arose, and looked out towards the harbor. Not one of the black-hulled
ships could he see. They had silently cast their moorings, and had
stolen away through the darkness. While the king looked and wondered,
an old shepherd with frightened face and gestures of alarm came running
in breathless haste to the palace. In a few words he told what strange
things had happened. By the light of the waning moon, the sea rovers
from Messene had sailed around to a little cove where the pastures slope
down to the water's edge. There they had landed, and without much ado
had driven a whole flock of sheep aboard their ships,--three hundred
long-wooled ewes and bleating lambs, the choicest of the fields. And
they had carried away not only these, but the six sleepy shepherds whose
duty it had been to guard them.
An alarm was quickly sounded, and the news was passed from mouth to
mouth until it was known to all. The bravest men of Ithaca hastened to
the shore, where stood Odysseus and his father, ready to direct them.
Their fleetest vessels, lying high upon the beach, were cleared ready to
be launched. Five ships with vermilion prows were pushed into the
waves; and each was manned by a score of lusty rowers, and headed
towards the open sea. The long oars dipped into the water, as if all
were moved by a single hand; and the vessels sped out upon their errand,
like dogs of the chase intent upon a fleeing victim.
The sky was clear. The waves danced merrily in the sunlight. The wind
blew gently from the shore. The crews of the Ithacan ships bent to the
oars like practised seamen; but when they rounded the headlands at the
foot of the bay, and came out upon the open sea, they saw no trace of
the pirate fleet, nor even a single sail upon the laughing face of the
deep. Whether the men of Messene had pushed straight homeward with their
plunder, or whether they had put into some other cove or inlet farther
down the coast, no one could guess. All that their pursuers could do
was to sail close along the shore, southward towards Cephallenia,
peering behind every jutting headland, and into every sheltered nook, in
hopes of coming upon them.
Five days afterward, the red-prowed ships returned to Ithaca. Nothing
had been seen of the sea robbers: nothing had been heard of the stolen
flocks.
What was to be done? The robbers were known to be men of Messene, the
subjects of Orsilochus. It was no secret, that much of the wealth of
Messene had been gotten by the plunder and pillage of foreign coasts;
but were the pirates of that country to be allowed thus to rob their
near neighbors and kinsfolk? Laertes called together a council of the
chiefs and elders, and asked them what it was best to do.
"We are a peaceful, home-loving people," said some of the older men,
"and it would neither be wise nor pleasant to entangle ourselves in a
war with a strong king like Orsilochus. The loss of three hundred sheep
is not much where there are so many, and it is not likely that the sea
robbers will ever trouble us again. Let us go quietly back to our fields
and homes, and leave well enough alone."
But the young men would not listen to a plan so tame and spiritless.
They were eager, if they could not recover what was their own, to take
at least what was of equal value from the Messenians. It would be easy,
they said, for a few stanch ships with well-chosen crews to cross the
sea-ways, and land by night upon the rich coast of Messene; there they
could fill the roomy holds of their vessels with fruit and grain; and
before any one could hinder, they would sail safely back to Ithaca laden
with wealth far greater than three hundred sheep.
Then Odysseus, though a mere youth among bearded men, stood up before
them, and said,--
"My good friends, I like neither the one plan nor the other. It is but
the part of a slave to suffer wrong without striking back. It is but
the part of a coward to strike in the dark, as if fearing the enemy's
face. Why not send boldly to Messene, and demand either the stolen
sheep, or a fair price for them? I myself will undertake the business,
and I promise you that I will bring back to Ithaca gifts and goods worth
twice as much as the flock that has been taken."
The elders listened with favor to the young man's words; and, after
further talk, it was settled that he should go forthwith across the sea
to claim the debt which was due from the people of Messene.
The goodliest ship of all the Ithacan galleys was made ready for
Odysseus. The needed stores of food and drink were brought on board,
and placed in the vessel's hold. The young hero, with his friend and
tutor Phemius, climbed over the vessel's side, and sat down in the prow.
The long-haired seamen cast loose the moorings; they plied their oars,
and the swift ship was soon far out upon the waters. A steady north
wind filled the sail, and the vessel sped swiftly on her way, cleaving
the white foam with her keel. By and by the sun went down, and night
wrapped the world in her sober mantle; but the ship still held its
course, being guided by the moon's pale light, and the steadfast star of
the north.
