Of Waves and War

31: paying back their violence at all too high a price

Eulises

"I forgot not only how quiet it was with you away, but also that the two of you share a communal brain."

"You really didn't have to come, father."

"No, I'm fairly certain I did. Ignore my musings."

"Oh, believe me, I am," I say. Telemachus and I are lying behind a log, sharing a looking glass to look down at the house. We are prepared for battle, both dressed in black hunting clothes, with scarves around our foreheads to keep sweat from our eyes. We're both armed as well, with short swords, and I have a recurve bow not that I know if I can use it. Argos is with us as well, also behind the log, also with a scarf around his head and holding his floppy ears up, because he felt left out when we were getting ready.

"Well, why are you spying on your own house as if you don't know fifteen ways in, and have since age six?" my father asks, he for his part never changed and is leaning against a tree with a mug of tea watching us with something like amusement.

"Because I am attempting to spy on the enemy," I say, in my obvious voice.

"I was not talking to you. Telemachus, care to tell your father at what rate you escaped that house between the ages of six and—oh wait--- now? The present?"

"I'm denying that happened; he's senile you see," Telemachus says.

"Did you get out that often? Solid lad," I say, squeezing the back of his neck then cuffing his head. He grins.

"I owe you another scotch, love," my father mutters, looking at the sky.

"Mostly hunting and practicing night operations, figured it would be useful," Telemachus says.

"Good boy."

"You could not encourage it?"

"Ignore him, he claims I did the same thing," I say.

"You did do the same thing, little hooligan. Your mother once tried to lock you out do you remember that?"

"Yeah, Tel, if they ever lock you out then the chimney to the kitchen is usually cool by midnight," I advise.

"I did that, grandma did lock me out, mum got upset and grandma said it was good for me," Telemachus, proud.

"Course you did," I say, "You didn't write to me of it—,"

"It was after," he says, his face darkening, "Sometimes I'd write, but then we had nowhere to send the letters."

I nod.

"My favorite way out is the attic, shall we go in that way now?" Telemachus asks.

"Let's not give your mother the fright of her life. She may not recognize me after all this time," I point out.

"If there would be anyway the woman WOULD recognize you, it would be by you tripping in a window with stolen goods dressed like a bandit after being legally dead for years. Telemachus, I cannot stress how in character that situation is for your father. As in, if someone had come home in uniform at the expected time introducing himself like a typical normal person, I would have shouted for the guards."

"Don't mind him, Tel. Father, we have discussed calling things that I acquire through reasonable methods that now belong to me stolen goods?" I say, glancing over at him.

"Penelope, please, you're the only one who has the energy for him, I hope you're ready," he sighs.

"Stolen goods?" poor Telemachus.

"Don't mind him, I have funds that I returned with, that's all," I say, handing him the looking glass, "I count four out in the yard."

"Yeah, there are definitely more inside," Telemachus says, looking and petting Argos.

"What are we doing?" Athena appears on my other side, dressed similarly to Telemachus and I.

"Plotting," I say, assuming my father doesn't see or hear the conversation.

"How to kill them? Excellent."

"Well, I was hoping not to kill everyone, because I'd sooner not be suspected of twenty some counts of murder," I say.

"Don't worry about that, murder is a fine idea," Athena says.

"We can't take them at once though," Telemachus says, worriedly.

"No, we can't, my best plan now is to go and feel them out, see which ones pose the greatest threat. Then, in the night, we go about and pick them off one by one," I say.

"Great plan, I concur, do that," she says, taking the looking glass from Telemachus.

"All right, it sounds too simple though," Telemachus says.

"We can complicate it later, for now it would be better to gauge their movements and determine which ones we should target first," I say.

"Don't trust them, and do not reveal yourself to your wife yet, I'll not interfere, but I'll tell you they're not likely to appreciate your return," she says.

"I gather," I say, dryly.

"Good luck," she slaps my back then vanishes.

"Right, so, we go on in, have dinner with them, I'll taunt them a little, and then tonight I'll cut a few throats, and then teach you how to properly dispose of a body, good knowledge to have," I say, ruffling Telemachus' hair.

"Oh gods, could you possibly do something other than that?" my father asks.

"No, I like this plan, so I'm doing it," I inform him, "Until we think of a better one, then we'll do that."

"Oh, and you can't appear down there looking anything like yourself, your wife will recognize you," Athena says, reappearing then disappearing, as she does I feel my clothes fill with dirt and my hair which I did just clean grow greasy and stick to my face.

"Could I be a cleaner beggar?" I ask, which of course ends with a clot of mud pasting to my face. "I don't know what I expected," I mutter, wiping it off.

"That was weird," Telemachus says.

"Don't question it, I know not to," I say, sighing, "Come, let's question the suitors."