THE NEXT EVENING, after sunset, everything was ready in the palace. The priests dragged the big bull to the middle of the courtyard, while the young heroes entered one after another garbed in their most stunning attire, with their armour shining brightly. I joined them, wearing my finest as well and carrying the weapons my father had given me for the day of the contest. We all held our helmets under our arms so our faces would be recognizable.
The king and the queen came through the main gate, followed by dignitaries and warriors. They accompanied their daughter, who wore a veil that descended all the way to her feet. The king’s brother Icarius followed with his wife. Last came Princess Clytaemnestra with her husband Agamemnon, the elder son of Atreus, king of Mycenae.
Struck by the axe, the bull collapsed all at once, flooding the pavement with its blood. It was flayed immediately and its hooves, innards and head were set upon the altar and burned in sacrifice to the gods. The flesh was cut into pieces and carried away for the great banquet that would follow. The hide was stretched out on the ground, with the flayed, bleeding side upward. Then the nurse unveiled Helen. The light blue drape that had covered her fell to the ground and all of those present gasped. She was more a goddess than a mortal woman, a beauty pure and perfect as a golden rose, fiery as a lightning bolt, diaphanous as the moon.
One by one, treading the bull’s hide barefooted, we swore the same oath. Achilles was first:
‘I, Achilles, son of Peleus, lord of Phthia of the Myrmidons
Have come bearing wedding gifts for Helen of Sparta
And I hereby swear that, even if she should choose another of the princes gathered here,
I will defend her honour and her person as if she were my own bride.’
Once each prince had vowed to defend Helen, he signalled for his shield-bearer to lay his wedding gifts at her feet, and then joined the others who had already made their oaths, lined up in the middle of the courtyard. To my right was Menelaus, to my left Diomedes. A heap of treasure had accumulated at Helen’s feet, but only the gifts of the man she married would be kept. The others would be returned. When each of us had finished making that solemn oath, Helen was called upon to make her choice and in the chest of every prince, including my own, hearts beat furiously, as if it were time to enter a terrible battle – that fierce fray that can give victory or death.
Helen moved and she seemed more fearsome than a panther as she descended the steps, one by one. She walked towards the first of the young heroes at the beginning of the line, Achilles, who blazed with his own light. There, everyone thought, she would stop, but she only paused for an instant with the merest hint of a smile. Achilles bit his lower lip. She passed by Philoctetes, the infallible archer, Eumelus, son of a mother who had returned alive from the threshold of Hades, Protesilaus, lord of the untameable Thracians, Antilochus, the most valiant of the sons of Nestor, Menestheus of Athens, Ajax Oileus with his impassable gaze, even Diomedes, the proudest and brightest after Achilles.
She had reached me, the prince of a small rocky island, pasture of goats; my gift had been modest compared to the other treasures. She would pass me by now as well . . .
She stopped.
She drew closer, seeking out my gaze, looking for an answer. I saw her as a girl, talking to me in the pen of those spirited steeds. I knew. I looked straight at her and shook my head so slightly that only she could see me. Ardent tears sprang to her eyes as soon as she understood. She abruptly took an almost imperceptible step to her right and chose the first man she saw: Menelaus, skin of bronze, hair red as copper.
A shout arose from the crowd: of jubilation, of incredulity, of delirium. The tremendous contest had taken place and nothing terrible had come of it.
Helen had a husband, a prince without a kingdom.
In no time the palace was buzzing with preparations for the great wedding feast. That very night Menelaus Atreides would possess the most beautiful woman in the world in his bedchamber. No one was paying any attention to me and I darted off, skirting the courtyard and racing down the corridor to the little garden at the back. I didn’t have to wait long: Penelope ran towards me with her beautiful face full of joy and of tears. She embraced me tightly as if her white arms could never let go of me.
‘Take me away with you,’ she said, ‘now, Odysseus. You are the man I want and I will want for my whole life.’
‘Run,’ I shouted, ‘run as fast as you can, follow me!’ By the time we got to the stables we were panting. I yoked the horses to my chariot, helped her on, and whipped Nestor’s magnificent chargers with the reins. They flew off down the road.
