c. 700 BC 2026
This is an AI modernization of The Odyssey into contemporary English. The original is available from Perseus Digital Library. Also available as an epub.
The Odyssey was composed around 700 BC, at the end of a long tradition of poems that were sung rather than written. Nobody knows who Homer was, or whether one poet or many stand behind the name. What is clear is that the poem was made for performance, in a six-beat line, by singers who held enormous amounts of verse in their heads and assembled it in front of an audience out of ready-made phrases.
Those phrases are the first thing a modern reader notices and the first thing to stop worrying about. Dawn is rosy-fingered every single morning. The sea is wine-dark. Odysseus endures everything, Athena is grey-eyed, and whenever anybody finishes a speech the others hold their peace in silence. This is not a poverty of vocabulary. It is the machinery of a poem built to be performed, and the repetitions were a pleasure to the first audiences in the way a returning chorus is. They are kept here, and kept consistent, for the same reason.
The story starts ten years after the fall of Troy and assumes you know how that war ended. The opening four books are not about Odysseus at all but about his son, a boy of twenty who has never met his father and is being eaten out of house and home by a hundred and eight men courting his mother. Odysseus himself appears in book five, weeping on a beach. The monsters everybody remembers — the Cyclops, the witch, the whirlpool, the cattle of the Sun — are not narrated by the poet: Odysseus tells them himself, as an after-dinner story to strangers, which is worth keeping in mind given how much of the second half turns on his gift for lying.
One custom holds the whole thing together. A stranger who arrives at your door is fed, bathed, given a bed and a parting gift, and only then asked who he is. Every household in the poem is measured against that rule, and the Cyclops who eats his guests and the suitors who devour their host's property are the two ends of the same scale. The other thing worth stating plainly is that these houses run on slaves, that Homer says so constantly, and that this edition does not soften it.
The translation is from the Greek — all twenty-four books, nothing cut — and it is prose. Twelve thousand lines of hexameter has no English equivalent that does not end in padding, and this is a novel-length story that a reader wants to be able to read. The poem is far funnier, stranger and more domestic than its reputation: a man who cries easily, a dog on a dung-heap, a scar noticed in a footbath, and a wife every bit as careful as her husband.
Tell me, Muse, of the man of many turns, who was driven far and wide after he sacked the holy citadel of Troy. He saw the cities of many peoples and came to know their minds, and on the sea he suffered many griefs in his own heart, fighting for his life and for the homecoming of his companions. Even so he did not save them, hard as he tried: they died by their own recklessness, the fools, who ate the cattle of Helios the Sun, and the god took from them the day of their return. Of these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, begin where you will, and tell them to us.
By now all the others who had escaped being killed outright were home, safe from the war and the sea. He alone was still kept from his wife and his own country, held by the queenly nymph Calypso, a great goddess, in her hollow caves, because she wanted him for a husband. But when the years came round and the season arrived that the gods had marked for his return to Ithaca, he was not free of his troubles even then, even among his own people. All the gods pitied him except Poseidon, who stayed furious with godlike Odysseus until at last he reached his own land.
Now Poseidon had gone off to the Ethiopians, who live at the ends of the earth in two divisions, some where the Sun goes down and some where he rises, to receive a sacrifice of bulls and rams, and he was sitting at the feast enjoying himself. The rest of the gods were gathered in the halls of Olympian Zeus, and the father of gods and men was the first to speak. He was thinking of Aegisthus, whom Orestes, Agamemnon's famous son, had killed; and with that in his mind he said to the immortals:
"It is astonishing how ready human beings are to blame the gods. Everything bad comes from us, they say — when in fact it is their own recklessness that brings them suffering beyond their share. Look at Aegisthus. He took the wife of the son of Atreus, beyond his share, and killed the man when he came home, and he knew what it would cost him: we warned him ourselves. We sent Hermes, the sharp-eyed slayer of Argus, to tell him not to kill the man and not to court the wife, because Orestes would come to avenge the son of Atreus once he was grown and wanted his own land. That is what Hermes told him, meaning it kindly, and he could not persuade the heart of Aegisthus. Now Aegisthus has paid for all of it at once."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Father of us all, son of Cronos, highest of the powers, that man is lying where he deserves to lie, and so may anyone else die who does what he did. But my heart is torn for Odysseus, who is clever and unlucky, and who has been suffering a long way from anyone who loves him, on an island in the middle of the sea, where the navel of the water is. There is a wooded island, and a goddess lives there, the daughter of Atlas, who thinks bad thoughts and knows the depths of the whole sea, and who holds up the tall pillars that keep earth and sky apart. It is his daughter who keeps that unhappy man from going home. She works on him, day after day, with soft coaxing words, so that he will forget Ithaca. And Odysseus, who would be glad just to see the smoke going up from his own country, wants to die.
"Does none of this touch you, Olympian? Did Odysseus not do everything for you beside the Argive ships in the wide land of Troy? Why are you so set against him, Zeus?"
Then Zeus who gathers the clouds answered her. "My child, what a thing to let past your teeth. How could I forget godlike Odysseus, who has more sense than any man alive, and who gave more than any man to the immortal gods who hold the wide sky? It is Poseidon, who holds the earth, who keeps up this stubborn anger, because of the Cyclops whose eye Odysseus put out — godlike Polyphemus, the strongest of all the Cyclopes. The nymph Thoosa bore him, the daughter of Phorcys who rules the restless sea, after she lay with Poseidon in the hollow caves. That is why Poseidon the earth-shaker does not kill Odysseus, but keeps him wandering, away from his own country.
"Come, though — let all of us here work out how he is to get home. Poseidon will let his anger go. He will not be able to hold out alone against the will of every immortal."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Father of us all, son of Cronos, highest of the powers, if it truly is the pleasure of the blessed gods now that clever Odysseus should get home, then let us send Hermes the messenger, the slayer of Argus, to the island of Ogygia, to tell the nymph with the lovely hair, as quickly as he can, what we have firmly decided: that Odysseus, who endures everything, is to go home. And I will go to Ithaca myself, to stir up his son and put some courage into him — to have him call the long-haired Achaeans to an assembly and speak his mind to the suitors, who go on killing his crowding sheep and his slow-moving cattle. And I will send him to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to ask after his father's homecoming, in case he hears something, and so that men may think well of him."
With that she bound on her feet the beautiful sandals, immortal and golden, that carry her over the water and over the endless land as fast as a gust of wind, and she took up her heavy spear, tipped with sharp bronze, huge and strong, the spear she breaks the ranks of fighting men with when she is angry with them, she who is the daughter of a mighty father. Then she went darting down from the peaks of Olympus and stood in Ithaca, at the outer gate of Odysseus, on the threshold of the courtyard, holding the bronze spear in her hand, in the likeness of a stranger — Mentes, the chief of the Taphians.
She found the arrogant suitors there. They were playing draughts in front of the doors, sitting on the hides of oxen they had killed themselves, while the heralds and the busy attendants worked round them, some mixing wine and water in the bowls, some wiping the tables down with sponges and setting them out, and some carving up a great deal of meat.
Telemachus saw her long before anyone else. He was sitting among the suitors, sick at heart, imagining his noble father — how he might come from somewhere and scatter the suitors through the house, and take back his honour and rule over what was his. That was what he was thinking about, sitting among them, when he saw Athena, and he went straight to the outer door, ashamed in his own mind that a stranger should be left standing at the gate. He went up to her and took her right hand and took the bronze spear from her, and spoke to her with winged words:
"Welcome, stranger. You will be treated well in this house, and when you have eaten you can tell us what you need."
He led the way and Pallas Athena followed him. When they were inside the high house he carried the spear to a tall pillar and set it in the polished spear-rack, where a good many other spears already stood, the spears of Odysseus, who endures everything. He led Athena to a chair and sat her down, spreading a linen cloth under her — a beautiful chair, finely made, with a footstool below it — and drew up an inlaid seat for himself beside her, away from the others, so that the noise of the arrogant crowd would not spoil the stranger's meal, and so that he could ask him about his father, who was gone.
A maid brought water in a lovely golden jug and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and drew a polished table up beside them. The housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it out, and plenty of good things with it, giving freely from her stores. A carver lifted platters of every kind of meat and set them down, and put out golden cups, and a herald kept walking to and fro pouring the wine.
Then the arrogant suitors came in and sat down in rows on the chairs and the high seats. Heralds poured water over their hands, women heaped bread in baskets beside them, and boys filled the bowls to the brim, and they put out their hands to the good food in front of them. When they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, they turned their minds to other things, to singing and dancing, which are the crown of a feast. A herald put a beautiful lyre into the hands of Phemius, who sang for the suitors because they made him. He struck the strings and began his lovely song.
But Telemachus leaned his head close to grey-eyed Athena, so that the others would not hear, and said:
"Dear guest, will you be angry with me if I say something? These men care about nothing but this, the lyre and the singing — easily enough, when they are eating up another man's living and paying nothing for it, a man whose white bones are rotting in the rain somewhere on land, or rolling in the surf. If they saw him come back to Ithaca, every one of them would pray to be quicker on his feet rather than richer in gold and fine clothes. As it is, he has died badly, and there is no comfort for us, not even if somebody somewhere on earth says he is coming. The day of his homecoming is gone.
"But tell me this, and tell me the truth. Who are you, and where do you come from? Where is your city, and where are your parents? What sort of ship did you come on, and how did the sailors bring you to Ithaca? Who did they say they were? Because you certainly did not get here on foot. And tell me this too, so that I know: is this your first time here, or were you a guest-friend of my father's? A great many men used to come to this house — he went about among people himself."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "I will tell you all of it plainly. I am Mentes, son of Anchialus, who was a wise man, and I am lord of the Taphians, who love the oar. I have put in here with my ship and my crew, as you see, sailing over the wine-dark sea to people of another language, on my way to Temese for copper; I am carrying shining iron. My ship is lying out there beyond the town, away in the fields, in the harbour of Rheithron, under wooded Neion. Our families are guest-friends, and have been from the old days. Go and ask the old soldier Laertes, if you like. They tell me he does not come into the town any more, but suffers out in the country with an old woman to look after him, who puts food and drink in front of him when his legs give out from dragging himself along the slope of his vineyard.
"I came because they told me he was back among his people — your father, I mean. But it seems the gods are keeping him from the road home. Because noble Odysseus is not dead, not yet, not anywhere on this earth. He is alive, I am sure of it, and held back on the wide sea, on an island in the middle of the water, and hard men have him, savages, and they are keeping him there against his will.
"Now I will make you a prophecy, the way the immortals put it in my mind, and the way I think it will turn out — though I am no prophet and I know nothing about the meaning of birds. He will not be away from his own country much longer. Not even if they had him in chains. He will work out a way home; he is a man who works things out.
"But tell me this, and tell me the truth. Tall as you are, are you really the son of Odysseus himself? Your head and your fine eyes are astonishingly like his. We were often together, before he sailed for Troy, where the rest of them went too, the best of the Argives, in their hollow ships. Since that day I have not seen Odysseus, and he has not seen me."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "I will tell you plainly too, stranger. My mother says I am his son. I do not know myself. Nobody has ever known for certain who fathered him. I wish I had been the son of some lucky man who grew old among his own possessions. But since you ask me, they say I am the son of the unluckiest man who ever lived."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Well, the gods have not given you a nameless family for the future, if Penelope bore a son like you. But tell me this, and tell me the truth. What is this feast, this crowd? What do you want with it? Is it a drinking party, or a wedding? It is certainly not a meal that each man brought his share to. They seem to me to be eating in your house with an insolence past bearing. Any decent man coming in here and seeing all this would be disgusted."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Stranger, since you ask me about it — this house was once on its way to being rich and respected, as long as that man was still among his people. But the gods have willed it otherwise, and thought up something worse: they have made him vanish as they have made no other man vanish. I would not grieve so much for his death, if he had been killed among his companions in the land of the Trojans, or had died in the arms of his friends when he had wound up the whole skein of the war. Then the whole Achaean army would have built him a tomb, and he would have won great glory for his son as well, in the days to come. As it is, the storm winds have taken him away and left nothing behind. He is out of sight, out of hearing, and what he has left me is pain and weeping.
"And I do not grieve and cry only for him. The gods have brought me other troubles as bad. All the princes who hold power over the islands — Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus — and the ones who lord it over rocky Ithaca, every one of them is courting my mother and wearing out my house. And she will not refuse the marriage, which she hates, and cannot bring the matter to an end, while they eat up everything I own. Before long they will finish me too."
Then Pallas Athena, angry now, said to him: "This is disgraceful. You need Odysseus back, and badly, to lay his hands on these shameless men. If only he would come now and stand at the outer gate of the house with his helmet and shield and his two spears — the man I first saw in our house, drinking and enjoying himself, on his way back from Ephyre, from the house of Ilus son of Mermerus. Odysseus had gone there in his fast ship looking for a poison to smear on his bronze arrowheads, and Ilus would not give it to him, because he was afraid of the gods who live for ever; but my father gave it to him, because he was extraordinarily fond of him. If Odysseus in that condition were to walk in among the suitors, every one of them would find a quick death and a bitter courtship.
"But all this lies on the knees of the gods, whether he comes back and takes his revenge in his own halls or whether he does not. What I want you to think about is how you are going to drive the suitors out of the house. Listen to me now, and take in what I say. Tomorrow morning call the Achaean lords to an assembly and speak your mind to all of them, with the gods as your witnesses. Tell the suitors to scatter, each to his own place. As for your mother, if her heart is set on marrying, let her go back to the house of her powerful father, and they will make the wedding there and put together the gifts, all of them, everything that ought to go with a much-loved daughter. And I will give you good advice for yourself, if you will take it.
"Fit out the best ship you have with twenty rowers, and go and look for news of your father, who has been gone so long. Somebody may tell you something, or you may hear a word from Zeus, which is what most often brings men news. Go first to Pylos and ask noble Nestor, and from there to Sparta, to fair-haired Menelaus, who was the last of the bronze-armoured Achaeans to get home. If you hear your father is alive and on his way, then you could hold out for another year, hard as it is. And if you hear he is dead and gone, then come back to your own country, heap up a mound for him, pay him the funeral rites, all of them, as is proper, and give your mother to a husband. Then, when all that is done and finished, think hard about how you are going to kill the suitors in your own hall, by a trick or in the open. You are not the right age any more to be behaving like a child.
"Or have you not heard what a name Orestes made for himself, everywhere, when he killed the man who murdered his father — sly Aegisthus, who had killed his glorious father? You too, my friend — and I can see you are tall and good-looking — be brave, so that men who are not born yet will speak well of you.
"But I must go down now to my fast ship and my crew, who will be getting impatient waiting for me. Look after yourself, and think about what I have said."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Stranger, you have said all this out of kindness, the way a father speaks to his son, and I will not forget any of it. But stay a little, however eager you are to be off. Have a bath, and enjoy yourself, and then go back to your ship in good spirits with a gift from me, something valuable and very beautiful, to keep as an heirloom — the kind of gift friends give to friends."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Do not hold me here any longer. I want to be off. Whatever gift your heart tells you to give me, give it to me when I come back, to take home with me. Choose a really beautiful one; you will get its worth in return."
And with that grey-eyed Athena was gone, flying upward like a bird. She had put strength and courage into him, and made him think about his father even more than before. He turned the thing over in his mind and was amazed, because he understood that she had been a god; and he went straight back among the suitors, godlike himself.
The famous singer was still singing to them, and they sat in silence, listening. He was singing of the Achaeans' journey home from Troy, the bitter one that Pallas Athena laid on them. And upstairs the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, heard the wonderful song, and came down the high staircase from her room, not alone — two women came with her. When she reached the suitors, that lovely woman, she stood by the doorpost of the well-built hall, holding her shining veil in front of her face, with a faithful maid on either side of her. Then she began to cry, and said to the divine singer:
"Phemius, you know many other things to hold an audience with, the deeds of men and gods that singers make famous. Sing them one of those, and let them drink their wine in silence. But stop this miserable song. It tears at the heart in my breast every time, because a grief no one could forget has come to me above all women. That is the head I always remember and long for — my husband, whose fame goes wide through Hellas and the middle of Argos."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Mother, why do you grudge the singer the right to entertain us however his heart moves him? Singers are not to blame. Zeus is to blame, I think, who gives to men who work for their living, to each one as he pleases. There is no being angry with this man for singing the bad end of the Danaans. People always praise the newest song they hear most highly. Make your own heart and mind endure the listening. Odysseus was not the only man who lost the day of his homecoming at Troy. Plenty of others died as well.
"Go back to your room and see to your own work, the loom and the distaff, and tell the women to get on with theirs. Talking will be the men's business, all of them, and mine most of all: the authority in this house is mine."
She went back upstairs astonished, taking her son's good sense to heart. She went up to her room with her women, and there she cried for Odysseus, her dear husband, until grey-eyed Athena put sweet sleep on her eyelids.
The suitors broke into uproar through the shadowy hall, and every one of them prayed to be the man who lay beside her. Then clear-headed Telemachus was the first to speak.
