Chapter THREE
The Messenger from Aulis
My friend called me from the other side of the orchard wall. Scrambling up the stone, I peered over the top.
Lysander grinned up at me. “I’ve been talking to some Mycenae sailors. Their ship docked in the harbour this morning.”
“One of Agamemnon’s ships in Ithaca? It’s near twenty days since Odysseus sailed for Aulis, why aren’t they on their way to Troy?”
“They can’t sail for Troy yet. The wind is blowing them back to port. They’re sitting around waiting for the wind to change, doing nothing except arguing and fighting and drinking too much wine.”
I pulled myself higher and rested my elbows on the loose stones at the top of the wall. “But why’s he sent a ship here? He’s got Odysseus and most of our men. What else does he want?”
“The sailors don’t know. All they could tell me was Agamemnon’s advisor went up to the palace, asking to speak to Penelope. ”
“It’s got to be important, but I don’t suppose Mentor will tell me anything, he never does.” I studied Lysander’s freckled face. “I’ll go down to the kitchens to see what I can find out. The cook knows everything that’s going on.”
I slithered down the wall and ran through the courtyard, wondering if Cook would be in one of her good moods. If she was, she’d talk and talk while she prepared the evening meal, stopping occasionally to shout at a kitchen boy or complain about one of the servants, until eventually she’d discuss the palace visitors. But if I heard her raging about one of the many things that upset her, I’d stay away from the kitchens and seek the information elsewhere.
It was difficult to see in the corridor after the bright sun outside and I walked cautiously, listening for the warning sign of Cook’s raised voice. There were footsteps behind me. I glanced round to see Euryclea. Stepping aside to let her pass, I wondered what business she might have in the kitchen. It was only when she stopped and frowned, I realised that business was me.
“Where are you going? Penelope wants to see you straight away,” she said.
“I don’t understand. What’s so urgent?”
“You were meant to be in the orchard. I only excused you from weaving so you could help your father, but now I find you wandering in the servant quarters,” she complained, taking my arm. “So hurry up, my girl, it’s not every day you get a message from King Agamemnon.”
“King Agamemnon? A message for me?”
Euryclea rushed me to the stairs and then I ran ahead of her, only slowing when I reached Penelope’s door. I took a deep breath, wondering if it was an official reprimand for the trick we’d tried on his brother. I tapped on the door and went inside.
“Sit down, Neomene. You’re not in trouble,” Penelope said. She nodded her head towards a tall, grey-haired man standing by her chair. “Phoebus works for King Agamemnon and he’s brought an important message. This is Agamemnon’s seal.”
She showed me the circular pattern of two lions, embedded in a clay tablet. The seal confused me even more. Such seals were used for things of importance that needed to be formalised. How could it be connected to me?
“Phoebus brings us both good news and bad,” Penelope continued.
I tensed and glanced at the messenger. His face revealed nothing.
“Unfortunately, Agamemnon and his fleet are delayed at the port of Aulis, unable to sail to Troy without the west wind. That is the bad news.”
Thank the gods. The bad news was neither new to me nor bad. It meant Odysseus was safe for the moment and there was always the chance Agamemnon would grow impatient and abandon the expedition.
“While the armies wait, Agamemnon has given orders that his eldest daughter, Iphigenia, will be married to young Prince Achilles, leader of the Myrmidons.”
I looked at her blankly.
“On the suggestion of his brother Menelaus, King Agamemnon has chosen you to travel to Mycenae, and from Mycenae escort his daughter to the port at Aulis. Once there, she and Prince Achilles will be married and there will be the usual feast and celebrations.”
I opened my mouth, but was too stunned to speak.
“The following day, Phoebus will return with you to Mycenae to report on the wedding and then escort you back to Ithaca. We’ve discussed this in detail with your mother, and Phoebus has given his personal assurance that he will take care of you throughout the journey.”
“Mother knows? You mean she’s permitting me to go?”