But we instantly heard a shout louder than the sound of their galloping: ‘Stop! Stop, daughter!’ as Icarius, her father, threw himself into our path. Perhaps he’d understood, perhaps a god hostile to me had warned him. Now he barred my way. I had to pull on the reins and halt the chariot to stop from running over the king’s brother.
‘Get out,’ he said to Penelope. ‘This is not the husband your mother and I have chosen for you. We want a mighty king, lord of a vast and fertile land, with numerous ranks of warriors at his orders. The son of Laertes will only rule over small islands in the western sea, rocky and sterile, living off plunder, like his father and his father’s father before him. To survive he will have to give rise to much hatred, as his very name suggests. Come back with me, daughter of mine, while you are still in time. I beg of you!’
I was humiliated by his insults and I would have challenged him with my sword in hand but he was the father of the woman I loved and I repressed the ire in my heart. I also felt sorry for him. He was weeping because he was losing the daughter he adored. But Penelope was adamant. She pulled the veil she wore at her shoulders over her head and face, like a woman already betrothed through a solemn promise of marriage, whose wedding day was approaching. I took my whip to the horses, trying to drive them off the road and leave Icarius behind me, but with an unexpected burst of energy he grabbed a handle and tried to leap onto the chariot. He was dragged over the grassy field for a while but could not sustain his grip and soon had to let go. We heard his desperate cries continuing on and on, as he called and called for his daughter.
15
I STOPPED THE HORSES in the shelter of a crumbling wall, because I understood that going any further would have been dangerous. Clouds had covered the moon and I had Penelope with me. Besides that, I felt sick at leaving Sparta the way I had, like a thief. I had perhaps stopped Helen’s suitors from facing off in a series of bloody duels, but now I was running off with a princess of royal blood, against the will of her father, and leaving the men of my escort in an impossible situation. Nestor himself, he who had helped me so generously, could suffer damage because of my behaviour. My mission, which had begun with the best of auspices, had ended up quite badly. And yet at that moment all that mattered to me was that I was alone with the girl I loved, the girl I had lost my heart to the moment I heard her voice.
Both she and I were eager to savour our love without waiting another moment, carried away by the ardour of our youth and by our emotions. I breathed in her scent, the fragrance of her dusky skin made more precious by Arabian perfumes. I sought her eyes in the darkness and she mine. The kisses we’d dreamed of could not sate our passion and our desire; on the contrary, they set us on fire, like when the wind blows on the flames devouring the forest, but I held in check the heart that coveted her so fervently, and holding her close, I said: ‘Penelope, there is no creature in this world that I could desire more than you, because it is not only your beauty that I love; I love everything that makes you the way you are: gentle and sweet, proud and luminous. The gods have surely made you for me because I will never ever desire another, now that I have met you. I would never take another woman as my bride.’
‘I know,’ she replied, caressing my face. ‘You turned down Helen. No one noticed but me. No one else in the world would have been capable of doing that. That is why I veiled my head and my face for you, so you wo
uld understand that I wanted you and no one else, not now and not ever.’
‘That’s why we can’t flee. We have to turn back. I’ll speak to King Tyndareus and ask him to speak to his brother so that he will not curse me and will consent to you becoming my bride. He’ll listen to me. That’s why I won’t take the pleasure of love from you in this dark, squalid place. I want to take you to a place you will cherish, sweetly fragranced like the nest of a dove in the springtime. A place worthy of you and of me, my joy and my love. Come now, let us go back.’
I held out my hand and helped her back into the chariot. I turned in the direction of Sparta and urged the horses onward at a steady pace. The white road appeared before us as we proceeded slowly and the clouds let through a dim but diffuse glow. We made our way up the slope of a hill but when we got to the top we saw a scene that made us catch our breath: thirty war chariots were coming towards us in a fan formation. Tens of lit torches were fixed to the points of the warriors’ spears to light the ground as they advanced. I stopped and they stopped as well. For a few moments there was a silence as heavy as the sky hanging over us. All we could hear was the crackling of the torches and the snorting of the horses. Then one of the chariots, the one at the centre with the royal insignia on its standard, came forward until it was in front of us.
