Chapter Text
Odysseus had to bargain mother down from sending nearly twenty people with them - Ctimene wasn't entirely sure that they could just go by themselves, the two of them, but twenty did seem a little much, since it would slow them down immensely with the supplies.
They compromised with four others; her brother had said that it was better to be a little less threatening, in favour of travelling faster and lighter. Besides, Odysseus was very sure he would be able to convince the Messenians to return their sheep untouched.
"I would allow them one shearing, even, if that's what they want," Odysseus told Ctimene, "as long as they return the sheep and interest besides. Everyone would be happy that way."
"Really?" Ctimene said.
"... well, happy enough," Odysseus laughed. "Because I would drown all the sheep and ruin their fleeces if they tried to breed them."
Well.
Alright.
That was one of the things about sheep anyway - the value was in the many years of wool they could produce, not just in three hundred sheep-shaped meat blocks.
"Give them a choice, and they'd pick the one that they'd get some of the benefit they wanted, rather than the one where they get none of it." Odysseus said.
Maybe her brother had been right - maybe they wouldn't have needed even the four others with them.
They were only two days inland when they met someone going the other way.
It was the first person Ctimene had seen who could rival her brother in looks - taller than Odysseus with wavy hair that was a beautiful colour of spring fawns, streaked with what might almost be gold threads in the firelight.
She could hide in the wagon, while her brother extracted a name - "Iphitos," the man said, clasping her brother's hand, smiling warm and friendly at Odysseus. "My father's cattle had been disappeared from their stables."
"You have an idea of who might have stolen them?" Odysseus said, "Such skill in disappearing cattle without a sound - it does not sound like a normal man could do it."
"Indeed! My father has decided that it was Heracles," Iphitos said, shaking his head, "but surely, a man like Heracles would not."
For a moment, Ctimene had thought that Iphitos, with his extreme good looks, was part-god too, and that was risky - her distaff was packed a little away in the back of the wagon, and the closest thing she had on hand was the wooden spoon they used to cook dinner - but the way he'd looked when he'd mentioned Heracles' name - something shining in his striking eyes.
Iphitos had no eyes for anyone else but Heracles.
"Therefore," Iphitos said, "I am journeying to his domicile to ask him to come help find the thief."
"Ah yes," her brother said, something in the corner of his mouth twitching. Was that a smile? Or perhaps a pout?
… Odysseus' eyes were intent on Iphitos.
Oh no, she thought. Iphitos had no beard either, but he was taller, clearly a little older than Odysseus, while looking nothing like the slender Ganymede.
"You use that bow?"
"Yes!" Iphitos said, unslinging it. "Do you like it? Father passed it to me - he had taught Heracles on this bow." Iphitos smoothed his fingers over it, fitting it exactly to his palm.
Odysseus reached up to run a finger over the polished limb of it. "Yes," he said. "It's beautiful."
His eyes were not on the bow - not that Iphitos was looking.
"Is it very far?" Odysseus said. "Heracles' domicile, that is."
"A while," Iphitos said, spinning the bow in his grip, and then hooking it back over his shoulder. "So-"
"You could eat with us, rest a while," Odysseus interrupted. "Take a break?"
If Odysseus tried to give Iphitos food, Ctimene thought, she would hit him with the spoon. He'd somehow gotten enchanted by Iphitos's pretty hair, or his striking eyes. At least he hadn't tried to offer Iphitos a ride - if he had, Ctimene WOULD hit them both with the spoon, because it'd mean Odysseus' head had gone broken somewhere, to suggest going away from the Messenians who needed a lesson in the consequences of stealing her brother's sheep.
"It's too far a distance to go, and the sun is still up," Iphitos said apologetically. "But give me your name - that we can visit properly."
Odysseus' eyes clearly lit up. "Odysseus, son of Laertes, of Ithaca," he said, "If we do meet again--" he considered and reached for his knife on his belt. "Here! Let us exchange gifts - since I cannot give you food and host you properly, then let me give you a gift, and a promise to tell you stories about my grandfather Autolycus and Heracles."