"Suitors of my mother, with your intolerable arrogance — let us enjoy the feast for now, and no shouting, since it is a fine thing to listen to a singer as good as this man, whose voice is like a god's. But in the morning let us go to the assembly and take our places, all of us, so that I can tell you outright to get out of these halls. Make your feasts somewhere else. Eat your own food, and move from house to house. Or if this looks better to you and more profitable, that one man's living should be destroyed and nothing paid for it, then eat it. But I will call on the gods who live for ever, in the hope that Zeus grants that the work be paid for; and then you will die inside this house, and nothing will be paid for that either."
So he spoke, and every one of them bit his lip and was astonished at Telemachus, at how boldly he had spoken.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: "Telemachus, it must be the gods themselves teaching you to talk so big and to speak so boldly. I hope the son of Cronos never makes you king in sea-girt Ithaca, which is yours by birth."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Antinous, will you be angry with me if I say something? I would be glad to take even that from the hand of Zeus. Do you think it is the worst thing that can happen to a man? It is no bad thing to be a king. Your house grows rich straight away and you are held in more honour yourself. But there are plenty of other Achaean kings in sea-girt Ithaca, young ones and old ones, and one of them may well have the place, now that noble Odysseus is dead. What I will be is master of my own house, and of the slaves that noble Odysseus won for me."
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him: "Telemachus, this lies on the knees of the gods, which of the Achaeans is to be king in sea-girt Ithaca. Your possessions you may keep, and be master in your own house. No man will ever come and take what is yours away from you by force, against your will, while there are men living in Ithaca. But I should like to ask you about the stranger, my friend. Where does the man come from? What country does he say he belongs to? Where is his family, and the fields he was born on? Does he bring some news of your father coming home, or did he come here on business of his own? How he jumped up and was gone at once! He did not wait to be recognised — and he did not look like a common man, either."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Eurymachus, my father's homecoming is lost and gone. I no longer believe any news, wherever it comes from, and I take no notice of the prophecies my mother gets out of some seer she has called into the hall. That stranger is a guest-friend of my father's from Taphos. He says he is Mentes, son of Anchialus, who was a wise man, and that he is lord of the Taphians, who love the oar."
That is what Telemachus said. But in his heart he knew the immortal goddess.
The suitors turned to dancing and to the pleasure of singing, and enjoyed themselves, and waited for the evening to come; and while they were enjoying themselves the dark evening came. Then they went off, each man to his own house, to sleep. But Telemachus went up to his bedroom, which had been built in the beautiful courtyard, high up, with a wide view all round it, and he went to bed there with a great deal on his mind. Faithful Eurycleia went with him, carrying blazing torches — the daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor. Laertes had bought her long ago with his own money, when she was a girl, and had paid the price of twenty oxen for her, and he honoured her in his house as much as he honoured his own faithful wife, but he never slept with her, because he was afraid of his wife's anger. She was the one who carried the blazing torches for Telemachus. Of all the women she loved him most, and she had nursed him when he was small.
He opened the doors of the well-built room and sat down on the bed and pulled off his soft tunic and put it into the wise old woman's hands, and she folded it and smoothed it and hung it on a peg beside the corded bedstead, and then went out of the room, pulling the door to by its silver handle and driving the bolt home with the strap. And there, all night, wrapped in a fleece of wool, he thought about the journey Athena had shown him.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, the son of Odysseus got out of bed and put on his clothes. He slung his sharp sword over his shoulder, bound the fine sandals under his shining feet, and came out of his room looking like a god. Straight away he told the clear-voiced heralds to call the long-haired Achaeans to an assembly. They made the call and the men gathered quickly.
When they had come together, Telemachus went out to the meeting place with a bronze spear in his hand — not alone; two swift dogs came with him. And Athena poured a marvellous grace over him, so that the whole crowd stared as he came. He sat down in his father's seat, and the elders made room for him.
The first to speak among them was lord Aegyptius, an old man bent with age who knew a great deal. He spoke because a son of his had gone in the hollow ships to Ilium, famous for horses, with godlike Odysseus — Antiphus, who was a fighter. The savage Cyclops had killed him in his hollow cave and made his last meal of him. He had three other sons: one, Eurynomus, went about with the suitors, and two kept the family farm. Even so he could not stop thinking of the one who was gone, grieving and sorrowing for him, and it was with tears in his eyes that he spoke to the assembly.
"Listen to me, men of Ithaca, and hear what I have to say. We have not held an assembly or a session since the day noble Odysseus went off in the hollow ships. Who has called us together now? What need has come on him, on one of the young men or one of the older ones? Has he heard some news of the army coming back, that he could tell us plainly, having heard it first himself? Or is there some other public business he means to raise? He seems to me a good man, and a fortunate one. May Zeus bring to pass for him whatever good thing his heart is set on."
He spoke, and the son of Odysseus was glad at the words, and took them for an omen. He did not stay in his seat any longer; he was eager to speak. He stood up in the middle of the assembly, and the herald Peisenor, a man of good sense, put the staff into his hands. Then he spoke, turning first to the old man.
"Old man, the one who called this gathering is not far off, as you will see for yourself. It is I. Trouble has come on me more than on anyone. I have heard no news of the army coming home that I could tell you plainly, having heard it first myself, and there is no other public business I mean to raise. It is my own need, and the evil that has fallen on my house — two evils. First I have lost my noble father, who was once king over you here and was gentle as a father to you. And now a far greater one has come, which is going to wreck my whole house before long and destroy everything I live on.
"Suitors have fastened on my mother against her will, the sons of the very men who are the leading men here. They shrink from going to the house of her father Icarius, so that he can fix the bride-price for his daughter himself and give her to whichever of them he chooses, the one he likes. Instead they crowd into our house day after day, killing our oxen and our sheep and our fat goats, feasting, drinking the bright wine as though it were nothing — and all this wealth is being wasted, because there is no man here as Odysseus was, to keep ruin away from the house. I am nothing like him, not at all. If I try, I shall only be found weak and knowing nothing about fighting. Truly, I would defend myself if I had the strength, because what is being done now is past bearing, and my house has been destroyed past all decency.
"Be ashamed of yourselves. Think what the neighbours living round about will say. And be afraid of the anger of the gods, in case they turn on you, disgusted at what you are doing. I beg you by Olympian Zeus, and by Themis, who breaks up the assemblies of men and calls them together — stop, my friends, and leave me alone with my bitter grief. Unless, of course, my father, noble Odysseus, once did some deliberate harm to the well-greaved Achaeans, and you are paying me back for it deliberately now by egging these men on. It would be better for me if you ate up my treasures and my flocks yourselves. If you did, there might be some compensation one day: we would go up and down the town pressing our claim and demanding our goods back until every bit was returned. As it is, you are loading griefs on my heart that there is no cure for."
That is what he said, in anger, and he threw the staff on the ground and burst into tears; and pity ran through the whole crowd. Then they all sat silent, and nobody had the heart to answer Telemachus harshly.
Only Antinous answered him. "Telemachus, you are a big talker with no check on your nerve. What a thing to say — trying to shame us, wanting to hang the blame on us. It is not the Achaean suitors who are at fault here in any way. It is your own mother, who is cleverer than any woman alive. It is three years now, and the fourth is nearly gone, since she started deceiving the hearts of the Achaeans in their breasts. She holds out hope to all of us and makes promises to each man separately, sending messages round, when her mind is on something else entirely.
"And here is another trick she thought up. She set up a great loom in the hall and started weaving, on a web fine in the thread and very wide, and said to us straight away:
"'Young men, my suitors — since noble Odysseus is dead, be patient about marrying me, however eager you are, until I finish this cloth. I do not want my spinning to be wasted. It is a shroud for lord Laertes, for the time when the cruel fate of death lays him low, so that none of the Achaean women in the country can be angry with me for letting a man who won so much lie without a shroud.'
"That is what she said, and our proud hearts agreed to it. And every day she went on weaving at that great web, and every night she had torches set beside her and unravelled it. For three years she kept the Achaeans from finding out, and fooled us. But when the fourth year came round with the turning seasons, one of her women, who knew all about it, told us, and we caught her unravelling the splendid thing. So she had to finish it, whether she wanted to or not.
"So this is the answer the suitors give you, and you may know it yourself in your own heart, and let all the Achaeans know it. Send your mother away. Tell her to marry whichever man her father says, and whoever pleases her. But if she goes on much longer wearing out the sons of the Achaeans, keeping in mind what Athena has given her above other women — skill in beautiful work, and a fine mind, and cunning tricks such as we have never heard of even in the women of the old days, the fair-haired Achaean women, Tyro and Alcmene and Mycene with the lovely crown, not one of whom had Penelope's turn of mind — well, this at least she has not thought out right. Because for just as long as she keeps to the plan the gods have now put in her heart, men will go on eating up your living and your property. She is winning herself a great name, and winning you the loss of a great deal of substance. As for us, we are not going to our own lands or anywhere else until she marries whichever of the Achaeans she chooses."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Antinous, I cannot possibly throw the woman who bore me and brought me up out of the house against her will. My father is somewhere in another country, alive or dead. It would be a bad thing for me to pay Icarius back the great price I would owe him if I sent my mother away of my own accord. Her father would make me suffer for it, and heaven would send other troubles besides, because as my mother left the house she would call down the dread Avengers on me; and men would blame me too. So I will never say that word.
"And as for you — if your own hearts are angry at this, get out of my halls and make your feasts somewhere else. Eat your own food, and move from house to house. Or if this looks better to you and more profitable, that one man's living should be destroyed and nothing paid for it, then eat it. But I will call on the gods who live for ever, in the hope that Zeus grants that the work be paid for; and then you will die inside this house, and nothing will be paid for that either."
So spoke Telemachus, and in answer Zeus, whose voice carries far, sent out two eagles, flying down from a mountain peak. For a while they went on the wind, side by side, with their wings spread wide; but when they came over the middle of the noisy assembly they wheeled about, beating their wings hard, and looked down on the heads of all of them with death in their eyes. Then they tore at each other's cheeks and necks with their talons and darted away to the right, over the houses and over the city.
The men were astonished when they saw the birds, and turned over in their minds what was going to happen. Then the old lord Halitherses, son of Mastor, spoke among them, because there was no man of his generation who knew as much about birds and could say what was fated. He meant it kindly, and he spoke to the assembly.
"Listen to me, men of Ithaca, and hear what I have to say. It is to the suitors above all that I am declaring this, since it is on them that a great disaster is rolling. Odysseus is not going to be away from his own people much longer. I think he is near now, sowing death and doom for these men, every one of them. And there are many more of us here in clear-seen Ithaca whom he will ruin. Let us think, long before that, how we may put a stop to this — or rather let them stop it themselves, which is at once the better course for them. I am not prophesying as a man untried; I know what I am saying. Everything I told Odysseus has come out as I told it, when the Argives embarked for Ilium and Odysseus of the many tricks went with them. I said he would come home in the twentieth year after suffering a great deal and losing all his companions, and unrecognised by anyone. And now it is all coming to pass."
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him. "Old man, get up and go home and prophesy to your children, in case something bad happens to them in the days to come. I am a great deal better than you at prophesying about this. Plenty of birds go to and fro under the rays of the sun, and not all of them mean anything. As for Odysseus, he has died a long way off, and I wish you had died with him. Then you would not be spouting so much interpretation, or stirring Telemachus up in his anger, hoping for some present for your house if he happens to give you one.
"But I will say this to you outright, and it is going to happen. If you, with all your old wisdom, talk a younger man round and set him on to be angry, then in the first place it will go worse for him, and there will be nothing whatever he can do against these men here; and on you, old man, we shall lay a fine that will hurt you to pay, and it will be bitter to bear.
"And here in front of everyone I will give Telemachus this advice myself. Let him tell his mother to go back to her father's house, and they will make the wedding there and put together the gifts, all of them, everything that ought to go with a much-loved daughter. Before that, I do not think the sons of the Achaeans are going to give up their hard courting, since we are not afraid of any man in any case — not of Telemachus, for all his talk — and we take no notice of any prophecy you may deliver, old man. It will come to nothing and you will be hated all the more for it. His possessions will be eaten up, and badly, and there will be no compensation for it ever, as long as she keeps putting the Achaeans off about her marriage. And we, waiting here day after day, are rivals for her because she is so remarkable, and we do not go after other women, any one of whom each of us might suitably marry."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Eurymachus, and the rest of you lordly suitors — I am not going to beg you about this any longer or say another word about it, because now the gods know and all the Achaeans know. But give me a fast ship and twenty companions who can take me there and back. I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to ask after my father's homecoming, who has been gone so long — in case any mortal man can tell me something, or I hear a word from Zeus, which is what most often brings men news. If I hear my father is alive and on his way, then I could hold out for another year, hard as it is. And if I hear he is dead and gone, then I will come back to my own country, heap up a mound for him, pay him the funeral rites, all of them, as is proper, and give my mother to a husband."
With that he sat down, and Mentor stood up among them, a companion of noble Odysseus. When Odysseus sailed away he had put his whole household in the old man's charge, to obey him and to keep everything safe. He meant it kindly, and he spoke to the assembly.
"Listen to me, men of Ithaca, and hear what I have to say. From now on let no sceptred king be deliberately kind and gentle, or take any care for what is right in his heart. Let him be harsh, always, and do injustice — seeing that nobody remembers godlike Odysseus, among the people he was lord over, and he was gentle as a father. I do not grudge the arrogant suitors their acts of violence and the wickedness they think up, because it is their own lives they are risking when they eat up the house of Odysseus by force, telling themselves he will never come back. It is the rest of you I am angry with, that you sit here in silence, saying not one word to check the suitors, when you are many and they are few."
Then Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him. "Mentor, you troublemaker, you have lost your wits. What a thing to say, telling men to stop us. It would be a hard business fighting over a dinner with men who outnumber you. Even if Odysseus of Ithaca came himself, and had it in his heart to drive the lordly suitors out of his hall while they were feasting in his house, his wife would get no joy from his coming, however much she longed for him. He would meet a shameful death right here, if he fought against greater numbers. What you have said is not right.
"Come, then — break up, all of you, and go to your own lands. Mentor and Halitherses will speed this fellow's journey; they are friends of his father's house from the old days. But I think he will sit here a long while and get his news in Ithaca, and never make this journey at all."
He spoke, and broke up the assembly in a hurry. They scattered, each man to his own house, and the suitors went to the house of godlike Odysseus.
But Telemachus went off by himself to the shore of the sea, and washed his hands in the grey water, and prayed to Athena. "Hear me, you who came yesterday to our house as a god and told me to go in a ship over the misty water to ask after my father's homecoming, who has been gone so long. The Achaeans are blocking every part of it, and the suitors most of all, in their wicked insolence."
That was his prayer, and Athena came up beside him in the likeness of Mentor, in his shape and in his voice, and spoke to him with winged words.
"Telemachus, you will not be a coward or a fool in the days ahead, if any of your father's fine spirit has been poured into you — the sort of man he was for carrying a thing through in word and deed. So this journey of yours will not be pointless or unfinished. But if you are not his son and Penelope's, then I have no hope you will get what you want. Few sons are like their fathers. Most are worse; a few are better. But since you are not going to be a coward or a fool in the days ahead, and the good sense of Odysseus has not failed in you altogether, there is hope you will bring this thing off.
"So never mind the will and the plans of the suitors. They are fools. There is nothing sensible or just about them, and they know nothing about the death and the black fate that is standing close beside them, so that they will all die in a single day. The journey you have set your heart on will not be put off long — I am such an old friend of your father's house that I will fit out a fast ship for you and come with you myself. Now go back to the house and mix with the suitors. Get the stores ready and put it all in containers: wine in jars, and barley meal, which is the marrow of men, in strong skins. And I will go round the town and quickly gather a crew of volunteers. There are plenty of ships in sea-girt Ithaca, new ones and old; I will pick out the best of them for you, and we will fit her out quickly and launch her on the open water."
So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus did not wait long after hearing the goddess's voice. He went off to the house with a heavy heart, and found the arrogant suitors in the halls, skinning goats and singeing pigs in the courtyard. Antinous came straight up to him, laughing, and took his hand, and said:
"Telemachus, you big talker with no check on your nerve, do not carry any more bad deeds or bad words in your heart. Eat and drink, I tell you, the way you used to. The Achaeans will get all this ready for you, the ship and the picked oarsmen, so that you can go quickly to sacred Pylos and ask after your noble father."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Antinous, there is no possible way I can sit down to dinner quietly in your overbearing company and enjoy myself with an easy mind. Was it not enough, you suitors, that in the past you wasted a great deal of my good property while I was still a child? Now that I am grown, and learn by listening to what others say, and my spirit rises in me, I am going to try to hurl an evil fate on you — going to Pylos, or staying here in this country. Go I will, and the journey I am talking about will not be wasted, though I sail in another man's ship, since you will not let me be master of a ship or oarsmen. That, I suppose, seemed more to your advantage."
With that he snatched his hand out of Antinous's hand, without any ceremony. The suitors were busy with the feast through the hall, and they mocked him and jeered at him as they talked. One of the arrogant young men would say:
"Telemachus is certainly planning to murder us. He will bring men to help him from sandy Pylos, or even from Sparta — he is set on it, terribly. Or he means to go to Ephyre, that rich country, and bring back deadly drugs from there to throw into the wine-bowl and destroy the lot of us."
