He said it was an excellent idea.

The songs claim that the arrival of Odysseus and my decision to set the test of the bow and axes coincided by accident—or by divine plan, which was our way of putting it then. Now you’ve heard the plain truth. I knew that only Odysseus would be able to perform this archery trick. I knew that the beggar was Odysseus. There was no coincidence. I set the whole thing up on purpose.

Growing confidential with the purported seedy tramp, I then related a dream of mine. It concerned my flock of lovely white geese, geese of which I was very fond. I dreamt that they were happily pecking around the yard when a huge eagle with a crooked beak swooped down and killed them all, whereupon I wept and wept.

Odysseus-the-beggar interpreted this dream for me: the eagle was my husband, the geese were the Suitors, and the one would shortly slay the others. He said nothing about the crooked beak of the eagle, or my love for the geese and my anguish at their deaths.

In the event, Odysseus was wrong about the dream. He was indeed the eagle, but the geese were not the Suitors. The geese were my twelve maids, as I was soon to learn to my unending sorrow.

There’s a detail they make much of in the songs. I ordered the maids to wash the feet of Odysseusthe-mendicant, and he refused, saying he could only allow his feet to be washed by one who would not deride him for being gnarled and poor. I then proposed old Eurycleia for the task, a woman whose feet were as lacking in aesthetic value as his own.

Grumbling, she set to work, not suspecting the booby trap I’d placed ready for her. Soon she found the long scar familiar to her from the many, many times she’d performed the same service for Odysseus. At this point she let out a yelp of joy and upset the basin of water all over the floor, and Odysseus almost throttled her to keep her from giving him away.

The songs say I didn’t notice a thing because Athene had distracted me. If you believe that, you’ll believe all sorts of nonsense. In reality I’d turned my back on the two of them to hide my silent laughter at the success of my little surprise.

XX.  Slanderous Gossip

At this point I feel I must address the various items of slanderous gossip that have been going the rounds for the past two or three thousand years.

These stories are completely untrue. Many have said that there’s no smoke without fire, but that is a fatuous argument. We’ve all heard rumours that later proved to be entirely groundless, and so it is with these rumours about me.

The charges concern my sexual conduct. It is alleged, for instance, that I slept with Amphinomus, the politest of the Suitors. The songs say I found his conversation agreeable, or more agreeable than that of the others, and this is true; but it’s a long jump from there into bed. It’s also true that I led the Suitors on and made private promises to some of them, but this was a matter of policy. Among other things, I used my supposed encouragement to extract expensive gifts from them scant return for everything they’d eaten and wasted—and I draw your attention to the fact that Odysseus himself witnessed and approved of my action.

The more outrageous versions have it that I slept with all of the Suitors, one after another over a hundred of them and then gave birth to the Great

God Pan. Who could believe such a monstrous tale?

Some songs aren’t worth the breath expended on them.

Various commentators have cited my mother-in law, Anticleia, who said nothing about the Suitors when Odysseus spoke to her spirit on the Island of the Dead. Her silence is taken as proof: if she’d mentioned the Suitors at all, they say, she would have had to mention my infidelity as well. Maybe she did mean to plant a toxic seed in the mind of Odysseus, but you already know about her attitude towards me. It would have been her final acid touch.

Others have noted the fact that I did not dismiss or punish the twelve impudent maids, or shut them up in an outbuilding to grind corn, so I must have been indulging in the same kind of sluttery myself.

But I have explained all that.

A more serious charge is that Odysseus didn’t reveal himself to me when he first returned. He distrusted me, it is said, and wanted to make sure

I wasn’t having orgies in the palace. But the real reason was that he was afraid I would cry tears of joy and thus give him away. Similarly, he had me locked in the women’s quarters with the rest of the women when he was slaughtering the Suitors, and he relied on Eurycleia’s help, not on mine. But he knew me well my tender heart, my habit of dissolving in tears and falling down on thresholds. He simply didn’t want to expose me to dangers and disagreeable sights. Surely that is the obvious explanation for his behaviour.

If my husband had learned of the slanders during our lifetimes, he certainly would have ripped out a few tongues. But there’s no sense in brooding over lost opportunities.

XXI.  The Chorus Line: The Perils of Penelope, A Drama

Presented by: The Maids

Prologue: Spoken by Melantho of the Pretty Cheeks:

As we approach the climax, grim and gory

Let us just say: There is another story.

Or several, as befits the goddess Rumour,

Who’s sometimes in a good, or else bad, humour.

Word has it that Penelope the Prissy

Was—when it came to sex—no shrinking sissy!

Some said with Amphinomus she was sleeping.

Masking her lust with gales of moans and weeping;

Others, that each and every brisk contender

By turns did have the fortune to upend her,

By which promiscuous acts the goat-god Pan

Was then conceived, or so the fable ran.

The truth, dear auditors, is seldom certain

But let us take a peek behind the curtain!

Eurycleia: Played by a Maid:

Dear child! I fear you are undone! Alas!

The Master has returned! That’s right he’s back!

Penelope: Played by a Maid:

I knew him as he walked here from afar

By his short legs

Eurycleia:

And I by his long scar!

Penelope:

And now, dear Nurse, the fat is in the fire

He’ll chop me up for tending my desire!

While he was pleasuring every nymph and beauty,

Did he think I’d do nothing but my duty?

While every girl and goddess he was praising,

Did he assume I’d dry up like a raisin?

Eurycleia:

While you your famous loom claimed to be threading,

In fact you were at work within the bedding!

And now there’s ample matter for beheading!

Penelope:

Amphinomus—quick! Down the hidden stairs!

And I’ll sit here, and feign great woes and cares.

Do up my robe! Bind fast my wanton hair:

Which of the maids is in on my affairs?

Eurycleia:

Only the twelve, my lady, who assisted,

Know that the Suitors you have not resisted.

They smuggled lovers in and out all night;

They drew the drapes, and then they held the light.

They’re privy to your every lawless thrill

They must be silenced, or the beans they’ll spill!

Penelope:

Oh then, dear Nurse, it’s really up to you

To save me, and Odysseus’ honour too!

Because he sucked at your now-ancient bust,

You are the only one of us he’ll trust.

Point out those maids as feckless and disloyal,

Snatched by the Suitors as unlawful spoil,