Two sets of sandal-clad feet moved into her sight and blocked her way. Penelope followed the line of sight, up bronzed, muscular legs, to white tunics embroidered with purple and gold, and jeweled armbands on hairy, muscled arms. Golden chains and pins and purple cloaks marked both men as princes. She studied them as they talked. The larger man tried to talk the other into staying in Sparta. One had come to Pylos to check on his ship to prepare to leave. Penelope wondered which ship was his. Then the men turned and saw her.
One was of stocky build, with wide shoulders, dark red hair that burned like coals in the sun, gray eyes and a laughing face. He smiled at her, eyes sparkling with life and mischief, and she couldn't help but smile back.
The other was dark, his golden skin pale against black hair and eyes. A giant of a man, his muscles strained against his tunic. Penelope noticed food stains on his clothes. He smiled as well, but with mockery.
"Tell me, little one." The black-haired one dropped to one knee to look her in the eye. The action generated sharp dislike in her. She didn't like being reminded how small she was. "Tell me, where are you going with that toy?"
"It is a keepsake of my mistress," Penelope said.
She thought a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for the lie, and gestured beyond the bales and baskets, where she could see waving spear points and hear rising voices. Someone had noticed she had disappeared.
"Mistress?" He looked around.
"Aias, don't you listen to anything but praises for Helen?" the fiery one said. His smile included Penelope in a joke she didn't understand. "Penelope, daughter of Ikarios and sister of your friend, Ithios, is coming home to Sparta. Which you would have known if you talked to Kastor or Polydeukes more often. I heard Helen asked for her cousin to return. To relieve the boredom of our company," he added, his voice taking on a mocking drawl. He winked at Penelope and nodded toward an opening in the maze of bales and baskets around them.
She understood and darted away when Aias' attention left her. As she ran, she heard the giant scold the red one for letting her escape. The other just laughed.
"Your taste for tormenting and seducing servant girls is going to get you in trouble some day, my friend," he said. "Forget her."
"Where are you going now?" Aias called.
"Back to Sparta. I've decided you're right. Tyndareos' hospitality is not something to leave so easily." He laughed, his voice fading as Penelope left the men behind.
"Odysseus, my friend, you always see profit for yourself in anything." Aias laughed, his voice a harsh bellow. "I think you were kind to the servant girl so Penelope would speak kindly of you to Helen."
"Perhaps."
Then their voices faded completely and Penelope reached Eurynome. The fiery one was called Odysseus. His eyes, that moment of understanding between them, his help in escaping Aias filled her thoughts, so she barely heard her nurse scolding her for running off.
Chapter 2
* * *
Penelope drew her veil over her face and settled back against the railing of the cart. She couldn't find a spot on her body the bumping and bouncing hadn't bruised. Except for her short encounter with Aias and Odysseus, Penelope felt only disappointment in her journey from the moment her sandals touched ground two days before.
Her first complaint--Kratos turned aside an invitation from King Nestor to refresh themselves at his palace. Penelope had waited for a servant to come to the docks with an invitation from the aging king. She waited until they were in the carts, bouncing along the sandy road away from Pylos, before speaking. Eurynome gently scolded and said girls who wandered missed all the news. King Nestor had invited Penelope to visit, but King Tyndareos wanted his niece in Sparta as soon as possible and the ship had made landfall late. They left Pylos immediately and traveled until after sunset before making camp. They rolled out of their blankets to return to the carts at dawn's first light.
It was past nightfall now, their second day of travel, and they were still on the road. They lost hours over a wheel that had slipped off its axle. If they did not arrive soon, the king might send people looking for them.
Penelope had nearly laughed, when she overheard Anthinos mention the possibility to Dolios. Did her uncle think someone would kidnap her? The little, dark one would never be kidnapped, like Helen. No king would kill to have her, like Klytemaistra.
She shivered and hugged her cloak a little closer around her shoulders. Her face and hair felt gritty and oily, desperately in need of a long bath and perfuming. She felt burned, rough patches on her nose and cheeks where the harsh light of the plain had touched her before she used her veil.
