Shouts from the harbour brought me back to the present. The road swept round and the jetty ran directly in front of us. My stomach lurched at the sight of the Spartan ship again. Much closer now, I saw it was black and sleek, with a sinister looking eye painted on each side of the bow.
An excited knot of Ithacans had already gathered by the dock. The older guard fell in beside me, while the younger man ran down the steps and pushed a path through the onlookers, leading me to the front of the jetty. Then they stood at my side, their spears gripped in their right hand and their polished shields on their left, ready to welcome the Spartan king.
We watched as the sailors pulled down the sail and dismantled the mast. The pilot shouted orders to the oarsmen and as the ship drew alongside the wooden platform, the Spartan crew flung ropes to the Ithacans waiting by the mooring posts. Before the ship was secured, a tall, broad-shouldered man jumped ashore. My heart pounded as I took in his appearance. His well-made clothes and confident manner revealed his wealth and importance. His handsome face confirmed he was Menelaus. I straightened my back, took a deep breath and called out a formal greeting, of the sort I’d heard a thousand times at the palace.
“Menelaus, son of Atreus and noble King of Sparta, you are welcome to the island of Ithaca. King Odysseus cannot meet you today, but I am his sister, Neomene. The guards will escort you to the palace while I relate the events that have befallen us. Queen Penelope will then receive you as her honoured guest.”
He strode towards me, concentrating on me, taking me seriously. He held out his hands to clasp mine, treating me as a friend and equal. Trembling, I took his hands and smiled at him.
As we pulled away and started to walk from the jetty, a second man pushed in between us.
“Where’s the rogue, Odysseus?” the intruder cried.
I stepped back from him, too surprised to stop myself.
“Palamedes, be still,” Menelaus said, taking the man’s arm. “We are guests here. You forget yourself.”
“I forget nothing,” he hissed, his dark eyes still fixed on me. “We come on Agamemnon’s business and Odysseus should be here to receive us. This girl is an insult.”
“No insult was intended. I’m Neomene of Ithaca, daughter of Laertes and sister to Odysseus. I am here to accompany King Menelaus to the palace,” I said, sounding much more confident than I felt. “Forgive me if I’ve neglected you in any way. You were not expected and I don’t know who you are.”
The man snorted. “Then go and fetch someone who does.”
“Let me introduce Prince Palamedes, the elder son of King Nauplius of Euboea,” Menelaus said quickly. “He’s here to record the number of ships each kingdom can provide, as part of our joint force against Troy. Ithaca is our last call and I fear it must be fatigue from the long sea journey that’s made the prince impatient.”
I’d seen enough of palace diplomacy to know the usual approach was to praise an unhappy guest, even if that was the last thing you felt like doing. So I forced a smile. “Welcome, son of King Nauplius. It is an honour that you have sailed all this way to consult with our king.” He met my smile with the scowl of an ill-tempered child, displeased with a new toy. I tried to recall anything I’d ever heard about the miserable prince, something special I could use to flatter him. “Even here in faraway Ithaca we know of your quick mind and your clever wit. Prince Palamedes, we will escort you and King Menelaus to the palace immediately.”
I nodded to the guards and they marched towards the harbour steps. Menelaus strode after them and I thought all was well, until Palamedes folded his arms and remained on the jetty. We stared at each other, his eyes seeming to penetrate through all my lies. Flustered, I made one final attempt at persuasion. “We’ve heard of your clever inventions. Perhaps you will talk about them later, at the palace?”
Palamedes raised a black eyebrow and my heart sank. He was waiting for me to tell him what those clever inventions were. I had the sickening sensation of a hunter falling into his own deeply dug trap.
The eyebrow hovered expectantly.
“Inventions such as … a board game with counters,” I said, wishing I could think of a more impressive achievement. His eyebrows joined together in a deepening frown and I knew I’d insulted him again. Defeated, I changed the subject. “Come, let us catch up with Menelaus and the guards. They are waiting for us at the steps.”
