ODYSSEUS SEEKS THE SWINEHERD
Odysseus left the haven by a narrow stony path and took his way to
the dwelling of his faithful swineherd, who thought more of the
welfare of his master than did all the rest of the servants whom
Odysseus had. He found him seated in the yard which he himself had
made of stone for the swine of the absent King, and had enclosed with
a thick hedge of thorns. He had driven strong posts of oak around
it, also. Inside the yard he had made twelve sties, and in each sty
there were fifty sows with their little ones. The males were kept
outside and were fewer in number, for Eumaios was compelled to send
a very fat one to the suitors every day, and therefore there were
only eighteen score.
Near them were four large savage dogs as guards. They were more like
wolves than dogs. Eumaios was busy making a pair of sandals from an
ox-hide, for his own use. The other swineherds had gone on errands,
three of them to drive pigs to pasture, while the fourth had taken
a hog to the suitors in the city.
When the dogs saw Odysseus they barked and rushed upon him, and they
would have torn him to pieces, but Eumaios drove them off with stones
and said: "Thou poor old man, the dogs came very near tearing thee
limb from limb, and that would have been a great shame and sorrow
to me.
"The gods have already sent me trouble enough. Here I sit weeping
and mourning for my beloved master, and take care of his swine in
order that strangers may eat them. Who knows where he may be wandering
as a beggar among people who speak another tongue? But come, old man,
let us go into my lodge and eat, and then thou mayest tell me who
thou art and what misfortunes thou hast suffered."
Odysseus followed the swineherd into the cabin. Eumaios threw an
armful of rushes on the floor and covered it with a rug of goat-skin
and bade his guest be seated.
Odysseus was gratified at this kind reception, and said to the
swineherd: "May Zeus and all the other immortal gods give thee, my
host, all the good of earth for thy hospitality."
The good swineherd answered him: "My guest, I should consider it a
great sin not to receive a stranger hospitably, even if he looked
more miserable than thou. Strangers and beggars are children of Zeus.
The hospitality I can extend to thee is slight but sincere, for
servants have little to offer, especially when, like me, they have
new masters. Odysseus loved me much. Would that the gods might send
him back to us. He would have paid me for my toil. He would have given
me a home, a little land, and a wife. But he is dead. May the whole
race of Helen be destroyed, for it was she who brought noble men to
destruction."
The swineherd drew his belt around him and hastened to the pen where
the pigs were shut up. He seized two little pigs and slew them and
roasted them on a spit over the fire. He sprinkled salt over the savory
meat and brought it to Odysseus. And he brought delicate wine in a
wooden cup, as well.
Then he said: "Eat, stranger, for this is the best I have to give.
The suitors, who fear neither god nor man, eat the fat hogs. They
gorge themselves with the costliest food in the house, both wine and
meat, and only these little lean porkers are left for us. Yet there
is still an abundance, for my master was very rich. He had twelve
herds of horned cattle and as many swine on the mainland, and twelve
flocks of sheep and goats. Here, on the island, graze eleven flocks
of goats, tended by as many trusty herdsmen, each of whom has to send
a fattened goat for the table of the suitors every day. As for myself,
I take care of these swine, and each day I choose the best to send
to the city."
Odysseus ate the flesh and drank the wine while Eumaios was telling
him these things, and could hardly keep from giving vent to his anger.
But he kept silence and meditated vengeance on the suitors. When the
meal was done he said: "Tell me, I pray thee, all about thy rich and
kind master. Thou didst say that he went out with Agamemnon to fight
the Trojans. Perhaps I know him and can give thee some information
concerning him."
The noble swineherd answered: "Be silent, aged man, for we have ceased
to believe the tales told us by wanderers. Every beggar who comes
this way calls on my mistress and tells her falsehoods about seeing
Odysseus, and tries to make her think that he will come home in a
short time. Then she treats him kindly and loads him with gifts.
"How shall we know but thou dost make up just such a story in order
to receive a tunic and a mantle? It is a fact that my master does
not return. Who knows on what spot of the earth his bones are
mouldering, or what dogs and birds have devoured him? I shall never
cease to grieve for him. He loved me as he would have loved a son.
I shall never find such a kind master again. Even my father and mother
were not so good to me. Although he will never be with us any more,
I keep on doing his will."
[Illustration: THE SWINEHERD TELLING HIS STORY TO ODYSSEUS]
Odysseus replied: "Thou dost see that I am half naked for want of
clothing, but I will never take a reward, even though I am in rags,
until Odysseus is really here. I hate the wretch who tells lies to
enrich himself as I hate death. I call Zeus to witness, and this
hospitable board and the hearth of Odysseus, that what I tell thee
will come true. Odysseus will be here at the end of this month, and
he will be avenged on those men who have robbed him and insulted his
wife and son."
"And yet I will not give thee any reward for thy news, old man," said
Eumaios, "for Odysseus is dead. He will never come again. Drink in
peace and let us talk of other things. Do not take this great oath,
as much as we wish--Laertes, Penelope, Telemachos, and I--that
Odysseus might come. But now, as if we had not troubles enough, a
new one has come upon us. I know not what evil demon put it into the
mind of Telemachos to go to Sparta to inquire about his father. And
the ungodly suitors have sent out a ship to watch for him, and kill
him on his return. We shall lose him, too, if Zeus does not hold a
protecting hand over him.
"But tell me, dear old man, from what country dost thou come? Who
are thy parents? Tell me of thy toils and sufferings."
The time had not yet come when Odysseus thought it best to reveal
himself. He wanted to stay with the swineherd until his son should
return, and he had had the opportunity of making the best plan for
ridding his house of the suitors. So he told the swineherd a long
string of stories. He said he was a son of the King of Crete; that
he went to Troy, where he met Odysseus and fought by his side.
Returning, he wandered about, and, after many adventures, met
Odysseus again getting ready to return to Ithaca. As for himself,
he had been robbed even to his clothing and cast on this island.
He told the tale so well that the swineherd believed him, and even
killed a fat hog in his honor. And he made him welcome to his lodge
and prepared a good bed for him near the fire, and covered him with
goat-skins. The night was cold and damp, and a cutting wind was blowing
outside. The other servants lay down near Odysseus to sleep, but
Eumaios took a sharp sword and thick mantle and went out near the
pens to watch the swine all night. Odysseus saw with gratitude how
faithfully this servant attended to his duty.
PART III
THE TRIUMPH OF ODYSSEUS
CHAPTER XXIX
ATHENA ADVISES TELEMACHOS
At the time when Odysseus was wrecked, after his comrades had eaten
of the cattle of Hēlios, and he was cast up on to the island of Calypso,
Athena prayed to Zeus, her mighty sire, that he might be restored
to Ithaca, his native land. She prayed that Hermes, the messenger
of the gods, might be sent to Calypso with the express command that
she should send Odysseus home. Zeus smiled and granted the request.
Then Athena tied golden sandals under her feet and taking a long,
heavy spear, she rushed like a whirlwind down from the heights of
Olympos and stood at the doorway of Odysseus' house, among the men
of Ithaca. She found the haughty suitors assembled there eating and
drinking.
