“Perhaps it will be advantageous for the young men to leave,” Penelope mused mildly. Her words were met with loud scoffs and shaking heads. Still, she continued, “There is much we can learn from our neighboring kingdoms. If these men travel, they can gather a wealth of knowledge, teachings that will undoubtedly benefit Ithaca when they return. Not to mention the alliances they could secure for us.”
“And what if they do not return, my queen?” Mentor pressed.
Then the women can continue to grow. I saw the answer glow in Penelope’s eyes, but instead she said, “My husband believed that Ithacans will always be drawn back home, no matter how far they may wander.”
There was a grumble of reluctant agreement. Nobody could disagree with the word of legendary Odysseus after all.
“Now what of the graffiti in the harbor? How can we deter those scoundrels?” Mentor continued, and the men quickly dissolved into another inane disagreement.
Penelope caught my gaze in the doorway then, mouth quirking upward. With just a twitch of her brow, she managed to flash me a long-suffering look.
“Queen Penelope.” I gave a flourishing bow that had her eyes sparking with amusement. “Forgive my intrusion, but your presence is required urgently.”
“Perhaps this is a good time to adjourn today’s meeting,” Mentor said.
“An excellent idea,” Penelope agreed as she rose from her seat at the side of the room. As a woman, it was deemed “inappropriate” for her to sit at the table with the men, but as a queen without her king, she was permitted to join these council meetings. Whatever logic there was in that dichotomy, it made little sense to me. But I had never been one for politics.
“Thank you for graciously allowing me to observe your discussiontoday, gentlemen.”
She always said this at the end of every meeting, when the men should really have been thankingher. If matters had been left to these cantankerous old farts, the kingdom would have fallen to ruin years ago, when Laertes relinquished his title as king and disappeared to his tiny cottage in the countryside. Fortunately for Ithaca, what it lacked in king and council was made up for by its new queen.
Under Penelope’s rule, Ithaca had flourished. During her first year as queen, she had streamlined farming cycles to yield greater produce, resulting in more trade and wealth for the land. The councilmen liked to congratulate themselves on this feat, as they did for all Ithaca’s successes. But that was how Penelope intended it. She ruled from the shadows, wielding her power with subtlety so as not to unsettle any egos and risk it being snatched from her. She had always been an expert at planting ideas in men’s minds, nurturing them quietly until they blossomed into fully formed thoughts they believed to be their own ingenious creation. It was an art form, really, one I loved to see at work.
“Make sure you take time to rest, my queen,” Mentor said. He always spoke softly to Penelope, as if she were a timid creature he might frighten away. “It is humid today.”
She smiled indulgently at him. “I will, thank you.”
Though she was not permitted a seat at their table, the councilmen still rose and bowed as Penelope glided from the room.
“Gods, listening to those men makes me sympathize with Sisyphus,” she murmured as we strode side by side down the hallway. “Every time I feel we are making progress, they fall back into some pointless argument. Tell me, is my presenceactuallyrequired, or were you just saving me from my torment?”
“The latter,” I said.
She grinned. “What would I do without you?”
I forced myself to ignore the slight flutter in my stomach.
“There is someone I’d like you to meet though. I found her in thewoods.”
Penelope arched a brow. “In the woods?”
“She had an arrow to my back for most of our initial meeting, and I’m pretty sure she was about to stab me with a bread knife when I took her to the kitchens.”
Penelope gave me a despairing look, though her amusement shone through. “She sounds…delightful.”
“I think she’d make a great handmaid.”
“Ah yes, the violent use of a bread knife is always a good indication of a competent handmaid.”
“Do I detect sarcasm, my queen?”
“Sarcasm?” Penelope placed a hand over her heart. “How decidedly unladylike that would be.”
“Truly despicable.”
Penelope mirrored my smirk, and though she was twenty-six now, the gleam in her eyes made her look like a child again, delightfully mischievous.
We walked along the colonnade fringing the central courtyard. Pillars stood in a uniform row at our side, sunlight reaching between them like eager, golden fingers. Out on the grass, a group of slaves were chatting animatedly as they enjoyed a spread of breads, cheese, and olives—all food they had worked hard to produce and that now was theirs to enjoy.