The next day they sailed within sight of the low-lying coast of Elis,
which stretched northward and southward farther than their eyes could
reach. Yet they turned not to the shore, but sailed straight on; for
Odysseus, advised by Pallas Athene, wished first to visit Pylos, where
wise old Nestor ruled with his father, the ancient Neleus. This Neleus
was the uncle of Jason, chief of the Argonauts, and had been driven from
Iolcos by Pelias the usurper. Long time had he wandered, an exile in
strange lands, until Aphareus of Arene gave him leave to build a city on
the sandy plain close by the sea. There he had reared a noble palace;
and there he still dwelt, having outlived three generations of men. But
he had given up his kingdom, many years before, to his son Nestor,
himself a sage old man.
It was not until late on the third day that the voyagers turned their
ship's prow into the harbor of Pylos. It touched the shore, and Odysseus
with his tutor sprang out upon the sands. They found the people of the
city offering sacrifices there to Poseidon, ruler of the deep. Upon
nine long seats they were sitting, five hundred or more on each seat;
and the priest stood up before them, pouring out libations and offering
sacrifices. Nine coal-black heifers he offered to Poseidon.
King Nestor sat upon a lofty seat while the elders of the city stood
around him, or plied their several duties at the feast. Some of them
were busy cutting choice bits of flesh from the slaughtered beeves;
others fixed these bits upon spits, and roasted them over heaps of
glowing coals; and still others handed the smoking food to the waiting
people who sat hungry in their places. When Nestor saw Odysseus and the
bard, two strangers, standing upon the shore, he arose and went down to
meet them. He gave to each a hand, and leading them to the feast he
seated them upon soft skins spread on piles of yielding sand. Then he
brought to them, in his own hands, choicest pieces of well-cooked and
well-flavored food; and when they had eaten as much as they liked, he
poured rich wine into a golden goblet, and as he offered it first to the
noble bard, he said, "Right welcome are you, stranger, whoever you may
be, to this our midsummer festival. I give this golden goblet to you
first, you being the older man, that you may pray as beseemeth you to
great Poseidon. When you have made your prayer, hand then the cup to
the young man who is with you, that he too may pour out a libation; for
all men have need to pray."
Then the bard took the goblet, and pouring out a rich libation, lifted
up his eyes and prayed, "Great Poseidon, thou who dost hold the earth in
thy strong arms, hear now the prayer of thy suppliant. Prolong still
the life of our aged host, and add to Nestor with each circling year new
honors and greater wealth. To the folk of Pylos give rich contentment
and that peace which is the befitting prize of those who are mindful of
life's varied duties. And lastly, grant that this young man may find
that which he seeks, and then return rejoicing to his home and friends."
When he had thus spoken, he gave the goblet to Odysseus, and he in like
manner poured out libations, and prayed to great Poseidon.
Then said Nestor as he took again the goblet, "Strangers, you do wisely
thus to offer prayers to the gods; for they are far above us in virtue,
strength, and honor. When men have failed to do aright, and have broken
Heaven's just laws, they may still, by humble vows and supplications,
turn aside from evil-doing, and soften the wrath of the ever-living
powers."
"Yes, truly," answered Phemius, "by prayers we do honor both ourselves
and those to whom we pray. There is an ancient saying, which no doubt
you oft have heard, that prayers are the feeble-sighted daughters of
Father Zeus, and wrinkled and lame they follow in misfortune's track.
But misfortune, strong and swift, out-runs them often, and brings
distress upon the sons of men; then these blessed prayers, following
after, kindly heal the hurts and bind up the aching wounds which have
been made. And for this reason the man who is wont to pray feels less
the strokes of fortune than does he who lives forgetful of the gods."[1]
[1] See Note 10 at the end of this volume.
The feast being soon ended, Nestor turned again to the strangers, and
said, "Behold now, the day is well-nigh gone, and all have paid their
vows to the ever-living gods. The time has come when we may ask our
stranger-guests their names and errand. Who are you who come thus
unheralded to the sandy shores of Pylos? Is your visit one of peace,
and shall we welcome you as friends? Or do you come as spies, to find
out what there may be of wealth or of weakness in our city?"
