‘As do many others,’ Tyndareus continued, ‘from Pherai, Arne, Mycenae, Salamis, Phthia . . . from the islands and from the mountains . . .’
‘The sons of the Argonauts,’ I replied. ‘Our fathers contracted an alliance that united all the kings of Achaia, and here we are destroying their achievement. If only Hercules were here! He would sort out all these brawling pups! In any case, I’ve thought of a solution, wanax, that might fend off the discord we are envisaging.’
‘A solution? Oh, Prince Odysseus, son of great Laertes, you have a solution that might avert this quarrel? If that were so, I would cover you with gifts and vow a perpetual alliance with your father. He would never again be wanting for wheat or wine, the most precious fabrics or high-hipped slaves instructed in the arts of love. And for you I would reserve a beautiful city, on the coast if you like, with fields rich with pastures and crops. Speak, please, I beg of you.’
The king was sincere. He understood that disaster was in store because the gods had caused all the beauty of the world to shine in a single woman, so that anyone who saw her would be willing to kill to have her.
I said: ‘The greatest gift would be lasting peace in Achaia and that the house of Tyndareus be blessed with heirs.’
Then continued: ‘This is my plan. You will speak to the princes after each of them has introduced himself to Helen. Or I can speak in your name, if you so wish. I will say that your daughter’s beauty must not be conquered with any test that involves violence, reminding them that blood begets blood and that a chain of implacable vengeance would end up staining Achaia for centuries to come. It will be she, luminous Helen herself, who chooses. But before she expresses her decision, all of the contenders must swear that regardless of who she picks, they will respect her choice. You, her father, will sacrifice a bull to Zeus, the custodian of oaths. You will have the animal skinned and then you will gather all the princes. They will stand on the freshly flayed hide and make an oath, one by one, that should anyone try to carry Helen off, away from the husband she herself has chosen, the others will all be prepared to fight at his side to bring her back to her rightful home.’
‘You are incredible, pai,’ exclaimed the king. ‘How is it possible that you, so young, already know men’s hearts so well? You have understood that they will all accept because each of the princes is certain in his own heart that he is the only one worthy of bringing Helen home to his wedding chamber; thus each of them will happily give his word, convinced that the oath will bind all the other contenders to him, to his own advantage. But only one will be chosen. And the others will have to respect their vow.’
‘I am devoted to Athena, the green-eyed goddess,’ I replied. ‘She sometimes lets me feel her presence. Perhaps a reflection of her infinite wisdom sometimes illuminates my heart, so that the words I speak are judicious. At least that’s what I like to think.’
The king embraced me: ‘This house is your house, this land is your land. You are the son that every father wants, the son-in-law he would desire for his daughter. Promise you’ll stay with me, Odysseus, until everything is resolved.’
‘I will stay, wanax, not only because you bid me to do so, but because the goddess sent me a vision last night: a water bird with green and amber feathers made its nest in an olive tree in Laertes’ palace, my home.’
The king smiled: ‘Water birds do not make their nests in olive trees.’
‘No, they don’t, and that’s why I must stay until I recognize the meaning of the dream. I’ll know then that I have acted as Athena the all-knowing warrior and virgin has ordained.’
My green-eyed goddess.
14
I TOOK LEAVE OF THE PALACE wondering in my heart how the princes would take such a solution. When had it ever happened that the woman chose and not the man? How could they give up the idea of winning the most beautiful woman in the world by dint of their swordplay? I needed to convince them with my words alone, by offering friendship. There was no other way. I would have to prepare my words with great care and, above all, avoid meeting Helen. I couldn’t be certain that I would not succumb.
And so, weighing words and ideas, I left the palace and was walking towards the valley which opened, golden with grain blowing in the wind, along the banks of the Eurotas.
A song stopped me:
Fly, fly away,
Eye the river from above
Eye the sea from on high
As the sun sets
and the air tastes of salt
End the sting of nostalgia,
Bring him home to me!