Telemachos saw the goddess before anyone else. She was disguised to
resemble Mentor, a wise chief who had led the Taphians in the Trojan
war. Telemachos rose at once, like a gracious host, and took the right
hand of the stranger and gave him a hearty welcome. Athena saw with
anger how the ungodly wooers ate and drank and rioted gluttonously,
while the servants of Telemachos were obliged to administer to their
wants. Some of them were kept mixing the wines and water in large
craters; others had to clear and clean the tables, and others again
prepared and carved the meats and carried them round to the suitors.
Telemachos led the stranger away from this noisy hall, that he might
not be annoyed by their boisterous behavior. He bade him sit down
on a throne, and placed a foot-stool under his feet. Then he drew
his own chair from among the suitors and sat near the stranger, hoping
to hear news of his absent father. A maid brought a silver pitcher
and basin and let the stranger wash his hands. A table was placed
before him, laden with the choicest viands, while a herald filled
a goblet with wine for him. When they had enjoyed their meal,
Telemachos asked the stranger his name and country.
"I am Mentor, son of the Taphian King," said Athena. "I came here
in my ship with a crew of friends, on a journey to the Isle of Cyprus,
in search of copper, and I brought iron to give in exchange. I am
an old friend of Odysseus. I have left my ship in the bay, back of
the forest. Laertes will tell thee who I am. It is said that he does
not come to the palace any more, but lives alone in the country,
mourning over the loss of his son day and night. It seems that the
gods have long delayed Odysseus. Who knows where he is? I am sure
that he is not dead. And now tell me, what feast is going on here,
and who are these men? Are they invited guests? Is it a banquet I
see, or is there to be a wedding? It is not a pleasant sight in any
case, for the men are coarse in their actions and ungodly in their
speech. Every friend of Odysseus must feel sad to see them in this
place."
"As long as my father was here," answered Telemachos, "our house was
respectable and rich. But the gods have forsaken us, and we are
destined to destruction. No news of my father's death has ever reached
us; nevertheless, all the young men of the first families of Ithaca
and the surrounding isles flock to our house and seek my mother for
a wife and squander my father's riches. My mother does not favor the
idea of another marriage, and has not promised herself to any of the
suitors. She fears them, and so she does not reject their suits, yet
she will not end the trouble by marrying one of them. They will not
go away, but make themselves at home here and eat up my inheritance.
They only want a favorable opportunity to kill me."
Athena grew angry at this, and said: "I would that Odysseus might
come this very moment to chastise these atrocious fellows. Woe to
them if he should appear at the door with his helmet and shield and
two tough spears, just as he looked when I first beheld him in my
own home. Then these suitors would find a bitter marriage-feast and
a speedy end. Vengeance, however, rests with the gods.
"Now, let me consider the best way to get these suitors out of the
house. As an old friend of thy father, let me advise thee. To-morrow
call thy people together in council and tell the suitors to depart.
If thy mother has any inclination to wed again, send her to her
father's house. He is rich and powerful, and can give her a splendid
wedding, such as is suitable for the daughter of a king, and bestow
an ample dower.
"Then launch thy finest ship. Man it with twenty good oarsmen and
put out to sea in search of thy father. Sail to Pylos first and consult
with Nestor, and go to Sparta next and see Menelaos, who has returned
from Troy recently. Stay with him awhile if he can assure thee that
thy father lives. But if he tells thee that thy father is surely dead,
return as quickly as possible and build a mound to him, and cause
the altar to be piled high with sacrifices and the funeral games to
take place. Then let thy mother marry again.
"Thou art no longer a child, and it is not seemly to allow such
indignities. Be brave and act without fear, that men may honor thee.
When thou hast performed these deeds, let thy care be to drive out
the suitors. But now I must return to my ship, for my companions will
be uneasy over my long absence."
"Thou hast spoken to me as a father speaks to a son," answered
Telemachos. "I shall bear thy words in mind. And now I pray thee stay
awhile to rest and bathe. I cannot let thee go to thy ship without
some handsome gift, such as one always bestows upon an honored guest."
"Telemachos, do not detain me longer," replied Athena. "I must depart
at once. Keep thy gift until I return, and then I will take it to
my home." She vanished as she spoke, and all that Telemachos saw was
a fleet-winged bird flying upward high in the air. Telemachos was
astonished, and knew that he had been talking face to face with some
deity. He thought over all that the goddess had told him, and resolved
to do exactly as he had been instructed.
CHAPTER XXX
TELEMACHOS ASTONISHES THE WOOERS
The feast continued. The wooers ate and drank but were silent, for
an illustrious bard was singing to them of the Trojan war. Telemachos
walked forth in the midst of them, his heart inspired with courage.
Penelope had heard the song as she sat in her chamber over the hall,
and she came down the lofty stairway attended by two maids. She
implored the bard, with tears to change the song, since it was the
one most sacred to her and made her sad.
Then said Telemachos: "My mother, let thy heart be strong to bear
this song which all men love. The bard must sing the song with which
he is inspired. Retire now, I pray thee, to thy room, and take thy
maids with thee. There teach them to spin and weave--a task meet for
a princess. But leave to me the ordering of the feast and the care
of the suitors. Such a duty belongs to a man, and the authority is
mine." Penelope was amazed at his words. She withdrew to her own rooms
with her attendants and wept and mourned for her absent lord until
she fell asleep.
When the minstrel had finished his song, the suitors began to be noisy
and riotous again. Telemachos could no longer restrain himself. "Ye
insolent suitors of my mother," he said to them, "cease your uproar.
Your lawlessness knows no bounds. To-morrow I will call a general
assembly of all the Ithacans and warn you to depart. If ye remain
in my house wasting my goods and eating food that is not your own
I will call down vengeance from the gods, and ye shall die in this
very palace."
The suitors were astonished at his courage and his words. He had never
before spoken out with authority. Antinoös and Eurymachos, the most
insolent of them, began to ridicule him and excite the others to make
fun of him. And they asked Telemachos what guest he had been
entertaining so secretly and what news he had brought from his father.
The suitors danced and sang, eating and drinking, until evening,
before they went home.
Telemachos then sought his own couch. His old nurse, Eurycleia, led
the way with two torches. She had been a faithful servant since Laertes,
in his early manhood, had bought her for the price of a hundred oxen.
Telemachos sat down on his bed, and removing his tunic handed it to
the nurse, who folded it and smoothed it and hung it up. He lay down
and covered himself with soft fleeces, while Eurycleia went out and
carefully locked the door. But sleep did not come to him. All night
he thought of what the coming day would bring.
CHAPTER XXXI
PENELOPE'S WEB
The next morning, at dawn of day, Telemachos rose from his bed and
put on his garments. He hung his sword over his shoulder and fastened
his sandals on his feet and strode bravely forth. He summoned his
heralds at once and bade them call a council of the Ithacans. The
people came at the appointed time, and Telemachos, sceptre in hand,
took his place before the assembly and called it to order.
"I have not summoned you, my friends," he said, "in order that ye
may see some entertaining show, but out of dire necessity. I bring
no news of war and I have nothing to say that concerns the public
good. You all know the grief which has befallen me on account of my
father, your king and leader, who loved you as a parent loves his
children. But Odysseus is gone and there is no hope of his return.
This misfortune is not enough, for every day the young men of the
leading families of Ithaca and the surrounding isles meet in my house
and vex my mother with unseemly and importunate offers of marriage.