I walked towards Menelaus as calmly as I could, cursing myself for mentioning the stupid board game and wondering what I was meant to do if Palamedes refused to follow. Odysseus hadn’t prepared me for that situation. Reaching Menelaus, I shook my head. “I’ve tried my best, but your friend is reluctant to join us. Perhaps he prefers to stay on the ship until you return?”
“Palamedes is no friend,” Menelaus sighed, and then started back to the jetty. “Continue on with your escort, Neomene. I’ll help him see reason.”
By the time we’d climbed to the top of the steps, the two men were arguing, their angry voices booming around the harbour. I glanced about. Groups of Ithacan sailors and fishermen watched the spectacle from the top of the harbour wall. This was entertainment they hadn’t expected and most looked delighted.
“Hope they don’t kill each other,” the elder guard muttered, wiping sweat from his face. “Be awkward, having two of them dead.”
“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I said, not really sure at all. I pointed to the alder trees by the side of the track. “We’ll wait in the shade. Prince Palamedes will have to come to us.”
Eventually, Menelaus appeared at the top of the steps, with Palamedes a few paces behind. The younger guard coughed a warning.
“I see them,” I whispered, watching the guests stride towards us
“We apologise for the delay, Lady Neomene. We are ready now,” Menelaus said, his voice sounding steady and calm.
No one spoke as we climbed the hill and the knot in my stomach tightened. When Odysseus and I had practised the next part of the deceit, we hadn’t imagined it in front of the likes of Palamedes, who was so clearly against my brother from the start. Still, I had no choice now, I’d have to keep to the original plan.
“Odysseus couldn’t meet you at the harbour because he is ill,” I declared, pausing by the pile of stones. “Penelope wanted you informed of this before you reached the palace, to ease the shock if you were to see him.”
“How convenient,” Palamedes said, smirking at Menelaus. “I told you he’d try something like this.”
Menelaus ignored him. “How bad?”
“It’s hard to tell. He was injured while hunting. He tripped chasing a wild boar, and cracked open his skull on a rock.” I swallowed hard, my mouth feeling dry. “He was in fever for several days and we didn’t know whether he’d live or die.”
“And after the fever?” Menelaus prompted.
I felt a frightening urge to tell him the truth. I looked away from his concerned face and concentrated on Palamedes as he paced up and down. “He never regained his senses completely. Physically he’s recovered, but he’s forgotten he’s the king, and doesn’t even recognise his wife or son. Penelope is ruling in his place, advised by Mentor, Odysseus’ former tutor, and supported by my father, the old king.”
Palamedes stopped and looked around at me. “The old king? Ha, I’ve heard about him. He gave the throne to Odysseus so he could look after his pigs. A fine king he was! His advice about pigs won’t help Penelope much.”
Now the man was insulting my father! I wanted to tell him King Laertes had ruled the island for twenty-seven years. He’d defended Ithaca from pirate raids and stored grain wisely, keeping his people fed through three bad harvests in so many years. I took a deep breath and checked myself. However much it hurt, it was a good thing Palamedes thought Father incapable as a king. I had to let it pass.
Menelaus put his hand on my shoulder. “I am sorry for it, Neomene, Your brother would have brought wisdom and cunning to the Greek side. His sickness is a great loss to us all.”
“For the sake of the gods, Menelaus! She’s Ithacan and what’s more, his sister. She’s lying. We need to see Odysseus and judge this sickness for ourselves,” Palamedes said, his eyes like daggers.
“No, I’m satisfied by what Neomene has said. It is enough. I don’t want to cause an old friend and his family more pain.”
Palamedes marched up to Menelaus. “Call yourself Agamemnon’s brother? No wonder your wife has run off with the first prince who was foolish enough to take the risk. You are weak, Menelaus. Weak and gullible! Can’t you see it’s a plot and she’s part of it? This whole cursed island is bathed in deceit.” He swung around and faced me. “And you will stop wasting my time. With the authority of King Agamemnon himself, I demand to speak to Odysseus. Now!”
