by Jackie Rose
She had once been noted for her pretty black curls that won men’s hearts. Now they looked more like a nest of snakes, transforming her into Medusa, who turned men to stone.
And now she was screaming, “Don’t listen to Odysseus, he’s trying to trick you. Make him promise to spare our lives.”
I barely heard her. “Go on, Odysseus,” I said.
“You have heard how his father wanders around saying that Achilles is still alive with his own island to rule? Well, he’s right, except that it’s his mother’s island, not his own.”
Beneath my hand, I could still feel Telemachus thrashing under the water, but I barely remembered to hold him there.
“Do you remember how they told us that a wooden effigy was being burned in his place, because Thetis insisted on taking his body to her White Island for burial? She took him, right enough, but not to be buried. After she got Machaon to drug him senseless with that Ethiopian medicine, she sent everyone away and made Machaon cut her son’s leg off, after all. She told our chief physician that he could choose between having a great new healing temple and waiting for her assassin’s knife in his back. He was clever enough to believe her.”
“But you buried in him Troy,”I objected. “Some day someone will open his tomb, and then they will see that an effigy is buried there.”
“They will see that the tomb is empty,” he answered.
“Thetis, do something!” I had screamed, and she had, she had.
“She must be as ruthless as you are,” I mused. “Praise the gods.”
He bowed his shaggy head ironically, as though to thank me for the compliment. “Almost as ruthless, but not quite,” Odysseus answered. “She didn’t have the heart to keep the truth from his father. She knew that if he told anyone they would think he was mad. And they did. Not even you believed it.”
Wanting desperately to believe it now, I dared not do so yet.
“How did you find him?” I demanded.
“I traveled to many places trying to get home,” he said. “One place I went to was the White Island, hoping Thetis would help me. I saw him there. He isn’t what you remember, but he’s alive, all right. I will swear to tell you how to get to him, if you let my son go.”
“You will swear to send me to him in Hades, you mean?”
“I will swear to send you to him on the White Island, where he is still alive.”
“Swear it on your son’s life and your own,” I told him.
“I have already told you, you need have no fear of death.”
Again, I felt for the big vein in Telemachus’ neck and placed my knife against it.
“By all the gods and goddesses, woman! Achilles should have beaten you to death when he had the chance! Very well. I swear it on my son’s life and my own. I pray that Athena may strike me dead and send Harpies to torture me forever if I break my vow, is that enough for you?”
“You swear to what, Odysseus?”
“By the gods, Athena has sent me one Harpy already. Very well, I swear that I will let you go, on a ship with directions to Achilles’ island, and he is welcome to you! ” His eyes grew crafty again as he said, “Won’t you leave Melantho with me in exchange?”
She shrieked in terror. I replied, “Is that what Achilles would do? Would I be worthy of him if I did it? Melantho is my Patrocles.”
He opened his mouth then closed it again, knowing that, to this, there was no argument.
“Oh, very well,” he said with a sigh, as though humoring a demanding child. “I swear by my life and my son’s life and my fear of Hades and my goddess Athena that I will send Melantho with you.”
“We will both be sent alive, well and unharmed.”
“You don’t trust me, Briseis? No, you need not answer that. Very well, I will send Melantho with you, and you will both be alive and unharmed. Is that enough for you?”
“And you will never afterwards try to kill or harm us. Do you swear that, too?”
“What do you think I am? No, don’t answer that, either. I swear it by Hera.”
I moved the knife closer to the fatal vein.” Try again.”
“I swear it by Athena.” And these, as Chryseis had told me, were the words I could trust.
The blade was starting to move from Telemachus’ throat when I saw that Odysseus still had one way out of his oath.
“Of course, you will also swear that you will never send anyone else to harm us or help anyone who does.”
“Are you sure that is all you can think of? Very well, I swear that, too, by Athena.”
I stood back from Telemachus, and Melantho reluctantly did the same. He splashed back to the shore gasping, sputtering and crying to his father for revenge.
“Let me kill them both!” He shouted. “I took no oath to spare them.”
“You are talking like a fool, boy,” his father answered. “That is Achilles’ woman. He can probably still take your head off, even with one leg gone. And if he doesn’t, Menelaus will. The fool should have married her when he had the chance.”
And thank Aphrodite he did not, I thought. And thank every god on Olympus for Thetis’ iron will and unconquerable selfishness. If she was not a goddess, she was close enough for me.
“Then let me have Melantho,” the boy whined.
Odysseus sighed, as though praying for patience. “Did you hear Briseis say that Melantho was her Patrocles?” he demanded. “Do you want Briseis to drag you behind the nearest chariot, or convince one of her gentlemen to do it for her? The list includes all of the wounded men whose lives she saved, plus all the others who fought for Achilles. In any case, I swore by Athena to spare them both. Briseis arranged the oath so well, I don’t see how I can get out of it.”
“I had plenty of time to think about it,” I called to them, “while I was trying to keep you from hanging me.”
Telemachus pretended to ignore me. “Will you admit that a woman is so much more clever than you are, father?”
