Penelope + Odysseus

Theirs is a tale of faith. Odysseus and Penelope, the pair that was destined to return to each other. Their story begins with an arranged marriage, two royal youths betrothed by their families. The two began as friends, a willing partnership of political gain, but soon that friendship blossomed into true, deep love for one another. They ruled side by side as King and Queen of Ithaca, a powerful united front. Soon after they rose to the throne, they welcomed their one and only heir – a son, Telemachus. 

Their bliss could not last forever, though. Before Telemachus had even turned one, Odysseus and his men were called to Troy. Penelope and Odysseus bid each other a heartfelt adieu, and Odysseus set sail.

The Trojan war waged on for years, news from the warfront sparse in Ithaca. Eventually, though, Penelope received word that a ceasefire had been called, a victory for the Greeks, and her husband would leave Troy to sail for Ithaca in the coming days. The castle was prepared for his arrival, and Penelope waited. Weeks passed, but she did not worry. The route from Troy was known to be unpredictable, and timing was difficult without knowing the winds. Weeks turned to months. Other fleets began to arrive, but still, no sign of Odysseus. 

Seasons changed, years passed, but still Penelope held on to her hope. Telemachus grew into a young man. A warrior, like his father. Telemachus and Penelope ruled together, as Queen and Prince of Ithaca, never faltering in their belief that Odysseus would return to them and claim his rightful throne. Though they were confident, the rest of the royal court was not so sure. They began to insist that Penelope find a new husband, and thus began the occupation of the suitors. 

The news that Penelope would be taking a new husband drew the crowds of Ithaca out in droves. Hundreds of men appeared at the castle’s gates, hoping for a glimpse of the queen. They set up camp in the great hall, taking over resources and space, sitting in wait. 

Penelope refused to meet with any of them. She had just begun to weave a burial shroud for her father-in-law, and convinced the court that she would simply be unable to choose a husband with the unfinished project on her mind. The royal advisors allowed her to delay her choice until the shroud was finished, and so Penelope began her plan of deceit. 

For four years, Penelope spent all day at the loom, weaving her shroud. Each night, under the cover of darkness, she snuck back to the loom and undid the day’s work. Despite her lack of progress, her plan seemed to be fooling the masses – that is, until she slipped up. Finally, after so many months of her silent unweaving, she dropped the spool on the ground. As she heard the crash, followed nearly immediately by the stirring of those who had been asleep, she knew her plan was foiled. She was forced to finish the shroud, and the competition for her hand began. 

The suitors competed in competitions of wit and strength, but none compared to her Odysseus. Each time a winner was declared, Penelope waffled and refused to decide, calling for another competition. Though she tried, she could not stall forever. Eventually, a final trial was constructed. The suitor able to draw back the bow left behind by Odysseus and use it to fire an arrow through the handles of twelve axes would be named the winner, and gain Penelope’s hand. 

Odysseus sailed for twenty years. He left Troy just as he had planned, with a full crew and plenty of supplies. Despite his best efforts, his journey was fated to fail. The stories of his time at sea, the loss of his comrades, are tales that cannot be adequately recounted in such a short space. Those twenty long years at sea, above all else, Odysseus held on to the hope of returning home to his beautiful Penelope, and that’s exactly what he did. 

As he finally pulled himself onto the shores of Ithaca, a place he had not seen in so long, he was met by the goddess Athena. She transformed him into a beggar, unrecognizable. This allowed him to move freely across Ithaca, making his way to the palace as a member of the common class rather than of royalty. He so longed to see how his beloved Ithaca had changed, and he knew that if he were recognized, he would not be treated as a citizen, but as a god. 

Odysseus arrived at the palace gates. He stepped through, expecting to see his home as he had left it, but was disgusted to find the suitor’s campgrounds. His home, disrespected and in disrepair, overtaken by those who wished to wear his crown. He wandered further inside, finding the crowd of suitors preparing for competition, and so he joined the group. 

Each man stepped up to the bow, not one even managing to bend the thing before quitting. The strongest among them barely made a curve, but Odysseus strung the familiar weapon with ease. He fired his first and only arrow, lacing the tip through the handles of the twelve axes with barely more than a glance. As he turned around to face the crowd once more, Athena removed his disguise. His beggar's clothes and wrinkled hands returned to the robes of a king, the agile fingers of a skilled archer. His face, though weathered from his years at war and at sea, looked like his own again. 

Penelope, watching from above, sat in silent shock. Could it be? The husband she knew would return, finally back? She rushed down to the fields, nearly skidding to a stop in front of Odysseus. She watched his face, his eyes, and felt deep in her soul that it was her husband, but her time in waiting had hardened her. She was no longer the trusting, pliable young woman that Odysseus had left. Though she had always believed he would come home to her, she could not be sure this was not some cruel trick, an illusion of some kind. And so, she asked him a question. 

“Would you move the bed from the royal chambers?” She asked, seemingly an innocuous request. She knew that none of the suitors had seen the room, and the only one in Ithaca who knew its contents was Penelope herself. She had made the chambers her sanctuary during her many years alone, making Odysseus the only one who could know the correct retort. 

“My lady, the bed is carved from a tree in the center of the room. It cannot be moved, for it is a part of the walls.” 

Penelope collapsed into Odysseus’s arms, a moment they had both dreamed of for two decades. The king had finally returned, just as the queen had always known he would.