"There they are now installed, eating our food, drinking our wine,
and wasting our money, for Odysseus is not here to drive them out.
I have no way of expelling them from my home. My friends, consider
these wrongs and help me to drive these robbers from the house of
your king. It would be a shame to the people of Ithaca if it were
noised around that they left the son of their chief in the hands of
plunderers without giving him help."
Thus spoke Telemachos, the tears running down his cheeks, and he threw
the sceptre on the ground. The people were greatly moved, and felt
pity for the youth who had to suffer such wrongs, but they were silent.
Only Antinoös, the most insolent of the suitors, took up the word
and said: "Shameless Telemachos, how dost thou dare to chide us for
this state of things! Thy mother is the one to blame. She has been
leading us on for three whole years. She is skilful and crafty. She
promised, three years ago, to choose one of us for a husband as soon
as she should finish the winding-sheets for old Laertes in case of
his death.
"Then she began to weave upon her loom a dainty web of vast length
and width. And she said to each one of us: 'Do not urge me to marry,
I pray, until I finish these shrouds for the hero Laertes, when his
hour of death shall come. I have spun an abundance of fine thread,
and it must not be wasted. Besides that, the dames of Greece would
speak ill of me if I should leave my husband's father without a shroud,
for he has had great wealth all his life.' In this way Penelope gave
us hope, and we were too generous to persist in forcing her to choose
at once.
"She went on in this way, weaving the great web by day, and every
night she unravelled by torchlight all that she had woven by sunlight.
She has deceived us long enough. We have discovered her fraud; for
a woman who has seen her unravelling the web has told us all about
it. She must finish the work and make her choice among her suitors.
If thou dost wish us to leave thy house, thou shalt send thy mother
to her parents and let her father command her to marry one of us,
according to her choice. When this is done no one will disturb thee
any longer.
"If, however, Penelope prefers to treat the noble sons of Greece with
such malice and craft, we will go right on consuming thy goods. She
will thus make a great name for herself, but she will impoverish thee."
"I shall never send my mother away from her husband's house," rejoined
Telemachos. "Living or dead, my father is in distant lands, and if
I should dismiss his wife of my own will, I should invite the hatred
of the gods on my guilty head. She would call upon the Furies to haunt
me; all men would curse me; and her father would demand ample
satisfaction of me. I will never speak the word to send her forth.
Now, get you gone and cease squandering my riches or I will call down
the wrath of the gods on you."
Having said this, Telemachos sat down, and Zeus sent two eagles flying
over the heads of the wooers, close to each other. They looked down
upon the crowd of people and tore each other's heads and vanished.
The Ithacans saw the deadly omen, and a venerable prophet among them
stood up and said: "Noble youths, I advise you seriously to depart
from this royal house, for this is a sign that Odysseus is coming
home. Woe to you if he finds you in his palace. You will all meet
a direful end."
Eurymachos answered him: "Old man, keep thy advice and thy forebodings
for thine own children. We do not need them. Advise Telemachos to
change his mind and send his mother home to her father, instead of
prating foolishly to us. As long as he keeps her here we shall continue
to consume his wealth, until he has nothing left. And we will punish
thee severely if thou dost incite this young man to violence."
Telemachos, thinking it best to be discreet, replied: "Now hear me,
Eurymachos, and all ye suitors. Give me a good ship and twenty men,
that I may go from land to land in search of my father. If I find
that he lives and may return, I will wait one year longer for him
to reach home. But if I hear that he is not alive, I will come back
and build a mound to his memory and give him a funeral worthy of such
a king. Then shall my mother make her choice and wed."
Mentor, the stanch friend and adviser of Odysseus, sat among the
Ithacans in the assembly. When he saw how Telemachos was put to shame,
he grew angry. He rose to his feet, and addressed the people: "No
king ever again should be wise and good. He should be hard and unjust,
since no one of you has enough love for Odysseus to stand by his son.
I am less ashamed of the impudent suitors, than I am of the weaklings
who see what they are doing and who dare not interfere."
"Foolish old Mentor," said one of the suitors, "what art thou saying!
If Odysseus, himself, should come hither, he would not be able to
drive us out. If anyone thinks himself strong enough to do it, let
him try it. Ye Ithacans disperse to your homes, and leave Mentor to
provide the boy with a ship." So saying he dispersed the crowd, and
the wooers all went into the palace to continue their revelry.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE JOURNEY OF TELEMACHOS
Telemachos left the assembly and went down to the sea-shore alone,
and washing his hands in the surf called on the goddess who had
appeared to him the day before to come to his assistance. At once
Athena stood by his side in the guise and with the voice of Mentor.
She urged him to hasten his journey. Telemachos took new courage,
and returned at once to his house where he found his old nurse,
Eurycleia, alone. He revealed to her his intention, and asked her
to assist him in getting everything ready for the journey. He bade
her draw twelve jars of the best wine, and twelve skins of the finest
meal to put aboard the ship.
When the old nurse heard this she wept and beat her breast. "Dear
child," she said, "who has put such a thought into thy mind? Why
shouldst thou, an only son and well beloved, wander off to a distant
land? Be warned by what thy father had to suffer because he left his
own country. The suitors will plot to kill thee and divide thy wealth.
Stay here, at home; there is no need that thou shouldst venture over
the fearful sea."
Telemachos answered her: "Take courage, my good nurse; this journey
is advised of a god. Do not let my mother know of my departure for
eleven or twelve days, lest she weep and mourn."
The nurse promised most solemnly that she would keep his secret and
execute his orders. She drew the wine into the jars and filled the
strong skins with meal. Meantime, Athena, blue-eyed goddess, taking
the form of Telemachos, went through the city and urged the men to
repair to the ships at sundown, for she had chosen the best boats
in Ithaca for the youth, and found for him a crew that was glad to
serve him.
Then the blue-eyed maid went to the palace and poured sleep upon the
eyelids of the drunken suitors. They gladly sought their beds in their
own homes. Taking the form of Mentor, she next appeared to Telemachos
and bade him follow her to the beach. When they reached the galley,
he found his comrades waiting. They hurried up to the palace for the
wine and meal, which they soon brought to the ship and stored in the
hold. Then the crew slipped the cables which held the ship to the
shore. Athena took her seat at the stern and Telemachos sat near her.
The sails were spread and the sailors began to ply their oars. Athena
raised a favorable breeze and the vessel glided forward cutting her
way through the roaring waters.
CHAPTER XXXIII
TELEMACHOS IN PYLOS
At sunrise the ship arrived at Pylos. The people of that town were
all assembled on the shore, where they were sacrificing coal-black
oxen to Poseidon. Some were burning fat upon the altar, and others
were distributing food among those who were offering up the sacrifices,
while all were eating.
The Ithacans touched land. Telemachos and Athena disembarked,
leaving the crew to guard the ship, and went up to the crowd. On the
way Athena cheered Telemachos and advised him what to say to the people.
When they had come near enough to the inhabitants to be seen by them,
the people rose and came to meet the strangers. First of all, the
son of Nestor, Peisistratos, approached and took each of them by the
hand and led them to the feast. He bade them be seated near his father
and brought them the choicest meat.