"Ah!" Iphitos looked a little flummoxed, at being offered Odysseus' knife. Ctimene was torn between throwing her spoon at them if he accepted, and throwing the spoon at him if Iphitos refused it.
Frozen in indecision, Ctimene didn't know what to think when Iphitos unslung his bow, hooked his leg around its smooth limb and unstrung it. It sprung back into a strange shape, almost like a crescent moon.
"Here," he said, "Odysseus, son of Laertes, may we exchange stories then, of our fathers and grandfathers, when we next meet."
The weapons changed hands, and Ctimene missed her chance to fling the spoon at Iphitos' head.
She could poke it at Odysseus when Iphitos left, until her brother remembered to look back at her.
"What is going on in your head," she said, scowling a little.
"Nothing," Odysseus said, and looked down at the unstrung bow in his hand. "... I don't know how to string this."
"Idiot," Ctimene said. "Hope he comes back and teaches you then."
They were getting ready to make tents to sleep when a knife melted out of the shadows and around Odysseus' throat.
"Hey-!" Ctimene said, snatching up a still glowing stick from the fire.
"I apologise," Iphitos said, "and this is horribly rude but. You mentioned your grandfather and Heracles?"
"Yes," Odysseus said slowly, and gestured for Ctimene to put the burning wood back down. "If you had returned earlier, we could have fed you soup."
"And then I would have had to violate xenia," Iphitos said. "Your grandfather, Autolycus."
Ctimene huffed. "Brother."
Odysseus gave the entire camp a bright smile, somehow managing to include the man holding him by knifepoint at the throat. "Well it's either him or great-grandfather, don't you agree?"
"Then I regretfully have to hold you captive until your grandfather returns the cattle," Iphitos said apologetically. "Please come with me."
"Gladly," Odysseus. "Ctimene, just stay."
Stay and call for great-grandfather, he meant.
"Of course," she said crossly. It wasn't like there was anything else she could do - her presence could chase away nymphs by repelling them with sheer boredom, but it didn't work on a wholly mortal person.
And her stupid brother had constructed this trap with his own words and walked into it.
She stayed standing as Iphitos backed Odysseus out from the rest of the camp, the others looking between her and Odysseus, confused.
"Surely… the usual hostage would be-" said one.
"Just pack up the camp," she said, "my brother will probably be stuck scrubbing his new friend's carriages for a while to pay off Grandfather's debt."
And serve him right if she let him.
So there.
She was mending the hem of one of Odysseus' chitons when there was a scrape of sandals next to her, and a hand reaching down to steal her cup.
"You've left a gap there," Great-grandfather said.
"It'd serve him right," Ctimene said. "He and his stupid mouth."
"Then when the trimming falls off, your poor brother would not be so properly attired."
"Maybe then he'd have an excuse for having no brains," Ctimene said, and snipped the thread, to glare at the bit of the trimming Great-grandfather had pointed out.
The gap was due to the trimming being sewed on crooked on the other side of the hem - she was going to have to redo it.
Or maybe her stupid brother could just wear it like this and look stupid, and then he wouldn't be able to stare at pretty new men and get himself kidnapped.
"I don't think that's how brains work," Great-grandfather said. "My brother wears a lot of trim, but he doesn't have much brains."
Ctimene looked at the still dark sky, then gave her great-grandfather as flat a look as she could.
Great-grandfather smiled winningly at her, and took a long swallow of her watered wine. Then pouted. "This doesn't even have anything in it."
"That's because it's for me," Ctimene said, "not for guests."
"Family doesn't even get anything special?"
"Family gets whatever we have on-hand when they drop in unannounced."
Great-grandfather tapped his staff against the floor of her wagon. "Tragic. Your brother always at least adds honey."
