ULYSSES IN HIS HOME
When the morning came, Telemachus said to the swineherd: "I go to
the city, for my mother will not be satisfied till she see my very
face. And do thou lead this stranger to the city, that he may
there beg his bread from any that may have the mind to give."
Thereupon Ulysses spake, saying, "I too, my friend, like not to be
left here. It is better for a man to beg his bread in the town
than in the fields. Go thou, and I will follow, so soon as the sun
shall wax hot, for my garments are exceeding poor, and I fear lest
the cold overcome me."
So Telemachus went his way, devising evil against the suitors all
the while. And when he came to the house his nurse Eurycleia saw
him first, and kissed him. Penelope also came down from her
chamber, and cast her arms about him, and kissed him on the face,
and on both the eyes, and spake, saying: "Thou art come,
Telemachus, light of mine eyes! I thought not ever to see thee
again. But tell me, what news didst thou get of thy father?"
And Telemachus related what Nestor and Menelaus had told him.
Meanwhile the suitors were disporting themselves, casting weights
and aiming with spears in a level place. And when it was the time
for supper, Medon, the herald, said, "Come now, let us sup; meat
in season is a good thing."
So they made ready a feast.
Now in the meanwhile Eumaeus and the false beggar were coming to
the city. And when they were now near to it, Melanthius [Footnote:
Me-lan'-thi-us.], the goatherd, met them, and spake evil to
Eumaeus, rebuking him because he brought this beggar to the city.
And he came near and smote Ulysses with his foot on the thigh, but
moved him not from the path. And Ulysses thought awhile, should he
smite him with his club and slay him, or dash him on the ground.
But it seemed to him better to endure.
So they went on to the palace. And at the door of the court there
lay the dog Argus, whom in the old days Ulysses had reared with
his own hand. But ere the dog grew to his full, Ulysses had sailed
to Troy. And while he was strong, men used him in the chase,
hunting wild goats and roe-deer and hares. But now he lay on a
dunghill, and vermin swarmed upon him. Well he knew his master,
and, although he could not come near to him, he wagged his tail
and drooped his ears.
And Ulysses, when he saw him, wiped away a tear, and said, "Surely
this is strange, Eumaeus, that such a dog of so fine a breed
should lie here upon a dunghill."
And Eumaeus made reply: "He belongeth to a master who died far
away. For, indeed, when Ulysses had him of old, he was the
strongest and swiftest of dogs; but now my dear lord has perished
far away, and the careless women tend him not. For when the master
is away the slaves are careless of their duty. Surely a man, when
he is made a slave, loses half the virtue of a man."
And as he spake the dog Argus died. Twenty years had he waited,
and saw his master at the last. After this the two entered the
hall. And Telemachus, when he saw them, took from the basket bread
and meat, as much as his hands could hold, and bade carry them to
the beggar, and also to tell him that he might go round among the
suitors, asking alms. So he went, stretching out his hand, as
though he were wont to beg; and some gave, having compassion upon
him, and some asked who he was. But of all, Antinous was the most
shameless. For when Ulysses came to him and told him how he had
had much riches and power in former days, and how he had gone to
Egypt, and had been sold a slave into Cyprus, Antinous mocked him,
saying:--
"Get thee from my table, or thou shalt find a worse Egypt and a
harder Cyprus than before."
Then Ulysses said, "Surely thy soul is evil though thy body is
fair; for though thou sittest at another man's feast, yet wilt
thou give me nothing."
Then Antinous caught up the footstool that was under his feet, and
smote Ulysses therewith. But he stood firm as a rock; and in his
heart he thought on revenge. So he went and sat down at the door.
And being there, he said:--
"Hear me, suitors of the Queen! Antinous has smitten me because
that I am poor. May the curse of the hungry light on him therefor,
ere he come to his marriage day!"
Then spake Antinous, "Sit thou still, stranger, and eat thy bread
in silence, lest the young men drag thee from the house, or strip
thy flesh from off thy bones."
So he spake in his insolence; but the others blamed him, saying:
"Antinous, thou didst ill to smite the wanderer; there is a doom
on such deeds, if there be any god in heaven. Verily, the gods oft
times put on the shape of men, and go through cities, spying out
whether there is righteous dealing or unrighteous among them."
But Antinous heeded not. As for Telemachus, he nursed a great
sorrow in his heart to see his father so smitten; yet he shed not
a tear, but sat in silence, meditating evil against the suitors.
When Penelope also heard how the stranger had been smitten in the
hall, she spake to her maidens, saying, "So may Apollo, the
archer, smite Antinous!"
Then Eurynome [Footnote: Eu-ryn'-o-me.], that kept the house, made
answer: "O that our prayers might be fulfilled! Surely not one of
these evil men should see another day."
To her replied Penelope: "Yea, nurse, all are enemies, but
Antinous is the worst. Verily, he is as hateful as death."
Then Penelope called to the swineherd and said: "Go now, and bring
this stranger to me; I would greet him, and inquire of him whether
he has heard tidings of Ulysses, or, it may be, seen him with his
eyes, for he seems to have wandered far."
Eumaeus made answer: "Truly this man will charm thy heart, O
Queen! Three days did I keep him in my dwelling, and he never
ceased from telling of his sorrows. As a singer of beautiful songs
charmeth men, so did he charm me. He saith that he is a Cretan,
and that he hath heard of Ulysses, that he is yet alive, and that
he is bringing much wealth to his home."
Then said Penelope: "Go, call the man, that I may speak with him.
O that Ulysses would indeed return! Soon would he and his son
avenge them of these men, for all the wrong that they have done!"
And as she spake, Telemachus sneezed, and all the house rang with
the noise. And Penelope said again to Eumaeus: "Call now this
stranger; didst thou not mark the good omen, how my son sneezed
when I spake? Verily, this vengeance shall be wrought, nor shall
one escape from it. And as for this stranger, if I shall perceive
that he hath spoken truth, I will give him a new mantle and
tunic."
So the swineherd spake to the stranger, saying: "Penelope would
speak with thee, and would inquire concerning her husband. And if
she find that thou hast spoken truth, she will give thee a mantle
and a tunic, and thou shalt have freedom to beg throughout the
land."
But the false beggar said: "Gladly would I tell to Penelope the
story of her husband, for I know him well. But I fear these
suitors. Even now, when this man struck me, and for naught, none
hindered the blow, no, not Telemachus himself. Go, therefore, and
bid the Queen wait till the setting of the sun."
So the swineherd went, and as he crossed the threshold Penelope
said: "Thou bringest him not! What meaneth the wanderer? A beggar
that is shamefaced knoweth his trade but ill."
But the swineherd answered: "He doeth well, O lady, in that he
fearest the wrong-doing of these insolent men. He would have thee
wait till the setting of the sun, and indeed it is better for thee
to have speech with him alone."
Then said Penelope: "It is well; the stranger is a man of
understanding. Verily, these men are insolent above all others."
Then the swineherd went into the throng of the suitors, and spake
to Telemachus, holding his head close that none should hear: "I go
to see after matters at the farm. Take thou heed of what befalleth
here. Many of the people have ill-will against us. May Zeus
confound them!"
Telemachus made answer, "Go, as thou sayest and come again in the
morning, bringing beasts for sacrifice."
So the swineherd departed; and the suitors made merry in the hall.