After the strangers had eaten, Peisistratos filled a golden goblet
with wine, and handed it to Mentor, as the elder. Mentor was pleased
with the young man's good breeding and he took the goblet and poured
out a part of it on the ground as a sacrifice to Poseidon, with a
prayer for a safe return. Then he handed the goblet to Telemachos,
and he did likewise.
When the feast was over, Nestor, the King of Pylos, said to his guests:
"The time has come, dear strangers, when it is fitting to ask your
names, and from what land you come. Do you roam the seas as pirates,
or do you come on an errand?"
"We are Greeks," said Telemachos. "We come from Ithaca to seek tidings
of my father, the unfortunate Odysseus, who went to war against Troy
with thee and the other Greek chiefs. We have never heard anything
of him during all these long years and do not know whether he is living
or dead. I pray thee tell me anything thou may'st know about him,
and conceal nothing."
"My son," Nestor replied, "thou dost call to mind the great sufferings
borne by the men of Greece ere we succeeded in conquering Priam's
town. It would take years to tell thee of the brave deeds of the Greeks,
how they fought and where they fell. We passed nine years in worrying
the enemy, and there was no man who gave better counsel or performed
nobler deeds than did Odysseus. Art thou then his son? I look on thee
in wonder. Yes, thou art like him. How strange to hear so young a
man speak as he did!
"After the destruction of Troy, the surviving Greeks embarked, and
we set out for home. But when we reached Tenedos, thy father returned
to Troy to join Agamemnon and the others, who had stayed behind, to
appease the wrath of Athena, for a Greek had committed sacrilege in
her temple.
"Our voyage was prosperous, and we all reached home except Menelaos,
who wandered about in Crete and Egypt for a long time. It is said
that the noble son of Achilles returned home safely, and that
Agamemnon was slain in his own house, and his son took vengeance on
his murderers. There is a rumor, too, that many suitors hang about
thy mother, and, in spite of thy remonstrances, consume thy riches.
Be brave, my son, and yield not. Odysseus may come again. Go at once
to Menelaos, for he may have news of thy father. I will give thee
swift horses and a chariot, and my sons will drive."
All day Telemachos discoursed with Nestor, and when the sun went down,
they poured wine on the earth and burned an offering to the gods.
Telemachos and Mentor arose to retire to their ship, but Nestor begged
them to be his guests and go to the royal palace. Mentor, as the elder
of the two, excused himself, in order to join the crew, and suddenly
disappeared. Nestor recognized that Telemachos was attended by the
goddess, and offered a prayer to her. The assembly dispersed, and
Nestor, with his guest and his sons, retired to his palace.
CHAPTER XXXIV
TELEMACHOS IN SPARTA
Before the sun was fairly up, they all arose and seated themselves
on the smooth stone benches that loomed up in the gloaming, white
and shining, before the gates of the palace. Nestor bade one of his
sons to prepare an offering to Athena, of the best heifer in the fields.
He sent another son to call a skilled workman to plate the heifer's
horns with gold, and two others yet to bring the crew from the ship.
He told the remaining two sons to bid the maids prepare a sumptuous
feast in honor of their guest.
In a moment there was a busy scene. The heifer was brought up from
the fields, and her horns were adorned with pure gold in hopes that
Athena would see it and be pleased. The sailors came from the ship,
except two who were left as guards. The heifer was slain and parts
were burned as an offering to the goddess, and cakes and wine also
were thrown into the flames to complete the sacrifice. They roasted
the flesh on long iron forks with five prongs, and feasted upon it.
Then Nestor said to his sons: "Bring now the chariot and horses and
let our guest depart in search of news concerning his renowned
father." The horses were soon harnessed to the car, which was stored
with wine and bread and dainties fit for a prince. Telemachos climbed
into the seat. Peisistratos took his place beside him and grasped
the reins. The horses dashed off in high spirit, and Pylos was soon
left in the distance. All day the horses sped along. At night they
rested by the way and early the next morning went on again as swiftly
as before. As the sun went down they found themselves in Sparta, the
land of plenty, and at the gates of Menelaos, the king.
Here they found many guests assembled at the wedding banquet of
Hermione, the daughter of Menelaos. That day she had been given as
a bride to Neoptolemos, the son of Achilles. A minstrel was playing
a harp and singing, while two dancers performed graceful feats to
give life to the feast.
One of the attendants of Menelaos saw the strangers drive up, and
stepped out to see who was coming. Then he hastened back to Menelaos
and told him that two strangers of princely bearing were at the palace
gate, and asked if he should unharness their horses or send them on
their way. Menelaos was vexed that any of his servants should be so
lax in hospitality, and told him he had acted like a foolish child,
and reminded him of the gifts that had been showered on them when
they wandered so long in foreign lands. And he bade him hasten to
unharness the steeds, and give them oats and barley, and bid the
strangers welcome to the feast.
Telemachos and Peisistratos were amazed at the beauty of the palace.
They bathed in the marble baths, rubbed themselves with oil and put
on the splendid tunics that were brought them. After that they entered
the great hall, where each was seated on a throne near the king. A
handmaid brought a golden pitcher and a silver bowl for their hands,
and a table was placed before them laden with choice food. When they
had eaten enough, golden beakers of wine were handed them, and then
the monarch gave his hand to each of them, saying: "Ye have come in
good time, my friends. As soon as ye have finished your feast, I will
ask your names and whence ye come, for ye look like sons of kings."
As they sat there Telemachos, bending his head toward Peisistratos,
said, in a low tone, so that he thought no one else would hear: "Surely,
O son of Nestor, the Olympian home of Zeus himself could not be more
glorious than this palace. See the gold and ivory, and shining brass.
These things are beyond price in richness." Menelaos caught the words,
although he spoke so low, and said: "My sons, there is no palace that
can compare with the home of the gods. The riches which you look at
in astonishment I collected while wandering in Egypt and in Crete.
I find no pleasure in them, however, for I found my brother, King
Agamemnon slain when I reached home. Would that the men who fought
before Troy had their share of this wealth! I often weep and mourn
for them in my palace, and am unable to eat or sleep on account of
the misery I have brought upon my friends.
"For none of them do I mourn so much as I do for Odysseus, who suffered
the most of all on my behalf. I would gladly give all my wealth, if
I only knew him to be safe. But we do not know whether he is dead
or living. How much his old father must have grieved for him. How
many tears his wife, Penelope, must have shed, and his high-minded
son, Telemachos, what sorrow he has suffered."
New despair filled the heart of Telemachos, and tears fell from his
eyes. He held his purple mantle to hide his grief and wept in silence.
When Menelaos saw this, he at once suspected that the young man was
no other than the sorrowing son of Odysseus, and he felt perplexed
for want of suitable words. He could not decide whether to question
him about his father, or to wait and let the youth speak out of his
own will.
Just then Helen entered the hall from her high-roofed chamber, looking
like a goddess in her dazzling beauty. She sat down at her husband's
feet, while servants ran to bring the mat which she was weaving and
the distaff filled with fine-spun purple thread. Her fingers flew
over the dainty work while she questioned the king: "Didst thou ask
the strangers their names? It is not possible that there can be any
man so like to Odysseus except his son, as is this youth! I see him
with astonishment. His father left him at home a little babe, when
the Greeks went forth to war for my sake. Is it not true that this
is Telemachos?"
