I
When Eumæus came back from his errand, Odysseus, who in the meantime
had resumed his disguise, was helping Telemachus to prepare the
evening meal. Telemachus questioned him about the ship which the
wooers had sent out to waylay him on his return from Pylos, but Eumæus
had been in such haste to get back to his farm that he had not stopped
to inquire about the matter. "But thus much I can tell thee," he said:
"as I was crossing the hill which overlooks the town I saw a galley,
bristling with spear and helm, entering the harbour; and I believe
that this was the ship of which thou speakest"
"No doubt of it," answered Telemachus, with a significant glance at
his father. Then they all fell to their suppers with hearty appetite,
and soon afterwards retired to rest.
The first chill of dawn was still in the air when Telemachus roused
the swineherd, and announced his intention of proceeding at once to
the town. "I know," he said, "that my mother will have no peace until
she sees me with her own eyes. Now as to this stranger, I charge thee
to take him with thee into the town, that he may beg his bread from
house to house. Burdened as I am already, and full of care, I cannot
provide for him. If he thinks it hard, all the worse for him."
"Thou sayest well," answered Odysseus; "I have no mind to remain here.
I am too old to take orders from a master, and it is better to beg my
living in the town than in the fields. Therefore I will go, when I
have warmed me at the fire, and the sun is up; for I am ill equipped
to face the frosts of morning."
Away went Telemachus, covering the ground with rapid strides, his mind
occupied all the way with thoughts of vengeance against the wooers.
The first who saw him when he crossed the threshold of his home was
his old nurse, Eurycleia, who was just then spreading fleeces on the
seats in the great hall. With a cry of joy she ran and fell on his
neck, and kissed him; and all the faithful handmaids of Penelope
crowded round to welcome their young master home. The sound of their
voices reached the ears of Penelope, and with swift steps she came
gliding into the hall, fair as Artemis, or golden Aphrodite. When she
saw Telemachus she flung her arms round his neck and covered his face
with kisses. "Welcome," she sobbed, "Telemachus, my heart's darling,
restored to me beyond all hope! Say, hast thou brought any news of thy
father?"
But Telemachus was too full of the stern task which lay before him to
leave room for softer emotions. Gently extricating himself from his
mother's embrace he said: "Dear mother, thou shalt hear all in due
season; at present I have other work to do. Go thou to thy chamber,
and put on clean raiment, and when thou hast purified thyself pray to
all the immortal gods to hasten the day of atonement for those who
have wronged our house. I will return presently, when I have done my
business in the town."
The gentle Penelope went to do her son's bidding, and Telemachus
started for the town, with two hounds following close at his heels. He
seemed taller and manlier after his short absence, and many an eye
followed him with wonder as he passed through the streets. Presently
he came to the place where the wooers were assembled, and they came
crowding about him with false words of welcome. But he turned his back
on them with scorn, and seeing a little group of his father's friends,
among whom were Mentor and the aged Halitherses, he went and sat down
among them. While they were questioning him about his travels, Peiræus
came up, bringing with him the seer, Theoclymenus, whom Telemachus had
left in his charge the day before. "I restore to thee thy guest," said
Peiræus, "who has been entertained in all honour at my house; and if
thou wilt send thy handmaids, I will deliver unto them the treasure
which thou hast brought with thee from Pylos."
"I thank thee," answered Telemachus; "Theoclymenus shall go with me;
but as to the treasure, do thou keep it for me until these evil days
are passed. If aught untoward befall me, I had rather it remained with
thee than that it should fall into the hands of the wooers."
Having taken leave of his friends, he returned to the house, taking
Theoclymenus with him. And when they had bathed and put on fresh
raiment, they sat down to meat. The meal proceeded in silence, and at
last Penelope, who was sitting near, busy with her distaff, and
longing impatiently to hear her son's news, said in a tone of
displeasure: "Hast thou no word for thy mother, Telemachus? Or art
thou keeping thy tidings until the wooers return? Surely I thought in
this rare interval of quiet to hear how thou hast fared and what thou
hast learnt on this journey. But if thou hast naught to tell me, I
will go to my widowed bed, and weep away the hours until dawn."
Roused from his reverie by his mother's reproaches, Telemachus gave a
brief account of his visit to Nestor and Menelaus, and of what they
had told him. Penelope was musing on her son's report, when
Theoclymenus, the second-sighted man, started up from his seat, and
cried: "I see him, I see him! He is landed in Ithaca, he is coming
hither, he is here! Woe unto the suitors! Their hour is at hand, and
not one of them shall escape."
Penelope had heard such prophecies too often to pay much heed to the
seer's vision. "Ah! my friend," she said, with a sad smile, "I can but
pray that thy words will be fulfilled; if ever they are, it shall be a
happy day for thee."
At this moment the wooers came trooping in, filling the house with
riot and uproar; and there was an end of all quiet converse for that
day.