III

Next day was appointed for a great feast in the palace of Alcinous, to

which all the chief men of Phæacia were invited, and when Odysseus

returned to the house, after some hours spent in a visit to the town,

hefound the courts and galleries thronged with a great company. The

preparations for the banquet were on a heroic scale: twelve sheep,

eight fat swine, and two oxen, the choicest of the herd, were

slaughtered, and a goodly row of casks, filled with the finest

vintages, gave further token that Alcinous was no niggardly host.

"Come," said Alcinous, meeting Odysseus at the gate. "The guests are

seated, and all is ready. Trouble not thyself as to the manner of thy

home-coming; that is cared for already, and the ship lies at her

moorings. But to-day is a day of good cheer, when thou shalt learn how

gay and joyous a life the Phæacians live."

As he spoke, they entered the banquet hall, and Odysseus sat down by

the side of Alcinous. Rich and dainty was the fare, and many times the

great wine-bowls were filled and emptied; for the Phæacians were a

luxurious race, much given to the pleasures of the table. Among the

guests Odysseus was especially struck by one venerable figure, who sat

by himself against a pillar, on which hung a harp within reach of his

hands. Odysseus noticed that he ate slowly and deliberately, and

seemed to feel for the cup when he wished to drink, "It is Demodocus,

the blind harper," whispered Alcinous. "We shall presently have a

taste of his quality. He is a rare minstrel."

Accordingly, when the last course was removed, the harp was placed in

the singer's hands, and after striking a deep chord he began to sing,

choosing for his theme a famous tale of Troy, which told how Achilles

and Odysseus quarrelled at a banquet, and reviled each other with

bitter words, and how Agamemnon rejoiced in spirit because of the

strife; for he had heard an oracle from Apollo, foretelling that when

the noblest of the Greeks fell out Troy's end would be near at hand.

Odysseus listened, and a flood of emotion filled his mind, so sad were

the memories recalled by the minstrel's lay. Of all his gallant peers,

for ten years his companions in many a joyful feast, and many a high

adventure, how many were left? And he, among the last of the

survivors, was now growing old, after twenty years of war and

wandering, far from his wife and home. He was now, indeed, on the eve

of his return; but at what a price had it been won! And who could tell

what heavy trials awaited him when once more he set foot on his native

soil? Was it not but too probable that he would find his house made

desolate, Telemachus dead, and Penelope wedded to another?

Overpowered by these gloomy forebodings, he covered his face, and wept

aloud. When Demodocus paused in his singing he wiped away his tears,

and poured a drink-offering from his cup; but every time the minstrel

resumed his lay a new fit of weeping succeeded. At last, Alcinous, who

had hitherto been totally absorbed in that rare minstrelsy, observed

his guest's emotion, and partly divining the cause came to his relief.

"How say ye, fair sirs?" he said, rising and addressing the company.

"Shall we go forth for awhile, and show the stranger that we have

other and manlier pastimes, now that we have eaten and drunken, and

cheered our souls with song? Let him not say of us when he goes home

that we sit all day by the wine-cup, but let him learn that the

Phæacians surpass all mankind in boxing, and in wrestling, and in

leaping, and in the speed of their feet."

So saying he rose from his seat and led the way to the place of

assembly. Crowds soon flocked to see the friendly trial of strength

and skill. The first event was the foot race, and this was followed by

matches of wrestling, boxing, leaping, and throwing the weight.

Odysseus stood watching the Phæacians at their sports, and thinking of

the mighty feats which he had witnessed and shared at the funeral

games of Patroclus. Presently he felt a hand on his shoulder, and

heard himself challenged by a young Phæacian, whose name was Euryalus,

in these terms: "Why so gloomy, father? Away with care! All is ready

for thy departure, and thou shalt soon be home again. But come, give

us a proof of thy manhood, if thou knowest aught of games of skill.

Thou seemest a stout fellow, and I doubt not that thou wilt acquit

thee well."

"Friend," answered Odysseus, "mock me not. Thou seest how broken I am,

and worn by my long battle with the sea; and care sits heavy on my

heart, forbidding me to think of the things which thou namest."

"Nay," said Euryalus, with a scornful laugh, "I see that I was

mistaken in thee. Thou art plainly no athlete, but some cunning

merchant, with thy head full of thy cargo, and fingers only skilled in

counting thy gains."

Then Odysseus bent his brows, and answered with a stern look: "Friend,

thou art over-saucy of thy tongue. But so it ever is; the gods

dispense their gifts with sparing hand, and give not all excellence to

the same man. One man is mean of aspect, but heaven's grace descends

upon his lips, so that men look upon him with delight while he

discourses smoothly with a winning modesty. He is the observed of all

observers, and when he walks through the town all eyes follow him as

if he were a god. Another again is glorious, like a very god, in the

splendour of his face and form, but no grace attends upon his speech.

