When I was a small girl, there was a boy that lived nearby. I can't remember his full name because it was so long ago, but I always called him Pol and he called me Pen. It seems to me, looking back, that we'd always been friends. We played pranks in the village, ran in the courtyard, got very dirty, and usually had great fun together. I remember, now, that there was a group of boys we knew, and one afternoon we'd been throwing a ball around in the courtyard. We must have been about five at the time, because that was the summer of the great storm, and one of the trees nearby had been uprooted. Naturally, five-year-old boys can't throw a wooden ball around for sport without hurling it at one another, so it was only a matter of time before it flew across the courtyard and landed in the hole where the tree had been. After a few rescue attempts, we discovered that our arms were too short to reach it, and the hole was too narrow to climb down.
"Perhaps we can get a maid to fetch it?"
"Nah, they'll just tell us to stop bothering them. And then we'll get switched or something."
One of the boys groaned in annoyance. "Forget it," he said. "Let's go and throw rocks at one of the village cats."
"It's my ball. It's my only one. I want it back," Pol whined.
"I've got an idea," I volunteered naively. The others looked at me. "If we get a bucket of water and pour it in, the ball should float up, right?" The boys stared at me as though I'd grown snakes for hair.
"Fine," Pol finally said, "I'll throw the stupid rocks." With a cheer, the boys ran off. I grabbed at Pol's tunic before he could leave, indignant.
"What are you doing? Do you want it or not?" I asked him.
"Zeus, Pen," Pol swore, "If I knew you were going to act so...smart, I wouldn't have...I mean...aw, it's a stupid ball anyway," Pol said, kicking dirt down the hole. He ran after the boys without a second look back.
I was aghast. After all, I'd acted just like them up until then, and nobody had minded or cared, except for my parents. What had I done? What horrible crime had I committed? Rubbing away tears, I went running to my nurse.
"What is it, love?" she'd asked as I came running up to her. I dove into the fabric of her skirt, trying to hide from...something. The look on Pol's face when he realized that I was smarter than him. The back of his tunic as he ran away from me. That wooden ball, half covered in dirt. Something.
My nurse finally pulled me out and kneeled down to face me. She used part of her skirt to wipe away tears now too obvious to hide. "I...I was in the courtyard, playing with Pol and the boys," I said. I explained what had happened. She clucked knowingly when I finished.
"Dear, that's the way it is. Oh, I knew I should have stopped you from playing with those boys, but it seemed harmless for a young girl at the time. Well, it's just that men don't like smart women. You really need to start learning how to hide it. Penny, I'll start teaching you how to sew and you'll start playing with the other young girls. You'll like the young girls better anyway, won't you love?
She said all of this in about three seconds, but at the time I thought I understood most of it.
"Nurse?"
"Yes, Penelope dear?"
"If women aren't supposed to be smart, why isn't Athena Goddess of Wisdom a God instead?"
"Small girls shouldn't ask questions about things they don't understand."
I stopped talking to Pol, and he stopped talking to me. I started sewing and playing with the girls. The next few weeks, it all seemed tremendously funny. We were all so smart, but we had to pretend to be ninnies because...well, I wasn't quite sure why. I actually had a few theories. My favorite was that the women ran everything, but they didn't want the men to find out, so they had to pretend. Really, though, we were the smarter, the finer of the two sexes. I was terribly pleased with myself, figuring all of this out. After a few months, though, something dawned on me. All of itthe giggling and gossiping and worrying about meaningless nothingwas a game to me. Pretending to be silly and simple was something I considered great fun, but I came to realize that the other girls...
Well, they weren't pretending.
I didn't truly miss Pol until I realized how terribly alone I was, being a smart girl. It was too late to make amends, but I started acting like myself again, despite how disappointed my nurse was. A few months after that they sent me off to live with my cousin, Helen, who was only just over a year old and needed a playmate of relatively noble blood.
