Chapter Text
The messenger was nervous. That much was obvious. His voice trembled ever so slightly as he delivered the news to Odysseus.
The King himself was rigid in his throne as he processed the words spewing out of the messenger’s mouth. Helen. Abducted. Troy. Menelaus. War.
“And so,” the messenger concluded, “they are asking you, King of Ithaca, to le–” his voice cracked. The man cleared his throat. “To leave and fight alongside the kings Agamemnon and Menelaus against the Trojans. To retrieve Queen Helen.”
“I see,” Odysseus said. “Do they expect a reply?”
“No,” the messenger replied. “I believe that an emissary will come to have you join the war.”
“Ah. Of course,” said Odysseus. “You may leave now.”
The messenger left the room, leaving Odysseus alone with his thoughts. Perhaps he could have been a bit kinder, comforted the messenger, assured him that nothing bad would happen to him for simply conveying unfortunate news. His subjects were not subservient to him — not victims of his poor mood.
But Odysseus currently had bigger problems. Like how he was being called for war. Yes, that was a very big problem.
He gritted his teeth. How, he thought, tinged with annoyance, how did I get here?
His mentor’s scornful voice rang through his head. How? You brought yourself here, Odysseus. You were the one who insisted upon making all the kings swear to protect Helen. Why? To prevent war. Ha!
Odysseus jerked his head up, half expecting Athena to be standing in front of him, one eyebrow raised. But no, the voice was his imagination. The war goddess would be busy making preparations for… well. The war.
Nevertheless, he mentally replied to the voice. I had to. For Penelope. It was the only way.
How unfortunate that the deal which gave you Penelope is what shall steal you away now. Athena’s voice came with mock sympathy.
So what do I do? Odysseus thought, frustrated.
Think. There is a reason you are my student. How do you get out of this? the goddess asked coolly.
Odysseus sighed.
“My lord?” Aegyptius, one of Odysseus’ favorite geron, asked. “Are you alright?” His eyes flicked between Odysseus and the other geron in the room, as if he wasn’t sure if Odysseus was deep in thought or had gone insane.
Insane. The idea struck Odysseus almost as quickly as Zeus’ lightning. He could almost hear Athena’s grudging approval. “Yes. Of course.”
“So…” Aegyptius hesitated. “Shall we start making preparations for war?”
“War?” Odysseus smiled. “Oh, no. War seems a bit much, don’t you think? All the resources, men, time… it’s quite a waste to use it all up simply to fix another kingdom’s mistakes. No, I have an idea of sorts. Would you like to hear it?”
Odysseus walked through the halls of his own palace, feeling a bit like a stranger. It was a palace he had built himself, yes, but the gynaikon provided peace and privacy to the women, and considering his newly-born son, Odysseus figured that Penelope needed all the peace in the world to manage him. Nevertheless, this time would have to be an exception.
He walked past the walls covered in murals, checking different rooms where he startled women at work sewing or creating linens. Finally, he found Penelope.
“Ah, my brave Telemachus,” she was saying, a wide smile as brilliant as the morning sun on her face. “You’ve been having fun, yes?”
His newborn son squealed in reply.
“But now it’s time to go to bed, hmm? Brave children must have their rest,” Penelope informed him, picking Telemachus up and putting him into his cradle.
Warmth blossomed in Odysseus’ chest as though Lady Hestia had started a hearth within him. The real hearth, however, were the two figures in front of him. Penelope and Telemachus. His wife and his son. Family. The hearth he would always come back to.
The hearth I must never leave, Odysseus corrected.
“Penelope,” Odysseus spoke.
Penelope looked up in surprise. “Odysseus,” she said. “Hello.”
Odysseus smiled. “Hello.”
“I was not expecting you.” She straightened up, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”
Odysseus hesitated.
A faint frown found its way to his lovely wife’s face. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why do you hesitate to tell me?”
