“Fifteen,” I said.
She sniffed, then nodded. “Good. Follow me. The rest of you willbe shown to the sleeping quarters.”
I glanced warily at the others. “You said I was to work in the kitchens?”
“I’m aware,” Eurycleia snipped. “But tonight, you are needed for another purpose. Can you sing?”
“No.”
She clicked her tongue again. “Well, you will have to try.”
***
Eurycleia led me to Odysseus’s private chambers.
His quarters were situated at the top of the hill, near the front of the palace, and comprised of three large interconnecting chambers with a sweeping terrace jutting out over the sea. The rooms smelled musty, every visible surface coated in dust and strange items Odysseus must have collected on his travels, and there were more wax tablets than I could count, stacked in teetering piles. It wasn’t like the disarray of Castor’s room, born from arrogant neglect; this mess felt purposeful in its own chaotic way.
Standing in the center of the space were a handful of other slave girls, all around my age. I recognized Hippodamia, though she avoided my gaze.
“What are we doing here?” I asked Eurycleia.
“I hope you do not speak to your masters with such a bold tongue?” she snapped, her testiness scratching at my nerves. “You are to wait here until the newlywed couple return from the celebrations.”
A cold tendril of panic slithered into my gut. “What? Why?”
Eurycleia’s bushy brows pinched into a scowl. “Do Spartans have no respect for marital traditions?”
“Tonight is the first night Mistress Penelope will spend with her husband in their marital bed,” Hippodamia explained, her voice soft against Eurycleia’s harsh bark. “It is tradition for young, unmarried women to sing outside the chamber. It brings good fortune for theconsummation of the marriage. Is this not the custom in Sparta?”
“Yes, but they did all that already,” I said, feeling a sudden, desperate need to get away from this room. “On their wedding night.”
“They did not,” Eurycleia interjected. “Master Odysseus has always intended to legitimize his union here, in Ithaca.”
“And how would you know that?” I matched Eurycleia’s tone, making her eyes flare.
“Because I have watched him carve his marital bed with his own two hands from the very tree that grows through this palace. Master Odysseus has spent many tireless moons sculpting that bed for this very moment. That is why it is imperative we ensure everything goes smoothly tonight.”
“I think that’s down to Master Odysseus’s performance, not ours,” I muttered.
Eurycleia pinched my arm.
“Speak with respect,” she scolded before turning to the other girls. “You are to stay here until morning, understood? No one leaves.”
The doors opened then, and the air shriveled in my lungs as I heard Penelope’s laugh. It was not the laugh I knew—this one sounded more rehearsed—yet still it set my heart racing. The sound instantly died as she entered the room, her gaze striking mine. Her eyes widened slightly, her cheeks growing two shades paler. I glanced away.
“I have the girls prepared for you, Master Odysseus.” Eurycleia bowed her head as they entered.
Odysseus grinned, throwing a surprisingly affectionate arm around Eurycleia’s shoulders. “Penelope, I believe you have yet to meet Eurycleia. This woman practically raised me from when I was a babe. She is as wonderful as she is formidable. If you need anything, Eurycleia is your woman.”
Penelope inclined her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, mistress. Ithaca is delighted to have you,” Eurycleia said. She then patted Odysseus’s arm, her eyes shining.“I am so proud of you, my darling boy.”
Odysseus took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you.”
The affection between them was deeply unsettling, like that of a mother and son.
How could a slave love their master like that?