The whole affair was painfully educational. At that young age, I knew I'd be overlooked, or avoided, if I didn't want to pretend. I chose not to pretend anyway, partly out of stubbornness, and partly because the idea of acting stupid for anyone's peace of mind made me feel sick.
The point is that I'd been resigned to this fate for over a decade. Men didn't like smart women. I was a smart woman. Men wanted smart women to pretend they weren't smart. I refused to act. Obviously, it was my fate to not be liked by men.
How was it then that, within a week, I became the close friend of Odysseus, the Master of Wit himself? We spoke often; I remember that much. Looking back, only fragments of these conversations exist in my mind, the rest of them sacrificed for the greater memories that followed. I suppose it was bold of me, to walk about with a man and no chaperone or servants nearby, but my uncle obviously had other concerns. Incidentally, it was his concern that took most of our conversations.
"You need to find a way to make revenge…distasteful, at the least, to any scorned suitors," I'd said once. "I can't see how you would do that when all of Helen's other suitors are the most bloodthirsty warlords in Greece save the married Agamemnon himself."
"Distasteful? No, you're right, that could never work. Think, what else would stop them?"
"Stop men from exacting revenge when they feel their honor is on the line? You can't do it; any attempt to frighten them would only encourage them."
Odysseus groaned. "You're going in circles, Penelope."
"I don't hear you coming up with anything better. Look, what you would have to do is create a situation for the other suitors in which, should you be named Helen's fiancée, not attacking you or my Uncle is either wiser or more honorable than attacking you."
"And you're saying there is no such situation?"
"None that I can think of. I've never even had to consider a problem such as this."
"Nor I," Odysseus confessed. "This isn't quite the same as being wily, is it? I'm not just trying to get in or out of a situation; I'm trying to create a single situation that simultaneously influences thirteen other men, and preferably one woman, in calculated, delicately deceptive and manipulative way to not only achieve my desired outcome, but have everyone else satisfied with it as well." He looked at me suddenly, seeming worried. "You understood all of that? I didn't confuse you?"
I bristled at the implication. "I understood it perfectly. What's more, I can sum up your entire explanation in one word."
"Indeed? They say that brevity indicates intelligence. If you can make my words that much briefer, I'll be much impressed." Odysseus folded his arms, and his expression was serious; yet I could tell he was expecting something amusing.
"One word, Odysseus: Diplomacy." He stared at me for a moment, and then began to laugh.
"That's it! That's exactly it! Now, if only you could plan diplomacy as well as you can define it…"
"You stepped willingly onto this battlefield. I'd hate to ruin your fun by throwing you a sword."
Odysseus leaned against a nearby olive tree that looked ready to collapse; he was oblivious, as always, to his surroundings. "You're right, of course. Besides, I can figure this out on my own, it's just nice to have someone to run ideas by. Tell me, would your uncle be likely to take Helen's feelings into account?"
I paused to consider my uncle. He was, above all, a ruler. His ultimate decision would be for the good of Sparta. He was also peaceful and loving, though, and after Leda's death, Helen's presence in the household had been a great comfort to him. There was no denying that he had a soft spot for Helen, and would wish her happiness.
"Yes," I said finally, "I believe he might."
"Really? Do you know whom she would choose?"
"Menelaus, for sure. Why? You were hoping she might chose you?"
"Well…well, now that you've mentioned it, what does she think of me?"
I laughed. "She can't stand you. She thinks you find her dull and deliberately go out of your way to make her feel as such."
"I can't help it," Odysseus protested, folding his arms and sounding like an irritable child, "She is dull."
"Not so dull that she couldn't immediately tell you have no interest in her. I can tell you now, you have absolutely no chance of seducing her short of invoking Aphrodite herself."
"Thank you, I think I've gotten your general point. Completely repulsed, is she?"
I smiled. "Absolutely."