Odysseus answered: "O noble Nestor, we will speak the truth, and hide
nothing from you. I am Odysseus of Ithaca; my father is King Laertes,
who was once your comrade when you sailed on the Argo to golden Colchis.
Ten days ago, there came to our island seafaring men from Messene, whom
we welcomed as friends and neighbors. But under cover of the night they
landed on our shores; they seized three hundred of our long-wooled
sheep, together with the shepherds, and bore them across the sea to some
one of the pirate harbors of Messene. I now am on my way to King
Orsilochus, to bid him send back the stolen flock; and if he will not
hearken to my words, then I shall either gain by guile or take by force
double the value of the sheep. But I have come first to Pylos, that
you, my father's old-time friend, might know my errand, and, if need be,
lend me your aid."
"You have spoken well," answered Nestor; "and for your father's sake you
are thrice welcome to the lofty halls of Pylos. Abide with me for one
night, and in the morning I will give you a car and steeds, and a
trustworthy guide, to take you by the straightest road to Pherae, where
the king of Messene dwells. Orsilochus must learn from me, that, though
his pirate-crews may plunder foreign shores, they must not molest the
flocks and goods of our home-staying neighbors."
Having thus spoken, he led the way to the fair palace, which his father
Neleus erstwhile had built. There they found that aged chieftain
sitting in the great hall, upon a soft couch spread with purple
coverings. His hair and his long beard were white as the driven snow,
and his hands trembled from very feebleness, for he was exceeding old.
He spoke kindly to Odysseus, and asked many questions about his father
Laertes, and his home in Ithaca; but he seemed most pleased when the
young man told him of his visit, when a boy, to Iolcos and Mount Pelion.
For Iolcos had been the home of Neleus in his youth; and he it was who
had helped Pelias drive AEson from the kingdom which was his by right.
But Nemesis had followed him, and punished him for the deed.
Soon the shades of night began to darken the fair hall, and the chiefs
and elders went each one to his own house. But Nestor led Odysseus and
the bard to an upper chamber, where a fair, soft couch was spread upon a
jointed bedstead. There he left them for the night, and there they soon
found rest in soothing slumber.
As soon as the light of day began to streak the eastern sky, the aged
Neleus, as was his wont, arose from his couch, and, leaning on the arm
of Nestor, went feebly out, and took his seat upon a smooth white stone
before the palace gate. Then every one who had aught of grievance, or
had suffered any wrong, came and told his story, and made his plea; and
the old hero weighed the matter with an even hand, and gave judgment for
the right.
"What shall be done to aid the son of Laertes, that so his journey into
Messene shall prosper?" asked Nestor. "Thou knowest that King
Orsilochus has ever been our friend and ally; yet shall we allow his
lawless men thus to despoil our neighbors and old-time comrades?"
"Send to Pherae, with the young man, a trusty messenger who shall speak
for him," answered old Neleus. "Send them both in thy own chariot, and
ask Orsilochus, in the name of a friend, to deal justly with the son of
Laertes."
By this time Odysseus and the bard had awakened from their slumber.
They arose; and when they had bathed, and had been anointed with soft
oil, they clothed themselves in robes of noble texture, and went down
into the banquet hall. There they found King Nestor waiting; and they
sat down with him at the table, and willing servants waited on them,
bringing choice food and pouring sweet wine into golden goblets.
When the meal was finished, the bard bade his host farewell; and,
praying that the gods would speed Odysseus on his errand, he went down
to the red-prowed ship which was waiting by the shore. And as soon as
he stepped on board, the sailors loosed the moorings, and set the sail;
and a brisk wind bore them swiftly back towards Ithaca.
But Nestor spoke to the young men about him, "Bring out my finest
horses, and yoke them forthwith to my lightest car. They shall carry
Odysseus on his journey across the plain to Pherae; and my son
Antilochus shall bear him company, and be my messenger to the Messenian
king."
Soon the car was ready. The young men took their places; and Antilochus
touching the restive horses with his whip, they sped across the dusty
plain. It was a rough and tiresome journey, along unbroken ways, and
roads scarcely marked with tracks of wheels or horses' hoofs; and night
had begun to fall ere they came to the river Nedon and the high walls of
Pherae where dwelt Orsilochus, the king of Messene.