And another of the arrogant young men would say: "Who knows? He may go off in the hollow ship and die himself, wandering far from his own people, the way Odysseus did. That would make more work for us, because we should have to divide up all his property, and give the house to his mother to keep, and to whoever married her."
That is how they talked. But Telemachus went down to his father's high-roofed store-room, a wide room where gold and bronze lay piled up, and clothes in chests, and plenty of sweet-smelling oil. Great jars of wine stood there too, old and sweet, with an unmixed divine drink inside them, ranged in order along the wall, in case Odysseus should ever come home after all his hard suffering. The double doors were shut, close-fitting, and a housekeeper stayed there night and day guarding everything with a careful mind — Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor. Telemachus called her into the store-room and said to her:
"Nurse, draw me off some wine in jars — the sweet wine, the best there is next to what you keep for that unlucky man, always thinking of him, in case Odysseus, born of Zeus, comes back from somewhere, having got clear of death and the fates. Fill twelve jars and fit lids to all of them, and pour me barley meal into well-sewn skins, twenty measures of ground meal. And keep it to yourself. Have it all put together, and I will come for it in the evening, when my mother goes up to her room and thinks about sleeping. I am going to Sparta and sandy Pylos to ask after my dear father's homecoming, in case I hear anything."
At that his dear nurse Eurycleia gave a shrill cry, and spoke to him in tears with winged words. "Dear child, how has this idea got into your head? Where do you mean to go, over the wide earth, an only son and loved as you are? He is dead, far from home, Odysseus, born of Zeus, in some strange country. And these men, the moment you are gone, will plot against you, so that you die by a trick, and they can divide all this property among themselves. Stay here and look after what is yours. There is no need for you to suffer and go wandering over the restless sea."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Courage, nurse. This plan of mine did not come without a god behind it. But swear you will say nothing of it to my mother until the eleventh or twelfth day comes, or until she misses me herself and hears that I am gone — so that she does not spoil her lovely face with crying."
So he spoke, and the old woman swore a great oath by the gods to say nothing. And when she had sworn and finished the oath, she drew the wine off into jars for him at once and poured barley meal into well-sewn skins; and Telemachus went back to the hall and mixed with the suitors.
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena thought of something else. In the likeness of Telemachus she went all through the city, and came up to each of the men and spoke to him, telling them to gather at evening beside the fast ship. And she asked Noemon, the fine son of Phronius, for a fast ship, and he promised it willingly.
The sun went down and all the roads grew dark. Then she drew the fast ship to the sea and put into it all the gear that well-benched ships carry, and moored it at the mouth of the harbour, and the good crew gathered round it, and the goddess put heart into every man.
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena thought of something else again. She went to the house of godlike Odysseus and began to pour sweet sleep over the suitors, so that they wandered in their drinking and the cups dropped out of their hands. They got up to go and rest through the city, and did not sit long, because sleep was falling on their eyelids. Then grey-eyed Athena spoke to Telemachus, calling him out in front of the stately hall, having made herself like Mentor in shape and in voice.
"Telemachus, your well-greaved companions are already sitting at the oars, waiting for you to start. Come, let us go, and not hold their journey up any longer."
With that Pallas Athena led the way, quickly, and he followed in the goddess's footsteps. When they had come down to the ship and the sea they found their long-haired companions on the shore, and the strong young Telemachus spoke to them.
"Come, friends, let us fetch the stores. They are all gathered together in the hall. My mother knows nothing about this, nor do the women; only one person heard what I said."
With that he led the way and they went with him, and they brought everything and stowed it in the well-benched ship, as the son of Odysseus told them. Then Telemachus stepped on board, with Athena going before him, and she sat down in the stern of the ship, and Telemachus sat beside her; and the men loosed the stern cables and came on board themselves and sat down at the benches.
And grey-eyed Athena sent them a good wind, a strong west wind singing over the wine-dark sea. Telemachus called to his men and told them to lay hold of the tackle, and they did as he called. They raised the fir mast and set it in the hollow socket and made it fast with the forestays, and hauled the white sail up with twisted ox-hide ropes. The wind filled the belly of the sail, and the dark wave sang loudly round the stem of the ship as she went, and she ran over the water on her way. Then, when they had made the tackle fast in the swift black ship, they set out bowls filled to the brim with wine and poured offerings to the immortal gods who live for ever, and most of all to the grey-eyed daughter of Zeus.
So all night long, and through the dawn, the ship cut her way forward.
The sun rose, leaving the lovely water and climbing into the bronze sky to give light to the immortals and to mortal men on the grain-giving earth; and they came to Pylos, the well-built city of Neleus. The people there were on the shore of the sea, sacrificing black bulls to the dark-haired earth-shaker. There were nine companies, five hundred men sitting in each, and each company had nine bulls ready. They had just tasted the inner parts and were burning the thigh-pieces for the god when the ship put straight in to shore. They hauled up the sail of the trim ship and furled it and moored her, and stepped out, and Telemachus stepped out after them, with Athena leading the way.
The goddess grey-eyed Athena spoke to him first. "Telemachus, there is no call for you to be shy now, none at all. You sailed over the sea for this — to find out about your father, where the earth covers him and what death he met. So go straight to Nestor, who breaks horses, and let us find out what he is keeping to himself. Ask him yourself to tell you the exact truth. He will not lie to you; he is a man of real understanding."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Mentor, how am I to go, and how am I to greet him? I have no practice yet in careful speaking, and a young man is ashamed to question a man much older."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Telemachus, some of it you will work out for yourself, and heaven will prompt you with the rest. I do not think you were born and brought up without the goodwill of the gods."
With that Pallas Athena led the way quickly, and he followed in the goddess's footsteps, and they came to the gathering and the companies of the men of Pylos. Nestor was sitting there with his sons, and round about them his people were getting the feast ready, roasting some of the meat and putting other pieces on spits. When they saw the strangers they all came crowding round, and took their hands in welcome, and asked them to sit down.
Nestor's son Peisistratus came up first and took them both by the hand and sat them down at the feast, on soft fleeces on the sand of the sea, beside his brother Thrasymedes and his father. He gave them portions of the inner meat and poured wine into a golden cup, and lifted it to Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis, and said:
"Pray now, stranger, to lord Poseidon, since it is his feast you have come in on. And when you have poured the offering and prayed, as is right, give your friend the cup of honey-sweet wine as well, so that he can pour too, since I imagine he also prays to the immortals. Every man needs the gods. But he is younger, of an age with me, so I will give the golden cup to you first."
With that he put the cup of sweet wine into her hand. Pallas Athena was pleased with the man's good sense and judgment, that he had given her the golden cup first, and she prayed hard at once to lord Poseidon.
"Hear me, Poseidon, who hold the earth, and do not grudge us the fulfilment of what we ask. First of all give Nestor and his sons a great name; and then grant the rest of them a gracious return for this splendid sacrifice, to all the men of Pylos. And grant besides that Telemachus and I may go home having done everything we came here for in our fast black ship."
That was her prayer, and she was bringing it all about herself. Then she gave Telemachus the fine two-handled cup, and the son of Odysseus prayed in the same way.
When they had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off the spits, they divided out the portions and had a splendid meal. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, the horseman Nestor of Gerenia spoke first among them.
"Now it is more proper to ask the strangers who they are, since they have had the pleasure of their food. Strangers, who are you? Where do you sail from over the watery roads? Is it on some business, or are you wandering at random over the sea like pirates, who wander with their lives in their hands and bring harm to people in other countries?"
Then clear-headed Telemachus took courage and answered, because Athena herself put the courage in his heart, so that he might ask about his father who was gone, and so that men might think well of him.
"Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, you ask where we are from, and I will tell you. We have come from Ithaca, which lies below Neion. The business I speak of is my own and not the people's. I have come after the wide-scattered rumour of my father, in case I hear something of him — noble Odysseus, who endures everything, who once, they say, fought at your side and sacked the city of the Trojans. Of every other man who fought against the Trojans we know where he met his miserable end; but of him the son of Cronos has made even the death impossible to learn. No one can say for certain where he died — whether he was beaten by enemies on dry land, or on the deep among the waves of Amphitrite.
"That is why I have come to your knees now: in case you are willing to tell me about his miserable death, whether you happened to see it with your own eyes or heard the story of his wanderings from someone else. His mother bore him to more sorrow than any other man. Do not soften it out of pity for me or out of kindness. Tell me exactly how you came to see him. I beg you, if my father, noble Odysseus, ever promised you anything in word or deed and carried it out in the land of the Trojans, where you Achaeans suffered so much — remember it now, and tell me the exact truth."
Then the horseman Nestor of Gerenia answered him: "My friend, since you have brought back to my mind the grief we endured in that country, we sons of the Achaeans, with no check on our daring — all we endured aboard ship, roaming after plunder over the misty water wherever Achilles led; and all our fighting round the great city of king Priam. There all our best men were killed. Warlike Ajax lies there, and Achilles, and Patroclus, who was the equal of the gods in counsel; and there lies my own dear son, strong and faultless, Antilochus, who could outrun anyone and was a fighter besides.
"And we suffered a great many other things as well. Who among mortal men could tell it all? If you stayed here five years or six and asked about all the troubles the good Achaeans endured there, you would grow tired before the end and go back to your own country. For nine years we worked at their ruin with every kind of trick, and the son of Cronos brought it off only just. In all that time no man dared to compete with him in cleverness, because noble Odysseus was far ahead of everyone in every kind of trick — your father, if you really are his son. Amazement takes hold of me looking at you: your speech is like his, and nobody would think a younger man could speak so like him.
"All the time we were there, noble Odysseus and I never once spoke on opposite sides, either in the assembly or in the council. We were of one mind, and advised the Argives with good sense and shrewdness about how everything might be done best. But when we had sacked the high city of Priam and gone away in our ships, and a god had scattered the Achaeans, then Zeus planned a bitter homecoming for the Argives in his heart, because not all of them were sensible or just. So a good many of them met a bad end through the deadly anger of the grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of the mighty father, who set the two sons of Atreus quarrelling.
"Those two called all the Achaeans to an assembly, recklessly and out of all proper order, at sunset — and the sons of the Achaeans came heavy with wine — and they said their piece and explained why they had gathered the army. Then Menelaus told all the Achaeans to think about going home over the broad back of the sea; and that did not please Agamemnon at all, who wanted to hold the army back and make holy sacrifices to appease the terrible anger of Athena. The fool. He did not know she would not be listening: the mind of the gods who live for ever is not quickly turned. So those two stood there trading hard words, while the well-greaved Achaeans jumped up with a tremendous noise, in favour of two different plans.
"We rested that night, each side turning hard thoughts against the other, because Zeus was bringing an evil doom on us. In the morning some of us launched our ships on the bright sea and put our goods on board, and the women with their low belts. Half the army held back and stayed there with Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the people, and half of us embarked and rowed away. The ships sailed fast; a god smoothed the deep sea for us. When we reached Tenedos we made sacrifice to the gods, in a hurry to get home; but Zeus did not yet intend our homecoming, the stubborn god, and he stirred up bad feeling all over again.
"So some of them turned their curved ships round and went back — lord Odysseus, the wise and cunning-minded, with his crew, doing Agamemnon a favour again. But I fled on with the whole squadron that followed me, because I knew the god was contriving trouble. The warlike son of Tydeus fled too, and urged his men on; and fair-haired Menelaus came after us late and caught us up at Lesbos, while we were debating the long voyage — whether to sail out to sea of rugged Chios, towards the island of Psyria, keeping Chios on our left, or inside Chios past windy Mimas. We asked the god for a sign, and he gave us one, and told us to cut through the middle of the sea to Euboea, so as to get out of danger soonest. A shrill wind got up to blow, and the ships ran quickly over the teeming roads, and put in at night at Geraestus. There we laid many thighs of bulls on Poseidon's altar, thankful to have crossed the great sea.
"It was the fourth day when the company of Diomedes, son of Tydeus, the horse-breaker, brought their trim ships to a stop in Argos; but I held on for Pylos, and the wind never once died from the moment the god sent it to blow.
"So I came home, dear child, with no news, and I know nothing about the others, which of the Achaeans were saved and which were lost. But what I have heard sitting in my own halls you shall hear, as is right, and I will not keep it from you. The Myrmidons who rage with the spear came home safely, they say, led by the famous son of great-hearted Achilles; and Philoctetes came safely, the fine son of Poias. Idomeneus brought all his company to Crete, all who escaped the war, and the sea took none of them from him. About the son of Atreus you have heard yourselves, far off as you are — how he came home, and how Aegisthus contrived a miserable end for him. And he paid for it terribly, so good a thing is it that a man leaves a son behind him when he dies, since that son took revenge on his father's killer, sly Aegisthus, for killing his glorious father. You too, my friend — and I can see you are tall and good-looking — be brave, so that men born long after may speak well of you."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, that son did take his revenge, and the Achaeans will spread his fame far, so that men yet to come will hear of it. I wish the gods would clothe me in that kind of strength, so that I could take revenge on the suitors for the grievous wrong they do, plotting outrages against me out of pure wantonness. But the gods have spun no such happiness for me, or for my father. As it is, I have to endure it."
Then the horseman Nestor of Gerenia answered him: "My friend, since you have brought it to my mind and spoken of it — they say a great many men are courting your mother and contriving harm in your halls against your will. Tell me, are you letting yourself be put down like this, or do the people through the country hate you, following some word from a god? Who knows but Odysseus may come one day and take revenge on them for their violence — either alone, or with the whole Achaean army behind him? I only wish grey-eyed Athena would choose to love you as she cared for glorious Odysseus, and cared enormously, in the land of the Trojans, where we Achaeans suffered so much. I have never seen the gods show love so openly as Pallas Athena showed it to him, standing there beside him where anyone could see. If she chose to love you like that, and to care about you in her heart, there is many a one of them who would forget marriage altogether."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Old man, I do not think that is ever going to happen. What you say is too much. It astonishes me. I have no hope of it happening, not even if the gods should will it so."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena said to him: "Telemachus, what a thing to let past your teeth. A god who wanted to could easily bring a man home safe, even from a long way off. As for me, I would rather go through a great deal of hard suffering before I got home and saw the day of my return, than come home and be killed at my own hearth, the way Agamemnon was killed by the trickery of Aegisthus and his own wife. But death is common to everyone, and not even the gods can keep it off a man they love, when the cruel fate of death comes to strike him down."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Mentor, let us not talk about this any more, however much it grieves us. There is no homecoming for him now, ever. The immortals arranged death and black fate for him long ago. But there is something else I want to ask Nestor about, since he knows more about judgment and wisdom than anyone else. Three generations of men he has been king over, they say, and to look at him he seems to me like an immortal. Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me the truth: how did the son of Atreus die, wide-ruling Agamemnon? Where was Menelaus? What death did sly Aegisthus plan for the king, since he killed a man far stronger than himself? Was Menelaus not in Achaean Argos, but wandering somewhere else among men, so that Aegisthus took heart and did the murder?"
Then the horseman Nestor of Gerenia answered him: "Then I will tell you the whole truth, my child. You can guess for yourself how it would have turned out if the son of Atreus, fair-haired Menelaus, had come back from Troy and found Aegisthus alive in his halls. They would not have heaped the earth over him even in death; the dogs and the birds would have torn him where he lay out on the plain, far from the city, and not one of the Achaean women would have wept for him. It was a monstrous thing he thought up.
"We were away in Troy getting through our many labours, while he sat comfortably in a corner of horse-pasturing Argos and worked away with words at Agamemnon's wife. At first she refused the shameful thing, beautiful Clytemnestra, because she had a good mind in her; and besides, there was a singer with her whom the son of Atreus had ordered strictly, when he set out for Troy, to look after his wife. But when the doom of the gods bound her to be overcome, then Aegisthus took the singer to a desert island and left him there for the birds to prey on and tear; and he took her home, willing as he was willing. And he burned many thigh-pieces on the holy altars of the gods and hung up many offerings, woven stuffs and gold, for having brought off a huge thing that he had never hoped for in his heart.
"Now we were sailing home from Troy together, the son of Atreus and I, on the best of terms. But when we came to holy Sunium, the cape of Athens, Phoebus Apollo attacked the helmsman of Menelaus with his gentle arrows and killed him while he held the steering-oar of the running ship — Phrontis, son of Onetor, who was better than anyone alive at handling a ship when the storm winds blew hard. So Menelaus stayed there, eager as he was to get on, to bury his companion and pay him the funeral rites. But when he in his turn went on over the wine-dark sea in the hollow ships and came at speed to the steep height of Malea, then Zeus, whose voice carries far, planned a hateful road for him and poured out the blasts of shrieking winds, and the waves swelled up huge, like mountains.