“Penelope,” Odysseus began. “I am afraid I come with bad news. Your cousin, Helen of Sparta, has been… taken. Abducted. By Paris, prince of Troy.”
Shock overtook Penelope’s voice as she repeated, “Taken?”
Odysseus nodded his confirmation.
“Oh!” Penelope cried out. “That is horrible!”
“That is not all,” Odysseus said. “You remember the Oath of Tyndareus, naturally.”
Penelope froze. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Well,” Odysseus continued. “Menelaus is coming here to take me to–”
“No,” Penelope interrupted, moving towards Odysseus and gripping his arms. She understood, because of course she understood. Penelope was clever and smart and that was why he married her. “No. No, you aren’t going. You can’t go. No. You can’t go to war. Your kingdom needs you, Telemachus needs you, I need you! Menelaus cannot take you, he cannot, I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!”
“Penelope,” Odysseus intervened. “Do try to understand–”
“What is there to understand?” she cried. “You are going to war!”
“No,” Odysseus said firmly. “I will not. You must trust me and listen.”
For a moment, the only sound is Penelope’s hard breathing and Telemachus babbling in his cradle, oblivious. Then Penelope exhaled and said, “OK. What is your plan?”
Odysseus smiled. He led Penelope to the kline next to Telemachus’ cradle, moving to brush Telemachus’ cheek lovingly, at which the infant giggled. “This is what you must do.”
Odysseus heard Penelope’s wails from across the field. His heart, alongside every other muscle in his body, strained to abandon the plow, to run to his wife, to comfort her. His brain refused.
You told her to cry, Athena’s voice appeared in his head once more. It’s part of the plan. Don’t be foolish. You would succeed no more than if a dove tried to be an owl.
Odysseus thought something he would die for if ever vocalized. Shut up. You would not understand love.
It was true enough. If Athena was actually here, she would advise going with Menelaus, fighting in the war, and offering strategic support to ‘get it all over with’. It was the logical path. After all, he had sworn an oath that required him to do so. But love was the duty Odysseus placed higher than promises.
So here he was. Plowing a field with salt alongside a donkey and an ox with a pileus on his head to top it all off. Playing at being insane.
The plow moved unsteadily, making rickety noises as the mismatched animals pulled Odysseus forward. Any moment now, Odysseus thought. Any moment now, Menelaus will come to see what shall become truth for him. He shall see that the King of Ithaca has gone insane.
Sure enough, Odysseus saw two figures, one tall and kingly — Menelaus — and another, shorter man whom he couldn’t quite recognize. An emissary, Odysseus mused. Interesting.
Nevertheless, there was no time for figuring out who the emissary Menelaus had sent was. It was time to perform. Lord Dionysus, Lord Apollo, O Great Muses, Odysseus prayed, bless me.
He urged the ox and donkey to move faster, forcing them to run directly at the two figures. Menelaus stood wide-eyed as the plow approached him while the emissary stood with eyes narrowed.
“Odysseus!” cried Menelaus. “Old friend! What is the meaning of this all? Is it really true? Have you gone insane?”
In response to the King of Sparta, Odysseus said, “Why, would you look at that! The seeds are working! Look, a man has sprouted up from the ground!” He cackled in a way that hopefully seemed crazy enough, directing the plow to another direction to avoid hitting the men.
“Son of Laertes, what are you doing?” Menelaus pressed on. “What has happened to you? Surely this cannot be true.”
“Oh, look, the man talks!” Odysseus exclaimed in false delight. “I wonder if the other one does too!”
A wail came out from the palace as Penelope ran through the field covered in salt. “I told you, did I not? My lord, my husband, he has gone insane! It must be the curse of some god who has found displeasure with him! Oh, my poor husband, why, why you?” Penelope wiped a fake tear from her face, and Odysseus felt pride rise through his chest at his wife’s performance. She can do anything, he thought, slightly awestruck.