Menelaos replied: "My wife, I think thou hast spoken truly. The young
man has the hands, the feet, and the features of Odysseus, and he
cannot hide his grief at the mention of that hero's name."
Peisistratos took up the word and said: "He is, indeed, the son of
Odysseus, O king! My father, Nestor, sent me with him to inquire what
you might know of the long-lost chieftain, and to beg you to give
him advice, for he has to suffer great wrongs in his house and there
is no one to assist him."
Menelaos was heartily glad to hear that his guest was really
Telemachos. But the remembrance of his old friend overcame him and
he wept bitter tears. "I thought when I was in Troy," he said, "that
I should one day welcome Odysseus to my home. I would have given him
land and cities and brought to Sparta all his people and his wealth.
Then we would always have lived close together and nothing could have
parted us. But he has never returned." The tears fell from his eyes
and Helen wept as well. Peisistratos then said to Menelaos: "Son of
Atreus, my father says that thou art good and wise. Let us not, I
entreat, continue this sad discourse, since this is a day that should
not be given to lamentations. I lost a brother, also, at Troy. But
we will honor these heroes at a proper time, with tears and by cutting
off our locks. Let us not spoil the feast with mourning."
They spent the rest of the day in making the festival as cheerful
as if there were no grief to be hidden, and when night came the Argive
Helen ordered the servants to prepare beds for them in the portico
and cover them with tapestries, while she poured for them a soothing
wine and dismissed them to their slumbers. The heralds led them to
their couches, where they found a welcome rest.
CHAPTER XXXV
MENELAOS RELATES HIS ADVENTURES
The next morning Menelaos rose from his couch very early, put on his
garments, hung his sword over his shoulder, laced his sandals, and
went into his hall looking like a god. He sat down near Telemachos,
and asked him to tell him frankly why he had come to Sparta.
Telemachos then told him of the evil deeds of the suitors, and besought
him to give him every possible clew to his father's whereabouts.
Menelaos was indignant over the young man's wrongs.
"Shame on the cowards who wish to rule over thy father's house," he
said. "Let Odysseus return and he will tear them to pieces as a lion
tears a young deer. Grant, O father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo,
that Odysseus may yet give those ungodly suitors a bitter wedding
feast. But I will tell thee of my travels and what was told me by
the Ancient Spirit of the sea.
"It happened that the gods detained me many days in Egypt to sacrifice
and do penance, for I had forgotten to make proper offerings to them.
The island of Pharos lies just off the coast of Egypt. There I remained
until the daughter of the Ancient Sea King, seeing my distress, came
to my rescue.
"My men and I had wandered over the island in search of food until
we were nearly starved, when she discovered us, and told us that our
efforts would be useless unless we consulted with her father. 'If
thou canst ensnare him and hold him in thy grasp,' she said, 'he will
tell thee how to reach thy home. He is a seer, and can tell thee all
that has taken place there during thy absence. At noon-tide he comes
out from the ocean caves covered with brine, and lies down among the
sea-calves, rank with the smell of salt. He counts them five at a
time, and then he stretches himself out among them and goes to sleep.
He is very shrewd, and when thou hast caught him he will struggle
and take all sorts of forms to escape thee. He will turn into a reptile,
and into fire and then will change to water. But hold him fast, and
when he looks as he did when first perceived by thee, ask him how
to find thy home.'
"The next morning, I sought the aged sea-god as I had been bidden.
I took three old comrades whom I knew to be trusty, and we went down
into the depths of the sea. The goddess brought us four fresh hides
that had just been taken from sea-calves newly slaughtered, and we
dressed ourselves in them to deceive her father. She scooped out
places for us to lie in on the sands and we waited for him to come.
The smell was sickening and beyond endurance, so the goddess put
ambrosia under our noses. When the sun was highest in the heavens,
the sea-calves came in groups and ranged themselves around in rows
on the sand. The old seer came out and counted all, and did not notice
our fraud. Then he lay down to sleep. At once, we rushed upon him
and caught him. He began to take all kinds of shapes. First, he was
a lion; then a serpent, a panther, a boar, a fountain of water, and
a tree. We held on until he was tired of trying to escape.
"At last he took his proper form, and began to question me. 'Son of
Atreus,' he said, 'who hath taught thee how to make me a prisoner?
What is it thou wouldst know?' 'Tell me what god is angry with me,
O Proteus,' I replied. 'Why am I detained on this island? Why can
I not reach my home?' 'Thou didst not make acceptable sacrifices to
Zeus,' said Proteus. 'And thou wilt never see thy home again until
thou hast offered up a hundred oxen to the immortal gods.'
"'I will perform that rite speedily, oh prophet,' I replied. 'But
tell me about my comrades in the Trojan war. Did they reach home in
safety?'
"Then Proteus told me all; how Ajax died amid his ships; how Agamemnon
was slain in his own hall; and of Laertes' son he said that he had
seen him sitting in a grotto on Calypso's Isle. There upon the rocks
or at the ocean-side he weeps and mourns day after day, and gazes
out upon the deep. His comrades are lost, and he has no ship with
which to return to Ithaca. And after he had spoken he plunged into
the sea while I returned to my ships, offered up the hundred oxen
to Zeus and sailed for home. And now, Telemachos, I pray thee remain
awhile with me, and I will dismiss thee with a chariot and swift horses,
and a cup of priceless worth with which to pour libations to the gods."
Telemachos took new courage when he heard that his father still lived,
and begged that he might go back at once to Pylos to join his crew.
In a moment all were busy in the palace of Menelaos preparing gifts
and a feast that the youths might depart on the morrow.
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE CONSPIRACY OF THE SUITORS
One day while Telemachos was in Sparta, the guest of Menelaos, the
suitors were more riotous than usual. They diverted themselves in
the palace of Odysseus by throwing the discus and javelin. Only
Antinoös and the handsome Eurymachos kept apart from them. Then Noëmon,
who had given Telemachos his ship a few days before, approached them
and said: "Antinoös, I would gladly know when Telemachos will return
from Pylos. I lent him my ship, and I need it for I intend to go to
Elis, where I have business."
The suitors were completely taken by surprise, for they had not heard
that Telemachos had gone to Pylos. They thought that he was out at
the farm with his swineherd. Antinoös asked: "When did Telemachos
sail, and what crew did he take? Did he use force in getting thy ship
or didst thou lend it willingly?"
"He was welcome to the ship," replied Noëmon. "Who would not have
done such a service to a man who has had so much to endure? The young
men who went with him belong to the best families of Ithaca." Noëmon
could not get any news of Telemachos, so he went home; but the suitors
conspired to kill Telemachos. They decided that Antinoös should man
a ship with a crew of twenty men, and lie in ambush in the waters
near Ithaca, in order that they might catch Telemachos, on his return.
This wicked plot of the suitors was betrayed to the queen, by her
faithful herald, Medon. Penelope was overcome with grief, and wept
bitterly, and her loyal attendants mourned with her. "What new grief
is this which befalls me now?" she said. "Is it not enough that death
has robbed me of my husband? Am I also to lose my only child, without
even having seen him before his departure? Alas! why did no one tell
me he was going, that I might have prevented his journey? Haste ye
to Laertes and tell him what has happened, that he may make some plan
to upset this plot to destroy his heir, the son of Odysseus."