[Illustration: ALPHEUS AND ARETHUSA.]
_*ADVENTURE XI.*_
*THE BOW OF EURYTUS.*
In Arcadia there is a little mountain stream called Alpheus. It flows
through woods and meadows and among the hills for many miles, and then
it sinks beneath the rocks. Farther down the valley it rises again, and
dancing and sparkling, as if in happy chase of something, it hurries
onward towards the plain; but soon it hides itself a second time in
underground caverns, making its way through rocky tunnels where the
light of day has never been. Then at last it gushes once more from its
prison chambers; and, flowing thence with many windings through the
fields of Elis, it empties its waters into the sea.
Of this strange river a strange tale is told, and this is what
Antilochus related to Odysseus as they rode across the plain towards
Pherae:--
"Years ago there was no river Alpheus; the channel through which it
flows had not then been hollowed out, and rank grass and tall bending
reeds grew thick where now its waters sparkle brightest. It was then
that a huntsman, bearing the name of Alpheus, ranged through the woods,
and chased the wild deer among the glades and glens of sweet Arcadia.
Far away by the lonely sea dwelt Telegona, his fair young wife, and his
lovely babe Orsilochus; but dearer than home or wife or babe to Alpheus,
was the free life of the huntsman among the mountain solitudes. For he
loved the woods and the blue sky and the singing birds, and the frail
flowers upon the hillside; and he longed to live among them always,
where his ears could listen to their music, and his eyes look upon their
beauty.
"'O Artemis, huntress-queen!' he cried, 'I ask but one boon of thee.
Let me ramble forever among these happy scenes!'
"And Artemis heard him, and answered his prayer. For, as he spoke, a
bright vision passed before him. A sweet-faced maiden went tripping
down the valley, culling the choicest flowers, and singing of hope and
joy and the blessedness of a life pure and true. It was Arethusa, the
Arcadian nymph, by some supposed to be a daughter of old Nereus, the
elder of the sea. Then Alpheus heard no more the songs of the birds, or
the music of the breeze; he saw no longer the blue sky above him, or the
nodding flowers at his feet: he was blind and deaf to all the world,
save only the beautiful nymph. Arethusa was the world to him. He
reached out his arms to catch her; but, swifter than a frightened deer,
she fled down the valley, through deep ravines and grassy glades and
rocky caverns underneath the hills, and out into the grassy meadows, and
across the plains of Elis, to the sounding sea. And Alpheus followed,
forgetful of every thing but the fleeing vision. When, at length, he
reached the sea, he looked back; and, lo! he was no longer a huntsman,
but a river doomed to meander forever among the scenes, for love of
which he had forgotten his wife and his babe and the duties of life. It
was thus that Artemis answered his prayer.
"And men say that Arethusa the nymph was afterwards changed into a
fountain; and that to this day, in the far-off island of Ortygia, that
fountain gushes from the rocks in an unfailing, crystal stream. But
Orsilochus, the babe forgotten by his father, grew to manhood, and in
course of time became the king of Pherae and the seafaring people of
Messene."
When Odysseus and his companion reached Pherae, the sun had set and the
gates of the palace were closed. But the porter sent a messenger into
the hall where King Orsilochus was sitting at the evening meal, who
said, "O king, the car of Nestor, our worthy neighbor, stands outside
the gate; and in the car are two young men, richly clothed like princes,
and bearing themselves in a most princely manner."
Forthwith the king arose, and went out to the gate, and welcomed the
young men to his city and his high-built halls. And he took them by the
hand, and led them into the feast-chamber where the chiefs of Pherae and
Messene already sat at meat. He put the spears which they bore, in a
spear-stand, where were other goodly weapons leaning against the wall.
Then he seated them on chairs of cunning workmanship, beneath which were
linen rugs of many colors; and he gave to each an oaken footstool for
his feet. Then a maid poured water into a basin of silver, that they
might wash their hands; and she drew a polished table near them, on
which another maid placed white loaves of bread, and many dainties
well-pleasing to the taste of tired travellers. And the carver brought
divers tempting dishes of roasted meats; and a herald poured red wine
into golden bowls, and set them within easy reach.
