Sighing, he turned his gaze to Penelope and found his meeting hers; the shock hit him like a thunderbolt from Zeus, the dark brown pools paralyzing him; he was frozen, the wine cup half-way to his mouth, which hung a little open in surprise. It was only a moment, but for Amphinomus it seemed to last forever. He saw no disdain in her gaze, no anger. Indeed, she gave him the slightest of smiles—something he had never seen before and his heart brimmed so full he thought it would burst from his chest.
Then Antinous puked copiously and the moment was lost in the manly hilarity that ensued from the suitors as they hailed Eurymachus the winner in yet another drinking contest. But for the first time Amphinomus knew that it was he—and not his rival—that was the victor. For this reason, he opted to stay longer at the revels than was his habit; it was shallow of him, he knew, but he was honest enough with himself to realize that that one glance from Penelope had made him feel more of a man than he had in a long time.
It was a rocky escarpment overlooking the sea, the breeze strong enough to be refreshing to those that looked well in need of it. Drinking would take its toll even on the strongest of bodies and in broad light of day, Amphinomus could see that his rivals were no longer the men they had been. Some were paunchy, faces bloated from too much booze and rich food—and not enough exercise. Even the mighty Antinous looked more fleshy than brawny.
For his part, Amphinomus was pleased that, despite his farmerish look, turning his hand to working with the islanders had tightened his muscles and sweated away the fat he’d gained from the nights in the great hall. Even compared to the beautiful Eurymachus he fancied that of them all, he at least looked like a prince.
“Why did you call us out this early?” someone grumbled to Eurymachus.
“I have news,” he answered. “Grave news.”
Amphinomus’s heart lurched. What could possible be grave enough to call an assembly of suitors at this hour? The worst possible thing imaginable, of course, was that the seer had been right and Odysseus had been spotted. Any chance he had with the queen would then instantly disappear.
“Telemachus will return and return soon,” Eurymachus continued.
Amphinomus almost laughed out loud in relief. Who cared as long as it wasn’t the king? He imagined Penelope would be delighted that her son would soon return and wondered if he could work a way to be the first to deliver that news—surely that would please her.
Danae. He must find a way to speak with her and pass on the information.
“Listen!” Eurymachus barked and Amphinomus was startled into paying attention.
“The little prince went away from here to—purportedly—gather information on his father,” Eurymachus continued.
“What other reason could there be?” Amphinomus asked, his new forthrightness among the Ithacans emboldening him around the other suitors.
“If you were a prince with a hundred men paying suit to wear your crown…men not much older than you…what would you do?”
Amphinomus wasn’t sure where Eurymachus was going with this, so he just stared back.
“If I were such a man, I would seek out men and rally them to my cause,” Eurymachus said. “I would use my glorious father’s influence and collect spears. I would tell lies about my mother’s suitors and make them out to base men who sought only power…I would say anything to get them to follow me. Then I would come here well-armed and I would put paid to the designs of these suitors.”
“And how would you do that?” this from Antinous.
Eurymachus didn’t grace the question with a response: murder them was the all too obvious answer. They’d be butchered. “Telemachus is a problem,” he continued. “Even if he has not brought men, he will be a constant thorn in the side to whomsoever of us his mother choses. The man who wins her hand will have to have eyes in the back of his head and also one ear to the ground. The Prince of Ithaca will not rest until he takes what he believes is his rightful place.”
Antinous snorted in derision. “Telemachus hasn’t got the balls.”
“He had the balls to gather friends and take ship,” Eurymachus countered. “Perhaps he’s found his courage at last? If he has…”
The men were silent then; Amphinomus watched them, watched Eurymachus, ever the schemer, as he watched Antinous. He could almost see the seed planted by Eurymachus, germinating by the expression on the big man’s face and then sprouting, full-bloom, from his mouth. “We’ll have to kill him.”
It was neatly done: now, Eurymachus had no part in the suggestion—or at least could claim as such.
Amphinomus saw the expressions of the others too. At first shock but then hardening in resolution. He realized that they—all of them—had been living as Olympians in this place. Shut off and removed from real events they feasted, they fucked, they drank, they puked. Not all of the suitors were bad men, but Ithaca had made them so. Like Olympians they had become capricious, callous and cruel when it suited their aims.
But they were not Olympians. And Olympus would judge them—all of them—for the act of calculated murder. More than that, the death of her only son would destroy Penelope. He couldn’t allow that to happen—the thought of her in pain, mourning the son that she loved…no, he must intervene.
“Kill Telemachus?” he spoke, his voice strident and clear. “Brilliant. That’s really brilliant, Antinous.”
“Are you mocking me?” The big man balled his fists.
Amphinomus sighed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes I am. But it’s really not my mockery you…or any of you…would have to worry about.”
“My, my,” Eurymachus drawled. “The hayseed speaks. Indulge us.”
“Murder the boy? His mother will hear of it. His people will hear of it.”
“Not if we’re quiet,” Eurymachus waved that away.
“These islanders aren’t blind or stupid, Eurymachus. They’ll find out. And then do you think Penelope would choose any one of us? Any man that had the blood of her son on her hands?”
“I think you care too much about the opinion of that old whore,” Antinous snarled. “Fuck her. She’s a woman—weak and stupid. I think the killing of her bastard son will break her. She’ll be begging one of us to let her suck his cock after that. She’ll be isolated—alone. Vulnerable. She’ll be fucking desperate for one of us to save her. The strongest, probably,” he added, glaring about lest anyone dare to challenge the view that he himself was such a one.
“Even if that were so,” Amphinomus said, “I don’t think the gods would take kindly to such an action…”
“The gods,” Eurymachus scoffed. “Much interest they have in this island and its old queen, I’m sure. Much interest they have in us for that matter. They spent all their interest on our fathers and those men that fought in Agamemnon’s War. The gods pay us no mind.”
Amphinomus stared at him, holding his gaze. “Is that a wager you’re willing to place, Eurymachus? Because I sense hubris in all of this and the gods love to punish a man for that above all things. The gods are watching us even now, letting us believe their eyes are not upon us. Do you dare tempt them? I will have no part of it,” he added. “Not me. I won’t do it. I’ll bloody my hands in a fair fight or in a raid on my enemies, but I won’t stab a man in the back. Not even to gain a kingdom.”