who were in their usual corner of the great hall next to the men of Rhodes.

As he looked about at their familiar, comforting faces and shared their jokes and laughter, his thoughts were firmly fixed upon the race. Though Odysseus was also a fast runner, he knew that if he was to rely upon his legs alone he would never win Penelope for his wife. Tyndareus’s bribe might prove enough to persuade the Locrian to lose, but Odysseus remained unpersuaded. Little Ajax hated to lose in anything to anybody; he competed not so much for the glory as for the delight of seeing others defeated. Odysseus knew he could not afford to take even the slightest risk.

‘Where are Halitherses and Damastor?’ he asked, suddenly noticing their absence.

‘Damastor has skulked off with that slave girl again,’ Antiphus answered.

‘And Halitherses?’

‘Ill. He ate some bad food and now he’s too sick to do anything but lie on his mattress and hold his stomach.’

Odysseus’s eyes gleamed and he sat up straight. ‘Antiphus, you’re an inspiration,’ he said. ‘Now give me some of that wine and let’s drink to the old man’s recovery. And our homes.’

They lifted their cups and murmured their approval – especially, Odysseus was pleased to note, at the notion of Ithaca. He drank and the troubles of the day became suddenly more bearable, thanks to the idea that had struck him. Then he saw Penelope enter the great hall, tall and elegant like a flower set amongst dull weeds. The heads of the guests and slaves observed her in silence, broken only by the occasional whisper that followed in her wake. He saw her glance at the royal dais and noticed with pleasure the disappointment on her face: he knew she had come in the hope of seeing him, and that her heart sank to observe him missing from his usual place.

He could not bear to be apart from her now that she was here. Before, when she had visited the nightly feasts, she had forced him to keep his distance. Believing that she hated him, he had reluctantly left her to her arrogant isolation. Now, though, he found the temptation of being with her irresistible. The thought that she would greet him with a similar strength of longing was a pleasure he could not wait to taste. He rose from his seat and she turned instinctively towards him. There was a fire in her eyes that burned only for him, oblivious to the watching crowd who knew of her shame. Her nostrils fanned open briefly as she saw him, and then without even the glimmer of an acknowledgement she turned and left the hall.

Odysseus snatched a glance at the royal dais. Icarius sat next to the empty chair that Little Ajax had occupied only moments before, watching his daughter as she retreated from the great hall. But Odysseus had no concern for the king or any of the other nobles who looked at Penelope with accusing eyes. That they suspected her of inviting men to her room, as palace rumour now suggested, did not concern him; that Little Ajax must be moving through the crowd in pursuit of her did.

He slipped out of the great hall, unnoticed by the throng of people who were already discussing the departed princess. Outside in the moonlit inner courtyard priests were sacrificing oxen to the ever-watchful gods. They burned thighbones wrapped in glistening fat, the twisting smoke from the fires mingling with their verbose and wailing prayers, while their attendants cut up the animals’ flesh to supply the feast.

Odysseus saw his rival amongst them and ducked quickly out of sight behind one of the pillars that supported the roof of the gallery that circumvented the inner courtyard. From here he watched the attendants shake their heads and shrug their shoulders in response to Little Ajax’s urgent enquiries about Penelope. Then Odysseus heard his name whispered behind him and turned to see the princess, hiding behind another of the pillars. She beckoned to him as she disappeared through a side-door back into the palace.