The sword in his belly was half withdrawn, then twisted savagely.
Agony ripped through the pirate chief. The blade was torn clear of him, his entrails flopping out. Hurled aside like a bloodstained rag, Antinous was dead before his body struck the floor.
Old Sekundos, his face ashen with pain, dragged himself alongside Penelope. His strength failing, he sagged against the throne before slipping to the floor.
Outside the palace fleeing pirates were met with a hail of arrows, then a charge led by Oniacus and a score of fighting men from the Xanthos. Three survivors broke clear, only to be met by a huge one-armed black man. Leaping forward, Bias stabbed the first in the neck, then plunged the blade into the chest of the second. The third man raced clear. A black-shafted arrow slammed into his back. He staggered forward for several paces, then pitched face-first to the ground.
A group of pirates escaped through the side doors and dashed down to the beach. On the great galley Xanthos all was dark, and the survivors raced toward it, hoping to capture the ship. As they started to climb the trailing ropes, dark shapes appeared above them, and a hail of arrows ripped into them from the high deck. On the stern of the ship Andromache stood calmly, shooting shafts with others of the ship’s archers, her arrows slamming into the pirates with cold precision.
Inside the palace the battle was over. Some of the pirates cried out for mercy. None was given.
Odysseus dropped his sword and ran to his wife, kneeling alongside her. Swiftly he untied her hands; then, cradling her shaved head in his hands, he kissed her brow. There were tears in his eyes. “I am so sorry,” he said. “This is my fault.”
Penelope clung to him with her good hand, and for a moment they were silent, close in each other’s arms, scarcely believing they were together again and safe.
“I knew you would come, Ugly One. It was most foolish of you,” she murmured at last. Lifting her broken hand, she gently stroked his face. “And look at you, all cuts and bruises.”
The bronze warrior approached them and lifted clear his helm. Penelope looked up into his sky-blue eyes.
“I had thought there was little left in this world to surprise me,” she said. “But you prove me wrong. Welcome to my house, Helikaon.” She looked beyond him to the blood-spattered giant.
“I am Achilles,” he told her.
“You could be no other,” she replied.
For the next three days the men of the Xanthos helped Odysseus’ crew clear away the bodies of the pirates and prepare the funeral pyres. Refugees moved back from their hiding places in the hills, returning to their looted homes. Andromache joined the women of Ithaka as they moved through the megaron and the surrounding rooms, scrubbing away the blood and clearing the filth the pirates and their whores had left in their wake.
Little was seen of Penelope during that time, and Odysseus appeared only rarely.
By the evening of the third day the palace was once more habitable. The cleansing of homes brought a sense of normality, but many had lost loved ones, and there was an air of despondency throughout the settlement.
The only surgeon on Ithaka had been killed by the attackers, and the wounded were tended by Bias, Oniacus, and Andromache. All three had some experience with herbs and medicinal plants.
Just before sunset on the fourth day, Penelope emerged from her rooms and walked among the wounded, a bright scarf of gold wrapped around her shaved head. She could not assist with the work, for her fingers had been splinted. But she sat with the wounded, talking to them, praising their courage.
Old Sekundos was dying. Penelope went to where he lay on a pallet bed in the sunshine. He had asked to be carried out so that he could see the Great Green one last time.
When Penelope arrived, he smiled. “Too old… and slow,” he said. “Was a time…”
“Yes,” Penelope replied, her voice tender, “you were too old to win. But not too old to save my life and that of my child.”
A faint smile touched the old man’s lips. “Always… wanted to be… in one of Odysseus’ tales.” He looked up at the clear blue sky. “Beautiful day to be… sailing,” he whispered.
Penelope’s vision blurred. “You are a hero, Sekundos. And I am sorry I spoke of shame when we met.”
The old man rallied at the compliment. “You… remembered my name. That is… a great honor for me,” he told the queen. Then, his strength fading, he looked up at her. “You must leave me now. I have… a wish… to die alone. Just me… and the Great Green.”
Penelope leaned down and kissed his brow. “May your journey be swift and the Fields of Elysium welcoming.”
Just then Andromache emerged from the palace. “Walk with me,” said the queen, then led the way up a gently sloping hill. Andromache saw that she was trembling and her footsteps were unsteady. She took Penelope’s arm, and together they made their way toward the crest of the hill.
“You are still weak,” Andromache said. “You should be resting.”
Penelope took a deep breath. “Odysseus does not ask, but I feel the questioning eyes of others upon me. They all wonder what violation I suffered and whether my pride has been shattered.”
“There is not a man alive who could take away your pride, let alone shatter it,” Andromache said.
“Fine words from someone who does not know me.” The rebuke was spoken gently.
“I do know you,” Andromache told her. “From all that Odysseus told me of you and from all that I have seen and heard since I have been here. All speak of their love for you, their respect for you, and their pride in you.”
Penelope did not reply but led the way to a stone bench on a hill overlooking the bay. The pirate ships were still drawn up below, as was the mighty Xanthos. The two women sat in silence for a while, and then Andromache spoke. “Odysseus is a good man. I like him greatly.”
Penelope sighed. “He has not asked me what I suffered. I wonder at that.”
“Do not wonder too deeply,” Andromache warned her. “I saw Odysseus when the Xanthos arrived at the pirate isle. I have never seen a man so tormented, so frightened. He feared losing you. Now he is saddened by your pain, but he cannot hide the joy in his eyes that you are alive. He does not ask because all that matters to him is that you are safe and he is with you.”
“He is a sentimental old fool,” Penelope said fondly.
Below them Odysseus and Helikaon walked from the palace. Odysseus glanced up and waved. Penelope lifted a hand in response. Together the two men continued down to the shoreline.
Penelope looked at the young woman beside her, seeing her face soften as she gazed down at the two men.
“So,” the queen asked, “why is the wife of Hektor traveling the Great Green?”
Andromache told her of the purpose of their journey and the visit to Thera with Kassandra, but as she spoke, her eyes followed Helikaon. A great sadness touched Penelope then, for she saw the love in Andromache’s eyes.
“I am tired,” she said. “I think I will return to my rooms.”
Andromache helped her back to the palace, and once there, Penelope kissed the younger woman on the cheek.
“Despite all that has happened,” she said, “I will treasure these last few days. It has been good to see Helikaon and the Ugly One together again as friends. And I am glad we met, Andromache.”