The princes shared a smirk as Penelope strode toward the door. As I watched her go, a small, foolish part of me waited for her to look back.
She did not.
10
Helen’s suitors arrived the following day.
Callias and I were stationed in the entertaining hall, the largest room of the palace, reserved for Sparta’s major functions. Giant pillars carried lofty ceilings, like Atlas bearing the skies. Along the walls, vivid frescoes depicted famous scenes from mythology, still smelling of fresh paint from the retouches Tyndareus had recently commissioned.
Beneath our feet, intricate mosaics adorned the floor. I knew every fleck of stone had been scrubbed clean by exhausted slaves, just like every other inch of the palace. Painstaking hours of endless work so that entitled men could scuff their sandals, spill their wine, and congratulate one another on their own greatness.
I felt a muscle in my jaw twitch as I swallowed my frustration, watching more men funnel into the room, glowing like young gods who believed the world was theirs and theirs alone.
A dais was positioned at the far end of the space, framed by the courtyard the room spilled into. Here, Tyndareus sat upon his throne, flanked by his sons. Every new arrival approached the king first, making their formal introduction and offering generous favors. These gifts became more extravagant as the day wore on—weapons, pottery, clothing, jewelry, gold, livestock. One suitor even brought slaves, ten beautiful girls with flaxen hair.
Tyndareus seemed delighted at first, but as time passed and histreasuries swelled to near bursting, the king grew withdrawn, as if a great cloud had descended over him.
I watched from the sidelines as the men interacted with one another. They were like birds in mating season, puffed up and proud, circling slowly as they offered empty platitudes, all the while quietly assessing their competition. Though the atmosphere was celebratory, there was an undeniable thread of tension woven beneath, like a bowstring pulling dangerously tauter with every new arrival.
Each time someone entered, I found my eyes darting to the doorway to see if it washer. But Penelope did not come. She was, no doubt, in the women’s quarters with Helen. Two beautiful prizes kept safely locked away.
What did I care where she was anyway? I had nothing to say to Penelope. And once she was married and shipped off to some distant palace, I would never have to see her again.
My thoughts were disrupted as the largest man I had ever seen cut across the room. He looked like a weapon given life, melded from fire and iron and rage. I watched his hulking shoulders rise and fall in rhythm with his confident strides. Rather than weaving around the crowds, the giant sliced directly through them, forcing men to move out of his thundering path. Every inch of his body was corded with thick, sculpted muscle.
The various pools of conversation dried up in the man’s wake, the room growing so quiet I could hear his announcement clearly.
“I am Ajax, prince of Salamis, son of Telamon. I come as your humble guest, King Tyndareus, seeking the hand of your famed daughter, Helen of Sparta.” His voice reminded me of thunder over mountains, a thick rumble caught between craggy peaks.
I spared a glance at Callias, who was gaping at Ajax with unbridled awe.
“He’s even bigger than in the stories,” he murmured beside me.
“Ajax the Great.” I scoffed at the name. “I do not see what is sogreat about him.”
“Are we looking at the same man? He looks like a literal god.”
“Yes, he looks as if he could crush my head like a grape. How fantastic,” I muttered. “And people would give Ajax’s toenail more respect than they would ever show either of us.”
Callias sniggered at that. I had not meant it as a joke.
Chatter started up again as Ajax moved away from the dais. Already, more suitors were arriving, taking their place before the king.
“Do you think there are more than Tyndareus expected?” Callias asked quietly.
“Far more. Do you see his face? He looks worried.”
“Worried? He’ll be the richest man in Greece by the time Helen is wed. Do you see all the gifts they are bringing him?”
“Men only give gifts when they expect something in return. And every man in this room wants the same thing, but only one will get it,” I murmured, recalling Penelope’s words from the day before. I hated how her voice clung to my mind so easily. “I doubt most of the men in this room have ever been denied anything in their entire lives.”
Callias’s face tightened as he regarded the room with a newfound wariness. “They are guests. The laws ofxeniademand they treat their host with respect.”
“And what if they feel they have been slighted by their host? Will they believe those laws still apply? There’s enough entitlement in here to rival the halls of Olympus.”
Callias considered this, teeth pressing into his soft lower lip. “Do you think Tyndareus has a plan to keep the peace?”
I flickered my eyes to the king, watching his face slowly darken.