"Then he split the ships in two and brought some of them to Crete, where the Cydonians live along the streams of Iardanus. There is a smooth cliff there, sheer down to the sea, on the boundary of Gortyn in the misty water, where the south-west wind drives the great wave against the headland on the left towards Phaestus, and a little rock holds back a great sea. Some of the ships came there, and the men barely escaped drowning, while the waves smashed the ships to pieces against the reef. The other five dark-prowed ships the wind and the wave carried to Egypt. So Menelaus was wandering there with his ships among people of another language, collecting a great deal of goods and gold — and meanwhile Aegisthus was contriving this miserable business at home.
"Seven years he ruled over Mycenae, rich in gold, after killing the son of Atreus, and the people were held down under him. But in the eighth year his ruin came, noble Orestes, back from Athens, and he killed his father's murderer, sly Aegisthus, for killing his glorious father. When he had killed him he gave the Argives a funeral feast over his hateful mother and the cowardly Aegisthus; and on the very same day Menelaus came to him, good at the war-cry, bringing a great deal of treasure, as much as his ships would carry.
"So do not you wander long away from home, my friend, leaving your wealth behind you and such insolent men in your house — in case they divide it all up and eat it, and you have made your journey for nothing. But I urge you and tell you to go to Menelaus, because he has only lately come from a foreign country, from people that no man would hope in his heart to come back from, once the storms had driven him astray into a sea so vast that the very birds do not cross it in a year, it is so great and so terrible. Go now, with your ship and your companions; or, if you would rather go by land, there is a chariot and horses here for you, and my sons here at your service, who will guide you to lovely Lacedaemon, where fair-haired Menelaus lives. Ask him yourself to tell you the exact truth. He will not lie to you; he is a man of real understanding."
So he spoke, and the sun went down and the dark came on. Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena said to them: "Old man, you have told this properly. But come, cut out the tongues of the victims and mix the wine, so that when we have poured offerings to Poseidon and the other immortals we can think about sleep. It is the hour for it. The light has gone down under the dark already, and it is not right to sit long at the gods' feast; we should be going."
So spoke the daughter of Zeus, and they did as she said. Heralds poured water over their hands, and boys filled the bowls to the brim and served everyone, pouring the first drops into the cups for an offering. Then they threw the tongues on the fire and stood up and poured. And when they had poured the offering and drunk as much as they wanted, Athena and godlike Telemachus were both for going back to the hollow ship. But Nestor tried to stop them, and said:
"Zeus forbid, and the other immortal gods, that you should go from my house to your fast ship as though you were leaving a man with no clothes to his name and no means, who has no cloaks or blankets in his house for himself and his guests to sleep soft on. I have cloaks and fine blankets in my house. The dear son of this man Odysseus is certainly never going to lie down on a ship's deck while I am alive, and while there are children left in my halls after me to look after guests, whoever comes to my house."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "You have spoken well in this, old friend, and it is right for Telemachus to do as you say; it is much better. He shall go with you now and sleep in your halls, and I will go to the black ship to put heart into my companions and tell them everything. I am the only older man among them; the rest are younger, who come with us out of friendship, all of them the same age as great-hearted Telemachus. I will lie down by the hollow black ship for tonight, and in the morning I will go to the great-hearted Cauconians, where a debt is owed to me, and it is neither new nor small. As for this man, since he has come to your house, send him on with a chariot and with your son, and give him horses — the fastest runners you have and the strongest."
With that the goddess grey-eyed Athena was gone, in the likeness of a sea-eagle. Astonishment fell on all of them at the sight, and the old man marvelled when he saw it with his own eyes. He took Telemachus by the hand and said to him:
"My friend, I do not think you will turn out a coward or a weakling, if the gods go with you to guide you when you are as young as this. This is none other of those who live on Olympus but the daughter of Zeus, Tritogeneia, the most glorious of maidens, who honoured your noble father too among the Argives. Queen, be gracious to me, and give a fine name to me and to my sons and to my honoured wife; and in return I will sacrifice to you a broad-browed heifer, a yearling, unbroken, that no man has yet led under the yoke. Her I will sacrifice, and I will lay gold over her horns."
That was his prayer, and Pallas Athena heard him. Then the horseman Nestor of Gerenia led the way, his sons and the husbands of his daughters, to his beautiful palace. And when they reached the king's splendid house they sat down in rows on the chairs and the high seats, and the old man mixed a bowl of sweet wine for them as they came, wine now in its eleventh year, which the housekeeper opened by loosing the string that held the lid. The old man had a bowl of it mixed, and prayed hard as he poured the offering to Athena, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis.
And when they had poured the offering and drunk as much as they wanted, they went off, each to his own house, to rest. But the horseman Nestor of Gerenia had Telemachus, the dear son of godlike Odysseus, sleep there on a corded bedstead under the echoing portico, and beside him Peisistratus with the good ash spear, a leader of men, who was the one son still unmarried in the palace. Nestor himself slept in the inner room of the high house, with the lady his wife beside him, who had made up the bed.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, the horseman Nestor of Gerenia got up from his bed and went out and sat down on the polished stones in front of his high doors, white and gleaming as if with oil. Neleus used to sit on them once, who was the equal of the gods in counsel; but fate had struck him down before this and he had gone to the house of Hades, and now Nestor of Gerenia sat on them in his turn, the guardian of the Achaeans, holding a sceptre in his hands. His sons gathered round him in a crowd as they came out of their rooms — Echephron and Stratius and Perseus and Aretus and godlike Thrasymedes — and after them, sixth, came lord Peisistratus. They brought godlike Telemachus and sat him down beside them, and the horseman Nestor of Gerenia spoke first among them.
"Quickly, my dear children, do what I want, so that I may win the goodwill of Athena first of all the gods, who came to me openly, in her own presence, at the god's rich feast. Let one of you go to the plain for a heifer, so that she comes quickly, and let the herdsman drive her; and let one go to the black ship of great-hearted Telemachus and bring all his companions, leaving only two men; and let one go and tell the goldsmith Laerces to come here and lay gold over the heifer's horns. The rest of you stay together here, and tell the women inside to get a feast ready through our splendid halls, and to fetch seats, and logs to set on either side of the altar, and to bring clear water."
So he spoke, and they all set busily to work. The heifer came from the plain; the companions of great-hearted Telemachus came from the fast, trim ship; the smith came with his bronze tools in his hands, the equipment of his trade, anvil and hammer and well-made tongs, which he worked the gold with; and Athena came to accept the sacrifice. The old man Nestor, the chariot-driver, gave the gold, and the smith prepared it and laid it over the heifer's horns, so that the goddess might be pleased when she saw the offering. Stratius and noble Echephron led the heifer by the horns, and Aretus came out of the store-room with water for their hands in a basin worked with flowers, and barley grains in a basket in his other hand; and Thrasymedes, steady in a fight, stood by holding a sharp axe to fell the heifer, and Perseus held the bowl for the blood. Then the old man Nestor, the chariot-driver, began the opening rite, washing his hands and scattering the barley, and prayed hard to Athena, cutting hair from the heifer's head as a first offering and throwing it into the fire.
When they had prayed and scattered the barley grains, Nestor's son Thrasymedes, high of heart, stepped up at once and struck. The axe cut through the sinews of the neck and loosened the strength of the heifer. Then the women raised the sacred cry, the daughters and the sons' wives and the honoured wife of Nestor, Eurydice, the eldest of the daughters of Clymenus. The men lifted the heifer's head from the wide-wayed earth and held it, and Peisistratus, a leader of men, cut the throat. When the black blood had run out of her and the life had left the bones, they cut the body up at once, and cut out the thigh-pieces in the proper order, and covered them with a double layer of fat, and laid raw flesh on top. The old man burned them on split wood and poured bright wine over them, and beside him the young men held the five-pronged forks in their hands. And when the thigh-pieces were burned up and they had tasted the inner parts, they cut the rest into pieces and spitted it and roasted it, holding the pointed spits in their hands.
Meanwhile lovely Polycaste, the youngest daughter of Nestor son of Neleus, bathed Telemachus. When she had bathed him and rubbed him richly with oil and put a fine cloak and a tunic on him, he came out of the bath looking like the immortals; and he went and sat down beside Nestor, the shepherd of the people.
Now when they had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off the spits, they sat down and feasted, and good men waited on them, pouring wine into golden cups. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, the horseman Nestor of Gerenia spoke first.
"My sons, up, and yoke horses with beautiful manes under the car for Telemachus, so that he can get on with his journey."
So he spoke, and they listened readily and obeyed, and quickly yoked the fast horses under the car. The housekeeper put bread and wine in the car, and good things such as kings brought up by Zeus are used to eating. Then Telemachus climbed into the beautiful car, and Peisistratus, son of Nestor, a leader of men, got up beside him and took the reins in his hands. He touched the horses with the whip to start them, and the pair went off willingly to the plain and left the steep citadel of Pylos behind. All day long they shook the yoke they carried on their necks.
The sun went down and all the roads grew dark. They came to Pherae, to the house of Diocles, son of Ortilochus, whose father was Alpheus. There they spent the night, and he set out the entertainment that is due to strangers. And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, they yoked the horses and mounted the inlaid car and drove out through the gateway and the echoing portico. Peisistratus touched the horses with the whip to start them, and the pair went on willingly. So they came to the wheat-bearing plain, and after that pressed on towards the end of their journey, so well did the fast horses carry them.
And the sun went down and all the roads grew dark.
They came to the hollow land of Lacedaemon with its many ravines, and drove to the palace of glorious Menelaus. They found him giving a wedding feast in his house for a great many relatives, for his son and his daughter. The girl he was sending to the son of Achilles, who breaks the ranks of men: he had first promised her and agreed to give her in the land of Troy, and now the gods were bringing the marriage about. So he was sending her off with horses and chariots to the famous city of the Myrmidons, whose king her husband was. And for his son he was bringing home from Sparta the daughter of Alector, for sturdy Megapenthes, his well-loved son, whom a slave woman had borne him; for the gods gave Helen no more children after she had borne her lovely daughter Hermione, who had the beauty of golden Aphrodite.
So they were feasting in the great high-roofed hall, the neighbours and the family of glorious Menelaus, enjoying themselves; and among them a divine singer sang to the lyre, and two tumblers whirled up and down through the middle of them as he began his song.
The two of them, prince Telemachus and the fine son of Nestor, stopped at the gateway of the palace, they and their horses. Lord Eteoneus came out and saw them, the busy attendant of glorious Menelaus, and went through the hall to bring the news to the shepherd of the people. He came up beside him and spoke winged words.
"Menelaus, brought up by Zeus, there are two strangers here, two men who look like the seed of great Zeus. Tell me, shall we unyoke their fast horses for them, or send them on to somebody else who will look after them?"
Fair-haired Menelaus was seriously annoyed, and said to him: "You were not a fool before this, Eteoneus, son of Boethous, but now you are talking nonsense like a child. The two of us ate other men's hospitality often enough before we came home here, hoping Zeus would give us some rest from suffering afterwards. Unyoke the strangers' horses, and bring the men inside to the feast."
So he spoke, and the other hurried through the hall and called the other busy attendants to come with him. They loosed the sweating horses from under the yoke and tied them at the horses' stalls and threw down spelt for them with white barley mixed in, and tilted the chariot against the shining wall by the entrance, and brought the men into the marvellous house. They stared as they went through the palace of the king whom Zeus brought up: there was a gleam as of sun or moon over the high-roofed house of glorious Menelaus. And when they had looked their fill they went into the polished baths and washed.
When the women had bathed them and rubbed them with oil and put fleecy cloaks and tunics on them, they sat down on chairs beside Menelaus, son of Atreus. A maid brought water for their hands in a lovely golden jug and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash, and drew a polished table up beside them. The housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it out, and plenty of good things with it, giving freely from her stores. A carver lifted platters of every kind of meat and set them down, and put out golden cups.
Then fair-haired Menelaus greeted the two of them. "Help yourselves to the food, and be glad. When you have eaten we will ask you who you are, since the breeding of your fathers is not lost in you: you are of the stock of men who are sceptred kings, brought up by Zeus. Common men could not father sons like you."
With that he took up roast meat in his hands and set it in front of them, the fat ox chine that had been put before him as his own portion of honour. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, Telemachus leaned his head close to the son of Nestor, so that the others would not hear, and said:
"Son of Nestor, dear to my heart, look at the flash of bronze all through these echoing halls, and the gold, and the electrum, and the silver, and the ivory. The court of Olympian Zeus inside must be something like this. There is wealth here past telling. Amazement takes hold of me looking at it."
Fair-haired Menelaus heard him as he spoke, and said to them with winged words: "Dear children, no mortal man can compete with Zeus, whose halls and possessions are everlasting. Among men, another might compete with me in wealth, or he might not. I brought my wealth home in my ships after a great deal of suffering and wide wandering, and came home in the eighth year. I wandered over Cyprus and Phoenicia and Egypt, and I came to the Ethiopians and the Sidonians and the Erembi, and to Libya, where the lambs are horned from birth — for there the ewes bear three times in the full round of the year, and neither master nor shepherd ever lacks cheese or meat or sweet milk, because the flocks give milk to the milking the whole year through.
"While I was wandering in those countries gathering a great living, another man killed my brother, secretly, when he was off his guard, through the trickery of his accursed wife. So you see I take no joy in being lord of all this wealth. You will have heard about it from your fathers, whoever they may be, because I suffered a great deal and let a stately house fall to ruin, and one stocked with a great deal of fine treasure. I wish I lived in my halls with a third of this wealth and those men were alive who died then in the broad land of Troy, far from horse-pasturing Argos.
"And even so, though I often sit in my halls weeping and grieving for all of them — one moment I ease my heart with weeping, and then I stop, because men soon have enough of the cold comfort of mourning — even so, I do not mourn for all of them as much as I mourn for one, who makes me hate sleep and food both when I think of him. No Achaean worked or endured as much as Odysseus worked and endured. And it seems his portion was to be nothing but grief, and mine to have a sorrow for him that I never forget, because he has been gone so long, and we do not know whether he is alive or dead. The old man Laertes mourns him, I suppose, and steady Penelope, and Telemachus, whom he left a new-born child in his house."
So he spoke, and roused in Telemachus the wish to weep for his father. Tears fell from his eyelids to the ground when he heard his father's name, and he held his purple cloak up in front of his eyes with both hands. Menelaus noticed, and turned it over in his mind and heart, whether to leave him to speak of his father himself, or to question him first and try him on every point.
While he was turning it over in his mind and heart, Helen came out of her fragrant high-roofed room, like Artemis of the golden arrows. Adraste came with her and set a beautifully made chair for her, and Alcippe brought a rug of soft wool, and Phylo a silver basket, which Alcandre had given her, the wife of Polybus, who lived in Thebes of Egypt, where the greatest store of wealth is laid up in men's houses. He gave Menelaus two silver baths and two tripods and ten talents of gold. And besides these, his wife gave Helen beautiful gifts of her own: a golden distaff, and a basket on wheels, of silver, with the rims finished in gold. Phylo the maid brought it and set it beside her, full of finely spun yarn, and the distaff lay across it loaded with violet-dark wool.
So Helen sat down on the chair, with a footstool below for her feet, and at once she questioned her husband about it all.
"Do we know, Menelaus, brought up by Zeus, who these men say they are who have come to our house? Shall I hide what I think, or say it? My heart tells me to say it. I never yet saw anyone so like another, man or woman — amazement takes hold of me looking at him — as this man is like the son of great-hearted Odysseus, Telemachus, whom that fighting man left a new-born child in his house, when for the sake of shameless me you Achaeans came up under the walls of Troy with fierce war in your hearts."
Then fair-haired Menelaus answered her: "I am noticing it myself now, wife, since you point out the likeness. His feet were like that, and his hands, and the glances of his eyes, and his head and the hair on it. And just now, when I was speaking of Odysseus and telling all the misery and the labour he went through for my sake, this young man let a bitter tear fall from under his brows and held his purple cloak up in front of his eyes."
Then Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him: "Menelaus, son of Atreus, brought up by Zeus, leader of armies — he is that man's son, as you say. But he is careful in his mind and ashamed in his heart, on his first coming, to make a display of forward talk in front of you, when we both take pleasure in your voice as if it were a god's. The horseman Nestor of Gerenia sent me out to come with him as his guide, because he was eager to see you, so that you might put some word or some deed in his heart. A son has a great deal of trouble in his halls when his father is gone and there is nobody else to help him, which is how it is with Telemachus now: his father is gone, and there is nobody among the people who can keep ruin away."
Then fair-haired Menelaus answered him and said: "Well, well — so the son of a man I loved has come to my house, a man who went through so much for my sake. I always thought that if he came back I would welcome him beyond all the other Argives, if Olympian Zeus, whose voice carries far, had granted the two of us a homecoming over the sea in our fast ships. I would have given him a city in Argos to live in, and built him a house, and brought him over from Ithaca with his goods and his son and all his people, clearing out one of the cities round about that are ruled by me. Then we would have been together often, here, and nothing would have kept us apart, loving each other and taking pleasure in each other, until the black cloud of death wrapped us round. But the god himself must have been jealous of that, I think, who granted no homecoming to that one unlucky man."