She wondered about her uncle's specific instructions. Tyndareos ruled with wisdom and honesty. His people obeyed through adoration, not fear. Sometimes, though, they went to extremes in interpreting his wishes.
"There it is," Dolios said, touching her shoulder. Penelope pushed with her cramped legs, to stand up halfway in the cart. She caught a smear of light and the blocky shadows of buildings as the road dipped into a shallow valley and the trees slid back from the road. The man smiled at her and stepped up his pace. He had insisted on walking beside her the whole way, carrying a borrowed spear and keeping the stride and rhythm of the guards. Penelope wondered if he was glad to be home in Sparta. She had overheard Melantho complain once that Dolios loved Penelope better than his own daughter.
"Soft beds and decent baths," Penelope murmured. She scrubbed at her face with the edge of her veil, not caring that it would show stains in morning light. She had to have a clean face and neat hair to present to whoever would greet them.
Her aching back and legs, the gritty discomfort and the chill penetrating her cloak increased after seeing the lights of Sparta. Penelope held her tongue and listened to the chatter that sprang from the guards. It amused her a little that they spoke easily with Dolios, Aris, and their sons, openly flirted with Melantho, spoke to Eurynome with respect, yet feared to address her, a maiden of no threat to trained warriors. Along the way, she had tried to start a conversation with the youngest guard, a man of about twenty-six or seven who walked with a limp. He had answered her questions with mumbles, nods, or shakes of his head and never dared look her in the face.
When the road finally changed from dirt to stone paving that made the wheels rumble, Penelope bit back a cheer. Their company went the long way around, by the river, to come up through the palace grounds instead of through the city. The trees gave way to painted walls that reflected the torchlight. She knelt on the cushioned bench and tried to see around corners and over heads to catch the first glimpse of the palace proper.
She saw it first as a golden haze of light. Servants streamed out through doors carrying torches. Lystia, a cousin of Eurynome and housekeeper for Tyndareos, came down the steps last. She called orders to Aris, Dolios, and Melantho before the carts came to a complete stop.
"Well, cousin?" the woman asked, as Dolios stepped up and helped Eurynome down from the cart.
"You tell me," the nurse responded. As one person, the two women turned to look at Penelope.
Penelope held herself tall and straight. She didn't meet their eyes, but neither did she turn away. Dolios squeezed her hand as he helped her down and she bit her lip to keep from smiling thanks for his encouragement. She felt the housekeeper studying her in the torchlight. Penelope concentrated on the courtyard of the palace of Tyndareos.
The stone was still golden, the arches and pillars still sky-reaching tall. She saw the brass-bound, oaken doors, the purple and gold tapestries through the open windows, the mosaics of purple, red, blue, gold, black, and white tiles that lined the entryway floor. To her right lay the grand arch to enter the courtyard. To her left the other archway led to the stables and barracks. Behind her, the slave quarters and the archways led to the plain and the river where she and her cousins played and swam under the watchful eyes of their nurses. Nothing had changed. Penelope heaved a sigh of contentment and nodded. Satisfied and comforted by the immutability
of the palace of Sparta, she turned to face the scrutiny of Lystia.
"You are a pleasant, welcome sight for old eyes, young Penelope. Welcome home." Lystia's searching, judging glance changed to a warm smile. "A bath waits and your rooms have been aired and furnished. Do you require something to eat before going to bed?"
"No, thank you." Penelope felt a tired laugh pressing against her throat. How could she have forgotten? Lystia felt every ill could be cured with good cooking. "A bath and a bed that doesn't move are all I need for now." She nodded for the housekeeper to lead the way inside. Melantho hurried to catch up, her arms full of Penelope's belongings.
* * * *
Roses. Penelope's nose twitched as the perfume penetrated her sleep. Like pale, sweet wine, it cut through the sticky net of her dreams and helped her rise to full waking. She opened her eyes to a room full of sunlight and a haze of gold and blue perched on the side of her bed.