A girl’s voice carried on the air, clear as water, soft as a caress. Where was she? I looked around but saw no one. I spotted walls covered with flowering jasmine which surrounded a garden of apple and olive trees; I could see their foliage. That’s where the voice was coming from. I approached and walked along the walls to find a point from which I could peek in. I stopped where several well-squared stones had been removed; perhaps someone had taken them for the foundations of his house. There I saw a girl dressed in a light, short-sleeved gown, cinched at the waist with a wide band. The neckline bared her perfect shoulders and the checked pattern of the dress was embroidered with a brightly coloured duck in every square.
She was picking field flowers, but she sensed my presence, straightened up and approached me without fear.
‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Your robe looks like a prince’s. Have you come to claim Helen? Others have already arrived and are camped along the river; they’re there practising for the bloody duels.’
‘And I say you’re a princess. Your gown looks fashioned by expert weavers and embroiderers, and your song touched my heart. Were you thinking of someone as you sang those words? My name is Odysseus.’
‘The prince of Ithaca. What a strange name you have.’
‘So they say. Perhaps I wouldn’t have chosen it, but now I wouldn’t exchange it with anyone.’ With no one?
‘Will you battle for her, Odysseus? How will that happen? Will the adversaries be drawn by lots? I hope you get one who’s not too terrible.’
‘Were you singing those words for someone?’
‘For no one,’ she replied.
For No One. ‘Why are you worried about my adversary? Are you afraid I won’t be able to handle him?’
‘Because you have beautiful eyes. They change colour when you smile.’
‘You have beautiful eyes, too. Luminous. A man could get lost in them. Who are you?’
‘The daughter of Icarius, King Tyndareus’ brother. So I’m Helen’s cousin.’ She gave a naughty smile. ‘I’ve seen her naked, many times. Do you want to know what she’s like?’
‘I want to know your name. Why won’t you tell me?’
‘Penelope.’
‘Now that’s a strange name! Is that why you have those little ducks embroidered on your gown?’
‘Don’t you like them?’
‘I do, very much. They look like a rainbow. Will I see you again?’
‘If you don’t get killed. Do you know how big Ajax, the son of Telamon, is? Gigantic. A walking mountain. And his cousin Achilles? A thunderbolt. He’ll cut you in half before you even lay a hand on your sword.’
‘I’m faster than they are,’ I replied. ‘I’ve already beaten them all.’
She stood looking at me without saying a word. The flowers fell out of her hand. I resumed my walk.
‘Odysseus!’ her voice rang out behind me. I turned.
She smiled. Dusky and luminous.
I ARRIVED at the camp of the suitors as the sun was just beginning its decline, after having stopped several times along the tree-shaded bank of the river. I needed to think, to repeat the words out loud, again and again. Only the cicadas answered me, and the voice of the river. I finally decided to enter the camp. The first tents I saw were those of Achilles, prince of Phthia of the Myrmidons, then those of Ajax, son of Telamon, prince of Salamis. The tents of Diomedes, prince of Argus, came next, and then those of Aj
ax Oileus, prince of Locris, Idomeneus of Crete and Menelaus, prince of Mycenae. He was accompanied by his older brother, Agamemnon, who was not a contender. He had already asked for and obtained the hand of Helen’s twin sister, Clytaemnestra. This would certainly have its importance, but for the moment I couldn’t predict how. I instantly felt sick. I knew that my mission would be much more difficult than I had thought: all I heard was the clash of weapons. All I saw was young men facing off, in training for much harsher duels. Lethal ones.
I reached a point where a space opened up between the two lines of tents, coinciding with several rocky outcroppings on the riverbank. I thought that would be the best place to make my speech. Tyndareus’ warriors were there as well, patrolling the entire extension of the camps, perhaps to guarantee that the noble guests would not attack each other in brawls or skirmishes. I wasn’t ready to talk yet, so I walked through the camp to see who these youths who wanted to win Helen were; did they truly only want to possess the most beautiful of women or something more instead? I studied their attitudes, their posturing. If I could understand, perhaps I’d be ready to speak.
