I did not feel the knife of the priest as it struck my neck. To me, it was like a flash of light, or a burn that came and went before I felt the flame. I know that I screamed. I didn’t feel like I was leaving my body; rather, it seemed that my body was leaving me. It crumbled without my permission, struck the cold stone of the temple floor, felt nothing but the fire of the knife. Then, still without my leave, it died, leaving only the priest of Athena standing avenged before his goddess.
People spoke about the queen Penelope for many long years. They said that as long as they continued to tell her story, she would still live, caught in limbo as she waited for her answer. After many years, the story of her husband, the great hero Odysseus, grew stronger and louder, and others forgot her. To them, she was only faithful and chaste Queen Penelope, who loved her husband to the end.
Odysseus grew old without her. It didn’t matter. He found another queen who was pure and beautiful, but the minstrels and bards rarely sang of her. They sang still of the king who was once a hero, who lost his wife when she dared to challenge the goddess, and of Telemachus, who grieved his mother with tears and temple sacrifices. Odysseus did not weep for Penelope. Her death seemed to stun him, but he did not weep.
He quickly married again, a younger woman, the daughter of one of his friends in the war, and they populated Ithaca with many princes. Odysseus seemed to want to forget Penelope, but that was impossible. He was reminded of her, her faithfulness and then her final betrayal, in every bard’s song. No, Odysseus’s doom was to never forget that Penelope did not love him.
They say she walks now in the Underworld, always in conversation with the goddess, ever spinning the endless debate: did Athena wrong the queen? Did Penelope wrong the goddess? It is said that they have brought in muses, gods, heroes of men, ancient judges, none of whom can agree: did Penelope receive justice, or was she only punished even more by a vengeful deity?
The priest who killed her never answered for his deed. Some say he was rewarded by Athena for his swift hand in smiting the woman who dared to challenge her. Others say that the goddess struck him down for taking matters into his own hands.
It doesn’t matter now. Bards sing the songs that they will sing, and people tell the stories that they will tell, and no one will ever know what has or what will happen. Penelope and Odysseus are long gone, he to the hall of heroes to enjoy a neverending feast in his honor, she to her eternal walk with the goddess of war, asking, asking the question of justice and mercy that will never be answered until the end of time.
Bookmarx Books 