"Well, I can't say I'm disappointed. I won't be reduced to imitating some sort of lovesick victim of Cupid's arrow to win this, at least. If I lose, I lose with dignity."
"If you have any," I teased.
"Lady? Pardon, Lady?"
My dreamless sleep was suddenly disturbed by an urgent, nervous whisper. Squinting in the darkness, I just barely made out the face of one of the younger servant girls.
"What's wrong?" I mumbled. "What time is it?"
"A few hours before sunrise, I expect. I wouldn't have woken you, only I was sent here by a servant from the suitors' quarters, and he said that Lord Odysseus was positively insistent that you meet him in the courtyard at once. It's not my place to say, but if word gets out that you're meeting with a man, and you an unmarried woman—"
"Yes, thank you, Elpis, you can go now."
"Not that I'd say anything, of course, but sometimes these things—"
"Yes. Thank you. Good night."
The night air was warm, but for decency's sake I threw on a heavy shawl and hurried down to the courtyard. Odysseus was there, pacing and grinning. It was the first time I'd ever seen him grin for more than a second, even in my company. Confused and sleepy as I was, as he ran over to me all I could think was that hi smile made him look boyish, at least ten years younger.
"I've done it! Ha! It's so simple! So wonderfully, perfectly simple, don't you see?"
"Odysseus, it's not even dawn yet…"
He waved impatiently. "What significance is that? Don't you see? I've solved it! Oh, it was staring us both in the face this whole time."
I was beginning to wake up now. "You…how? How have you solved it?"
"So simple…"
"Yes, I heard you the third time. Stop telling me it's simple, and just tell me what it is."
The sound of my voice reminded him suddenly that I was there, and he whirled on me. "You. You got me thinking, you brilliant woman. Remember how you said that nothing could stop the losing suitors, because they would see executing revenge as a matter of honor?"
"Yes, but I don't see how—"
"Just listen. What if honor could prevent them from attacking your uncle, or Helen's new husband?"
"How?"
"Any oath to not hurt them would suffice, I'd say."
"But to get them to swear such an oath, you'd need to…you'd need to…" Suddenly, it dawned on me. "You'd need to offer them something of greater value."
Odysseus smiled. "Exactly. And what is it that is of greatest value to these men?"
"The chance to be Helen's husband, of course. It's so…simple."
"As I said before, simple! No trickery, no loose ends—just a prerequisite. To be considered for Helen's hand, each must swear loyalty to Tyndareus and Helen's husband. In the hundreds of years of marriage, how has no one come up with this?"
"Congratulations," I whispered, smiling. Odysseus walked over to where I was standing, clutching the shawl around my shoulders.
"Thanks to you, I've discovered this, the greatest riddle of them all. I couldn't express such gratitude properly, yet…" In his excitement, he grabbed my arms and kissed my forehead fervently. "Should I wake your uncle? Is it too early? Yet, what is too early to discover that all your problems have been solved? I'll tell him this instant. Oh, but I wanted you to be the first to hear, Penelope!" With that final exclamation, he ran off towards my Uncle's quarters, leaving me standing, stunned, in the courtyard.
Silently, I made my way back to my room. All I could focus on was what had just happened.
Odysseus had kissed me.
In a friendly way, to be sure. As a brother might kiss his sister. He'd meant nothing by it. I'd helped him, and he was thanking me. That was all. He probably didn't even realize he'd done it. He was so ecstatic-so unlike the wily, cunning, logical man I'd come to know-that he probably hadn't even realized what time it was, or where we'd been.
Still, he'd kissed me.
Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, stunned. That kiss had done something to me. It had sent some strange electric shock into me, an awakening sensation. I'd liked Odysseus before the kiss, liked him more than anyone I knew. Yet it had taken that physical contact to break down the wall around my emotions.
Cursing Aphrodite, it suddenly became clear to me exactly what I'd done. I'd just realized that I was in love with Odysseus.
And I'd just helped him secure a marriage with another woman.