So he spoke, and stirred in all of them the wish to mourn. Argive Helen wept, the daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus wept, and Menelaus, son of Atreus; nor could the son of Nestor keep his eyes dry, because he was thinking of faultless Antilochus, whom the glorious son of the shining Dawn had killed. Thinking of him, he spoke winged words.
"Son of Atreus, old Nestor always used to say you were wiser than anyone, whenever we mentioned you in his halls and asked each other about you. So now, if it is at all possible, listen to me. I take no pleasure in weeping at suppertime — and besides, the early dawn will soon be here. Not that I think it any shame to weep for a mortal who has died and met his fate. This is the only due we pay to miserable mortals, to cut our hair and let a tear fall down the cheeks. A brother of mine is dead too, and not the meanest of the Argives; you probably knew him. I never met him or saw him myself, but they say Antilochus was ahead of everyone, quicker on his feet than anyone and a fighter besides."
Then fair-haired Menelaus answered him and said: "My friend, you have said everything a wise man might say or do, even a man older than you. It is the father you come from that makes you speak so sensibly. The seed of the man is easy to recognise for whom the son of Cronos spins good fortune at his marriage and at his birth — as now he has granted Nestor all his days long that he should come to a sleek old age himself in his halls, and that his sons in their turn should be wise and very brave with the spear. Let us stop this weeping that has begun and think about our supper again, and let them pour water over our hands. There will be stories in the morning too for Telemachus and me to tell each other, our fill of them."
So he spoke, and Asphalion poured water over their hands, the busy attendant of glorious Menelaus, and they put out their hands to the good food in front of them.
Then Helen, daughter of Zeus, thought of something else. Straight away she threw into the wine they were drinking a drug that quiets all pain and anger and brings forgetfulness of every trouble. Whoever swallowed it, once it was mixed in the bowl, would not let a tear fall down his cheeks all that day, not even if his mother and father lay there dead, not even if men killed his brother or his own son with the sword in front of him and his own eyes saw it. Such cunning drugs the daughter of Zeus had, and good ones, which Polydamna gave her, the wife of Thon, a woman of Egypt — for there the grain-giving earth bears the greatest store of drugs, many that heal when they are mixed and many that are deadly, and there every man is a doctor, wiser than the rest of mankind, for they are of the race of Paeeon.
Now when she had thrown the drug in and told them to pour the wine, she spoke again and said:
"Menelaus, son of Atreus, brought up by Zeus, and you here, sons of good men — Zeus gives good and bad, now to one and now to another, since he can do anything — so sit here in the halls and eat, and take pleasure in the stories, and I will tell one that suits the hour. I cannot tell or count everything, all the labours of Odysseus, who endures everything. But here is one thing that strong man did and endured in the land of the Trojans, where you Achaeans suffered so much.
"He beat himself with cruel blows, marking his own body, and threw a wretched garment round his shoulders, and in the likeness of a slave he went into the broad-wayed city of the enemy. He hid himself under the appearance of another man, a beggar, when he was nothing of the kind at the Achaean ships. In that likeness he went into the city of the Trojans, and every one of them took him for nothing. I alone recognised him under the disguise, and questioned him, and he was clever and tried to get away from me. But when I was bathing him and rubbing him with oil, and had put clothes on him and sworn a great oath not to make him known among the Trojans as Odysseus before he got back to the fast ships and the huts, then at last he told me the whole plan of the Achaeans. And after he had killed a great many Trojans with his long sword he went back to the Argives and brought back a great deal of information. Then the other Trojan women wailed aloud, but my heart was glad, because it had already turned back towards home, and I groaned for the blindness Aphrodite gave me, when she led me there from my own dear country, leaving my child and my bridal chamber and a husband who lacked nothing, either in mind or in looks."
Then fair-haired Menelaus answered her and said: "Yes, wife, everything you have said is right. I have come to know the mind and the counsel of many fighting men before now, and I have travelled over the wide earth, but I never yet saw with my own eyes a man like Odysseus, who endures everything. Here is another thing that strong man did and endured, in the carved horse, where all the leaders of the Argives were sitting, bringing death and doom to the Trojans. You came out there, and it must have been that some god told you to, who wanted to give glory to the Trojans; and godlike Deiphobus came with you. Three times you walked round the hollow ambush, feeling it with your hands, and you called the leaders of the Danaans aloud by name, making your voice like the voices of the wives of all the Argives. Now I and the son of Tydeus and noble Odysseus were sitting in the middle and heard you calling, and the two of us were desperate to get up and come out, or else to answer at once from inside; but Odysseus held us back and stopped us, however much we wanted to. Then all the other sons of the Achaeans kept quiet, and only Anticlus was determined to answer you; but Odysseus shut his mouth with his strong hands, and saved all the Achaeans, and held him like that until Pallas Athena led you away."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Menelaus, son of Atreus, brought up by Zeus, leader of armies, it is all the harder to bear; because none of that kept miserable destruction away from him, not even though the heart inside him had been made of iron. But come, send us to bed, so that we can lie down now and take our pleasure in sweet sleep."
So he spoke, and Argive Helen told her women to set bedsteads under the portico and to lay fine purple blankets on them and spread covers over the top, and to put fleecy cloaks on those to wear. So the maids went out of the hall with torches in their hands and made up the beds, and a herald led the guests out. So they slept there in the forecourt of the palace, prince Telemachus and the fine son of Nestor; but the son of Atreus slept in the inner room of the high house, and long-robed Helen lay beside him, loveliest of women.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, Menelaus got up from his bed, good at the war-cry, and put on his clothes. He slung his sharp sword over his shoulder, bound the fine sandals under his shining feet, and came out of his room looking like a god. He sat down beside Telemachus and said to him:
"What need has brought you here, prince Telemachus, to lovely Lacedaemon over the broad back of the sea? Is it public business, or your own? Tell me the truth of it."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Menelaus, son of Atreus, brought up by Zeus, leader of armies, I came in case you could tell me some news of my father. My house is being eaten up and my rich lands ruined. My house is full of men who are enemies, who go on killing my crowding sheep and my slow-moving cattle — my mother's suitors, arrogant past bearing. That is why I have come to your knees now: in case you are willing to tell me about his miserable death, whether you happened to see it with your own eyes or heard the story of his wanderings from someone else. His mother bore him to more sorrow than any other man. Do not soften it out of pity for me or out of kindness. Tell me exactly how you came to see him. I beg you, if my father, noble Odysseus, ever promised you anything in word or deed and carried it out in the land of the Trojans, where you Achaeans suffered so much — remember it now, and tell me the truth."
Fair-haired Menelaus was seriously annoyed, and said to him: "The disgrace of it — that men with no courage in them should want to lie in the bed of a man of such a heart. It is as when a hind puts her new-born suckling fawns to sleep in the thicket lair of a strong lion, and goes off over the mountain slopes and the grassy valleys looking for pasture, and then the lion comes back to his lair and lets loose a cruel doom on the two of them. That is how Odysseus will let loose a cruel doom on these men. Father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo — I wish that Odysseus might come among the suitors with the strength he had that time in well-built Lesbos, when he stood up and wrestled a match with Philomeleides and threw him hard, and all the Achaeans were delighted. If he came in that strength, every one of them would find a quick death and a bitter courtship.
"But as for what you are asking me and begging me about, I will not turn aside and talk of other things, or deceive you. Of everything the unerring old man of the sea told me, I will not hide or keep back one word.
"In Egypt the gods held me back, eager as I was to get here, because I did not sacrifice the full hecatombs to them; and the gods always want men to remember what they have ordered. Now there is an island in the surging sea in front of Egypt, and men call it Pharos, as far off as a hollow ship runs in a whole day when a shrill wind blows fair behind her. There is a harbour there with good anchorage, where men launch their trim ships out to sea when they have drawn their supply of dark water. For twenty days the gods kept me there, and the winds that blow over the deep never once got up, the winds that speed men's ships over the broad back of the sea. And by now all my stores would have been spent, and my men's strength with them, if one of the gods had not pitied me and saved me — Eidothea, daughter of mighty Proteus, the old man of the sea, whose heart I had moved above all others.
"She met me wandering alone, away from my companions, who were always roaming about the island fishing with bent hooks, because hunger was pinching their bellies. She came close to me and said:
"'Are you as foolish as this, stranger, and as slack in the wits? Or are you slack on purpose, and enjoying your suffering? You have been shut up on this island so long, and can find no sign of getting out, and your companions' hearts are failing them.'
"So she spoke, and I answered her: 'I will speak out and tell you, whichever of the goddesses you are, that I am not shut up here of my own will. I must have sinned somehow against the immortals who hold the wide sky. But tell me — because the gods know everything — which of the immortals has me in chains here and has blocked my road, and tell me about my homecoming, how I am to go over the teeming water.'
"So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess answered at once: 'Then I will tell you plainly, stranger. The unerring old man of the sea comes here, immortal Proteus of Egypt, who knows the depths of every sea and is the servant of Poseidon. He is my father, they say, who begot me. If you could somehow lie in wait and catch him, he will tell you your road and the length of your journey, and about your homecoming, how you are to go over the teeming water. And he will tell you too, if you like, you whom Zeus brought up, what harm and what good has been done in your halls while you have been away on your long and miserable road.'
"So she spoke, and I answered her: 'Work out yourself, then, how to lie in wait for the divine old man, in case he sees me first and knows my purpose and avoids me. A god is hard for a mortal man to master.'
"So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess answered at once: 'Then I will tell you plainly, stranger. When the sun has reached the middle of the sky, the unerring old man of the sea comes out of the water at the breath of the west wind, hidden under the dark ripple. And when he has come out he lies down to sleep in the hollow caves, and round about him the seals sleep in a herd, the brood of the lovely daughter of the sea, coming up out of the grey water, and bitter is the smell they breathe of the depths of the sea. I will bring you there at daybreak and lay you all in a row; so choose three of your companions carefully, the best you have in your well-benched ships.
"'And I will tell you all the old man's wizard tricks. First he will count the seals and go over them; and when he has told them all off by fives and looked at them, he will lie down in the middle of them, the way a shepherd does among his flocks. As soon as you see him settled, then fill your hearts with strength and courage and hold him there, however hard he struggles and strains to get away. Try he will, and he will turn himself into every shape there is of everything that moves on the earth, and into water, and into blazing fire. Hold him without flinching and grip him all the harder. But when at last he speaks of his own accord and questions you in the shape you saw him lie down in, then stop your force, hero, and let the old man go, and ask him which of the gods is angry with you, and about your homecoming, how you are to go over the teeming water.'
"With that she plunged under the surging sea, and I went to my ships where they stood on the sand, and my heart turned over a great deal darkly as I went. But when I had come down to the ship and the sea, and we had got our supper ready, and immortal night had come on, then we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea. And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, I went along the shore of the broad-wayed sea, praying hard to the gods; and I took three of my companions with me, the ones I trusted most for any adventure.
"Meanwhile she had plunged under the broad breast of the sea and brought up the skins of four seals from the deep, all newly flayed, and she planned a trick against her father. She had scooped out lairs in the sand of the sea and sat waiting; and we came up close to her, and she made us lie down in a row and threw a skin over each of us. Then our ambush would have been the worst thing imaginable, because the deadly stench of the sea-bred seals distressed us horribly — who would lie down beside a beast of the sea? — but she saved us herself and thought of a great remedy. She brought ambrosia of a very sweet smell and put it under each man's nose, and killed the stink of the animal.
"So all morning we waited with steady hearts, and the seals came out of the sea in crowds. They lay down in rows along the shore of the sea, and at noon the old man came out of the sea and found his fat seals, and went over them all and counted their number. He counted us first among the creatures, and his heart never guessed there was a trick; and then he lay down himself. At that we rushed on him with a shout and threw our arms round him, and the old man did not forget his crafty tricks. First he turned into a bearded lion, and then into a snake, and a leopard, and a huge boar; then he turned into running water, and into a tall leafy tree. But we held on without flinching, with steady hearts.
"And when at last the old man grew tired, skilled in wizardry as he was, he questioned me and said: 'Which of the gods took counsel with you, son of Atreus, so that you could lie in wait for me and take me against my will? What do you need?'
"So he spoke, and I answered him: 'You know, old man — why do you try to put me off with that question? — how long I have been shut up on this island, and can find no sign of getting out, and my heart is failing inside me. Tell me — because the gods know everything — which of the immortals has me in chains here and has blocked my road, and tell me about my homecoming, how I am to go over the teeming water.'
"So I spoke, and he answered at once: 'You ought to have made fine offerings to Zeus and the other gods before you embarked, so that you might come to your own country as quickly as possible, sailing over the wine-dark sea. It is not your fate to see your friends and reach your well-built house and your own country before you have gone once more to the waters of the Aegyptus, the heaven-fed river, and made holy sacrifices to the immortal gods who hold the wide sky. Then at last the gods will grant you the journey you want.'
"So he spoke, and my spirit broke inside me, because he was telling me to go back over the misty water to Egypt, a long and weary way. Even so I answered him: 'I will do all of it, old man, exactly as you tell me. But tell me this now, and tell me the truth. Did all the Achaeans come home unhurt in their ships, all the ones Nestor and I left behind when we set out from Troy? Or did any of them die a cruel death on board his ship, or in the arms of his friends, when he had wound up the whole skein of the war?'
"So I spoke, and he answered at once: 'Son of Atreus, why do you ask me this? You have no business knowing it, or learning what is in my mind; and I do not think you will be long without tears once you have heard it all. Many of them were killed and many were left. Two leaders only of the bronze-coated Achaeans died on the way home — as for the fighting, you were there yourself — and one, I think, is still alive, and held back on the wide sea.
"'Ajax was lost among his long-oared ships. Poseidon drove him first onto the great rocks of Gyrae, and saved him out of the sea; and he would have escaped his doom, hated as he was by Athena, if he had not spoken a boastful word in the great blindness of his heart. He declared that he had got clear of the great gulf of the sea in spite of the gods. Poseidon heard him boasting, and at once took his trident in his mighty hands and struck the rock of Gyrae and split it apart. One part stayed where it was, and the broken part fell into the sea — the part Ajax had been sitting on when his heart was so blinded — and it carried him down into the boundless surging deep. So he died there, when he had drunk the salt water.
"'Your brother escaped the fates, indeed, and got clear of them in his hollow ships, because queenly Hera saved him. But when he was about to reach the steep height of Malea, then the storm wind caught him up and carried him over the teeming water, groaning heavily, to the edge of the country where Thyestes once lived, and where now his son Aegisthus lived. But when a safe homecoming showed itself even from there, and the gods turned the wind round so that it blew fair, and they reached home, then Agamemnon set foot on his own land rejoicing, and took hold of his land and kissed it, and the hot tears streamed from his eyes, because the sight of his country was welcome to him.
"'Now a watchman saw him from his post, whom sly Aegisthus had taken and set there, promising him two talents of gold as a reward; and he had been keeping guard for a year, in case Agamemnon should get past him unseen and remember his furious strength. He went to the palace to bring the news to the shepherd of the people, and Aegisthus at once planned a treacherous stroke. He picked twenty men, the best in the country, and set them in ambush, and on the other side of the hall he gave orders for a feast to be got ready. Then he went with chariot and horses to fetch Agamemnon, shepherd of the people, with a cowardly thing in his mind. He brought him up knowing nothing of his doom, and when he had feasted him he killed him, the way a man kills an ox at the stall. And not one of the companions of the son of Atreus was left, of all who followed him, and not one of Aegisthus's men: they were all killed in the halls.'
"So he spoke, and my spirit broke inside me, and I sat down on the sand and wept, and my heart had no more wish to live and see the light of the sun. But when I had had my fill of weeping and writhing on the ground, the unerring old man of the sea said to me: 'Do not weep any longer, son of Atreus, for so long a time without stopping; we shall find no help in it. Rather, try with all the speed you have to get to your own country. Either you will find Aegisthus alive, or Orestes may have got in ahead of you and killed him, and you may come in on his funeral feast.'
"So he spoke, and my heart and spirit were warmed with comfort again inside me, in spite of my grief, and I spoke to him with winged words: 'These two I know of now. Name the third, the one who is still alive and held back on the wide sea — or dead, it may be. I want to hear it, in spite of my grief.'
"So I spoke, and he answered at once: 'It is the son of Laertes, whose home is in Ithaca. I saw him on an island, shedding big tears, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who keeps him there by force; and he cannot come to his own country, because he has no ships with oars at hand and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea. But as for you, Menelaus, brought up by Zeus, it is not ordained that you should die and meet your fate in horse-pasturing Argos. The immortals will carry you to the Elysian plain at the ends of the earth, where fair-haired Rhadamanthus lives, and where living is easiest for men. There is no snow there, and no heavy storm, and it never rains, but Ocean always sends up the blasts of the shrill west wind to cool men; because you have Helen for a wife, and in their eyes you are the husband of the daughter of Zeus.'
"With that he plunged under the surging sea, and I went to my ships with my godlike companions, and my heart turned over a great deal darkly as I went. But when I had come down to the ship and the sea, and we had got our supper ready, and immortal night had come on, then we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea. And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, first of all we drew our ships down to the bright sea, and set the masts and the sails in the trim ships, and the men went aboard and sat down at the benches, and sitting in their order struck the grey sea with their oars.