When I saw that the sun was drawing close to the horizon, I called over one of the heralds, standing under a banner with the king’s colours in a clearing that was free of tents. I told him that I was Odysseus of Ithaca and that King Tyndareus had sent me. I ordered him, on behalf of the king, to call the princes to assembly. He looked into my eyes and recognized me; perhaps he had seen me at the palace. He nodded and climbed onto one of the rocks, the highest one. His thundering voice rang out from the tents of Achilles all the way to the distant tents of Protesilaus. Then a bugle call sounded where his voice alone would not carry.
One by one, the contenders arrived at the clearing by the river and I climbed up on the rock to address them.
‘Princes of Achaia!’
Their voices quietened to a buzz.
‘Noble princes, heed my words! I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, king of Ithaca. I know why you are all here: to vie for Helen, the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. There are many of you. Only one of her!’
‘We had already worked that out!’ shouted one of them. ‘No need to muster us here to tell us that.’ The others laughed.
‘Good, I’m happy to hear that. Then you’ll also have worked out what happens afterwards, right?’
‘Why are you talking about us, prince of Ithaca? Don’t you share the same intention? Aren’t you interested in Helen?’
I recognized the youth who had spoken: it was Diomedes of Argus. And he recognized me: ‘I’ve seen you before!’
‘You have,’ I replied, ‘in Argus, on the day your father was set on the pyre! Are you ready to die now as well?’
Diomedes dropped his head and then looked up, staring straight at me with a defiant expression: ‘And who says I have to die?’
‘Right, who says that?’ I said, looking out among them. ‘Achilles of Phthia? Ajax of Salamis, perhaps? Or you, Philoctetes . . .’
‘Or me!’ said a voice I thought I recognized.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Diomedes.
‘Eumelus of Pherai, son of Admetus,’ said the same voice.
It hit me who was speaking and I stopped short for a moment, my heart pounding: ‘Eumelus? What are you doing here?’
‘The same thing as the others,’ he replied curtly.
‘You don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t last. Diomedes has done nothing for years but train for combat.’ I didn’t allow him to answer, or let anyone else speak, for the moment. ‘The challenge of this young man whose beard has just sprouted shows you how far this has gone. Now, listen to me, all of you, and then you’ll decide what you want to do. I’m not here of my own initiative; I’ve been sent by the king in person, wanax Tyndareus, lord of Sparta, Helen’s father.’
The clamour of voices that had begun to rise died down at once, giving me the chance to take a good look at the men I found standing before me. Achilles looked more like a god than a man; completely clad in bronze as if he were about to stride onto the battlefield, his bare arms shone as if they themselves were made of metal. His muscles contracted spasmodically as though animated by uncontrollable energy and his hair rippled like a lion’s mane at every passing puff of wind. Ajax of Salamis was simply huge. Only Hercules, perhaps, could match him in size, although I’d never seen Hercules. Menelaus had red hair but his skin was dark and his eyes amber: he was the second of his dynasty, after Agamemnon, and would never become king. There was Philoctetes, infallible archer: everyone said that he had inherited Hercules’ bow. Antilochus, my friend, Nestor’s son: he had no hope against these giants, but how to convince him to return to his Pylos, mirrored in the sea? Ajax Oileus, bold and arrogant, agile and lightning swift. Idomeneus, lord of Crete, heir of Minos, as mighty as Zeus himself. And there was Eumelus, Alcestis’ son more than Admetus’, little more than a boy: did he perhaps imagine he could make up for his father’s lack of spine by facing off against one of these colossuses in an impossible duel?
I had to force them to reason.
‘It won’t be a bloody duel that decides this contest. Each and every one of you who falls, or remains disfigured or wounded, will bring nothing but disgrace and grief upon the land of the Achaians and all its people. It will be Helen who decides!’
The princes looked at each other incredulously. That was the last thing they’d expected to hear, and the worst.