Menelaus looked convinced by this. He sighed. “Well, Palamedes,” he directed to the other man, “It seems our travel has been for naught. The King of Ithaca has gone insane. Yet another ally is lost in our battle to get Helen back.”
Palamedes, Odysseus thought. Yes, I know him. He was a suitor for Helen, was he not? Quite a… wily fellow.
Palamedes did not look convinced. “On the contrary, my lord,” he responded. “I feel as though something is off about the whole matter. If you will just excuse me for a moment, I must retrieve… something to confirm his insanity. I shall be satisfied if proved wrong.”
Menelaus sighed again. “Do whatever you wish.” Palamedes left the field, calmly walking back to the palace.
Penelope continued to falsify weeping as Odysseus moved the plow in circles around Menelaus and his wife, throwing in the odd remark about salt men. Odysseus caught her eye and winked. She bit her lip to hide a smile.
It’s working, Odysseus thought, satisfaction rising in him like àloaf of bread being baked. I won’t have to go to war.
Silence, Athena’s voice came. It’s not over just yet. Don’t be overconfident, Odysseus.
Odysseus scoffed. And then he froze.
For Palamedes had returned from the palace, and in his hands was an infant.
Telemachus. Fear spread through Odysseus, making his body tingle. He gripped the plow harder.
Penelope sprang up. “My lord! What… what are you doing with my son? He was just napping!”
“Forgive me,” Palamedes said smoothly. “But I must conduct a small experiment. I assure you, it will be over soon.”
“But–”
“My lady,” interrupted Menelaus. “I understand your worry, but I swear on my honor–” and what honor is that, Odysseus scorned, what honor when your wife has run away with a Trojan prince, “–nothing will happen to your son. Palamedes has my full trust.” Menelaus concluded.
“Thank you, my lord,” Palamedes said.
He better not do anything to my son, Odysseus thought. How dare he touch him, touch a prince of Ithaca, touch my son?
Palamedes moved towards the plow and placed the smiling, giggling, squealing infant — my son, my son — on the ground. Telemachus sat, playing with the grass, as Odysseus was hurtling towards him at full speed.
The satisfaction in his body burst, the bread collapsing in on itself, burning in rage and fear.
“Give up your pretense and come and join the allies!” Palamedes called out. “Or else watch your son die by your own hands.”
An insane man would run him over, Athena’s voice provides.
I know! Odysseus thought in panic. I know, I know, I know–
So run him over! Athena’s voice exclaimed.
Telemachus looked up, grinning as his father came into sight.
Don’t pull the plow away! came the voice.
Odysseus pulled the plow away.
When he jerked his head, his fierce gaze landed on a smirking Palamedes, a shocked Menelaus, and a horrified Penelope. Odysseus met Palamedes’ eyes and shook with fury.
Odysseus stopped the plow. He got off from the plow. And he advanced slowly towards the still-smiling Palamedes with fists clenched. My son. My wife. My kingdom. My family.
“Odysseus, son of Laertes!” exclaimed Menelaus. “What was the meaning of this–”
Odysseus lunged at Palamedes, gripping the man by clothes. Distantly, Athena’s voice rang in his head, the sound muffled as if underwater, drowned out by a flood of rage. “You. You dare–”
“Dare!” scoffed Palamedes. “You, son of Laertes, are the one who has the audacity to dare. You dare attempt to get out of war, out of a solemn oath that you created by tricking us all!”
“You violated xenia,” Odysseus growled, clutching the man tighter. “You placed my son, the prince, under threat.”
“What threat?” Palamedes asked. “He was with his father. Perfectly safe, if you ask me.”
“And if he’d gotten hurt?” Odysseus’ voice trembled, almost unrecognizable as his greatest fear spewed out of his mouth. “Then, pray tell, who would be responsible? You!”
“On the contrary, I would not be the one pulling a plow over the child. That would be you, Odysseus.”
“Do you wish for death?” Odysseus whispered. “Do you?”