"So I sailed back to the waters of the Aegyptus, the heaven-fed river, and moored my ships there and made the full sacrifices. And when I had stopped the anger of the gods who live for ever, I heaped up a mound for Agamemnon, so that his fame might never be put out. When I had finished that I set out for home, and the immortals gave me a fair wind and brought me quickly to my own dear country.
"But come now, stay in my halls until the eleventh or the twelfth day. Then I will send you off with honour and give you splendid gifts: three horses and a well-polished car. And besides that I will give you a beautiful cup, so that you can pour offerings to the immortal gods and remember me all your days."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Son of Atreus, do not keep me here a long time. I would be content to sit in your house for a year without any longing for home or parents coming on me — the pleasure I take in listening to your stories and your talk is extraordinary. But my companions are already fretting in sacred Pylos, and you are keeping me here a long while. And whatever gift you would give me, let it be some treasure. I will not take horses to Ithaca; I will leave them here for you to enjoy, since you are lord of a wide plain where there is lotus in plenty, and galingale, and wheat and spelt, and broad-eared white barley. In Ithaca there are no wide tracks and no meadowland at all. It is a pasture for goats, and pleasanter than one that pastures horses. Not one of the islands that lean on the sea is fit for driving horses or rich in meadows, and Ithaca least of all."
So he spoke, and Menelaus smiled, good at the war-cry, and stroked him with his hand and said to him: "You are of good blood, dear child, to talk like that. So I will change the gifts; I can well enough. Of all the gifts stored as treasure in my house, I will give you the finest and the most valuable. I will give you a well-made mixing bowl. It is all of silver, with the rims finished in gold, the work of Hephaestus; and the warrior Phaedimus, king of the Sidonians, gave it to me when his house sheltered me on my way there, and now I have a mind to give it to you."
So they talked to each other, and meanwhile the banqueters were coming to the palace of the king. They drove up sheep and brought strengthening wine, and their wives with their beautiful veils sent them bread. So they were busy about the feast in the halls.
Meanwhile the suitors in front of the palace of Odysseus were amusing themselves, throwing the discus and the javelin on the levelled ground, in their usual insolence of heart. Antinous and godlike Eurymachus were sitting there, the leaders of the suitors, who were far the best of them in ability. Noemon, son of Phronius, came up to them and put a question to Antinous.
"Antinous, do we know at all, or not, when Telemachus is coming back from sandy Pylos? He has gone off with a ship of mine, and I need her to cross over to spacious Elis, where I have twelve brood mares with sturdy mules still unbroken at the teat. I want to drive one of them off and break him in."
So he spoke, and their hearts were astonished, because they had not supposed Telemachus had gone to Neleian Pylos, but that he was out there somewhere on his lands, among the flocks or with the swineherd. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said to him:
"Tell me the truth: when did he go, and which young men went with him? Were they picked men of Ithaca, or his own hired men and slaves? He would be capable of managing even that. And tell me this truly, so that I know for certain. Did he take the black ship from you by force and against your will, or did you give it him freely of your own accord, because he asked you?"
Then Noemon, son of Phronius, answered him: "I gave it him freely myself. What else could any man do, when a man like that, with his heart full of trouble, comes asking? It would be hard to refuse the gift. The young men who went with him are the best in the country after ourselves; and I noticed one going aboard as their leader — Mentor, or a god who was in every way like Mentor. But that is what puzzles me. I saw noble Mentor here yesterday at daybreak, and yet he had embarked for Pylos before that."
With that he went off to his father's house, and the proud hearts of those two were angry. They made the suitors sit down and leave off their games, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke among them, in a rage. His black heart was full of it, and his eyes were like blazing fire.
"The insolence of it — a great piece of work has been carried through, this journey of Telemachus, and we thought he would never get it done. Off the boy goes, in spite of all of us here, without a word — launching a ship and picking the best men in the country. He will be starting to be our ruin before long. But may Zeus destroy his strength, to his own undoing, before he reaches the full measure of manhood. Come, give me a fast ship and twenty men, so that I can lie in wait for him and watch as he passes in the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos. This voyage of his after his father will come to a sorry end."
So he spoke, and they all praised his words and told him to get on with it; and they got up at once and went to the house of Odysseus.
Now Penelope was not long without knowledge of the plans the suitors were plotting in the depths of their hearts, because the herald Medon told her. He had heard what they were deciding, standing outside the court while they were weaving their plot inside. He went through the hall to bring the news to Penelope, and as he stepped over the threshold she spoke to him and said:
"Herald, why have the lordly suitors sent you out? To tell the women of godlike Odysseus to stop their work and get a feast ready for them? I wish they would stop courting and stop gathering here, and that this were the last meal they ever ate — you men who are always crowding in here and wasting so much of the living, the wealth of clear-headed Telemachus. Surely you never listened, in the old days when you were children, when your fathers told you what kind of man Odysseus was among the men who fathered you: how he did no wrong to any man in the country, in word or in deed, though that is the way with kings, who hate one man and love another. He never did anything unjust to anyone at all. But your minds and your unseemly behaviour are there for anyone to see, and there is no gratitude afterwards for good deeds done."
Then Medon, who had good sense, answered her: "I wish, my queen, that this were the worst of it. But the suitors are planning something far greater and far more terrible, which I pray the son of Cronos never brings about. They intend to kill Telemachus with the sharp sword on his way home. He has gone after news of his father to sacred Pylos and to lovely Lacedaemon."
So he spoke, and her knees went slack where she sat and her heart melted. For a long time she could not speak; her eyes filled with tears and the flow of her voice was checked. At last she answered him and said:
"Herald, why has my son gone? He had no need to go aboard the fast-going ships, which serve men as horses of the deep and cross the wide waters of the sea. Was it so that not even his name should be left among men?"
Then Medon, who had good sense, answered her: "I do not know whether some god drove him to it, or whether his own heart moved him to go to Pylos, to learn either of his father's homecoming or what fate he met."
So he spoke, and went off through the house of Odysseus; and a cloud of soul-consuming grief came down on her. She had no heart left to sit on any of the many seats in the room, but sank down on the threshold of her beautifully made chamber, moaning pitifully, and all round her the women wailed, all of them in the house, young and old alike. Penelope spoke among them, sobbing.
"Hear me, my friends. The Olympian has given me sorrow beyond all the women who were born and brought up with me. Long ago I lost my noble husband with the lion heart, who stood out among the Danaans in every kind of excellence, my noble husband, whose fame goes wide through Hellas and the middle of Argos. And now the storm winds have swept my well-loved son away out of the halls without a word, and I never heard he was going. Cruel, all of you — not one of you thought to rouse me out of my bed, though in your hearts you knew perfectly well when he went aboard the hollow black ship. If I had known he was thinking of this journey, he would have stayed here, however eager he was to be gone, or he would have left me dead in the halls.
"Now let one of you hurry and call old Dolius here, my servant, whom my father gave me before I came here, and who keeps my garden with all its trees. Let him go at once and sit down beside Laertes and tell him all this. It may be Laertes can weave some plan in his heart, and come out and make his case with tears to the people, who mean to destroy his line and the line of godlike Odysseus."
Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered her: "Dear lady, you can kill me with the pitiless bronze or let me live on in the house, but I am not going to keep it from you. I knew all this and gave him what he told me to, bread and sweet wine. But he made me swear a great oath not to tell you until at least the twelfth day came, or you missed him yourself and heard he was gone, so that you should not spoil your lovely face with weeping. Now wash, and put clean clothes on, and go up to your room with your women and pray to Athena, the daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis; she may save him even from death. And do not trouble an old man who has trouble enough. I do not think the family of the son of Arceisius is altogether hated by the blessed gods. There will still be one of them, I think, to hold the high-roofed halls and the rich fields lying far off."
So she spoke, and quieted Penelope's laments and stopped her eyes from weeping. She washed and put clean clothes on and went up to her room with her women, and put barley grains in a basket, and prayed to Athena.
"Hear me, child of Zeus who holds the aegis, unwearied one. If ever Odysseus of the many tricks burned fat thigh-pieces of heifer or ewe to you in his halls, remember them now, I beg you, and save my dear son, and keep the suitors off him in their wicked insolence."
With that she raised the sacred cry, and the goddess heard her prayer.
But the suitors broke into uproar through the shadowy halls, and one of the arrogant young men would say: "Our queen, courted by so many, is certainly getting our marriage ready — and she does not know at all that her son has been marked for death."
That is how one of them talked; but they did not know how these things were going to go. Then Antinous spoke to the company and said: "You fools, keep off this high talk, all of you alike, in case somebody reports what you say inside the house. Come, let us get up quietly like this and put into effect the plan that pleased every one of us."
So he spoke, and chose the twenty best men, and they went off to the fast ship and the shore of the sea. First they drew the ship down to deep water and set the mast and sail in the black ship, and fitted the oars in the leather thole-straps, all in their order, and spread the white sail; and proud attendants brought them their weapons. They moored the ship well out in the roadstead and went ashore themselves, and there they took their supper and waited for the evening to come.
But wise Penelope lay up in her room, touching no food, tasting neither meat nor drink, turning over whether her faultless son would escape death or be killed by the insolent suitors. As a lion is seized with fear and broods in the middle of a crowd of men when they are drawing their cunning ring about him, so she was turning it over when sweet sleep came on her. She sank back and slept, and every joint in her went slack.
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena thought of something else. She made a phantom and gave it the form of a woman, Iphthime, the daughter of great-hearted Icarius, whom Eumelus had married, whose home was in Pherae. And she sent it to the house of godlike Odysseus, to Penelope in the middle of her wailing and crying, to tell her to stop weeping and tearful lamenting. It passed into the room by the thong of the bolt and stood over her head and said to her:
"Are you asleep, Penelope, with your heart so stricken? The gods who live at their ease do not allow you to weep or be distressed, since your son is going to come back after all. He is no sinner in the eyes of the gods."
Then wise Penelope answered her, slumbering very sweetly at the gates of dreams: "Why have you come here, sister? You never used to come before, because your home is a long way off. And you tell me to stop grieving and to stop the many pains that distress me in my mind and heart. Long ago I lost my noble husband with the lion heart, who stood out among the Danaans in every kind of excellence, my noble husband, whose fame goes wide through Hellas and the middle of Argos. And now my well-loved son has gone off in a hollow ship, a mere child, who knows nothing of hardship or of the gatherings of men. I grieve for him even more than for the other one, and I tremble for him, and I am afraid something will happen to him, either in the country he has gone to or on the sea. There are a great many enemies plotting against him, eager to kill him before he comes back to his own country."
Then the dim phantom answered her and said: "Take heart, and do not be too much afraid in your mind. There is such a guide going with him as other men have often begged to have stand beside them, because she has the power — Pallas Athena. And she pities you in your grief. It is she who has sent me out to tell you this."
Then wise Penelope answered her again: "If you are indeed a god, and have heard the voice of a god, come, tell me about that unlucky man too — whether he is still alive and sees the light of the sun, or whether he is dead already and in the house of Hades."
And the dim phantom answered her and said: "About him I cannot speak at length, whether he is alive or dead. It is a bad thing to speak words as empty as wind."
With that the phantom slipped away by the bolt of the door into the breath of the winds. And the daughter of Icarius started up out of her sleep, and her heart was warmed with comfort that so clear a vision had come speeding to her in the dark of the night.
But the suitors embarked and sailed over the watery roads, with utter murder for Telemachus in their hearts. There is a rocky island in the middle of the sea, halfway between Ithaca and rugged Samos — Asteris, not large, but there is a harbour in it where ships can lie, with an entrance on either side. That is where the Achaeans waited, lying in ambush for Telemachus.
Dawn rose from her bed beside lordly Tithonus, to bring light to the immortals and to mortal men. And the gods were sitting down to council, and among them Zeus who thunders on high, whose strength is greatest. Athena was telling them the many troubles of Odysseus, calling them to mind, because it disturbed her that he was staying in the nymph's house.
"Father Zeus, and you other blessed gods who live for ever — from now on let no sceptred king be deliberately kind and gentle, or take any care for what is right in his mind. Let him be harsh, always, and do injustice, seeing that nobody remembers godlike Odysseus, among the people he was lord over, and he was gentle as a father. He is on an island suffering terribly, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who keeps him there by force; and he cannot get back to his own land, because he has no ships with oars at hand and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea. And now on top of that they mean to kill his well-loved son on his way home; for he has gone after news of his father to sacred Pylos and to lovely Lacedaemon."
Then Zeus who gathers the clouds answered her and said: "My child, what a thing to let past your teeth. Did you not plan this yourself — that Odysseus should take his revenge on those men when he came? As for Telemachus, guide him with your own skill, since you can, so that he reaches his own country entirely unhurt, and the suitors come back in their ship with nothing accomplished."
He spoke, and said to Hermes, his dear son: "Hermes, since you are our messenger at other times, go now and tell the nymph with the lovely hair what we have firmly decided: the homecoming of Odysseus, who endures everything. He is to go back with no guidance from gods or from mortal men, but on a raft bound firm, suffering as he goes, and on the twentieth day he is to come to deep-soiled Scheria, the land of the Phaeacians, who are close kin to the gods. They will honour him heartily, as if he were a god, and send him in a ship to his own dear country, after giving him stores of bronze and gold and clothing, more than Odysseus would ever have brought back from Troy if he had come home unhurt with his fair share of the plunder. That is how it is his fate to see his friends and reach his high-roofed house and his own country."
So he spoke, and the messenger, the slayer of Argus, did not fail to listen. Straight away he bound the beautiful sandals under his feet, immortal and golden, which carry him over the water and over the endless land as fast as a gust of wind. And he took up the wand with which he lulls the eyes of whoever he likes to sleep, and wakes others again out of their slumber. With this in his hand the strong slayer of Argus flew.
He stepped onto Pieria out of the upper air and swooped down on the sea, and then went skimming over the wave like a bird, the cormorant, which hunts fish over the dreadful gulfs of the restless sea and wets its thick feathers in the salt water. That was how Hermes rode over the crowding waves.
But when he reached the island, which lay far off, he came out of the violet sea onto the land, and went on until he came to a great cave, where the nymph with the lovely hair lived; and he found her inside. A great fire was burning on the hearth, and the smell of split cedar and juniper burning carried far over the island; and inside she was singing in a sweet voice as she went to and fro at the loom, weaving with a golden shuttle.
Round the cave a thick wood was growing, alder and poplar and sweet-smelling cypress, where long-winged birds nested, owls and falcons and chattering sea-crows, who do their business on the sea. And right there about the hollow cave a garden vine ran trailing, in the pride of its season, thick with clusters. And four springs in a row were flowing with bright water, close beside one another, turned one this way and one that. And soft meadows of violets and parsley were in bloom all round. Even an immortal coming there might stand and stare and take delight in it; and the messenger, the slayer of Argus, stood there and stared.
But when he had marvelled at it all in his heart, he went into the wide cave. Calypso, the beautiful goddess, knew him at once when she saw him face to face; the immortal gods are not strangers to one another, even when one of them lives far away. But he did not find great-hearted Odysseus inside, because he was sitting on the shore, as he always did, wearing out his soul with tears and groans and grief, looking out over the restless sea and weeping.
And Calypso, the beautiful goddess, questioned Hermes, after she had made him sit down on a bright shining chair.
"Why have you come here, Hermes of the golden wand, an honoured guest and a welcome one? You have not been in the habit of coming before. Say what is in your mind. My heart tells me to do it, if I can do it, and if it is a thing that can be done. But come further in and let me set something before you."
With that the goddess set a table beside him loaded with ambrosia, and mixed the red nectar. So the messenger, the slayer of Argus, drank and ate. And when he had dined and satisfied himself with food, he answered her and said:
"You question me on my coming, a goddess questioning a god, and I will tell you the truth, since you ask me. It was Zeus who told me to come here, against my will. Who would choose to run across such a stretch of salt water, past all telling? And there is no city of mortals near who make sacrifice to the gods and choice hecatombs. But there is no possible way for any other god to get round the will of Zeus who holds the aegis, or make it come to nothing.
"He says there is a man here with you who is the most wretched of all those fighters who fought round Priam's city for nine years, and in the tenth year sacked the city and set out for home. On the way they sinned against Athena, and she sent an evil wind and long waves against them. There all the rest of his fine companions died, and as for him, the wind and the wave carried him and brought him here. Zeus now tells you to send him on his way as quickly as possible. It is not his fate to die here, far from his friends. It is still his lot to see his friends and to reach his high-roofed house and his own country."
So he spoke, and Calypso, the beautiful goddess, shuddered, and spoke to him with winged words.
"You are cruel, you gods, and jealous beyond anything, since you grudge it to goddesses to sleep with men openly, if any of us takes a mortal for a lover. So when rosy-fingered Dawn took Orion for herself, you gods who live at your ease grudged it to her, until in Ortygia chaste Artemis of the golden throne attacked him with her gentle arrows and killed him. So too, when Demeter with the lovely hair gave way to her feeling and lay in love with Iasion in the thrice-ploughed fallow field, Zeus did not stay ignorant of it long, but struck him with his bright thunderbolt and killed him. And now you grudge it to me in the same way, you gods, that a mortal man should stay with me.
