Page 22 of Odette's Vow

I watched Odysseus grin in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. “My darling wife is good at many things,” he said. “But cooking is not one of them. She’ll tell you so herself, next time you see her.”

“When do you think that’ll be?” one of the younger soldiers piped up. A nervous murmur rippled through the crowd.

“Soon enough,” Odysseus said, his voice steady, as if another year or more until he saw his wife was not a lifetime. It was thequiet confidence of a seasoned general, one who knew how to keep his men in line.

As he demolished his plate with surprising speed and handed it off to one of the girls responsible for washing dishes, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness. If I had it my way, it would be a lot longer than that before he saw his wife again.

Odysseus got up and left, and another man approached me. I couldn’t quite place him, but after a while they all started to look the same to me, anyway. But his accent –thatI recognised. He was speaking at me in Greek, too fast for me to keep up. It was clear he had some plight with the food, whether it wasn’t enough or if he wanted more I couldn’t quite tell. Portions were rationed for a reason, but I wasn’t going to be the fool who told him that. I would wait for another to convey that particular message. Instead, I tried to calm the man down, to ask him to repeat himself with what limited Greek I had, but with each attempt he got more and more incredulous.

“Kουτ?ς!”?1 he cried. “Pórni!”?2 Tossing his plate on the ground and spitting, he then pinned his eyes back on me. “Pick it up.”

I understood that well enough. I bent down to reach for the plate when I felt the man’s grip on my hair. I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to wear my hair down, even though Alcander was now gone. Not quite the woman I once was, not quite the woman I now had to be. So his fingers tangled in the intricate braid I had weaved and tugged me upright, until he forced my chin to tip back. He raised his other hand, staring into my eyes, his own flickering with malice. I stared back at him, unflinching. Then …

“Unless you would like to be whipped for touching another man’s property, Thersites, I suggest you let her go.”

Odysseus.

The man’s grip did not immediately recede. But when he looked around, as I too looked up towards Odysseus, I felt his grip loosen and then retreat completely.

“A wise move.”

Thersites muttered something under his breath as he went to walk past, until Odysseus’ hand reached out and made contact with his chest, halting the man where he stood.

“What did you say?” Odysseus asked.

I’d never heard him talk so softly before. For his sheer size, the softer his voice was, the more menacing his demeanour.

“Did someone wound your hearing in battle today, Thersites? I asked you to repeat yourself.”

The soldier muttered something I couldn’t hear, though I cocked my head and strained to listen. His answer must have appeased Odysseus though, who eventually removed his hand and let the man continue on his way.

Then he stepped up to me. “Are you hurt?” He gripped my chin lightly, turning my head one way then the next to survey my face.

“No, I’m fine.” Then, when he dropped his hand and nodded with a clenched jaw, I added, “Thank you.”

That seemed to cause him to release a breath. “We need to talk. Tonight, once you’ve finished your duties here.”

I nodded in compliance. “As you wish.”

When I arrived back at the tent hours later, he had several letters strewn across the palette table. “Come, take a seat.”

“What are these?” I asked.

“Practice materials. Letters from home, for you to read. Had you been proficient in Greek already, Thersites could not have so easily made you cower to him. Twice.”

Somehow, he made that last word sound like an accusation against me.

I scowled. “A man is always able to make a woman cower to him, by the sheer nature of his size.” I mimicked what I meant so that my meaning was clear.

“True,” he conceded. “But, where Thersites has size, as you say, you have wit and cunning. It does not take much to overpower a fool – even a large one – with smarts.”

“You want me to … read these?” I tapped at the letters on the table.

“Yes, and speak them out loud to me. That way, you can practise your Greek and you’ll become familiar with how the letters look on the page too.”

I could not recognise all the words, but one word, one name, I did. “These are letters from your wife that she wrote before the war. To take with you.”

“They are.”

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