“Boy,” Odysseus answered patiently, “whenever I am doing very well, it’s because I am being as clever as a woman. Why do you think I refused to let the suitors’ women stay alive to plot revenge against me? But I’m afraid that these two have escaped us. I was just clever enough to look at Briseis and see your death in her pretty blue eyes. Following only Helen and Cassandra—plus another lady named Circe, whom I met during my travels—Briseis is the most dangerous woman I have ever known.”
“But they are still only women!”
“How can I explain this so that even you will understand?” Odysseus asked, with a sigh. “Let me put it this way. In my travels, I heard about Eastern warriors who turn a man’s own strength against him. That’s what these women do, and no legendary Amazon was ever more dangerous.”
Looking anything but dangerous as we held up our sodden gowns, we two women splashed back to shore. He raised his voice for our benefit as he said, “They may stay in Melantho’s brother’s farmhouse until I can hire a ship. We will take them there and leave them. The house is empty now, and we’ve had enough of them at court.”
He had had enough of us? I had to smile at the sheer effrontery. Melantho was not amused.
“Do you think I would set foot in your palace again?” she flared. Then the importance of his words struck her. “Did you kill my brother, too?” she asked, her voice rising to a scream. “He was only a goatherd, what harm could he do to you?”
“Let us say that the house belongs to you now,” Odysseus replied. “He was serving the suitors.”
Shrieking with rage and grief, she sank to her knees, mindless of the jagged rocks beneath them. I kept my eyes steadily on Odysseus, still fearing some last trick. Instead, he said to me in his friendliest tone, “Just remember to give my regards to Achilles.”
“If you like,” I retorted, with a shrug. “But he never liked you.”
“I never thought he did,” he answered, with a thin smile. “But he might be wrong about that. When he asked me about his son, I said that Neopto
lemus had become a great hero, too.”
“That may be the only kindly lie you ever told.”
Again, he bowed his head ironically.
“Did he ask about anything else?” Did he ask about me, I meant. And Odysseus’ sly smile told me that he knew it.
“He asked if he is still famous.” It was my turn to smile at that. It told me that my Achilles had not changed so much, after all. “And I told him that he would be famous in lands that we had never seen. But you, he never mentioned. Do you still assume that he will want to see you, Briseis?”
“Of course.”
“By all the gods, you are as arrogant as he. You deserve each other.”
Then, knowing that his wife would not understand, Odysseus added, “Still, I wish that I could have worn the armor of Achilles.”
In an equally innocent tone, I answered, “Before I allowed that, I would have thrown it off a cliff.”
For a frightening moment, his rage flared in his eyes. Then he was the simple man again. “But you owe me much of your happiness,” he objected, with a deceptively friendly smile. “When Achilles said that you were all he wanted from the spoils of Lyrnessos, it made Agamemnon wonder if you were worth as much to him. Fortunately for you, I knew that its ruler, your husband, had spent eight years with you but had no children to show for it. That meant Achilles could screw his brains out, the few he had, without producing a new king of kings. When I told Agamemnon that, he was happy to agree that Achilles could have you. Polyxena was another question: an undiscovered territory, as it were. And of course none of that applies to our Melantho here, because who cares about some slut of a housemaid and her bastards?”
As Melantho’s lips parted in fury, I grasped her arm to silence her.
“He has sworn to spare us for the things we did before he pardoned us,” I warned her. “Don’t give him a chance to say that we earned new punishments afterwards. That’s the chance he’s looking for.”
She parted her lips again, more calmly this time, no doubt looking for some conciliatory remark to make.
“Melantho, say nothing!” I warned her. “He can twist any words you say. If you merely call him master, he will claim the right to punish you as a slave. But not even he can punish you for your silence.”
He bowed his head with that, in real admiration. “Haven’t I always said that women were at least as clever as we are?”
“So you will let them get away?” Telemachus howled.
“Boy,” his father told him, struggling for patience again. “Let me try to explain this again. The name of Briseis means ‘she who prevails.’ She just did. Now go get back on your horse before he runs away, most likely to avoid the shame of carrying a fool like you.”
Chapter Fourteen
That night, I kept watch sitting beside the door while Melantho slept on the straw pallet. We both feared that Odysseus would think of one more trick to play. I was glad I had done so when she woke up screaming, with the dreams that I did not yet have to share.
But for once, Odysseus was as good as his word. For one thing, he had more pressing problems than Melantho and me. The suitors’ outraged families were moving against him, so quickly that he had to leave their bodies unburied in that house he had tried to purify. Now he would have to face armed opponents with no tricks to save him.
We were mildly curious about the outcome, but not curious enough to keep us from boarding the ship when it arrived four days later. By that time, I had traded one of my gold earrings to replace our ruined gowns.
It would, I admit, have been more suitable to have the merchants come to our house, as they usually did for ladies with this much gold to spend. Now I wanted to be among decent people, though, and surrounded by pretty things, even if they were displayed for peasants on rough wooden shelves. Among them, I was happy to find a pale blue gown and silver headband, to remind Achilles of the first gifts he had given me. The silver headband had no pearls and the gown was only linen, but they were the best I could find in that small town. Above all, I felt the need for Iphis’ services, so I looked for the cosmetics that were closest to the ones she had chosen for me.