The king of Sparta spoke: ‘Where are you going at this late hour, prince of Ithaca, after deserting my daughter’s wedding? And who is this girl so shameless as to flee with you in secret, at night?’
I took Penelope by the hand. We got out of the chariot and approached the king’s carriage.
‘We are not fleeing, wanax, and the honour of your niece, Princess Penelope, has suffered no offence, even though love is a god that no mortal can resist. He overwhelmed us and impelled us to take flight, but then we realized that we could not leave your house this way and we were coming back to ask for your forgiveness. And also to ask you—’
‘What?’ asked the king.
‘To intercede with your brother Icarius, who tried to stop us fleeing, so that he might agree to his daughter becoming my bride. King Laertes my father will send a great quantity of wedding gifts, worthy of his noble house, and will welcome Penelope with every honour. He will love her as a daughter. I beg of you, wanax.’
Tyndareus seemed to listen indulgently to my words. ‘I found you as you were heading back, Odysseus, and so I believe what you’ve told me. I cannot forget that your help has been precious to me. Helen now has a husband and all of the princes of Achaia are bound by an oath. Although you have offended my house by carrying off my niece—’
‘He didn’t abduct me!’ exclaimed Penelope. ‘I went with him willingly and even if you tried to keep me from him I would escape to be with him, for he is the man of my life.’
Tyndareus didn’t answer. He turned to me instead: ‘I do not think that my brother Icarius would be willing to listen to you now and allow his daughter to become your wife. But I will arrange for the two of you to meet his wife Polycaste in secret. She’ll know how to speak to her husband. I will tell Icarius that King Laertes will pay him a personal visit to ask for a bride for his son.’
I kissed his hand and thanked him and Penelope did the same. Then we resumed our journey, escorted by the war chariots that returned, following the king, to Sparta.
We were very tired when we finally arrived late that night and I was accompanied to my room in a secluded part of the palace. Penelope, veiled, was whisked away to the queen’s quarters under the cover of darkness.
Although I was bone weary I could not sleep. Penelope and I had been together for a very brief time, but being separated from her made me anxious and profoundly uneasy. I felt that if I lost her, my life would never be the same, and that I would mourn her for the rest of my days. I got up and went out to walk in the olive grove outside the palace near my quarters. I’m not sure how much time had passed when I noticed that the clouds had cleared and the moon shining in the sky was nearly full, casting many shadows onto the ground. One drew up next to mine and a voice rang out behind me: ‘Why wouldn’t you have me?’
In the moonlight Helen was so beautiful it hurt. Like a sword entering my flesh. Only a goddess could be the way she looked to me at that moment. The sublime curves of her body showed through the light gown she had donned for the night. Her wedding night. Her hair hung loose on her breasts and shoulders, caressing her perfect face as its golden reflections sparkled even in her eyes.
‘No man could ever resist your extraordinary beauty and your radiant gaze. I trembled before such splendour—’
‘You wounded me, prince of Ithaca, and now you won’t answer me. Why didn’t you want me?’
‘It was Penelope, your cousin, that I was thinking of, and now I’m sure that I love her. She is made for me and I for her. You would have been unhappy on my little rocky island and you would never have forgiven me. You are made of gold in my eyes and as distant as the moon, too distant for me to even think about having you. I am not great, nor powerful; none of the magnificent heroes who vied for your hand would ever have tolerated you choosing me. They would have cursed you, and me for deceiving them . . .’
‘Say nothing else,’ she replied, ‘but know that you have made me unhappy. And a woman like me, when she is unhappy, can do more damage than an entire army.’
I suddenly felt my courage failing me and my vision fogging over, and I knew that I had to leave. ‘You have married a strong, handsome young man who will make you happy. Happiness is what I wish for you. Farewell, Helen.’
I walked towards my room but her voice stopped me and she approached me again, coming so close that the scent of her made my heart tremble. ‘And yet you and I will see each other again, alone, in a beautiful place. You and I alone, like husband and wife. I dreamed it. I don’t know how or when but it will happen.’ She vanished in the moonlight, among the shadows of the olive trees.