‘Fine, there is no need to shed blood!’ shouted Diomedes. ‘Why don’t we wrestle instead, or race chariots or compete by seeing who can hurl his spear the furthest? Anything is better than letting a woman choose!’
‘What you’re proposing wouldn’t change much. None of you would accept defeat; vengeance and war would be the next step. We’re not talking simply about any woman, but about Helen of Sparta. It will be she who decides which of you she will follow as her husband. All the rest of you will swear to respect this marriage as if Helen had married you Talone. You will make your oaths one after another, as you are called by the herald, standing bare-footed on the freshly skinned hide of a gigantic bull, sacrificed to the gods of the Underworld. And be glad of it: from this moment, until Helen pronounces one of your names, each of you can dream of being the chosen one.’
‘Will you be with us, prince of Ithaca?’ asked Ajax of Salamis.
‘I cannot ignore the privilege offered to me by the king and queen of Sparta, and so I will also lay wedding gifts at Helen’s feet and swear with the rest of you but I am certain that I will not be chosen; the islands of my Ithaca are poor and rocky, and I lack your prowess. The king and the queen, with their resplendent daughter, will await you all tomorrow in the palace courtyard, after the sun has set.’
For an instant I saw, standing between Antilochus and Achilles, my counsellor Mentor, who stared at me with an enigmatic smile on his lips. I was about to call out to him, but he vanished, like the mist.
Athena!
I trembled at that vision but my heart was joyous. I was sure I had won; I had averted the disaster.
I returned to the palace, thinking of Penelope. I walked through the halls and corridors hoping to catch a glimpse of her but I knew that was impossible. Surely such a flower would be under watch in the women’s quarters, now that the sun had already sunk behind the ridges of Mount Taygetus. I went back on my steps and out into the great courtyard where the servants were preparing food for dinner. I felt something tumble around my feet and bent to pick it up: a little pebble of red sandstone. I looked up and saw her leaning on a windowsill. Her smile looked sad, or was I imagining that? I motioned for her to come down. She pointed to the southern wall of the palace and disappeared.
I looked around to make sure no one had noticed anything, then turned the corner and tried to find the place she was suggesting for such a unexpected, secret meeting. A group of holm oaks and box trees created a small, secluded space: it must be there she had been thinking of.
I stepped in
and soon saw her furtively exiting a little door and calling my name softly. She reached me in three agile steps and there she was in front of me.
‘What a funny gift you’ve given me!’ I greeted her. ‘I wouldn’t think of repaying you in the same way. But if I’d had a flower I certainly would have brought you that.’
‘Why are you saying that? You’re famous for having a way with words and making people believe what’s not true.’ Her eyes were glittering, in the shadows.
‘I don’t know what you mean. My words are sincere, they come from my heart.’
‘Oh really? Well, then listen to this: just a little while ago I heard Helen speaking with her nurse. She was saying: “Mai, I had a dream last night, a dream I think might come true.”
‘“What did you dream, my child?” asked her nurse.
‘“I dreamed that I was with the prince of Ithaca, Odysseus, in a bath chamber whose walls were all covered with a rare stone, glowing with a green reflection; there were alabaster vases filled with oriental perfumes in the room. We were acting like . . . husband and wife.”
‘“What do you mean?” asked her nurse but then Helen whispered something into her ear that I couldn’t hear. And then Helen added: “Do you think it’s a dream that will come true?”
‘“That depends on you, my child,” replied the nurse. “Only you can make it come true.”
‘“But don’t you think that the gods have sent me a sign to help me make my choice?”
‘“No one can say, but if it is this that you desire, then it is your heart sending you these dreams.”’
Here Penelope broke off and burst into tears. I tried to pull her close but she pushed me away as if I had betrayed her.
‘If Helen said that, it’s because she has already made her choice and you’ve consented. I know her too well. She always takes what she wants.’
She didn’t give me a chance to say a word before she ran off, crying.