“You forget one important fact,” I said. “This is Ithaca. Agamemnon has no authority here. However, if …”
“Oh clever, very clever. But not quite clever enough,” Palamedes interrupted. “You forget a more important fact. King Agamemnon has a hundred war ships full of armed men, horses and chariots. His soldiers are trained for warfare, unlike your two men here. Convenient or not, Ithaca must do what Agamemnon tells it to.”
Menelaus moved between us. “Well, Palamedes, I think you’re fortunate these men are well trained and show restraint or you’d have discovered just how skilfully they use their swords.” He smiled at the guards and their arms fell away from their weapons. “There’s no need for such threats. Ithaca is an ally.”
“And should be part of the alliance against Troy,” Palamedes spat. He rearranged his cloak around his shoulders and stared at me again. “Therefore, in the name of King Agamemnon, I will speak with Odysseus about his ships and men.”
“As I’ve been trying to explain, Prince Palamedes, in order to see Odysseus, I must take you to Penelope first. It is Penelope who’ll know where to find him.” I turned and started up the track. “Follow me.”
Penelope was sitting quietly in her chamber, alone except for little Telemachus. She rose to greet the guests and sent two servants for wine and refreshments. Menelaus and Penelope sat together and discussed Helen’s abduction. I knelt by my nephew’s crib, watching Palamedes as he waved away the offer of a seat and then strode to the window, peering out as if hoping to catch sight of Odysseus.
Palamedes wasn’t ugly, exactly. And I thought none the worse of him for his thin, spindly body. He could hardly help that, no more than my brother could help being a head shorter than Menelaus. But his dark eyes were constantly on the move and his whole manner reminded me of a spider darting back and forth along its web, tracking down its prey.
Inside his crib, Telemachus kicked his legs and blew bubbles. I forgot Palamedes for a moment as I slipped my finger into my nephew’s fist. There was strength in his grip and I imagined one day he’d be able to draw his father’s great bow, sending an arrow through the twelve axe heads as only Odysseus could.
“We need to see Odysseus,” Palamedes said abruptly. “Take us to him.”
Penelope took her favourite blue cloak from the top of the clothes chest and wrapped it over her shoulders. Slowly, very slowly, she fastened it with a silver brooch. Then she turned to me. “Look after Telemachus, while I take the men to the North Beach. His nurse has gone to visit her mother today.”
“The child comes with us!”
Before I realised what he was doing, Palamedes had sprung forward and he’d snatched Telemachus from the crib. The baby started to scream.
“You’re scaring him!” I yelled.
Palamedes backed away from me but Penelope walked behind and simply lifted Telemachus from his arms. She rocked her son, while whispering to Palamedes. “Neomene means no harm but she’s protective of the child and is anxious to avoid anything that causes him to cry or scream. It’s what young children do, of course, but the sound disturbs Odysseus and makes his illness worse.”
“Nevertheless, he comes with us.”
“You go too far,” Menelaus cried, his anger showing at last. “My brother’s orders refer to Odysseus, not his son.”
“Agamemnon gave me authority to do anything I think necessary. Even override you, Menelaus,” Palamedes said, smiling. He turned to Penelope and patted the boy’s head. “Therefore, he comes with us.”
Penelope picked up a blanket and carefully wrapped it round Telemachus. “It’s a strange request, but we try to please even the most difficult guests in Ithaca. Before we leave for North Beach, I must inform Mentor, my palace advisor.”
“Of course, of course. You never know when you’ll be needed,” Menelaus replied quickly. “I understand.”
Penelope edged to the door. “I’m calling an elderly but trustworthy herald to take the message.”
Old Tacheus had been my father’s herald and some of the older Ithacans claimed he was over seventy years of age. He did a little work around the palace still, but mainly sat under my father’s apple trees, telling the servants’ children stories and dropping off to sleep. We waited for Tacheus to appear, the sound of his doddery footsteps preparing us for his arrival long before his actual entrance.
The old man had been tutored by Odysseus and true to his Ithacan nature, entered into the deceit with relish. He took a few moments to catch his breath and then exaggerated his deafness, so that Penelope needed to repeat her message before he claimed to have heard it all. He bowed his head and winced as he straightened up again. “Aye, Queen Penelope, I’ll inform Mentor of your visit to North Beach. But go carefully along the cliff path, the boy’s our only hope for Ithaca, now that Lord Odysseus is lost to us.”