“Yes, she believes it’s a great honour and an opportunity for you to think about your own marriage, now you’re fourteen and not far from such things yourself.”
Mother always talked about marriage, so that part made sense, but why had Menelaus suggested me? “I’m a very strange choice. I’ve never met Iphigenia or Agamemnon and I don’t know much about weddings.”
Penelope turned to the official. “Thank you Phoebus, you can leave us for a while. If you ask the nurse, she’ll take you to the kitchens and give you all the food and drink you want. Later, I’ll have a servant show you to your room.”
Once we were alone, Penelope changed from her formal role into the elder sister she’d become since her marriage to Odysseus. “Perhaps Menelaus admires the way you tried to protect your brother? And with you being a little older than Iphigenia, he must have thought you’d give her support and companionship.”
“But what if Menelaus didn’t make the choice?” I pulled at a loose thread in my old tunic. “It could be a trick.”
“Now you’re sounding like your brother. Who’d play a trick on you? No one knows you besides Menelaus and Odysseus.”
“Palamedes does and we hate each other!” The thread snapped in my hand.
Penelope leant forward and touched my arm. “Oh Neomene, I don’t think he hates you. He was irritated and impatient with us both, but he was so pleased he’d outwitted Odysseus, I’m sure he forgot about us immediately. And I can’t see he’d be involved in anything to do with the wedding. Agamemnon would be more likely to discuss it with his brother, and I expect that’s when you were mentioned. It all seems genuine.”
“But how can I help her? I won’t know what to do.”
“I think you know a lot more than you think you do, though you’re right to suppose your task won’t be straight-forward. There are a few important things I’d like you to know before you leave for the mainland.”
Penelope was treating me as an adult, almost an equal. For the moment, my pleasure at this new found status chased away my doubts about the task.
“What do you know about Helen?” Penelope asked.
That was easy. I’d heard a lot about Helen since her abduction. “She’s the wife of Menelaus and said to be the most beautiful woman in the world. This summer, she was stolen by a Trojan prince and taken to Troy. Agamemnon and the other Greek kings are going to Troy to rescue her, and perhaps plunder gold as well.”
“Very good, but that’s only the recent story. I spent most of my childhood in Sparta with Helen, because our fathers were brothers. She was always beautiful, even as a child. People said she was too perfect to be a mere mortal and must be the daughter of Zeus. Everywhere she went, men fell in love with her.”
I nodded my head. “Helen is very lucky. She didn’t need to worry about a lack of suitors.”
“She attracted too much attention. It was impossible for her to go anywhere unless she was well guarded and wore a veil. Once she reached the age of ten, her parents rarely let her outside the woman’s quarters of the palace.”
I thought of the times I’d escaped from the confines of the palace by losing Euryclea and joining Lysander and his friends. “Then I think I feel sorry for her,” I whispered.
“Helen regards her beauty as a curse sometimes, though she makes good use of it when she needs to,” Penelope said, pulling a large silver hair pin from her hair. She shook her head as her long, wavy hair fell loosely around her shoulders. “Now I must tell you a little about Agamemnon’s wife,
Clytemnestra, and what to expect in Mycenae.”
“All I know about Clytemnestra is she’s Helen’s elder sister and unlucky enough to be married to Agamemnon.”
We leaned forward to talk, but the door burst open and my mother rushed into the room.
“Has Penelope told you about it all? It’s a great honour and generous of Menelaus and Agamemnon to choose you, “she said, studying my appearance. “It’ll be a wonderful opportunity to meet the princes and you’ll get an idea of the ones you like.” Her eyes settled on the hem of my tunic. “Though you’ll have to be better presented than this. I’ll tell my attendants to work on your hair this evening and I will select your clothes myself. Sometimes I think you’re almost as bad as your father.”
My heart fell. The attendants would take all night and discuss me as if I wasn’t there, making comparisons with my sister.
Mother fiddled with my hair. “And it’s a big responsibility. You’re representing Ithaca, so remember what I told you.”