"Good morning and welcome home, cousin," a voice like the deeper notes of a flute said.
Penelope blinked and the haze resolved into Helen. Her eyes were as blue as a midsummer sky washed by the rain. Tiny white roses crowned her hair of gold touched with red. Two long braids hung on either side of her face, the rest a mass of curls down her back. She wore a blue dress that matched her eyes and complimented her ivory and rose skin. Penelope was pleased to note that though her bodice was tight, Helen had little more fullness under her clothes than her younger cousin.
"Helen." Penelope swallowed against the thickness in her throat. Lystia had insisted she eat bread and honey before going to bed. Her throat felt like the honey stayed to clog her voice. "I suppose I really am home."
"Of course you are. What a lovely time we'll have. I've been lonely." A teasing pout twisted Helen's perfect lips. "And soon we are to be married and separated. Come, get up! We must make use of the time we have!" Laughing, she tugged back on the blankets.
Penelope snatched at the blankets. It was one thing for Eurynome to pull away her covers to make her get up in the morning. For beautiful, womanly Helen to see the little, dark one without any clothes was a weakness Penelope didn't want to face. She missed the blankets and had to content herself with sitting up and letting her long hair cover her. If she hunched her shoulders, it turned into a garment hanging past her hips.
"Penelope!" Helen's voice lost its teasing. She sat on the side of the bed to hug her cousin. "You've grown up!"
"Not much," she couldn't resist saying.
"You have no mirrors in Alybas?" The older girl laughed. "How beautiful you are! You'll steal my suitors--for which I will be grateful. Good morning, Eurynome." She stood as the nurse entered the room.
Penelope swallowed her sigh and smile of relief at her nurse's entrance. She had forgotten how like a bubbling fountain Helen could be. The door to her room creaked on its leather hinges, but Helen had been talking so much, and so fast, she hadn't heard.
"I know you told me not to awaken Penelope, but she was waking already. I waited until she started to move, just like you told me." Helen swept across the room, her skirts flying behind her. She brushed a kiss on the nurse's cheek and fluttered through the door. "Hurry and dress. There is so much to do today." And she was gone.
"Like a chirping bird, all day long," Eurynome said, her smile holding a wry twist. She carried a tray with wine, bread and honey, and figs. "Come, it is true you should be up and moving. We let you sleep late because of our long journey." She set the tray down on the little table next to the window.
"Helen makes me feel I am the elder." Penelope stood, tugged on a plain, beltless tunic and followed Eurynome to the table. The women's gardens sat below her window, a maze of colors and paths, bright this spring morning.
"That one needs a husband to guide her." The nurse went back to Penelope's bed and straightened the blankets as the girl ate. "If Theseus had not vanished with his idiot friend on that mysterious quest of theirs, they should have let her stay and marry him, though he was old enough to be her grandfather. He had the experience to handle her."
"You've been talking this morning," Penelope said, peeling the outer skin off her first fig.
"Indeed I have." The woman chuckled. "I suppose you want to know if I have learned anything about your two princes."
"They're not mine--I merely wish to know who I met." Penelope blamed the warmth in her face on the sun slanting through the window.
"Aias is called the Lesser--can you believe it? That is because Aias the son of Telemon was here first. He only has his prowess as a warrior to speak for him, no great bloodlines or lands to recommend him to the king. Though he carries off enough riches to take care of any well-born girl, his eating uses up those riches quickly." Eurynome chuckled again. "Odysseus is the son of Laertes, king of Ithaka. That's the leader of the cluster of islands to the west and north. We probably passed by the islands on our voyage. He's known among the suitors for his quick mind and among the servants for his gentle manners. He's a favorite here."
"Do they think he will win Helen?"
"Ithaka isn't rich enough for Tyndareos. And Menelaos, brother of Agamemnon, is here. It would be good if both brothers were tied to our southern cities by marriage." Eurynome began pulling dresses out of a chest at the end of the bed. "Come. Your uncle had new dresses made for you. We must choose which to wear when you see him."