"I saved him when he was astride the keel and all alone, because Zeus had struck his fast ship with his bright thunderbolt and smashed it in the middle of the wine-dark sea. There all the rest of his fine companions died, and as for him, the wind and the wave carried him and brought him here. I welcomed him kindly and gave him food, and said I would make him immortal and ageless all his days. But since there is no possible way for any other god to get round the will of Zeus who holds the aegis, or make it come to nothing, let him go, if Zeus orders it and commands it, over the restless sea. But I will not be the one to see him off, because I have no ships with oars at hand and no men to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea. Still, I will advise him willingly and hide nothing, so that he can get back to his own country entirely unhurt."
Then the messenger, the slayer of Argus, answered her: "Send him off now, then, and beware of the anger of Zeus, in case he grows angry with you and takes it out on you afterwards."
With that the strong slayer of Argus went away, and the queenly nymph went to great-hearted Odysseus, now that she had heard the message of Zeus. She found him sitting on the shore, and his eyes were never dry of tears, and his sweet life was ebbing away as he mourned for his homecoming, since the nymph no longer pleased him. At night he did sleep beside her in the hollow caves, because he had to, unwilling beside a willing woman; but by day he would sit on the rocks and the sands, wearing out his soul with tears and groans and grief, and look out over the restless sea and weep.
Coming up close to him, the beautiful goddess spoke to him. "Unhappy man, do not go on grieving here, and do not let your life waste away. I am ready now to send you off. Come, cut long beams with the axe and make a broad raft, and fix cross-planks on it for a deck well up above, to carry you over the misty water. And I will put bread and water and red wine in it to please your heart and keep hunger off you. And I will put clothes on you and send a fair wind behind you, so that you get back to your own country entirely unhurt — if it is the will of the gods who hold the wide sky, who are stronger than I am both to plan and to bring about."
So she spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus shuddered, and spoke to her with winged words. "You are planning something else here, goddess, and not my sending off, when you tell me to cross the great gulf of the sea on a raft — a dreadful and hard crossing, which not even the trim fast-running ships get over, glad as they are of a wind from Zeus. I will not set foot on a raft against your will, unless you will bring yourself, goddess, to swear a great oath that you are not plotting some fresh mischief against me to my harm."
So he spoke, and Calypso, the beautiful goddess, smiled and stroked him with her hand and said to him: "You are a rogue, and no fool either, to have thought of saying such a thing. Let the earth be my witness in this, then, and the wide sky above, and the down-flowing water of the Styx, which is the greatest and most dreadful oath for the blessed gods, that I am not plotting any fresh mischief against you to your harm. What I have in mind, and what I mean to advise, is what I would work out for myself if such a need came on me. My mind is a fair one, and the heart in this breast of mine is not made of iron: it feels pity."
With that the beautiful goddess led the way quickly, and he followed in the goddess's footsteps. And they came to the hollow cave, the goddess and the man, and he sat down on the chair Hermes had got up from, and the nymph set out every kind of food for him to eat and drink, the kind mortal men eat. She herself sat down facing godlike Odysseus, and the women set ambrosia and nectar in front of her. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them. And when they had had their fill of food and drink, Calypso, the beautiful goddess, spoke first.
"Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks — is it home to your own dear country that you want to go, straight away, now? Well, even so, I wish you well. But if you knew in your heart the full measure of suffering it is your fate to fill up before you reach your own country, you would stay here and keep this house with me and be immortal — for all your longing to see your wife, whom you want day after day. I do not think I am the lesser of us in looks or in build. It is not seemly for mortal women to compete with immortals in shape or beauty."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Great goddess, do not be angry with me over this. I know perfectly well myself that wise Penelope is less to look at than you, in beauty and in build. She is mortal, and you are immortal and ageless. But even so I want, and I long day after day, to get home and see the day of my return. And if some god strikes me again on the wine-dark sea, I will endure it; I have a heart in my breast that endures affliction. I have suffered a great deal already and worked hard, on the waves and in the war. Let this be added to that."
So he spoke, and the sun went down and the dark came on. And the two of them went into the innermost recess of the hollow cave and took their pleasure in love, staying beside one another.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, Odysseus put on a cloak and a tunic, and the nymph dressed herself in a long white robe, finely woven and beautiful, and put a fine golden girdle round her waist and a veil on her head. Then she set about planning the sending-off of great-hearted Odysseus. She gave him a great axe that fitted his hands, an axe of bronze, sharpened on both sides, with a beautiful olive-wood handle fastened firmly in it; and after that she gave him a polished adze. Then she led the way to the far edge of the island where tall trees were standing, alder and poplar and fir, reaching up to the sky, long dead and well seasoned, which would float lightly for him.
And when she had shown him where the tall trees grew, Calypso, the beautiful goddess, went home, and he set to cutting timber, and the work went fast. He felled twenty trees in all and trimmed them with the axe, and then smoothed them all skilfully and made them straight to the line. Meanwhile Calypso, the beautiful goddess, brought him augers, and he bored all the pieces and fitted them to one another and hammered it together with pegs and joints. As wide as a man well skilled in carpentry marks out the curve of the hull of a broad-beamed freighter, that wide did Odysseus make his raft. He set up the deck-beams, bolting them to the close-set ribs, and worked on, and finished the raft with long gunwales. He set a mast in it and a yard-arm fitted to it, and made himself a steering-oar besides, to steer with. Then he fenced the whole thing in from stem to stern with willow withes, to keep the waves off, and piled brush on top. Meanwhile Calypso, the beautiful goddess, brought him cloth to make a sail, and he made that skilfully too, and made the braces and halyards and sheets fast in the raft, and then forced it down into the bright sea with levers.
The fourth day came and all his work was done, and on the fifth beautiful Calypso sent him off from the island, after she had bathed him and dressed him in sweet-smelling clothes. The goddess put a skin of dark wine on the raft, and another, a big one, of water, and provisions in a bag, and plenty of good things in it to please his heart, and she sent out a gentle warm wind. Noble Odysseus spread his sail to the breeze gladly, and sat and steered his raft skilfully with the steering-oar, and no sleep fell on his eyelids as he watched the Pleiades, and late-setting Bootes, and the Bear, which men also call the Wain, which always turns where it is and keeps watch on Orion, and alone has no share in the baths of Ocean. Calypso, the beautiful goddess, had told him to keep that star on his left as he sailed over the sea.
So for seventeen days he sailed over the sea, and on the eighteenth the shadowy mountains of the land of the Phaeacians appeared, at the point where it lay nearest to him; and it looked like a shield in the misty water.
But the glorious earth-shaker, coming back from the Ethiopians, saw him far off from the mountains of the Solymi, because Odysseus came into his sight sailing over the sea. He grew angrier still in his heart, and shook his head, and said to himself:
"So the gods have changed their minds about Odysseus while I was among the Ethiopians. And there he is, close to the land of the Phaeacians, where it is his fate to get clear of the great chain of misery that has come on him. But even yet, I think, I shall drive him to his fill of trouble."
With that he gathered the clouds, and took his trident in his hands and stirred up the sea, and roused the blasts of every kind of wind, and hid land and sea alike in cloud; and night rushed down out of the sky. The east wind and the south wind clashed together, and the hard-blowing west wind and the north wind, born in the bright sky, rolling a huge wave before it.
Then the knees of Odysseus went slack and his heart melted, and in his distress he said to his own great spirit: "Wretch that I am — what is going to happen to me at the end of it? I am afraid everything the goddess said was true, when she told me that on the sea, before I reached my own country, I should fill up my measure of suffering. All of it is happening now. Look how Zeus is covering the wide sky with clouds and has stirred up the sea, and the blasts of every kind of wind sweep down on me. Now my destruction is certain.
"Three times blessed those Danaans, four times blessed, who died long ago in the wide land of Troy doing what the sons of Atreus wanted. I wish I had died and met my fate that day when the crowds of Trojans were throwing bronze-tipped spears at me, fighting over the dead body of the son of Peleus. Then I would have had funeral rites, and the Achaeans would have spread my fame; but now it was appointed for me to be cut off by a miserable death."
Even as he spoke the great wave struck him from above, rushing on him with terrible force, and whirled his raft round. He fell far from the raft and let the steering-oar go out of his hand, and the mast was broken in the middle by the fierce blast of the tumbling winds that came on it, and the sail and yard-arm fell far out in the sea. The wave held him under a long time, and he could not come up at once from under the rush of the mighty water, because the clothes beautiful Calypso had given him weighed him down. At last he came up and spat the bitter brine out of his mouth, which ran in streams off his head. Even so he did not forget his raft, badly off as he was, but went after it through the waves and got hold of it and sat down in the middle of it, trying to keep clear of the doom of death; and a great wave kept carrying him this way and that along its course.
As when in autumn the north wind carries the thistle-tufts over the plain and they cling close to one another, so the winds carried the raft this way and that over the sea. Now the south wind would fling it to the north wind to drive, and now the east wind would give it up to the west wind to chase.
But the daughter of Cadmus saw him, Ino of the lovely ankles, Leucothea, who was once a mortal with human speech and now has her share of honour from the gods in the depths of the sea. She was touched with pity for Odysseus as he drifted in his misery, and she rose up out of the deep like a sea-mew on the wing, and sat on the firmly-bound raft, and said:
"Unhappy man, why has Poseidon the earth-shaker taken such a furious anger against you, that he is sowing so many troubles for you? Yet he shall not destroy you altogether, for all his rage. Do this — and I do not think you lack understanding. Strip off these clothes and leave your raft for the winds to drive, and swim with your hands and try to reach the land of the Phaeacians, where it is your fate to escape. Here, take this veil and stretch it under your breast. It is immortal; there is no fear that you will suffer anything or drown. But when you have got your hands on the land, untie it and throw it into the wine-dark sea, well away from the land, and turn your own face away."
With that the goddess gave him the veil, and plunged back into the surging deep herself like a sea-mew, and the dark wave hid her.
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus turned it over, and in his distress he said to his own great spirit: "Oh no. Let it not be that one of the immortals is weaving another snare for me, telling me to leave my raft. I will not obey yet, because with my own eyes I saw that the land is a long way off, where she said I was to escape. This is what I will do, and it seems best: as long as the timbers hold firm in their fastenings, I will stay here and endure the suffering; and when the wave has smashed the raft to pieces, I will swim, since there is nothing better to think of."
While he was turning it over in his mind and heart, Poseidon the earth-shaker raised up a great wave, dreadful and hard, arching over from above, and drove it at him. As a strong wind tosses a heap of dry straw and scatters some this way and some that, so the wave scattered the long timbers of the raft. But Odysseus got astride one plank as if he were riding a horse, and stripped off the clothes beautiful Calypso had given him. Then he stretched the veil under his breast at once and threw himself headlong into the sea with his hands spread, ready to swim.
And the lord, the earth-shaker, saw him, and shook his head, and said to himself: "So now go wandering over the deep, after all the trouble you have suffered, until you come among the people whom Zeus brought up. Even so, I do not think you will make light of your suffering."
With that he whipped up his fine-maned horses and came to Aegae, where his glorious palace is.
But Athena, daughter of Zeus, thought of something else. She blocked the paths of the other winds and told them all to stop and be lulled to rest; but she roused the swift north wind and broke the waves down in front of him, so that Odysseus, born of Zeus, might come among the Phaeacians, who love the oar, and get clear of death and the fates.
So for two nights and two days he was driven about on the swollen waves, and again and again his heart foresaw destruction. But when Dawn with the lovely hair brought the third day to its birth, then the wind dropped and there was a windless calm, and he caught sight of the shore close at hand, throwing a quick glance forward as a great wave lifted him. And as a father's life is most welcome to his children when he has been lying ill, suffering hard pains, wasting away a long while, with some cruel god attacking him, and then to their joy the gods free him from his trouble — so welcome the land and the woods looked to Odysseus, and he swam on, eager to set foot on the ground.
But when he was as far off as a man's voice carries when he shouts, and heard the boom of the sea on the reefs — for the great wave was thundering against the dry land, belching over it terribly, and everything was wrapped in the foam of the sea, since there were no harbours there where ships could ride, and no roadsteads, only jutting headlands and reefs and cliffs — then the knees of Odysseus went slack and his heart melted, and in his distress he said to his own great spirit:
"Oh no. Zeus has granted me to see land at last, beyond all my hoping, and I have managed to cut my way across this gulf, and now nowhere is there a way out of the grey sea. Outside there are sharp crags, and the wave roars foaming round them, and the rock runs up sheer, and the water is deep close in, so that there is no way at all to plant both feet firmly and get clear. If I try to land, a great wave may seize me and dash me against the jagged rock, and my struggle will have been for nothing. But if I swim on further, hoping to find shelving beaches and harbours of the sea, I am afraid the storm wind may catch me up again and carry me groaning heavily over the teeming deep — or a god may send some great monster out of the sea at me, and glorious Amphitrite breeds a great many of them. For I know the glorious earth-shaker is full of anger against me."
While he was turning it over in his mind and heart, a great wave carried him against the rugged shore. There his skin would have been stripped off and his bones broken, if the goddess grey-eyed Athena had not put a thought in his mind. He rushed on and seized the rock with both hands and clung to it, groaning, until the great wave went past. So he got clear of that wave; but in its backward rush it came at him again and struck him and flung him far out to sea. As when a cuttlefish is dragged out of its hole and a great many pebbles cling to its suckers, so bits of skin were stripped off his strong hands against the rocks; and the great wave covered him.
Then unlucky Odysseus would have died before his time, if grey-eyed Athena had not given him presence of mind. He made his way out of the surge where it belched on the shore, and swam along outside, keeping his eyes on the land all the time, hoping to find shelving beaches and harbours of the sea. But when, swimming on, he came to the mouth of a fair-flowing river, the place looked best to him: it was smooth of stones, and there was shelter from the wind besides. He recognised the river as it flowed out, and prayed to him in his heart:
"Hear me, king, whoever you are. I come to you as to one greatly longed for, trying to get out of the sea, away from the threats of Poseidon. Even in the eyes of the immortal gods that man deserves respect who comes as a wanderer, as I have come now to your stream and to your knees, after so much hard labour. Pity me, king. I declare that I am your suppliant."
So he spoke, and the god stopped his stream at once, and checked the waves, and made a calm in front of him, and brought him safely to the river mouth. He let his two knees bend and his strong hands fall, because the sea had crushed his spirit. All his flesh was swollen, and sea water ran in streams up through his mouth and his nostrils. So he lay there breathless and speechless, with hardly the strength to move; a terrible weariness had come over him.
But when he came round, and his spirit came back into his breast, he loosed the goddess's veil from him and let it fall into the river that murmured seaward. The great wave carried it back down the stream, and Ino caught it at once in her hands. Then Odysseus went back from the river and sank down in the reeds and kissed the earth, the giver of grain; and in his distress he said to his own great spirit:
"What is to become of me? What is going to happen to me at the end of it? If I keep watch here in the river bed through the miserable night, I am afraid the bitter frost and the fresh dew together will finish me, when I have breathed out my spirit from weakness; and the breeze off the river blows cold in the early morning. But if I climb the slope to the shady wood and lie down to rest in the thick brushwood, hoping the cold and the weariness will leave me and sweet sleep come over me, then I am afraid I shall be a prey and a spoil for wild animals."
As he turned it over, this seemed the better course. He went off to the wood and found it near the water in an open space, and crept under two bushes that grew from the same spot, one of thorn and one of olive. The strength of the wet winds could never blow through them, nor could the rays of the bright sun beat in, nor the rain get through, so closely they grew, twisted into one another. Odysseus crept in under these and at once gathered a wide bed with his hands, for there were fallen leaves there in plenty, enough to shelter two men or three in winter, however bitter the weather. Much-enduring noble Odysseus saw it and was glad, and lay down in the middle and heaped the fallen leaves over himself.
And as a man hides a brand under the dark embers on an outlying farm, a man who has no neighbours, and so saves a seed of fire and does not have to kindle it from somewhere else, so Odysseus covered himself with leaves. And Athena poured sleep over his eyes, to close his eyelids and free him quickly from his wearing exhaustion.
So he lay there asleep, much-enduring noble Odysseus, overcome with sleep and weariness. But Athena went to the country and the city of the Phaeacians. They had lived once in spacious Hypereia, close to the Cyclopes, men overbearing in their pride, who kept plundering them and were stronger than they were. Godlike Nausithous had moved them from there and settled them in Scheria, far from men who live by their labour. He had drawn a wall round the city and built houses and made temples for the gods and divided up the ploughland. But fate had struck him down before this and he had gone to the house of Hades, and Alcinous was king now, made wise in counsel by the gods.