Then Eurycleia, the nurse, tried to console her with these soothing
words: "My daughter, I will not hide the truth from thee any longer.
I gave Telemachos a generous supply of food and wine, all that he
could use on his journey. And I promised him solemnly that I would
not tell thee of his departure, since he had a great dread that thou
wouldst weep and mourn, and spoil thy lovely face and injure thy health.
Now dry thy tears and bathe, and put on fresh robes. Then go to thine
altar in the upper chamber with thy maids. There pray to Athena and
burn incense to her. Do not alarm good old Laertes needlessly."
Penelope followed the old nurse's advice. She went to the altar, at
the highest part of the house, and there she prayed to Athena: "Hear
me, daughter of Zeus! If ever my beloved husband has sacrificed to
thee the fat limbs of oxen or sheep, and has built thee altars, save
my son, Telemachos, and destroy the suitors, who fain would destroy
him." The goddess heard her prayer, and sent sweet slumber and a
pleasant dream to assuage her grief. In her sleep she saw her sister,
who said to her: "Be of good cheer, Penelope; no harm will come to
thy son, for a god goes with him." To her, the wise Penelope, yet
dreaming, answered: "My sister, why is it thou hast never come to
me before? Thy home is far away. I weep because I have lost my noble
husband, and now his enemies conspire to slay my only son." The dream
replied: "Take heart. Do not fear. Athena sent me to tell thee that
she will protect thy son."
"Oh, tell me," cried the queen, in her dreams, "tell me if my husband
lives, since thou art sent by a goddess." But the shadow vanished
through the closed door, and mingled with the air. Penelope awoke
with a glad heart, cheered by the prophetic dream.
In the meantime the suitors spoke among themselves, for they were
too foolish to understand the spirit of the queen. "Surely," they
said, "Penelope is making ready for her wedding. She does not suspect
that we have planned to kill her son." "Do not deceive yourselves,
my friends," said Antinoös. "Be silent and act." Then he chose twenty
men, and they went down to a well-fitted ship, and took their places
at the oars. They waited until it was dark, when they quietly rowed
out into a narrow strait, through which, they thought, Telemachos
was sure to sail on his return, and there they waited.
CHAPTER XXXVII
TELEMACHOS RETURNS TO ITHACA
Having encouraged Penelope, the goddess Athena sped to Sparta, where
she found Telemachos, with Nestor's son, asleep upon the porch. She
stood beside his bed, and warned him that he ought to return home,
since Penelope's father had given her counsel to wed the richest of
the suitors, and had promised a generous dower. "Do not delay," the
goddess said to him; "no one can tell what a woman will do to help
the man she is to marry.
"And also beware of the suitors, whom thou hast offended. They lie
in wait in the narrow passage between Samos and Ithaca. They hope
to catch thee on thy way home and slay thee. Do not go that way. Sail
only when it is dark. A god will watch over thee. When thou dost come
to the first harbor in Ithaca, disembark, and let thy crew go on in
the ship and take it back to the town. But thou shalt make thy way
to the hut of thy loyal swineherd, and he will take tidings of thy
safe return to thy mother."
Athena said this and vanished. Telemachos turned to Peisistratos and
said: "Let us arise and set forth on our journey with all haste, oh
son of Nestor." But Peisistratos begged him to wait until it was fairly
light. Menelaos had slept lightly, he was so agitated with the great
event of seeing his beloved comrade's son, and he rose as soon as
it was light. Telemachos heard him approaching, and hastily threw
on his tunic and cloak and went to meet him.
Telemachos urged a hasty departure and Menelaos did not think it
proper to try to detain him. He said: "A host is hateful who is too
affectionate. It is as wrong to keep a guest who is in a hurry to
go as it is to thrust a stranger out when he wants to stay. Let me
bring thee costly gifts, and when thou hast had thy morning meal I
will hasten thee on thy way." The car was heaped with gifts, a golden
goblet, a silver beaker, a robe that glistened with hand-wrought
embroidery, the work of Helen, a goblet of silver with golden lips.
Peisistratos gazed with wonder at their beauty as he placed them in
the car.
They washed their hands in a silver bowl and ate and drank from the
bounty which had been placed before them. Then they mounted the car
which had been brought to the palace gates. Nestor's son took the
reins, Menelaos poured wine on the ground, an offering to the gods
for their safety and prosperity, and off they sped over the plain.
Two birds flew on before them, an eagle that had clutched a goose
and bore it off in its talons, a sign that Odysseus would come and
put an end to the suitors, and this omen cheered Telemachos.
All day the horses bounded on shaking their splendid harness. The
son of Nestor plied the lash. At night they rested in a friendly lodge
and the second day they reached Pylos. They drove directly to the
ship, lest Nestor, in his great love for his guest, should detain
him. With an offering and a prayer to Athena he set sail. A prospering
breeze swept over the sea and bore them rapidly along. At night
Telemachos landed at the nearest port and sent the crew on to take
the ship to the town.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
TELEMACHOS AND THE SWINEHERD
When daylight appeared Odysseus and Eumaios rose from their beds and
sent the serving men out into the fields with their swine, but they
themselves remained at home and prepared breakfast. In a little while
they heard footsteps outside. The dogs pricked up their ears and
wagged their tails without barking.
Odysseus, perceiving this, said to the swineherd: "There must be some
friend of thine coming, since the dogs do not bark." The words had
hardly passed his lips when Telemachos entered the hut. Eumaios
started to his feet and hastened to welcome his young master. He took
him in his arms as a father would a son who had been away a long time,
and kissed his face and hands.
Tears dropped from his eyes and he said: "My dear Telemachos, I did
not dare to hope ever to behold thee again. Come in that I may rejoice
with all my heart at seeing thee once more enter my cabin after thy
return from a strange country. Seldom dost thou come to see thy
servants, for thou dost live in town, where thou must watch the suitor
train consume thy wealth day by day."
To this Telemachos made answer: "This is quite true, my father; but
I come here to learn of thee how matters are at the palace. Is my
mother there, or has some wooer won her for a bride?"
"Thy mother is still at home," replied the sturdy swineherd. "She
has a loyal heart, but she wastes her life in weeping." Saying this
he took the lance from the young prince, who had come farther into
the cabin. Odysseus arose to give him his seat, but Telemachos said
to him: "Keep thy seat, stranger, I will sit elsewhere."
Odysseus sat down again. The swineherd took an armful of twigs and
covered it with fleeces, and Telemachos seated himself upon it. Next
he brought bread and meat and set them before his young master, who,
when he had eaten, asked his faithful servant who the stranger was
and whence he came.
"The stranger says that he came from Crete," answered Eumaios. "Lately
he has run away from a ship where he was robbed, and has come here.
I leave him to thee, however; do with him as thou dost like." "Thy
words do not please me, Eumaios," said Telemachos. "How can I receive
a stranger in my house, since I cannot protect him there if any of
the godless wooers insult him. It would be better for him to stay
here; and lest he be a burden to you I will send out food and clothes
for him, and I will help him to go wherever he wishes."
To him the sagacious Odysseus replied: "My friend, I hear with grief
the story of thy wrongs. Art thou willing to let this go on? If I
were as young as thou art I would lose my life before I would suffer
such things--thy guests insulted, thy servants beaten, thy riches
thrown away, thy food consumed by gluttons."