THE NEXT MORNING I met Polycaste, Penelope’s mother, in secret, to ask her to try to sway her husband’s feelings. Penelope’s destiny was joined to mine and nothing could change that. I still nurtured hope that one day Icarius would accept our union and consider me his son. Tyndareus promised me that he too would speak to his brother and that he would send me a message when his sentiments had changed. I thanked the king again for believing me and speaking up on our behalf and defending us. Penelope and I were ready to leave with my escort for Pylos, our first stop on the way to Ithaca.
I had already asked my cousin Eurylochus to set off before me and to travel as swiftly as he could, so he could tell my parents that I would be arriving with my betrothed. Happy as I was that my father and mother would soon be meeting Penelope, I couldn’t put the memory of Helen’s night-time apparition and her bitter words out of my mind for many days and nights.
At Pylos I greeted Nestor and thanked him with all my heart, for he had always treated me as a son, and we set sail for Ithaca on one of his ships. But he, the knight of Gerene, as everyone called him, insisted on sending another ten ships as my escort, with a hundred warriors clad in gleaming bronze on board, so we would not run into any danger. Eurylochus had taken my own ship, so he could reach the island more quickly.
The sea was calm, the wind in our favour. I felt content, because I’d had to make many decisions and they were all good ones. But there must have been something about me that made Penelope realize that my mind was wandering because she often asked: ‘What are you thinking about?’ As if she could read my heart.
‘I’m thinking of us, of the life we’ll live together, of the children we’ll have, of the day in which we will be the king and queen of Ithaca and the western islands. My father will be my counsellor and his wife Anticlea will be like a second mother to you.’
‘Are you truly not sorry you rejected Helen? I’ll never forget that moment. The entire world came to a stop. Even the gods were looking down from on high to see who the chosen one would be.’
‘I didn’t reject her. I gave her a look
that made her realize we’d never be happy together. I’m very relieved about the way things went. What could have been a string of duels ending in the deaths of many of the most valiant young princes of Achaia was instead resolved without violence. Now the sons of the Argonauts are at peace amongst themselves, like their fathers were before them.’
‘Is it peace that you see, Odysseus? May the gods heed your words. Do you know who Agamemnon and Menelaus really are? Do you know who their father Atreus is? Do you know what he did to his wife, who betrayed him with his brother Thyestes, and what he did to his brother when he found out? He invited him to a banquet, feigning a desire to make peace, and when Thyestes was seated, he served him—’
‘I don’t want to hear these things!’ I shouted. ‘Even if it’s true, it’s of no interest to me. Atreus was not an Argonaut.’
WE ARRIVED on the evening of the third day of navigation at the main port and I could see instantly that Eurylochus had succeeded in arriving well before us. Thirty ships, fifteen on the right and fifteen on the left, emerged from behind the promontory and joined the others escorting us. The oars beat the foam-rimmed waves in perfect rhythm. The banners of the most powerful families of the kingdom fluttered from the yards, and shields polished to a mirror-finish hung at the sides, reflecting the last red glimmers of the sun which was sinking into the sea. Then, as soon as the ways of the water and land were darkened, hundreds of torches took flame on the prows and sides of each ship, so that it looked like vessels of fire were ploughing the waves of the gulf. The fires set even the sea ablaze! As we sailed closer and closer to land, a sweet sound was carried on the air, and a chorus of girls dressed in white and crowned with flowers appeared on the shore. They were singing the wedding song: they sang of the beauty and grace of the bride and the vigour of the husband who would lift her in his arms to carry her into his home. At their centre was the king, my father, surrounded by his guard. He was wearing the armour he’d worn in battle in Colchis: the breastplate was embossed and the shin guards gleamed. His invincible sword hung at his left side from a baldric adorned with silver and tawny copper. Covering his shoulders was the same light blue cloak he’d worn the first time I saw him descending from his ship. At his left, the queen my mother was wearing a gown I’d never seen before: yellow with wide purple stripes. A veil was fastened to her hair by a finely crafted clasp of amber and gold.
Odysseus: The Oath Page 14