I wasn’t sure which part of mother’s many lectures I was meant to remember, but I nodded, hoping to avoid a repeat of them. It didn’t work.
“Don’t ask too many questions. You can’t help being interested in the wrong things, and the gods know how hard I’ve tried to change you, but you must learn to hide it.” She gave me a stern look. “Never let them know you know something they don’t. It upsets a man and they’ll not like you for it.”
It was impossible to reason with my mother. It just brought more lectures and extra sewing practice. She didn’t approve of the plan I’d thought up as a twelve-year-old, of staying on Ithaca looking after father’s apple trees and never getting married. She was shocked at such an idea, as though it wasn’t quite respectable, and warned me not to mention it again, to anyone. So now I smiled and pretended to be listening.
Not for the first time, Penelope came to my rescue. “I’m explaining what she must expect. Then with your permission, I’ll see to Neomene’s hair myself. I have braids that will bring out the green of her eyes.”
“And her clothes? You’ll make sure she takes suitable ones? If you don’t watch her, she’ll go in something like this awful tunic that doesn’t reveal her figure.”
There was no point in annoying her further by explaining my tunics were comfortable and useful. The last thing I wanted was a long robe that tripped me up along one of the cliff paths.
“I’ll make sure she looks wonderful when she arrives in Mycenae.”
“It’s what the men think of her that matters the most. If she can catch the eye of a wealthy prince, she’ll have a far easier life than the one I’ve had. So tell her about King Nestor’s sons.”
Staring at my hands, I didn’t move or say a word, hoping she’d think of something else to worry about. But it wasn’t a subject Mother gave up easily and like a piglet scrambling over the weary sow for milk, she set her sights on what she wanted and kept on going.
“There’ll be others to watch for. It’s said Achilles has a good-looking friend called Patroclus. Not as wealthy and important as some, but Achilles must reward him well. If you find Iphigenia a good friend, it’d be wise to think of him.”
Penelope saved me again. “I’ve been explaining who she might meet and I’m confident she’ll be ready for the journey tomorrow. Neomene will prove an excellent escort for Iphigenia, I’m sure of it.”
Mother kissed Penelope. “Thank you, my dear. The gods were generous when they sent you to join our family.” Then she patted me gently on the shoulder, looking at me with green eyes so similar to my brother’s. “When you cross to the mainland, always remember you’re from Ithaca and never be ashamed of your home or your people, whatever others might say.”
I’d never heard my mother say anything like that before. She’d always seemed conscious of the Ithacan lack of treasures and of what the influential people on the mainland thought of us.
She studied me for a moment and then returned to the crib. She chatted to her grandson, telling him of all the things Odysseus would teach him when he got home from Troy. For a brief moment, the years fell away and Telemachus was Odysseus, and she was a mother not a grandmother. Her hair darkened into ebony and the green eyes sparkled. I caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman my father had fallen in love with, after he’d tracked his stolen sheep to her father’s estate on the mainland.
“She made it sound like I’ll be gone forever,” I said, as soon as Mother left.
Penelope opened the lid of her clothes chest. “You’ll have a long journey tomorrow.” She drew out her special deep blue cloak and handed it to me. “This is most essential. If the weather turns cold, it’ll keep you warm and dry. It was a present from my grandmother when I left Sparta. She thought the weather in Ithaca would be as wild and rugged as the scenery!”
I stroked the wool and admired the thick lining. Penelope had always taken great care of this, her favourite cloak, and I felt proud she was entrusting it to me.
By the time I’d found Lysander and told him all that was expected of me, my head felt as if it would burst with all the ideas crammed inside.
“I should be coming with you. You’ve not travelled like I have,” he said.
Lysander’s travels involved a few trips with his father to check sheep on a nearby island, a small, unpopulated islet that Ithacan shepherds used for extra grazing. He was proud of these journeys and I’d never had the heart to admit I didn’t think of him as an experienced traveller.