"Thy words are sharp, dear stranger, and I shall answer them with
the truth," said Telemachos. "Thou dost not yet understand that there
is a great crowd of suitors; not simply five or ten. What can I do
single-handed against such a multitude? But you, Eumaios, hasten to
the city, secretly, and tell my mother that I have returned and am
staying here. Then come back at once and let no one know where I am,
for the lovers are plotting a bloody death for me." The swineherd
hastily bound his sandals on to his feet, took his staff, and hurried
off.
CHAPTER XXXIX
TELEMACHOS RECOGNIZES ODYSSEUS
It was not long after Eumaios had left the cabin when Athena, in the
guise of a beautiful woman, appeared to Odysseus and beckoned him
to come outside. Telemachos was opposite to her, but he did not see
her, for the gods are not visible to all. Only Odysseus and the dogs
were conscious of her presence. The dogs did not bark but ran into
a corner of the cabin, crouching and whining. Odysseus left the room
and stood before the goddess, who spoke to him in these words: "Son
of Laertes, of noble birth and great wisdom, make thyself known to
thy son. Tell him all the truth. Advise with him how to put an end
to that insolent crowd of suitors. I shall never be far from thee
myself and will help thee. I long to see them attacked."
When she had finished speaking she touched Odysseus with her golden
wand. That touch changed him instantly into a handsome, well-made
man in the full vigor of robust manhood. His rags became seemly
garments. His cheeks flushed with renewed health and the heavy beard
on his chin grew dark again. After the goddess had done this she
vanished and Odysseus went back into the lodge. His son glanced at
him in amazement and then turned his eyes away from him lest he should
irreverently look upon a god.
"Stranger," he said, "I think thou art an immortal whose home is in
the heavens, for thou hast been transformed in looks and garb. Let
me bring a sacrifice and offer it to thee, together with beautiful
gifts, and perhaps thou wilt be gracious to us and keep us from harm."
Odysseus replied: "Nay, I am not a god, nor like the gods. I am thy
father, he for whom thou hast mourned and endured so many sufferings."
Saying this he kissed his son and wept.
"I pray thee do not deceive me," said Telemachos. "Thou surely art
a deity and not my father. No mortal could change from a ragged old
beggar to a young and stately man in a moment."
Odysseus answered him: "Telemachos, it is not like a son to gaze upon
thy father with astonishment. No other Odysseus will ever come into
this cabin. I am thy father. I have wandered twenty years in foreign
lands, and now have come to my own home. Thou hast seen a miracle
which Athena wrought, for she makes me look like a beggar or a king
as she pleases. The gods have all power to put men in high places
or to humble them."
Odysseus sat down and his dear son approached him and threw his arms
around him in a loving embrace, and together they wept tears of joy.
At last Telemachos inquired: "Dear father, in what ship hast thou
come, and what sailors brought thee hither? Thou couldst not have
come on foot."
"The Phæacians brought me across the sea and left me sleeping on the
shore in Ithaca," replied Odysseus. "And they gave me rich presents
of gold, and silver, and brass, and embroidered garments hand-woven
from their own looms.
"These have I hidden, and Athena has sent me to advise with thee how
best to destroy the arrogant crew of suitors that so long has robbed
my house and vexed my wife. Tell me now how many there are and what
kind of men, so that I can judge whether we two alone may attack them,
or whether we need the help of others."
"My father," answered Telemachos, "thy sweet fame has resounded
through our halls, my whole life long. How often have I heard of thy
courage and the strength of thy powerful arm. But how is it possible
for us two to fight against such a multitude? Fifty-two of the wooers
come from one town with six servants. Twenty-four come from Samos,
and twenty more from Zakynthos, and twelve from Ithaca. If we attack
them all I fear that we shall come to grief. It is better for us to
look around and find an ally."
Again Odysseus made reply: "Dear son, take courage. Zeus and Athena,
most powerful of the gods, are on our side. Early to-morrow thou must
go to the city and mingle with the suitors. The swineherd shall lead
me disguised as an old beggar to my palace. Keep down thy wrath if
the wooers speak insultingly to me. Do not resent it except to
administer a gentle reproof, though they strike me with their spears
and abuse me with bad language. The day of their death is at hand.
When Athena gives me the sign, I will nod to thee and thou shalt remove
my weapons from the great hall to an upper room. Tell the suspicious
suitors that the arms gather too much dust where they now hang on
the walls, and besides that, a god has warned thee that in their
drunken brawls, the wooers may harm each other. Let no one know of
my arrival, not even Laertes, Eumaios, or my wife, Penelope."
All day the illustrious father and his son conversed and laid their
plans. At noon they killed a yearling pig, and roasted it and made
a hearty lunch. Once more Athena touched Odysseus with her wand and
changed him into a poor old beggar, that Eumaios should not recognize
him. At evening the swineherd returned. On entering his cabin he told
his young master that the suitors had learned of his safe return to
Ithaca. Then he prepared a supper for them, and they ate and drank
to their hearts' content, when they retired to rest.
CHAPTER XL
TELEMACHOS RETURNS TO THE PALACE
Early the next morning Telemachos rose, tied his shining sandals under
his feet, took his spear and stood ready to go to the city. He called
the swineherd to him, and said: "Eumaios, I am going back to the town
to see my mother. I know that she will not cease to be anxious about
me until she sees me in my own home. Take this stranger there, too,
where he may beg, and thus supply his wants. I cannot receive every
poor man into my own house; my trials are too great. It makes no
difference to me whether he likes it or not. I am forced to tell the
truth about it."
"My friend," said Odysseus, "I do not care to stay any longer. I think
myself it is better for me to go to the city, where a beggar may have
a fair chance. I am too old to be of service here. Go thy way, my
son, and let thy servant lead me hence, as thou hast commanded. But
let me first warm me at the fire, for I am cold and the way is long."
Then Telemachos went out of the lodge and sped toward the city. His
old nurse, Eurycleia, was the first to see him, and she ran out to
welcome him, and the other servants came around rejoicing. Next came
Penelope, as beautiful as Artemis, and threw her arms about her son,
and kissed him on his brow and eyes. "Hast thou indeed returned,
Telemachos, my son? I never hoped to see thee again. Tell me about
thy father. Hast thou any news of him? What has happened? What hast
thou seen?" So did the queen greet her son.
"Dear mother, do not waken my grief again," Telemachos replied. "I
have barely escaped a cruel death. But go to thy bath and put fresh
garments on, and then pray to the gods and promise them great
sacrifices if Zeus will avenge our wrongs." Penelope willingly did
her son's bidding, but Telemachos betook himself to the market place
to show himself to the people.
When Telemachos came into the public square the suitors thronged
around him with smooth speeches, but in their hearts they kept on
plotting his death. He wanted them to see that he was in Ithaca, but
he did not care to be in their company, so he took his place among
some friends of his father. One of the crew came up to ask where he
might deposit the splendid gifts of Menelaos, and Telemachos told
him to hide them until the suitors had been defeated or had won the
victory.