I helped Tacheus to the door and he gave me a wink before he tottered away, remembering to keep his steps at the same slow pace.
We took the long route around the cliffs. In single file along the narrow track, Penelope led our little group while I followed at the rear. I smiled to myself as Palamedes tripped on one of the rocks. If only he knew there was a direct way to the beach, one that could be taken by chariot.
“Careful, Palamedes,” Penelope called out, “it’s a sheer drop to your left. Don’t look down.”
Palamedes stopped in front of me, stared into the swirling waters and then moved away from the edge. I prayed to any god prepared to listen, that we’d meet Thaddeus’ stray goats around the next bend and the biggest, strongest, toughest one would bunt Palamedes into the sea. We walked on in silence and despite my hope at every turn, we never saw the goats.
Eventually, the only sandy beach in Ithaca stretched out before us.
“You can see my husband from here,” Penelope said.
Menelaus pointed to a figure moving along the water’s edge. “There he is. What’s he doing?”
Penelope’s eyes glazed over. “He’s ploughing the sand and sowing salt. It makes some sense to him, I think, so it’s best not to disturb him.”
“I’m taking a closer look,” Palamedes declared, striding onto the beach.
He marched across the sand, the brown cloak flapping around his legs and his head tilted forward in his eagerness to reach Odysseus. Menelaus and Penelope followed, while I kept my distance several steps behind, convinced that even if Odysseus was as mad as Hercules when he killed his wife, Palamedes would declare him sane.
We stopped a few paces from my brother and watched him. Dressed in the coarse woollen tunic, his red hair tangled and his limbs shaking, he muttered to himself as he drove the ox and the mule forward. He staggered up and down the sand with his plough, throwing salt into the tracks. His actions would have satisfied any reasonable man, but it wasn’t a reasonable man we needed to convince.
“This is the proof you need. Now we must return to my ship; we’ve imposed on these good people far too long,” Menelaus said, turning to go.
“Not yet,” declared Palamedes, holding up his hand. He edged towards Penelope. She forced a smile and waited for him to ask more questions. Menelaus and I looked away, tired of Palamedes and wishing it to be over. From the corner of my ey
e, I saw a dart of movement. Spinning round, I saw Palamedes pull Telemachus from Penelope’s arms.
Penelope cried out as Palamedes twisted from her and placed the child in the path of the plough. Immediately, Odysseus stopped his mutterings and scooped his son up, just before the blade could slice him in two. Then he knelt in the sand and cradled the baby in his arms.
Only moments before, I’d disliked Palamedes for his unpleasant manner and rivalry with my brother. Now it went far deeper than that. I bit my lip and felt hatred for the first time in my life. And shame. Menelaus would hate me as much as I hated Palamedes, because despite the respect he’d shown me, I’d lied to him.
“Our work in Ithaca is done,” Palamedes proclaimed, wiping his hands together as though he’d offered a sacrifice to the gods.
He smiled and turned away, marching back across the beach. Penelope knelt down in the sand by Odysseus. They held each other, heads together over their son, his red hair mixed with her dark. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the sea.
I jumped slightly as Menelaus touched my hand. “This wasn’t what I wanted, Neomene. Even now I would declare Odysseus mad and unable to join our alliance, but Palamedes is working for my brother and he’ll report all that’s occurred here.”
“Did you know I was lying?”
“You told me the truth. You said you loved your brother and wanted him to stay.” He nodded towards Odysseus and Penelope. “And look at them. By all the gods, they should be together. I’m not the man to tear them apart.”
Tears ran down my face. “That’s why Agamemnon sent that, that monster!” I pointed to Palamedes walking into the wind, his long legs striding out towards the cliff path.
As I pointed, Palamedes swung round and stood with his arms folded, the brown cloak flapping around his bony legs. “Note this, Odysseus. In ten days’ time, your ships must be in the port of Aulis, ready to sail for Troy.”
The Girl From Ithaca Page 2