"Since he's not here, you're just getting water and wine," Ctimene said and picked up Odysseus' chlamys, to inspect where he tended to pin it closed. One part was getting worn, so she was going to have to start darning. Maybe he's freezing out there doing whatever Iphitos was making him do. Serve him right.
"And why is he not here?" Great-grandfather prompted.
"Busy paying off grandfather's debt, I presume," Ctimene said. "Maybe his fingers are freezing off."
"It's barely fall," Great-grandfather said, taking another swallow of her drink, and then paused. Looked down at her again. Her hands stilled, needle still in the fabric.
"What?"
"Interesting," Great-grandfather said. "Well. I'm sure he is going to have to serve his penance one way or another, it doesn't have to be for this one mortal."
Great-grandfather got to his feet and hopped off the wagon. His gaze was still level from where he'd been sitting.
"Which he?" Ctimene said.
Great-grandfather leaned over, almost horizontally, to ruffle her hair and ruin her braids. "That'd be telling. I'm off to retrieve my terrible son now, be good!"
Odysseus returned with Iphitos before dawn; Ctimenes had stopped darning Odysseus' chlamys because she was too tired to not stab herself with the needle. She was instead wasting a thin plyed yarn making a terrible ribbon, which she was going to sew onto Odysseus' neckline somewhere, and nearly fell off her seat when Odysseus called to her.
"Ctimene! Ctimene, we're back!"
"About time," she said, and put her tiny loom aside, considered casting about for her himation to hide her face, and gave up because she'd put it down somewhere and now she couldn't figure where it'd gone.
"My apologies, lady," Iphitos said, politely keeping his eyes averted. "For borrowing your brother without warning."
"I think the knife was plenty of warning," Ctimene said.
Iphitos looked a little shamefaced.
"Ctimene," Odysseus said, choosing to gloss over it all, "Iphitos would travel with us for a while, and teach me how to use the bow."
"Welcome," Ctimene said. If her brother wanted to bring along the person who'd made him scoop horse shit or something, that was his problem.
"Ctimene."
Ctimene sighed. "Welcome, my brother's friend, Iphitos, son of Eurytus," she said. "My brother will find you something to drink and eat."
"Your welcome is gracious, lady," Iphitos said, and at least Odysseus took the hint, to take Iphitos to the dying fire, and let Ctimene drop the curtains of the wagon.
She found her himation under Odysseus' chlamys, and huffed and wrapped herself in both and went to sleep.
Iphitos stayed with them another day; the path towards his home split from theirs fairly soon, and he had to return to his father's anyway. Grandfather was supposed to have returned the cattle. Or horses. Or whatever it was Grandfather had stolen, and Iphitos was supposed to supervise his compensation.
"So Iphitos didn't make you pay for any of it?" Ctimene said over lunch while Iphitos had retired to the woods out of sight, for privacy.
"No, well, yes," Odysseus said, "a bit, but then Great-grandfather and Grandfather showed up so he stopped."
Ctimene narrowed her glare at her brother. He continued to eat, though his ears got pink.
"And he's here because…?"
"He promised to teach me the bow to repay me for my unwarranted service," Odysseus said, and stuffed a big bite of bread into his mouth, so he couldn't answer Ctimene's pokes.
So he had been shovelling horse-shit. Or polishing spears or something, Ctimene decided. Fine. Iphitos should pay her brother back then.
At least Odysseus got lessons out of it - with his usual fast-learning, one day was enough.
Ctimene did clean the knife's sheath - the knife that had been Odysseus' and now was Iphitos. It felt like something Mother would do - even if Iphitos was here because he OWED her brother anyway.
He should give Odysseus more arrows as well. Was the least he could do. She added some leather cording to the strap, specifically choosing the braiding pattern that looked like arrow-heads. There. That was hint enough.
When he left, Iphitos did leave an extra quiver of finely made arrows, and Ctimene was pleased.