When they had eaten, and had forgotten their hunger and thirst and
weariness, an old blind bard came into the hall; and as he sat in a high
seat leaning against a pillar, he took his harp in his hand, and,
touching it with his deft fingers, sang sweet songs of the gods and the
heroes and famous men. Not until he had finished his music and laid
aside his harp, did Orsilochus venture to speak of any thing that might
disturb the pleasure of his guests. Then with well-chosen words, he
asked them their names and their errand.
"Our fathers," answered Odysseus, "are Nestor and Laertes, well known
among the heroes who sailed with Jason to the golden strand of Colchis;
and the errand upon which we come is one of right and justice."
And then he told the king how the crews of the Messenian ships had
landed in Ithaca and carried away his father's choicest flock.
Orsilochus listened kindly; and when Odysseus had ended, he said, "Think
no more of this troublesome matter, for I will see that it is righted at
once. The men who dared thus to wrong your father shall restore
fourfold the value of the stolen flocks, and shall humbly beg the pardon
of Laertes, as well as of myself. I have spoken, and it shall be done;
but you must tarry a while with me in Pherae, and be my honored guest."
Thus Odysseus brought to a happy end the quest upon which he had come to
Messene and the high-walled town of Pherae. And he tarried many days in
the pleasant halls of the king, and was held in higher honor than all
the other guests. But Antilochus, on the second morning, mounted again
his father's chariot, and journeyed onward into Laconia: why he went
thither, and did not return to Pylos, Odysseus was soon to learn.
One evening there came to Pherae a lordly stranger, bringing with him a
train of well-armed men and bearing a handsome present for Orsilochus.
He was very tall and handsome; he stood erect as a mountain pine, and
his eyes flashed keen and sharp as those of an eagle; but his long white
hair and frosted beard betokened a man of many years, and his furrowed
brow showed plainly that he had not lived free from care.
"I am Iphitus of OEchalia," he said, "and I am journeying to Lacedaemon
where great Tyndareus rules."
When Odysseus heard the name of Iphitus, he remembered it as that of a
dear friend of whom his father had often spoken; and he asked,--
"Are you that Iphitus who sailed with Jason to golden Colchis? And do
you remember among your comrades, one Laertes of Ithaca?"
"There is but one Iphitus," was the answer, "and I am he. Never can I
forget the noble-hearted Laertes of Ithaca; for, on board the Argo, he
was my messmate, my bedfellow, my friend, my sworn brother. There is no
man whom I love more dearly. Would that I could see him, or even know
that he still lives!"
When he learned that Odysseus was the son of his old-time friend, he was
overjoyed; and he took him by the hand, and wept for very gladness.
Then he asked the young man a thousand questions about his father and
his mother, and his father's little kingdom of Ithaca. And Odysseus
answered him truly; for his heart was filled with love for the noble old
hero, and he felt justly proud of his friendship. And after this, so
long as they staid at Pherae, the young man and the old were constantly
together.
One day, as they were walking alone outside of the city walls, Iphitus
said, "Do you see this noble bow which I carry, and which I always keep
within easy reach?"
"It would be hard not to see it," answered Odysseus, smiling; "for where
you are, there also is the bow. I have often wondered why you guard it
with so great care."
"It is the bow of my father Eurytus," answered the hero, "and, next to
Apollo's silver weapon, it is the most wonderful ever made. My father
dwelt in OEchalia, and was skilled in archery above all other men; and
the sons of the heroes came to him to learn how to shoot the silent
arrow with most deadly aim. Even Heracles, the mightiest of
earth-dwellers, was taught by him; but Heracles requited him unkindly.
"In my father's halls, close by the shore of the eastern sea, there were
many bright treasures and precious gems and rarest works of art. But
more beautiful than any of these, and more precious to my father's heart
than any glittering jewel, was our only sister, the lovely Iole. And
when Heracles went out from the land of his birth to toil and do the
bidding of false Eurystheus, he tarried for a day in my father's halls.
There he saw Iole, the blue-eyed maiden, and his great strong heart was
taken captive by her gentle will; but the stern words of Eurystheus fell
upon his ears, and bade him go forth at once to the labors which had
been allotted him. He went; for he had vowed, long time before, always
to obey the calls of duty. And Iole grieved for him in secret; yet
every day she grew wiser and more beautiful, and every day the tendrils
of her love were twined more and more closely about my father's heart.