Then Telemachos came back to the palace in company with a stranger
who had joined his crew at Pylos, and they sat down near the queen,
who was spinning. The servants brought them wine and food, and after
they had eaten, Penelope begged that her son would recite to her the
story of his journey. In the meantime Odysseus and Eumaios had started
for the city. When they reached the spring where the citizens of the
city went for water, they encountered Melanthios, a goatherd, driving
goats into town. Two servants followed, helping him. As soon as he
saw Eumaios and his guest, he said: "Look! There is one knave leading
another. Verily, the gods bring like and like together. Thou miserable
swineherd, whither dost thou take that worthless beggar, this
vagabond who rubs his shoulders on every door-post, asking for crusts,
eating gluttonously, and telling tales of woe?
"Just hand him over to me to guard my stables and clean my yard, and
I will give him whey to drink, which will fatten his limbs. But work
does not suit such a fellow. He would rather ramble idly about and
beg for food to fill his empty stomach. Let him once come to the palace
of Odysseus and the guests that woo the queen will fling footstools
at him." With that Melanthios kicked him in the thigh. Odysseus
hesitated a moment and considered whether it were better to slay the
goatherd with a blow from his staff, or whether he should submit to
the indignity in silence. The latter seemed the better course.
But Eumaios grew angry and said: "Melanthios, wait till Odysseus
returns. He will give thee thy deserts, thou villain! All day long
dost thou loaf in the city, leaving thy master's flocks to take care
of themselves." Melanthios answered him: "Just hear what this cur
has to say! I shall take him off and sell him for a slave some day.
Would that Telemachos might die this moment under the hands of the
suitors, and go down to Hades to join his father!" With these words
he hurried off to the house of his master where he sat down among
the crowd of wooers.
CHAPTER XLI
ODYSSEUS IS RECOGNIZED BY HIS DOG
After awhile Odysseus and Eumaios came to the house. As they drew
near they waited a little to listen to the music, for a minstrel had
begun a song, and while singing he played the lyre. "Surely, Eumaios,"
said Odysseus, "anyone would know that this is the palace of a king.
See how stately the structure is, and how spacious the court beyond
the massive gates! And there are walls and towers and countless rooms.
No one but Odysseus could have built such a fortress. I hear the sound
of the lute and perceive the tempting odor of roasting meat, and there
are crowds of guests coming and going. There must be a banquet within."
Eumaios replied: "True, my friend, this is the house of Odysseus.
Now, let us consider what we are to do. Shall I take the lead and
go in first, or wilt thou go first and let me follow?" Odysseus, the
sagacious, made answer: "Go in before me, and I will follow by and
by."
They were standing near the stable doors while talking. The filth
from the stalls of the mules and oxen had been piled there by slovenly
servants, who should have removed it day by day to fertilize the fields.
There, on the unwholesome heap, a poor, neglected dog was lying,
devoured by noxious insects and vermin. It was Argus, whom Odysseus
himself had raised before he went to Troy. In times gone by, the young
men of Ithaca had made him most useful in the chase. He had scented
the stag, the hare, and the wild goat for them many a time. But now
that he was old no one cared for him, and he was left to die.
As soon as he saw Odysseus drawing near he pricked up his ears and
wagged his tail. But he had not strength enough to get up and come
to his master, although he moved as if he would gladly have done so.
Odysseus saw this and burst into tears, but he turned his face away
in hopes that Eumaios would not notice it.
But the good swineherd saw it and so Odysseus questioned him: "Eumaios,
what dog is this that lies upon this filth? He is well built, and
surely is of a fine stock. Is he fleet in the chase or a mere house-dog
kept for show?"
"This dog, stranger," answered Eumaios, "belongs to my dear master.
If thou hadst only seen him before Odysseus went to Troy thou wouldst
have been astonished at his swiftness. He performed wonders in the
chase. No wild animal was able to escape him. But his master has died
far from home, and the careless servants will not even throw him a
bone."
The swineherd passed on into the hall where the suitors sat, but
Odysseus stood looking at the faithful beast, the only creature that
had recognized him. The joy of seeing his old master was too great,
and Argus sank down and died.
CHAPTER XLII
ODYSSEUS COMES, A BEGGAR, TO HIS OWN HOUSE
Telemachos was the first to notice the swineherd entering the hall,
and he made a sign for him to come and sit by him. Presently Odysseus,
too, entered in the guise of a forlorn old beggar, and sat down near
the door. Telemachos handed Eumaios a whole loaf of bread and as much
meat as he could hold in his two hands, and bade him take it to the
beggar. And he told him to tell the poor old man to ask a pittance
from every suitor present.
Odysseus took the food, and after thanking Telemachos, prayed to the
gods to give him everything good. Then he placed his food in a wallet
on the ground, and began to eat, while a minstrel entertained the
assembly with sweet music. When the bard ceased his singing, the
suitors began a noisy conversation, and having a signal from Athena,
Odysseus arose and went from one wooer to another asking alms. Each
one gave him something, and asked him who he was and whence he came.
Melanthios, the goatherd, and the favorite of Eurymachos, wishing
to make mischief, told them that Eumaios had brought the old man along
but did not, himself, know who he was. Antinoös hearing this, said:
"Eumaios, foolish swineherd, why didst thou bring that vile beggar
here? Are there not beggars enough to eat up the wealth of thy master
without him?"
Eumaios answered him most courteously: "Antinoös, though thou art
high born thou art not well bred. Thou hast always spoken
contemptuously to all the servants of Odysseus, but chiefly to me.
Beggars come as they like. No one expects to invite them. Only people
of rank are invited to a feast. But I heed not thy abuse so long as
I can serve the wise Penelope and her powerful son."
Then Telemachos, seeing that a quarrel was brewing, interposed: "Hold
thy peace, Eumaios, make no words with Antinoös. He takes delight
in ugly words. Nothing pleases him more than to stir up ill-feeling.
Surely Antinoös, thou art a father to me when thou dost bid me turn
a stranger into the street and insult him. Pray let the old beggar
approach thee and receive a pittance, for thou shouldst not feast
on the food belonging to others and never bestow any gifts. All the
suitors except thyself have given him a dole."
Antinoös made response: "Telemachos, thou boaster, if each suitor
would bestow upon him such a gift as I will make, he would not come
here again very soon." With that he seized a footstool and held it
up where all could see it. The beggar approached him with a pitiful
story of wanderings and hardships. Antinoös spurned him saying: "What
demon hath brought this chattering beggar to spoil our pleasure? Get
thee gone, or thou wilt soon be much the worse for coming. Thou art
a bold and impudent old beggar."
Odysseus withdrew, saying as he went: "How strange it is that so fine
a form can conceal so foul a mind. Thou wouldst not give even salt
to a suppliant, nor a crust of bread from thine own table, without
begrudging it. But thou dost feed gluttonously at the table of an
absent chief." Antinoös grew more angry, and rejoined: "Thou insolent
beggar, thou shalt not leave this hall unpunished." With that he
raised the footstool and struck Odysseus on the shoulder. The chief
stood like a rock, not in the least disturbed. But he made menacing
motions with his head and retired to the door, where he put down his
wallet and lifted up his voice to call down vengeance from the gods.
Antinoös spoke again with insulting words, and one of the guests
rebuked him. He was so angry, however, that he did not heed it.
Telemachos saw the blow, and could hardly restrain his anger. Word
was carried to Penelope that a penniless stranger had been insulted
and struck in her halls, and she said to her maids: "I would that
Apollo with his bow might strike Antinoös down."