Ithaca Forever by Malerba Luigi;Heise Douglas Grant;

Ithaca Forever by Malerba Luigi;Heise Douglas Grant;

Author:Malerba, Luigi;Heise, Douglas Grant;
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780520303683
Publisher: University of California Press


PENELOPE

I put on my most elegant clothes, a linen cloak from Elis and a mantle the color of the sea and embroidered with gold, and I once again wore the lapis lazuli necklace that I received from Ctesippus as a partial payment for the animals killed for their feasts. Maybe I should not have accepted it, but I thought only of its value and not of the meaning that Ctesippus hoped to give it. I combed my long hair and held it in place with an ivory comb with the help of the old nurse, who has been made suspicious by the care I am dedicating to my looks, which she says is excessive.

“Why so much attention to your elegance? Who do you want to please, Penelope?”

“I cannot draw out this waiting any longer,” I told her, “and thus this competition will finally give me the opportunity to choose the strongest among all my admirers.”

Eurycleia looked at me, disappointed and alarmed.

“The competition sounds like a good idea to me,” the old nurse said, “since I am certain that none of the Suitors will be able to string Odysseus’ bow.”

“No matter how strong Odysseus is, or how adept at stringing the bow,” I replied, “I’m sure that the promise of a wedding will double the strength and the spirit of competition among the admirers, and thus we will put an end to what has become an unbearable wait, and to the squandering of our possessions as well.”

I wanted to see whether Eurycleia would choose to betray her secret when she heard these words.

“Why did you speak of Odysseus as if he were alive and among us?”

“Odysseus is alive and among us in my memories,” I replied.

The old nurse asked me, looking deep into my eyes, if something new had happened to make me take Odysseus’ bow out of its case and to propose this competition.

“Exhaustion,” I replied.

I’m sure that the old nurse, astounded that I still have not recognized Odysseus, would have liked to say something to me—her eyes betrayed her confusion—but she held a hand in front of her mouth to keep herself from talking. Poor, generous Eurycleia, my words have placed you in a cruel situation.

I came down to the hall just before sunset, when the house is painted by the sun’s low-hanging rays and all of my admirers come together around the long table set for dinner. I halted on the final step at the bottom of the staircase and spoke forcefully and clearly.

“Your wait has gone on far too long,” I said, “and since all news impels me to think with infinite sadness that I can no longer hope for Odysseus’ return, I have decided to propose a competition, and to offer myself as the prize to the winner.”

A murmur of surprise ran through the hall. At that moment I held up a key with an ivory handle and went to open the solid oak door that protected the bow and quiver that Odysseus had received from



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