“Odysseus! This is all highly undignified behaviour! I would never, in a thousand rotations of the sun, think you capable of this,” Menelaus declared. “Let us all go inside, calm down, and discuss matters like the gods would, not like barbarians.”
“Do not worry, old friend,” Palamedes reassured. “I believe we can work something out here, yes, king of Ithaca?”
Odysseus’ muscles were still rigid with the urge to bash the man’s skull into the ground. Emotional, Athena’s voice came back, laced with disdain. I chose you for other reasons, better reasons. Don’t be emotional.
Odysseus slowly released Palamedes from his grip, prompting the emissary to smoothen over his garments while Odysseus flexed his palm. “What do you propose?” he gritted out.
The emissary smiled. “You, my friend–” friend? “–have unfortunately committed two insults. One, the violation of xenia, where you grabbed me and threatened me. Two, you attempted to back out of a solemn oath and fool us as though we were common men incapable of advanced thought.
“However,” Palamedes continued, “I’m sure that Menelaus, son of Atreus, shall be willing to forget these insults so long as you join the war efforts and contribute whole-heartedly towards retrieving Helen of Sparta. What say you?”
It’s a good deal, Athena whispered in his mind. Take it.
Odysseus glanced towards Penelope, who was silently watching the whole affair, holding Telemachus in her arms. She gave him a soft look, a bittersweet twist to her lips.
Odysseus took a deep breath. Directing his attention back to the two men, he said, “I’ll take it.”
“Good.” Palamedes acknowledged the decision with a tilt of his head. “Do make all the necessary preparations. We plan on leaving as the sun begins to rise in the sky.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Menelaus hesitated. “Odysseus… I understand. You do not wish to be parted from your home, from your family.” He looked at Penelope and Telemachus. “But at the very least you choose to leave them. My wife was stolen from me. I know you hate to do this, and ordinarily, I would never force you, but you must join the war. An oath binds you to do so. And apart from that, I ask you to do so. From one husband to another. Please.” The king smiled apologetically before departing from the field as well.
Penelope moved towards Odysseus, gliding over the salt-strewn field with almost all the grace as Persephone, standing beside her husband. “So you are leaving after all.”
“So it seems,” he replied.
Penelope leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “Alright.”
They say nothing for a while. Then Odysseus spoke up. “I will come back to you. I swear.” Odd words coming from a man constantly running away from promises, Athena mused in his mind.
This one I will keep. Penelope and Telemachus were his hearth, after all. What would he be without them, without their warmth, their comfort?
Penelope laughed softly, the sound like tinkling water. “I know you will. You are still my clever husband. You will find your way back home.”
Telemachus scrunched up his face, beginning to wail. Penelope shifted the infant in her arms, straightening her body.
“He’s missed his nap, has he not?” Odysseus asked. “He must be irritated.”
“I shall take him to the nursery. You… you go prepare. For war.”
“For war,” Odysseus repeated. He turned his eyes to meet Penelope’s sad blue ones. Reaching his hands up, he cupped her face. “I love you.”
She smiled, even as tears glinted in her eyes. “I love you too.”
Odysseus kissed her forehead. “I shall meet you once more, before I leave.”
“Of course,” Penelope replied.
Telemachus began to wail properly, as if he knew he was saying goodbye to his father. Odysseus bent down, brushing the tears away, and kissed his son’s forehead as well. “Goodbye, my son.”
“I should take him for his nap,” Penelope said. “I’ll take your leave.”
Odysseus nodded, and Penelope turned towards the palace.
And Odysseus… Odysseus turned to the man who forced him to leave the shelter of his hearth and forge into the cold unknown. Palamedes, he scorned. What to do with him?
Nothing for the time being, of course. But eventually, the man would pay.
For now, Odysseus had to make calculations, plans, preparations for weapons, men, ships. But all the while, revenge would stay in the back of his mind, waiting for the time it could be acted upon.