III

We must now return to Ithaca, and see what reception was preparing for

Telemachus when he came back from his adventurous journey. Two or

three days after he left Ithaca the suitors were gathered before the

doors of Odysseus, playing at quoits, or hurling their javelins at a

mark. Presently a young noble came up to the group, and addressing

Antinous, who was watching the sport, asked him if he had heard aught

of Telemachus. "I would fain know how long he is like to be absent

from Ithaca," he said; "for he has borrowed my ship, and I have need

of her. Know ye when he is to return from Pylos?"

Antinous heard him with amazement; for neither he nor any other of the

suitors knew that Telemachus had sailed from Ithaca, supposing him to

be absent on his farm. So he questioned the youth closely as to the

time and manner of that voyage, how the crew was composed, and whether

the vessel was lent willingly, or taken by force. "Of my own free will

I lent her," answered the lad, "why should I not help him in his need?

As to the crew, they were all picked men, and well born; and the

captain was Mentor, or some god in his likeness; for I saw Mentor

yesterday in the town, and not a ship has touched at Ithaca since they

sailed."

When he who had lent the ship was departed the suitors left their

sports, and drawing close together began to converse in low tones.

They were full of anger against Telemachus because of this journey,

which gave the lie to their malicious prophecies, and was not without

prospect of danger to themselves. Accordingly Antinous found ready

hearers when he stood up and spoke as follows:--"This forward boy must

be put down, or he will mar our wooing. It is a great deed which he

has done, and he will not stop here, unless we find means to cut short

his adventures. Now hear what I advise: let us man a ship and moor her

in the narrow sea between Ithaca and Samos, and lie in wait for him

there. This cruise of his is like to cost him dear."

The plan was highly approved, and the whole body rose and entered the

house together, resolved to act at once on the advice of Antinous.

Before long news of their wicked designs came to the ears of Penelope,

who was still ignorant of her son's departure; for Eurycleia had kept

her counsel well. The evil tidings were brought by Medon, a servant in

the house of Odysseus, who had overheard the suitors plotting

together, while he stood concealed behind a buttress of the courtyard

fence. Without delay he went in search of Penelope, whom he found

sitting with her handmaids in her chamber. As soon as he appeared on

the threshold Penelope looked at him reproachfully, and said: "What

message bringest thou from thy fair masters? Is it their pleasure that

my maidens should leave their tasks and spread the board for them? Out

on your feasting and your wooing! May this be the last morsel that ye

ever taste! Ungrateful men, have ye forgotten all the good deeds that

were wrought here by the hands of Odysseus, and all the kindness that

ye received from him? Yes, all is forgotten; ye have no thought in

your hearts but to grow fat at his cost, and devour his living."

"Alas! lady," answered Medon, "would that this were the worst! But I

am the bearer of heavier news than this. Telemachus has sailed to

Pylos, to inquire concerning his father, and the suitors have plotted

to slay him on his way home." Having delivered his message, Medon left

the chamber, and the door was shut.

Long Penelope sat without a word, struck dumb by this cruel blow.

Then, as if seized by a sudden thought, she rose from her seat, and

took two paces towards the door. But her strength failing her she

tottered backward, and sank down upon the ground, leaning against the

wall. Her handmaids gathered round her, and would have lifted her up,

but she waved them off and at last gave utterance to her feelings in

wailing and broken tones:

"Woeful beyond the lot of all women on earth is my portion! First, I

lost my lion-hearted lord, rich in every excellent gift, a hero among

heroes; and now the powers of the air[1] have carried off my child, my

well-beloved, without one word of farewell. Hearts of stone, why did

ye not tell me of his going? Had I known his purpose I would have

prevailed on him to stay, or he must have left me dead in these halls.

Go, one of you, and call Dolius, the keeper of my garden and orchard,

and send him to tell all to Laertes, if haply he may devise some way

to turn the hearts of the people, and save his race from being utterly

cut off."

[Footnote 1: Demons, to whom sudden disappearance was attributed.]

"Sweet lady," answered Eurycleia, who was sitting among the women, "I

will tell thee all the truth, and then thou shalt slay me, if it be

thy will. I was privy to this journey, and Telemachus made me swear a

solemn oath not to reveal it to thee until twelve days were passed, or

thou hadst heard of it from others. For he feared that thou wouldst

waste thy fair cheeks with weeping. But be not cast down; I am sure

that the gods hate not so utterly the house of Odysseus, nor purpose

to destroy it altogether. Vex not the old man Laertes in his sorrow,

but go wash thyself, put on clean raiment, and go up and pray to

Athene in thy upper chamber to guard and keep thy son from harm."

Then Penelope was comforted, and dried her tears, and went up with her

handmaids to the upper chamber. There she made her offering before the

shrine of Athene, and lifted up her voice in prayer: "Daughter of

Zeus, stern warrior maiden, if ever my lord Odysseus offered

acceptable sacrifice to thee, remember now his service, save my son,

and let not the wooers work evil against him." When her prayer was

ended the women joined their voices with hers, and called again and

again on the awful name of Athene. After that they left her, and she

sank down on a couch, exhausted by her emotions, and full of anxious

thought. At length she ceased her weary tossing, and fell into a quiet

and refreshing sleep.

Athene had heard her prayer, and being full of pity for the sorely

tried lady she resolved to find means to soothe her troubled spirit.

So she made a phantom, like in form and in feature to Iphthime, a

sister of Penelope, who lived with her husband in distant Pheræ. And

the phantom came to the house of Penelope, and entering her chamber by

the keyhole, stood by her bedside and spake to her thus: "Sorrow not

at all, nor vex thy soul for the sake of Telemachus. The gods love thy

son, and will bring him safe home."

Then wise Penelope made answer, slumbering right sweetly at the gates

of dreams: "Dear sister, what has brought thee hither from thy far

distant home? Thou biddest me take comfort, but my heart is torn with

fear and grief for my brave lord, and yet more for Telemachus, who is

encompassed with perils by sea and by land." "Fear nothing," answered

the dim phantom. "He has a mighty helper by his side, even Pallas

Athene, who sent me hither to strengthen and console thee." With that

the ghostly visitor vanished as it came, and left Penelope much

cheered by the clear vision which had brought her words of healing at

the blackest hour of the night.

Meanwhile Antinous had taken steps to carry out his villainous design.

At nightfall he went down to the sea with twenty picked men, boarded

the vessel which had been prepared for their use, and sailed out to a

little island which lies in the middle of the strait between Samos and

Ithaca. There they anchored in a sheltered bay, and waited for the

coming of Telemachus.