Melantho naturally used up the first gold chain I gave her within her first half hour in her first shop. I gave her another, knowing that I owed her my life as surely as she owed me her own, and also feeling glad to see her old high spirits returning.
As I searched the shelves for the shade of pink face paint that Iphis had used, the shopkeeper asked me, “Have you heard, mistress, that our true king has returned?”
“I can’t imagine,” I replied, “what you did to deserve him.” The other shoppers nodded solemnly. Only Melantho heard my ironic tone and could not keep from smiling, however feebly, as she searched for the brightest shade of red.
We also heard a fellow shopper say something that made us more cheerful.
“Poor things,” she told the shopkeeper. “Those girls did not deserve to die that way.”
“They were disloyal to our king,” she replied, without much real conviction.
“And what could they have done to him?” the shopper demanded, her fists on her hips. “It wasn’t right to kill them. The bard who came here to sing us the story called them poor things, too.”
So not even Odysseus could rule the bards completely. Despite him, they had stood for the victims. Their story would not be forgotten. The thought was comforting. And so, for Melantho, was the fact that the bard had not listed her among the dead.
“I owe that to you, Briseis,” she told me. “You saved my life.”
“Perhaps not,” I replied. “You might have gotten out anyway, because you knew enough to be so frightened.”
* * *
Even now, we were both still frightened enough to get clear out of Ithaca, as quickly as we could.
At the cost of one of my gold bracelets, the ship captain was glad to detour towards Sparta. Melantho departed, with a message in my handwriting, telling Menelaus what had happened and commending my friend to his care. Odysseus had, as I told him, dismissed her from his service because he disliked her sweetheart, which was certainly true enough. I also asked her to find my friend Iphis and assure her that her Moses was just as great a prophet as Tiresias. And, as I hinted to Melantho, Menelaus would no doubt earn any gratitude that she cared to show him.
Two of my gold chains hired two sturdy war veterans to guard her, in case Odysseus had any tricks left. It was well worth the price, and not only because she had stood beside me against Telemachus. I did not want Achilles to see her next to me, with her cherry cheeks, her merry jokes, her high spirits, which were quickly returning, and her youth, which no cosmetics could restore to me.
There was no sense worrying about that, as I knew too well. His mother must have provided him with abundant young girls by now and perhaps even a royal bride.
As terrible as that thought was, I still had to face it squarely. All I could really hope for was a chance to see him again and know he was alive, before I retreated to Sparta.
The more I thought of it, the more tempting that prospect seemed. I could return to the kind and generous man who loved me, rather than throwing myself at the selfish boy who had not even cared enough to let me know he was alive. But to see him again, even for a moment—that was, indeed, as Odysseus had told me, what I wanted most of all.
* * *
So the captain left me on the White Island. As the sails grew smaller in the distance, I realized with a sinking heart that he had left me there alone. I did not even know if there were any inhabitants here. Could this be another one of Odysseus’ tricks? I wondered. Had he left me stranded here, as he had been stranded so often during his long voyage? Was it his idea of revenge?
It seemed all too likely. Beyond the blue sea that glittered beneath the bright yellow sun, I could see only stones and grass, the usual Argive landscape, where only goats could thrive. There was no turning back now, so I hitched my skirts under my belt and started trudging inland.
&
nbsp; Beyond the rocks, I finally saw a waving patch of white. It resolved itself, as I approached, into the well-tended field of white lilies that had given the island its name. Looking at them, I knew that this would indeed be the garden I had dreamed about, if only Achilles were there. The flowers were a reassuring sight, because clearly they belonged to someone with plenty of time and money to tend them. Someone like Achilles’ mother.
A stone path led through the lily field. I stumbled over it as quickly as I could, sure that it led to the owner’s house. My feet slowed as I approached the yellow stone wall surrounding the courtyard and saw the house rising beyond it. Did I really have any idea who lived there? I demanded of myself. Then I shrugged: What did it matter, when that house held the chance of seeing Achilles again. In any case, I had no place else to go.
The door creaked open as I lifted my hand to knock. Behind the doorkeeper, Thetis stood in the courtyard, wearing the scent of the lilies from her own garden.
“Briseis, my dear,” she said, in her harsh voice, holding out her arms to me. I stood where I was, staring down at her, until she dropped them to her sides. How odd, I thought, that I had never realized how small she was, next to me.
“Odysseus told me he was alive here. Is that true?” I demanded. Once again, there was no need to explain who 'he' was.
“Yes,” she answered, steadily meeting my eyes. “I knew you would find him and come here some day. It’s what I would have done.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice just as steady as hers.
“You can’t imagine what he was like when I brought him here, or you wouldn’t ask” she answered, with some resentment. “I had to keep him tied to his bed and drugged half unconscious until he promised not to kill himself. Even then, I kept enough guards nearby to stop him if he tried. And even with the guards there, I was the only one who dared go close enough to bring him food. And he told me that he did not care what he had sworn before: If you ever came here and saw him as he is now, he would find a way to kill himself.”