Even so thou art conspicuous for thy beauty, as though the hand of a

god had fashioned thee, but in understanding thou art naught. Thou

hast stung me by thy unseemly words; I am not ignorant of manly

sports, as thou sayest, but I tell thee that I was among the foremost

as long as I trusted in my youth and in the might of my hands. But now

I am sore spent with woe and pain, for many things have I suffered in

battles by land, and buffeting with the sea. Nevertheless, broken as I

am, I will give proof of my strength, for thou hast provoked me

bitterly by thy wanton words."

Thereupon, without waiting to throw off his cloak, he sprang into the

arena, and caught up a massy disc of iron, far heavier than those with

which the Phæacians had been throwing. Poising it lightly, with one

hand he flung it, as one who flings a ball. The Phæacians sank back in

dismay as they saw the huge mass flying high over their heads, and

when it fell all rushed to the spot to mark the distance. There it

lay, far beyond the longest cast of the native athletes, and Odysseus

pointed to it, and said: "Reach that mark, my young masters, if ye

can! And if any among you have a mind to try a match with me in boxing

or in wrestling, or in the foot race, they shall have their will; only

with the sons of Alcinous I will not strive, for he is my host, and it

were not fitting or prudent to challenge them. Whatever a man can do

with his hands I can do: I can send an arrow sure and strong, and

strike down my foe, and herein can no archer surpass me, save one

only, Philoctetes, who bare the bow of Hercules; and I can fling a

javelin farther than another man can shoot an arrow. Only in speed of

foot I fear that some of you may surpass me; for my knees are yet weak

from long fasting and fighting with the waves."

Not one of the Phæacians took up the challenge, but all sat mute,

gazing in wonder and awe at this strange man, who had just given such

signal proof of the power of his arm. At last Alcinous answered and

said: "Stranger, none here can take thy words amiss, for, as thou

sayest, thou hast been bitterly provoked. But hear me now in turn, and

push not thy quarrel further, but rest satisfied with the proof of thy

prowess which thou hast given. I will speak to thee frankly, that thou

mayest know what manner of men the Phæacians are. We are not mighty

men of valour, like thee, yet we too have our own peculiar excellence.

We are good runners, and none can approach us in all that belongs to

the mariner's art. But at home we live softly, loving the banquet, and

music and dancing, clean raiment, warm baths, and long repose." Then

turning to his attendants he added: "Go, some of you, and bring hither

the harper Demodocus, and clear a space for the dancers, that our

guest may see something of the native sports of Phæacia."

Then those whose business it was chose a fair level space for the

dance, and when Demodocus arrived he took his harp and struck up a

lively measure. A fair troop of boys stood in a circle around him, and

the dance began. Alcinous had not overrated the skill of his people in

this graceful pastime, and Odysseus was filled with wonder as he

watched the intricate yet ordered movements of the youthful troop.

When the dance was ended, Demodocus sang a soft lay of love, and after

that the two most skilful dancers, one of whom was Laodamas, a son of

Alcinous, stood up to dance a reel together. One of them held a

crimson ball, and, keeping time to the music flung it high into the

air; while the other leaped high from the ground, and caught the ball

as it fell. Then they flung the ball with lightning rapidity from hand

to hand, so that it seemed a mere streak of crimson shooting backward

and forward; and all the time the dance went gaily on, while the whole

company of the Phæacians kept up a merry din, beating time to the

music with their feet.

"Of a truth," said Odysseus, addressing Alcinous, "thou hast not

boasted for naught; never saw I such dancing in all my long travels."

A proud man was Alcinous to hear such praise from such a man, and he

was not slow to testify his gratitude. "Hear me," he said, "ye princes

of Phæacia! Methinks our guest is a man of exceeding shrewd wit. Let

us bestow on him a parting gift, that he may remember us, and rejoice

in spirit when he thinks of his sojourn in Phæacia. Thirteen there

are, of whom I am one, who sit in high places, and are notable men in

the land; let each of us give him a change of raiment and a talent of

gold. And Euryalus shall crave pardon of him for his ill-chosen words,

and appease him with a gift."

The generous proposal was well received, and each of the twelve nobles

sent his body-servant to fetch the gifts. Euryalus also was prompt to

make his peace with Odysseus. He presented him with a fine sword of

tempered bronze, with silver hilt, and scabbard of ivory. "Behold my

peace-offering," he said, "and take my goodwill with the gift. Forget

my foolish words, and think of me kindly when thou art safe among

thine own people."

