It was the hour of noon, and the sun was beating hot on the rocky
hills of Ithaca, when a solitary wayfarer was seen approaching the
outer gateway which led into the courtyard of Odysseus' house. He was
a man of middle age, dressed like a chieftain, and carrying a long
spear in his hand. Passing through the covered gateway he halted
abruptly, and gazed in astonishment at the strange sight which met his
eyes. All was noise and bustle in the courtyard, where a busy troop of
servants were preparing the materials for a great feast. Some were
carrying smoking joints of roast meat, others were filling huge bowls
with wine and water, and others were washing the tables and setting
them out to dry. In the portico before the house sat a great company
of young nobles, comely of aspect, and daintily attired, taking their
ease on couches of raw ox-hide, and playing at draughts to while away
the time until the banquet should be ready. Loud was their talk, and
boisterous their laughter, as of men who have no respect for
themselves or for others. "Surely this was the house of Odysseus,"
murmured the stranger to himself, "but now it seems like a den of
thieves. But who is that tall and goodly lad, who sits apart, with
gloomy brow, and seems ill-pleased with the doings of that riotous
crew? Surely I should know that face, the very face of my old friend
as I knew him long years ago."
As he spoke, the youth who had attracted his notice glanced in his
direction, and seeing a stranger standing unheeded at the entrance, he
rose from his seat and came with hasty step and heightened colour
towards him. "Forgive me, friend," he said, with hand outstretched in
welcome, "that I marked thee not before. My thoughts were far away.
But come into the house, and sit down to meat, and when thou hast
eaten we will inquire the reason of thy coming."
So saying, and taking the stranger's spear, he led him into the great
hall of the house, and sat down with him in a corner, remote from the
noise of the revel. And a handmaid bare water in a golden ewer, and
poured it over their hands into a basin of silver; and when they had
washed, a table was set before them, heaped with delicate fare. Then
host and guest took their meal together, and comforted their hearts
with wine.
Before they had finished, the whole company came trooping in from the
courtyard, and filled the room with uproar, calling aloud for food and
drink. Not a chair was left empty, and the servants hurried to and
fro, supplying the wants of these unwelcome visitors. Vast quantities
of flesh were consumed, and many a stout jar of wine was drained to
the dregs, to supply the wants of that greedy multitude.
When at last their hunger was appeased, and every goblet stood empty,
Phemius, the minstrel, stood up in their midst, and after striking a
few chords on his harp, began to sing a famous lay. Then the youth who
had been entertaining the stranger drew closer his chair, and thus
addressed him, speaking low in his ear: "Thou seest what fair company
we keep, how wanton they are, and how gay. Yet there was once a man
who would have driven them, like beaten hounds, from this hall, even
he whose substance they are devouring. But his bones lie whitening at
the bottom of the sea, and we who are left must tamely suffer this
wrong. But now thou hast eaten, and I may question thee without
reproach. Say, therefore, who art thou, and where is thy home? Comest
thou for the first time to Ithaca, or art thou an old friend of this
house, bound to us by ties of ancient hospitality?"
"My name is Mentes," answered the stranger, "and I am a prince of the
Taphians, a bold race of sailors. I am a friend of this house, well
known to its master, Odysseus, and his father, Laertes. Be of good
cheer, for he whom thou mournest is not dead, nor shall his coming be
much longer delayed. But tell me now of a truth, art not thou the son
of that man? I knew him well, and thou hast the very face and eyes of
Odysseus."
"My mother calls me his son," replied the youth, who was indeed
Telemachus himself, "and I am bound to believe her. Would that it were
otherwise! I have little cause to bless my birth."
"Yet shalt thou surely be blest," said Mentes; "thou art not unmarked
of the eye of Heaven. But answer me once more, what means this lawless
riot in the house? And what cause has brought all these men hither?"
"This also thou shalt know," replied Telemachus. "These are the
princes who have come to woo my mother; and while she keeps them
waiting for her answer they eat up my father's goods. Ere long,
methinks, they will make an end of me also."
"Fit wooers indeed for the wife of such a man!" said Mentes with a
bitter smile. "Would that he were standing among them now as I saw him
once in my father's house, armed with helmet and shield and spear! He
would soon wed them to another bride. But whether it be God's will
that he return or not, 'tis for thee to devise means to drive these
men from thy house. Take heed, therefore, to my words, and do as I bid
thee. To-morrow thou shalt summon the suitors to the place of
assembly, and charge them that they depart to their homes. And do thou
thyself fit out a ship, with twenty rowers, and get thee to Pylos,
where the aged Nestor dwells, and inquire of him concerning thy
father. From Pylos proceed to Sparta, the kingdom of Menelaus; he was
the last of the Greeks to reach home, after the fall of Troy; and
perchance thou mayest learn something from him. And if thou hearest
sure tidings of thy father's death, then get thee home, and raise a
tomb to his memory, and keep his funeral feast. Then let thy mother
wed whom she will; and if these men still beset thee, thou must devise
means to slay them, either by guile or openly. Thou art now a man, and
must play a man's part. Hast thou not heard of the fame which Orestes
won, when he slew the murderer of his sire? Be thou valiant, even as
he; tall thou art, and fair, and shouldst be a stout man of thy hands.
But 'tis time for me to be going; my ship awaits me in the harbour,
and my comrades will be tired of waiting for me."
"Stay yet awhile," answered Telemachus, "until thou hast refreshed
thyself with the bath; and I will give thee a costly gift to bear with
thee as a memorial of thy visit." But even as he spoke Mentes rose
from his seat and, gliding like a shadow through the sunlit doorway,
disappeared. Telemachus followed, in wonder and displeasure; but no
trace of the strange visitor was to be seen. Looking upward he saw a
great sea-eagle winging his way towards the shore; and a voice seemed
to whisper in his ear: "No mortal was thy guest, but the great goddess
Athene, daughter of Zeus, and ever thy father's true comrade and
faithful ally."