"When?" Penelope hastily chewed on the last of the bread, licking the honey off her fingers.
"At the evening meal. He spends the morning in the megaron with the suitors, talking and testing them. Then they go to the plain with your cousins and prove how strong and skilled they are with their everlasting games, giving the king some peace to rule his land. You and Helen are both commanded to join him at the high table." Eurynome paused, giving emphasis to her next words. "It's said the king is not being difficult in deciding the best man for Helen, but he hesitates out of fear."
"Fear?" Penelope whispered the word, as if the walls would repeat the conversation to her uncle. "I've never known him to fear anything, except us being kidnapped."
"That's just it. While she is here, within his walls, Helen is safe. It took Kastor and Polydeukes four years to bring their sister home. The king is worried Helen's husband will be attacked by the disappointed suitors."
"I am home now to calm a prince and swing him to support Helen's husband and my uncle." Penelope shrugged. It was no more than she expected.
"Even Helen is not as valuable to the king as the peace and security of Sparta," Eurynome said. She shook her head, a momentary flicker of sadness making her look years older. "Come, look at these beautiful dresses. Tonight, you must look your best when your future husband first sees you."
Penelope held back the unladylike snort of disbelief she had learned from her grandfather. She doubted her chance of being noticed while in Helen's company.
"Did you notice Helen?" she said as Eurynome helped her try on the first dress, pale green with blue trimmings.
"How can anyone help but notice that one?"
"For some reason, I thought she would be...more full." Penelope gestured, accenting her hips and breasts. Eurynome eyed her as if she had never seen the girl before.
"And why should Helen--or you--want to be heavy like a woman with ten children?" She caught Penelope's chin in her hand and made the girl look her in the eye. "Is that the problem? Your shape? We spent four years too many in the northlands, I can see. Your ideas of beauty are twisted, child. Up there, all they care about is the breeding potential of their women.
"You are no peasant. You have more to offer a man than just children. Thanks to your grandfather and aunt, you can manage any estate and see past the dealings of the most thieving steward. You weave like a goddess taught you. Your singing voice is sweet enough to make a man cry for joy.
"And your mind...it's a pity you may only let the suitors stare at you. You could match wits with them in their riddles and stories."
"Match wits with the princes of Achaia?" Pe
nelope's mind spun with delight at the idea. Then she laughed. "I would grow fumbling wits and lose my voice in a moment."
"Perhaps." The woman nodded and closed the clasps on the shoulders of the dress. "If I had known what bothered you, we could have talked sooner. If you want larger breasts and wider hips, you will have them when you've borne a child or two. Girl, listen to me and listen well. Your husband will love you at first for your body and the pleasure you give him in bed. Then he will love you for the children you bear for him. Later, when you no longer have a girl's figure and it has filled out more than you wanted--"she paused, a teasing twinkle in her eyes--"he will love you for how well you raised his children and how well you manage his home. By then, he will notice your other fine qualities and love you for them as well."
"Men are very changeable," Penelope murmured, gazing off into the distance. She didn't see the gardens and plains beyond her window, but her own tumbling thoughts.
The woman shrugged. "That is the way they are, and we women must live with it."
* * * *
Penelope searched for a glimpse of dark red hair as she and Helen passed the half-open door of the megaron. The voices of men, raised in talk and laughter, rumbled into the very stones of the palace. It was a happy, strong, alive sound. Still, she shivered as it brought back a fragment of a dream that had frightened her often.
Men, gathered in a lesser palace, waiting for a bride who would not come to them. Death hovered in the high beams of the ceiling, but none of them could see it or feel its cold breath.
"Penelope?" Helen frowned at her, puzzled.
"Just remembering." She hurried to catch up with her cousin. When they were children, Penelope had felt they were the same age, taking care of each other. Now, she truly did feel the elder, though Helen was five years her senior.
"Remembering what?" the other wanted to know, when they and their maids had walked around two corners, taking them far from the megaron.
THE DREAMER'S LOOM Page 3