“I know, but I’ll be safe, the Mycenaean official will see to that. And when we get to Aulis, Odysseus will be there.”
Lysander paused for a moment and then reached inside his robe. “Then you’d better take this, it’ll protect you on your journey.” He handed me a brooch he’d been working on for most of the summer. “See, it’s a lamb. Keep it with you to ward off demons on the mainland.”
A lump formed in my throat. “It’s beautiful, so clever of you. Penelope has lent me her cloak and it’ll go well with that,” I said quietly, fingering the notches that made the lamb’s body appear so life-like.
He smiled and then walked away from me, moving down the sheep track to his home. I watched him go, suddenly wanting him to turn and wave. But he didn’t look round and was probably thinking of his sheep, not his friend Neomene, as he disappeared from view behind the trees. I studied the brooch for a long time and wondered why I was crying.
Chapter FOUR
The Lion’s Palace
The ship surged forward through the narrow strait, as fifty Mycenaean rowers strained at the oars. For the first time in my life, I was free, free from Euryclea dragging me to weaving and Mother unpicking my needlework and arranging my hair. I took a deep breath and turned to face the mainland. At last I could see for myself if the tales about palaces bursting with gold and fields rich with flax and wheat really were true. I didn’t believe the story that giants had built the tall walls around Mycenae, but Father told me I’d see well-fed cattle, horses and sheep, all growing fat on the lush grass.
Sailors hauled up the mast and dropped the ropes. The large square sail unfurled and caught the wind, whiteness expanding above me. It was as if the lion’s head opened its mouth and roared, urging the ship on, driving it even faster than before.
Then the oarsmen sat back, letting the wind do their work. Some swung around on the bench and stretched their legs towards the centre of the deck. I stepped over them to reach Phoebus at the other end of the ship. He saw my struggle and snapped an order. The sea of legs parted and my way was clear.
“I apologise for the men. They’re not used to women on ship, and their manners grow coarse without mothers or wives to chastise them,” he said, guiding me to the prow. “Fortunately, when we get to the mainland, we’ll go on alone.”
“How long will it take, to Mycenae?”
“Most of the day. It’s a hard ride, but we’ll rest at noon and arrive before nightfall.”
I nodded and was quiet for a while, not sure what to
say to an old official from Mycenae. I glanced at him. He coughed once or twice, then cleared his throat. He didn’t seem the sort of man to have Mentor’s fascination with large clay storage jars and I doubted he knew a thing about pigs, or goats, or sheep. What else did old men talk about? The coast was closing fast and I was on the verge of trying him out on apples, when Phoebus broke the silence.
“Your mother informed me you’ve never travelled to the mainland. But you seem like a lady who notices things. I think you’ll enjoy seeing how it compares with Ithaca. I’ll point out anything that might be of interest.”
I smiled gratefully. Perhaps Phoebus wasn’t quite as boring as I thought he might be.
When we approached the shore, the oarsmen picked up their oars again and responded to the pilot’s orders. They manoeuvred the ship onto the beach, Phoebus insisting on helping me down the gangplank. Two sailors followed with the horses. Others unleashed the chariot and rolled it onto the sand. I took hold of one horse from a startled sailor.
“Lord Phoebus,” he called, nodding his head at me. “She’s got the halter. Do I take it back?”
Phoebus glanced up from harnessing the other horse. “Lady Neomene seems to be managing quite well, Cadeus. I think your time would be better spent returning to your ship.”
“You mean I can go?” the sailor said, edging away.
“Correct. Tell your pilot his duty is done and I will see him next in Aulis.”
Both sailors ran to the ship while Phoebus continued to hitch the horse to the chariot. He checked the leather straps and I backed the second horse up to the shaft. The mare tossed her head as Phoebus rested the leather yoke on her shoulders.
“She’s strong,” I said, patting her muscular neck.
Phoebus smiled. “Yes, they’re both fine animals. A gift from Agamemnon when he appointed me his advisor.”
The Girl From Ithaca Page 3
