I
Early next day Eumæus and Odysseus were preparing their morning meal,
when they heard the sound of footsteps approaching the hut. The hounds
pricked up their ears at the sound, and ran fawning round the
new-comer, who was evidently well known to them. Odysseus called to
Eumæus, who was busy drawing wine, and said: "Some friend of thine is
coming; for the dogs fawn upon him, and bark not."
Even as he spoke, a tall figure appeared in the open doorway, and his
own dear son stood before him. Eumæus sprang up amazed, and let fall
the pitcher into which he had been drawing the wine. Then with a cry
of joy he ran to greet his young lord, kissed his hands and his face,
and wept over him. Even as a father yearns over his only son, just
returned from abroad after a ten years' absence, so Eumæus yearned
over Telemachus, and hailed him as one returned from the dead. "Thou
art come, Telemachus," he faltered at last, when his emotion suffered
him to speak, "thou art come back again, dear as mine own life! Ne'er
thought I to see thee again, after thou wast gone to Pylos. Sit thee
down, that I may feast mine eyes upon thee; seldom dost thou come this
way, but abidest in the house, to watch the wasteful deeds of the
wooers."
Odysseus, in his character of beggar, rose respectfully from his seat,
to make room for the young prince, but Telemachus motioned him to
resume his place, and sat down himself on a heap of brushwood, on
which the swineherd had spread a fleece. While Eumæus was bringing
bread and meat, and filling the cups with wine, Telemachus questioned
him as to his mother, and learnt that no change had occurred in her
relation to the wooers since he left Ithaca. Breakfast being over,
Eumæus, in answer to his inquiry, told him the story of the supposed
stranger. "I have done what I could for him," he added, when he had
repeated what he had heard from Odysseus. "Now I deliver him unto
thee, to do with him as thou wilt; all his hopes are in thy grace."
"What can I do?" answered Telemachus, in perplexity. "Thou knowest
that I am not master in my own house, and my mother is torn between
two purposes: whether to wait still in patience for her lord's coming,
or to choose a new husband from the noblest of the suitors. Neither
she nor I can give protection to such a guest as this. Therefore I
will bestow upon him a new cloak and doublet, with sandals for his
feet, and arm him with a good sword, and send him whithersoever he
chooses to go. Or if thou art willing, thou canst keep him here with
thee, and I will send down food and raiment for him, that he may not
be a burden to thee and thy men. But I will not allow him to go among
the wooers, and suffer ill-treatment which I have no power to
prevent."
Odysseus, who had not seen his son since he was an infant, desired to
learn something more of his mind and character; and in order to draw
him into further speech he asked, with an air of indignation, who the
wooers were, and how it was that he submitted to their violence. "Is
the public voice against thee," he asked, "or art thou at feud with
thy brethren, so that they will not help thee? If I were in thy place
I would fall upon them singlehanded, for it were better to die once
for all than tamely to submit to such outrage."
"Behold I will tell thee all the truth," answered Telemachus. "'Tis
neither by the consent of the people nor by the ill-will of my
brethren, that this evil hath come upon me. But Heaven hath ordained
that the honours and the burden of our house should ever rest upon one
alone. Laertes, my grandsire, was an only son, and Odysseus was the
sole issue of his marriage; and even so I am the only child of
Odysseus. Therefore I sit helpless and alone, at the mercy of this
ruffian band. But enough of this! We have no hope left, save in the
justice of Heaven." Then he turned to Eumæus, and said: "Make haste
now, go down to the house, and tell Penelope that I have come back
safe from Pylos. Let none else hear it, but come back hither at once,
when thou hast delivered thy message, and I will wait here until thy
return."
"Shall I not go to Laertes, and tell him also?" asked the swineherd.
"Since the day of thy departure he has tasted neither meat nor drink,
but sits alone in his sorrow, and will not be comforted."
"My mother can send a handmaid to inform him," answered Telemachus.
"But as for thee, see that thou return here straightway, and lose no
time."