She walks alone through the courtyard, her gown dragging and picking up leaves from the unkept tiles. The wind whistles through the trees and she slowly treads through the piles of leaves, toward the end of the courtyard where the statue of her husband lay. She is Penelope, wife of Odysseus, queen of Ithaca.
Penelope shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the conversation she had with Gaelon, her advisor, that morning. Gaelon's words kept seeping back into her mind.
He's dead, Penelope! You have to accept that! Odysseus is never coming home to you!" Gaelon had practically yelled at her in his impatience and with a sigh he continued, "King Odysseus has been absent for almost five years. We have not heard from him at all and-"
"Stop!" Penelope interrupted, "Don't say that! My husband is still alive and he is still coming home to me."
At this, Gaelon had sighed and uttered, "Penelope, you should really consider a marriage. Ithaca needs a king and you need…" he trailed off because Penelope was already storming out of the room.
Penelope sat at the foot of her husband's monument and let her mind be invaded by daydreams of better days. She remembered her wedding. She could still feel the butterflies in her stomach as she waited, dressed all in white for her father to escort her to the place where her handsome Odysseus stood, his golden-brown hair pulled back from his young, square jawed face.
Memories of the birth of their child flooded her mind and Odysseus' words,
"Hold me in your eyes." Those words had helped her through the excruciating pains of childbirth.
Penelope blinked back tears and brushed her golden locks back from her aqua-colored eyes. She slowly stood up and, with one last glance at the marble face of her husband, made her way back to her chamber.
Penelope sighed in relief. She had successfully avoided Gaelon on her trek to her room. She was definitely not in the mood for another one of Gaelon's lectures.
She sat down on the bed and fingered the handiwork, lovingly. Very clearly, Penelope could see scenes from their life carved into the wood. She smiled at the depiction of their courtship. Odysseus had carved what he had seen and from his point of view, she was a ray of sunshine in an abyss of darkness or a shining star glowing in the night. He had depicted her as a creature with unsurpassing beauty.
Penelope could feel tears brimming over and she fought to hold them back. She sat back and closed her eyes. She felt unwanted memories rush into her mind. She tried to push them back but it was too late.
Penelope could see Odysseus sitting on his horse, Prince, his hair shining in the sunlight. She clearly saw his attempt to smile.
"You will return," Penelope's words were as mucyh to Odysseus as they were to reassure herself.
"Troy will be easy," Odysseus said jokingly, "I'll be back soon."
Seeing Penelope's distress, he grew serious, "Penelope, will you promise me something?"
She looked into his steady, green eyes and felt absolute love,
"Anything, Odysseus! Anything!" she proclaimed.
"If I don't return-" he began.
"No! You will," Penelope insisted."
"But if I don't, promise me that you will remarry," he forced the words as if it hurt him to say them.
"But-" Penelope started.
"Just promise me, Penelope, please," the pleading in Odysseus' voice and eyes was unbearable for Penelope. With a slight pause she said,
"Very well. But you try with all of your might and will to return to the woman who loves you."
"Oh yes, yes." Odysseus leaned down from his horse and Penelope stood on her toes. Their lips met.
Odysseus pulled away from the kiss almost violently. Tears ran freely down her face as she watched him ride away toward the harbor, his silhouette clearly blocking the sun from her vision.
Penelope was interrupted from her thoughts by a knock on her door. She composed herself and called out,
"Who is it?"
"Adrienne, m'lady. Your son wishes to see you," the servant answered.
"Tell Telemachus that I will be with him shortly," Penelope called out. She slowly stood up from her bed and walked over to
her wash basin. Splashing cool water on her face, she regained her composure.
Penelope walked through the halls and thought about what a help her son had been. His cheery disposition had helped her though the hard times.
As she approached Telemachus' nursery, she paused, pushed her shoulders back, and put on her best smile for her son.