Odysseus acknowledged the courtesy of Euryalus in becoming terms, and

then the whole company rose and went back to the palace of Alcinous,

where they found the gifts for Odysseus all set in order against his

departure. Then Alcinous brought a golden goblet, beautifully

fashioned, and richly chased, and bade Arete bring a coffer to hold

the gifts. The coffer was displayed, and was in itself a gift of no

mean value, being a choice piece of work.

"Now bid thy handmaids prepare a bath for our guest," said Alcinous to

his wife, and "Receive this as a memorial of me," he added, placing

the goblet in Odysseus' hands, "that thou mayest remember me all the

days of thy life, when thou pourest libations to Zeus and the other

deathless gods."

Arete gave the order as required, and while the bath was preparing she

arranged all the gifts in the coffer. Then closing the lid she said to

Odysseus: "Make all fast with thine own hands, that none may meddle

with thy goods as thou liest asleep on thy passage across the sea."

Odysseus made fast the cord, securing it with an intricate and cunning

knot, which he had learnt from the great sorceress Circe; and when he

had finished he was summoned by the eldest of the handmaids to the

bath. When he had bathed and put on fresh raiment he came back to the

dining-hall; and as he entered he saw Nausicaä leaning against a

pillar. Sweet was the maiden's face, and kind her eyes, as she gazed

with innocent admiration on the stately figure of her father's guest.

"Farewell, my friend," said she, "and when thou arrivest home think

sometimes of her to whom thou owest thy life."

"Fair daughter of Alcinous," answered Odysseus, "if that day ever

comes--if I ever see my home again, by favour of Zeus, the lord of

Hera--be assured that I shall remember thee in my prayers, as long as

this life which thou hast given me shall last." And so he parted from

the maiden, and she went back to her mother's bower.

Odysseus again received a place of honour by the side of Alcinous, and

a goodly portion of meat was set before him. Looking round the circle

of guests he saw Demodocus, the blind harper, sitting in their midst,

and wishing to show him honour, he cut off a choice piece from the

flesh which had been set before him, and bade a servant carry it to

the bard, and greet him in the giver's name. The servant did as he was

bidden, and Demodocus received the portion of honour with becoming

gratitude.

When the banquet was drawing towards its close Odysseus approached the

minstrel, and after praising his former lay, which told of the

disastrous homeward voyage of the Greeks, he begged him to sing the

Lay of the Wooden Horse, the device by which Troy was taken. Demodocus

complied, and taking his harp began to chant that famous lay, which

told how the Greeks burnt their tents and sailed away, leaving the

wooden monster behind them, how the Trojans dragged the horse into the

city, and how the fatal engine sent forth its burden of armed men in

the night. The name of Odysseus, the arch-plotter, occurred again and

again as the tale went on; and once more Odysseus was moved to tears

by the memories which the words of the bard awakened.

Alcinous observed his emotion, and called to Demodocus to cease his

song. "We vex our guest," he said, "for whose sake we are gathered

here. Doubtless the minstrel has touched some hidden spring of sorrow.

But come now," he continued, addressing Odysseus, "we have honoured

thee exceedingly, and given thee of our best. Wilt thou not repay us

by telling something of thyself? Let us hear thy name, and say of what

land and of what city thou art, that our ships may know whither to

steer their course. For know that we mariners of Phæacia need no

pilots nor rudders, but our ships by their own instinct take us to

whatsoever place we would visit, gliding like phantoms, invisible,

swift as thought. Nor has any vessel from our ports ever suffered

shipwreck or harm.

"Thou likewise hast been a great traveller, and seen many lands and

nations, both such as are wild and fierce and such as are gentle and

of godly mind. Tell us then the tale of thy wanderings, and say why

thou weepest ever at the name of Troy."

All the guests bent forward with eager faces, and strained their ears

to catch Odysseus' answer; for there was something mysterious about

this strange guest, something which marked him as a man of no common

stamp, and their curiosity, which had hitherto been held in check by

the laws of courtesy, was now set free from all restraint by the frank

question of Alcinous.

"Illustrious prince," answered Odysseus, after a moment's pause,

"methinks it were best to sit silent and listen to the sweet voice of

the harper; for what better thing has life to offer than a full cup

and brave minstrelsy heard at the quiet hour of eventide? But if thou

must needs hear a tale of sorrow it is not for me to deny thee. First

of all I will tell thee my name. I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, and my

name is in all men's mouths because of my deep wit and manifold wiles,

yea, the renown thereof reaches even unto heaven. My home is the sunny

isle of Ithaca, last in a line of islands lying in the western sea. It

is a rugged land, but a nurse of gallant sons; and sweet, ah! very

sweet, is the name of home. Never hath my heart been turned from that

dear spot, no, not by all the loveliness of Calypso, nor by all the

witchery of Circe, but ever I remained faithful to the one lodestar of

my life."

Here Odysseus began the wondrous story of his wanderings, which kept

his hearers spellbound until far into the night.