“Of course he wants those things, just at aneasierprice.”
She gasped, doubling over as if my words had been a physical blow to the gut.
“Penelope…what’s the matter?” I took a tentative step forward, my concern for her instantly deflating all traces of my temper.
“I’m in labor,” she said with surprising calmness.
“You’re what?”
“In labor. I have been for some time now.”
“Who else knows?”
“You would be the first.”
She then moved toward the table at the center of the room and began gathering the various herbs she had retrieved from the kitchens.
“What are you doing?”
“I have been researching pain remedies,” she said. Her hands shook as she grabbed a bunch of crocuses and began plucking out their crimson tongues. “The doctors were all useless, of course. Youwould think, with the commonness of childbirth, one of themmighthave researched a method to alleviate pain for women or make the process easier. But of course, men are not interested in the troubles of women, even when those troubles service them.”
The words streamed out of her as she ground the ingredients together with a pestle, smashing them into a bowl with unfettered frustration. Sweat trickled down her forehead, traveling along her nose to where it dangled precariously.
“What can I do to help?”
She looked at me, eyes frantic yet focused. “I think it is time to fetch Eurycleia, but please tell her not to make a fuss. I do not want to be surrounded by flapping women.”
“What of Odysseus?”
“He cannot be disturbed.” She returned to the mixture, pouring in water before she knocked back the contents in one gulp. From the twist of her face, I could tell it tasted foul.
“He cannot bedisturbed? For the birth of his own child?”
Another spasm tore through her, and she bowed forward.
“Please, Melantho. Don’t argue with me. Not now. We don’t have time.”
I held my tongue and ran to find Eurycleia.
The old maid was lecturing some young slaves in the courtyard. When I interrupted, she threw me her usual glare. But after I explained the situation, her sourness quickly evaporated.
“Where is she?” she demanded.
“In her rooms. Where is Odysseus?”
“He cannot be disturbed.”
“But—”
“Childbirth is women’s business. The men will only be a nuisance.”
We found Penelope in her bedchamber, doubled over in breathless agony. A low, horrible moan slipped from her lips, sounding more animal than human.
Without hesitation, Eurycleia swept her arms around Penelope’sshoulders and guided her to the bed.
“Come now, mistress. You need to lie down. There we go. Easy does it,” she cooed before turning to where I hovered in the doorway. “You. Leave. Fetch the princess’s handmaids.”
“No,” Penelope gritted out. “Stay. Please.”