The goddess grey-eyed Athena went to his house, planning the homecoming of great-hearted Odysseus. She went to a richly worked room where a girl was sleeping who was like the immortal goddesses in shape and beauty, Nausicaa, the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous. Two maids slept close by, given their beauty by the Graces, one on either side of the doorposts, and the shining doors were shut. But the goddess sped to the girl's bed like a breath of air and stood over her head and spoke to her, taking the form of the daughter of Dymas, who was famous for his ships, a girl of the same age as Nausicaa and dear to her heart. Looking like her, grey-eyed Athena said:
"Nausicaa, how did your mother come to bear such a careless daughter? Your bright clothes are lying about uncared for, and your marriage is close, when you will have to be dressed in fine things yourself and give the same to the people who escort you. It is out of things like these that a good name goes up among men, and a father and an honoured mother are glad. Come, let us go and wash them at daybreak. I will come along and help you, so that you can get ready quickly; you are not going to stay unmarried much longer. You have suitors in the country already, the noblest of all the Phaeacians, where your own family comes from. Come, stir your noble father up early this morning to get mules and a wagon ready for you, to carry the sashes and the robes and the bright coverlets. And it is much more fitting for you to go like that than on foot; the washing tanks are a long way from the city."
With that the goddess grey-eyed Athena went off to Olympus, where they say the home of the gods stands firm for ever. It is not shaken by winds, nor ever wet with rain, nor does snow fall on it, but the air is spread out clear and cloudless, and a radiant whiteness plays over it. There the blessed gods take their pleasure all their days; and there the grey-eyed one went, when she had said everything to the girl.
At once fair-throned Dawn came and woke Nausicaa of the beautiful robes, and she was astonished at once by her dream and went through the house to tell her parents, her dear father and her mother; and she found them both inside. Her mother was sitting at the hearth with her women, spinning the purple-dyed yarn, and she met her father as he was going out to join the famous kings at the council, where the lordly Phaeacians had called him. She came up close to her dear father and said:
"Papa dear, will you not get a wagon ready for me, a high one with strong wheels, so that I can take the good clothes of mine that are lying here dirty down to the river to wash? Besides, it is only fitting that you should have clean clothes on when you are at the council with the princes. And you have five sons living in your halls — two are married and three are sturdy bachelors — and they always want freshly washed clothes to put on when they go to the dance. All this is on my mind."
That is what she said, because she was ashamed to speak of a joyful marriage to her father; but he understood it all, and answered: "I do not grudge you the mules, my child, or anything else. Go. The slaves will get the wagon ready for you, a high one with strong wheels and a box fitted on top."
With that he called to the slaves, and they listened. They got the light-running mule wagon ready outside the palace, and led the mules up and yoked them to it; and the girl brought the bright clothes out of her room and put them on the polished car, while her mother packed food of every kind in a chest to please the heart, and put good things in it, and poured wine into a goatskin flask. The girl climbed onto the wagon, and her mother gave her soft olive oil in a golden flask as well, so that she and her maids could use it after bathing.
Then Nausicaa took the whip and the bright reins and struck the mules to start them, and the mules went clattering off at speed, carrying the clothes and the girl. She did not go alone; her women went with her.
Now when they came to the beautiful streams of the river, where the washing tanks were that never ran dry — plenty of clear water welled up from below and flowed over, enough to clean clothes however dirty — they unyoked the mules from the wagon and drove them along the eddying river to graze on the honey-sweet grass by the water, and took the clothes out of the wagon in their arms and carried them into the dark water and trampled them in the trenches, working busily and racing each other. And when they had washed the clothes and got all the stains out, they spread them in rows on the shore of the sea, where the waves beating against the land washed the pebbles cleanest. Then they bathed and rubbed themselves richly with oil, and had their meal on the river banks, and waited for the clothes to dry in the bright sun.
And when they had enjoyed their food, she and her women threw off their headscarves and started playing at ball, and white-armed Nausicaa led the singing. As Artemis the archer ranges over the mountains, along the ridges of high Taygetus or Erymanthus, enjoying the chase of boars and swift deer, and the wood-nymphs play with her, the daughters of Zeus who holds the aegis, and Leto is glad in her heart — Artemis holds her head and her brows above them all, and is easy to pick out, though every one of them is lovely — so the unmarried girl shone among her women.
But when she was about to yoke the mules and fold the fine clothes to go home, then the goddess grey-eyed Athena thought of something else, so that Odysseus would wake and see the lovely girl, and she would lead him to the city of the Phaeacians. So the princess threw the ball to one of her maids, and missed the maid and threw it into a deep eddy; and they all cried out at it, and noble Odysseus woke and sat up, and turned it over in his mind and heart.
"What country have I come to now? What kind of people? Are they cruel and wild and unjust, or do they welcome strangers, and do their minds fear the gods? A cry rang in my ears like the cry of girls — nymphs, who haunt the high peaks of the mountains and the springs that feed the rivers and the grassy meadows. Can it be that I am somewhere near men with human speech? I will go and see for myself."
With that noble Odysseus came out from under the bushes, and broke a leafy branch off the thick wood with his strong hand, to hold in front of him and hide his nakedness with. He came out like a mountain-bred lion trusting his own strength, who goes out beaten by rain and wind with his two eyes blazing, and goes in among the cattle or the sheep or after the wild deer, and his belly drives him to try the flocks even in a close-built fold. That is how Odysseus was about to go among the girls with the lovely hair, naked as he was, because need had come on him.
He looked terrible to them, all fouled with brine, and they shrank away in fear, one here, one there, along the jutting sandspits. Only the daughter of Alcinous stood her ground, because Athena put courage in her heart and took the fear out of her limbs. She did not run, but stood and faced him. And Odysseus turned over whether he should take the lovely girl by the knees and make his plea, or whether he should keep his distance and beg her with gentle words, hoping she would show him the city and give him clothes. And as he turned it over it seemed better to keep his distance and beg her with gentle words, in case the girl's heart should be angry with him for taking hold of her knees. So he spoke at once, gently and with cunning in it.
"I beg you, my queen. Are you a goddess, or a mortal? If you are a goddess, one of those who hold the wide sky, then it is Artemis, the daughter of great Zeus, that I would compare you to most closely, in beauty and in height and in build. And if you are one of the mortals who live on the earth, then three times blessed are your father and your honoured mother, and three times blessed your brothers. Their hearts must be warmed with pleasure over and over because of you, when they see a plant as lovely as you going into the dance. But the man who is blessed in his heart above all the others is the one who wins you with his wedding gifts and takes you home. I never yet set eyes on a mortal like you, man or woman. Amazement takes hold of me looking at you.
"Once in Delos I saw such a thing, a young shoot of a palm springing up beside the altar of Apollo. I went there too, and a great many people followed me, on the journey that was to bring me so much misery. And when I saw that, I marvelled at it a long while in my heart, because no such tree had ever sprung up out of the earth. In the same way, lady, I marvel at you and am amazed, and I am very much afraid to touch your knees. But hard grief has come on me. Yesterday, on the twentieth day, I got clear of the wine-dark sea; until then the wave and the swift winds carried me from the island of Ogygia, and now fate has thrown me ashore here, so that here too, I suppose, I may suffer something. I do not think my troubles will stop yet; the gods will bring on a good many more before that.
"Have pity, my queen. It is you I have come to first, after all this hard suffering, and I know nobody else of all the people who hold this city and this land. Show me the city, and give me some rag to throw round me, if you had any wrapping for the clothes when you came here. And for yourself, may the gods grant you everything your heart desires — a husband and a home may they grant you, and one mind between you, which is a good gift. There is nothing greater or better than this, when a man and a woman keep house together with one mind: a great grief to their enemies and a joy to their friends. But they know it best themselves."
Then white-armed Nausicaa answered him: "Stranger, since you seem to be neither a bad man nor a fool — and it is Zeus himself, the Olympian, who gives good fortune to men, to the good and the bad alike, to each man as he pleases — he must have given you this lot, and you have to endure it. But now, since you have come to our city and our country, you shall not go short of clothes or of anything else that is right for a hard-pressed suppliant who comes our way. I will show you the city and tell you the name of the people. The Phaeacians hold this city and this land, and I am the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, on whom the strength and the power of the Phaeacians depend."
She spoke, and called to her women with the lovely hair. "Stand still, my girls. Where are you running to at the sight of a man? You do not think, surely, that he is an enemy? The mortal man is not alive, and does not exist, and will never be born, who could come to the land of the Phaeacians as an enemy, because we are very dear to the immortals. We live far off in the surging sea, the furthest of men, and no other mortals have dealings with us. This is some unlucky wanderer who has come here, and we have to look after him now. All strangers and beggars come from Zeus, and a gift is welcome even when it is small. Come, my girls, give the stranger food and drink, and bathe him in the river where there is shelter from the wind."
So she spoke, and they stopped and called to each other, and set Odysseus in a sheltered place, as Nausicaa, the daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, told them, and put a cloak and a tunic down beside him for clothes, and gave him the soft olive oil in the golden flask, and told him to bathe in the streams of the river. Then noble Odysseus spoke among the girls.
"Girls, stand over there, away from me, so that I can wash the brine off my shoulders myself and rub myself with oil. It is a long time since oil came near my skin. I will not bathe in front of you. I am ashamed to be naked among girls with such lovely hair."
So he said, and they went off and told the princess. Then noble Odysseus washed the brine from his skin with water from the river, the brine that clothed his back and his broad shoulders, and wiped the scurf of the restless sea off his head. And when he had washed his whole body and rubbed himself with oil and put on the clothes the unmarried girl had given him, then Athena, daughter of Zeus, made him taller to look at and stronger, and made the hair flow down from his head in curls like the hyacinth flower. As when a man lays gold over silver, a skilled workman whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athena have taught every kind of craft, and the work he turns out is full of grace, so the goddess poured grace over his head and shoulders. Then he went off and sat down on the shore of the sea, gleaming with beauty and grace.
The girl looked at him and marvelled, and said to her women with the lovely hair: "Listen, white-armed girls, and let me say something. It is not against the will of all the gods who hold Olympus that this man has come among the godlike Phaeacians. Before, he seemed to me a rough-looking creature; now he is like the gods who hold the wide sky. I wish a man like him might be called my husband, living here, and that it might please him to stay. But come, my girls, give the stranger food and drink."
So she spoke, and they listened readily and obeyed, and set food and drink in front of Odysseus. And much-enduring noble Odysseus drank and ate ravenously, because it was a long time since he had tasted food.
Then white-armed Nausicaa thought of something else. She folded the clothes and put them in the fine wagon and yoked the strong-hoofed mules and got up on the car herself. Then she called Odysseus and said to him:
"Get up now, stranger, and come to the city, so that I can send you on to the house of my wise father, where I promise you will get to know all the best of the Phaeacians. Only do it like this — and I do not think you lack understanding. As long as we are going through the country and the ploughed fields of men, walk quickly with the women behind the mules and the wagon, and I will lead the way. But when we are about to go into the city, which has a high wall running round it — there is a fine harbour on either side of the city and the entrance is narrow, and the curved ships are drawn up along the road, because every man has a berth of his own for his ship. Their place of assembly is there too, round the fine temple of Poseidon, made of huge stones set deep in the earth. There the men busy themselves with the tackle of their black ships, with cables and sails, and shape the thin oar-blades. The Phaeacians care nothing for the bow or the quiver, but for masts and ships' oars and the trim ships they take such pleasure in crossing the grey sea in.
"It is their rough talk I want to avoid, in case somebody sneers at me afterwards — there are insolent people in this country — and some low fellow, meeting us, might say: 'Who is this following Nausicaa, this tall good-looking stranger? Where did she find him? He will be a husband for her, no doubt. Perhaps she has picked up some wanderer off his ship, from a people who live far away — there is nobody near us — or perhaps a god has come down from heaven in answer to her prayers, after all this praying, and she will have him for a husband all her days. Better so, if she has gone out and found herself a husband from somewhere else; she certainly looks down on the Phaeacians here in her own country, where she has plenty of noble suitors.' That is what they would say, and it would be thrown up at me. And I would blame another girl myself who did such a thing, and went about with men before the day of her open marriage, in spite of her dear father and mother, while they were still alive.
"So listen to what I say, stranger, and be quick about it, so that you get an escort from my father as soon as possible, and your journey home. You will find a fine grove of Athena close to the road, a grove of poplars. A spring wells up in it, and there is a meadow round about. That is my father's park and his fruitful vineyard, as far from the city as a man's voice carries when he shouts. Sit down there and wait a while, until we get to the city and reach my father's house. And when you think we have reached the house, then go into the city of the Phaeacians and ask for the house of my father, great-hearted Alcinous. It is easy to recognise, and a child could show you the way, a mere baby; the Phaeacians' houses are not built at all like the palace of the lord Alcinous.
"But when the house and the courtyard have taken you in, go quickly through the great hall until you come to my mother. She sits at the hearth in the firelight, spinning the purple yarn, a wonder to look at, leaning against a pillar, with her women sitting behind her. My father's throne is set against the same pillar, and he sits on it drinking his wine like an immortal. Go past him and put your arms round my mother's knees, so that you may see the day of your homecoming quickly and with joy, however far away you have come from. If she thinks well of you, then there is hope that you will see your friends and get back to your well-built house and your own country."
With that she struck the mules with the shining whip, and they quickly left the streams of the river behind. They trotted well and worked their ambling feet well, and she drove carefully, so that the girls and Odysseus could follow on foot, and used the lash with judgment.
Then the sun set, and they came to the famous grove sacred to Athena. Odysseus sat down there and prayed at once to the daughter of great Zeus.
"Hear me, child of Zeus who holds the aegis, unwearied one. Listen to me now, since you did not listen before, when I was being battered, when the glorious earth-shaker was battering me. Grant that I come to the Phaeacians as a man to be welcomed and pitied."
So he spoke in prayer, and Pallas Athena heard him. But she did not yet appear to him face to face, because she was wary of her father's brother; and he went on raging furiously against godlike Odysseus, until at last he reached his own land.
So he prayed there, much-enduring noble Odysseus, while the two strong mules carried the girl to the city. And when she came to her father's splendid palace she stopped the mules at the outer gate, and her brothers came crowding round her, men like the immortals, and unyoked the mules from the wagon and carried the clothes inside; and she went to her room. There a fire was lit for her by her attendant, Eurymedusa, an old woman from Apeire. The curved ships had brought her from Apeire long ago, and the men had picked her out of the plunder as a gift of honour for Alcinous, because he was king over all the Phaeacians and the people listened to him as to a god. It was she who had brought up white-armed Nausicaa in the palace, and she who lit the fire for her and got her supper ready in her room.
Then Odysseus roused himself to go to the city, and Athena, meaning kindly, poured a thick mist round him, so that none of the great-hearted Phaeacians should meet him and speak mockingly to him and ask him who he was. But when he was about to go into the lovely city, the goddess grey-eyed Athena met him, in the likeness of a young girl carrying a jug, and stood in front of him; and noble Odysseus asked her:
"My child, could you show me the way to the house of the man they call Alcinous, who is lord among the people here? I have come as a stranger who has suffered a great deal, from far away, from a distant country, and so I know nobody among the people who hold this city and this land."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Then I will show you the palace, sir, since you ask me. It stands close to the house of my own noble father. Only go quietly, and I will lead the way. Do not look at any man, and do not question anybody. The men here have no patience with strangers, and give no kindly welcome to anyone who comes from another country. They trust in their fast ships and cross the great gulf of the sea, because the earth-shaker granted them that; and their ships are as swift as a bird on the wing, or as a thought."
So speaking, Pallas Athena led the way quickly, and he followed in the goddess's footsteps. And as he went through the city in the middle of them, the Phaeacians, who are famous for their ships, took no notice of him, because fair-haired Athena, the dread goddess, would not allow it, and poured a marvellous mist round him out of the kindness of her heart. And Odysseus marvelled at the harbours and the stately ships, and at the meeting-places where the heroes themselves gathered, and at the walls, long and high and crowned with palisades, a wonder to look at.
But when they had come to the king's splendid palace, the goddess grey-eyed Athena spoke first.
"Here, sir, is the house you told me to show you, and you will find the kings, brought up by Zeus, feasting at the banquet. Go in, and let your heart be afraid of nothing. A bold man does better in everything, even a stranger from another country. It is the queen you must go to first in the palace. Arete is her name, and she comes from the same line as king Alcinous does. Nausithous was first born to the earth-shaker Poseidon and to Periboea, the loveliest of women, the youngest daughter of great-hearted Eurymedon, who was once king over the insolent Giants. But he brought ruin on his stubborn people, and was ruined himself. Poseidon lay with Periboea and fathered a son, great-hearted Nausithous, who ruled over the Phaeacians; and Nausithous fathered Rhexenor and Alcinous. Rhexenor, when he had no son yet, was struck down in his hall by Apollo of the silver bow, a bridegroom as he was, and left only one daughter, Arete. Alcinous made her his wife and honours her as no other woman on earth is honoured of all those who keep house nowadays under their husbands. That is how heartily she is honoured, and always has been, by her children and by Alcinous himself and by the people, who look on her as on a goddess and greet her as she goes through the city. She has no lack of good understanding herself, and for the women she wishes well to she puts an end to quarrels even among their husbands. If she thinks well of you, then there is hope that you will see your friends and get back to your high-roofed house and your own country."
With that grey-eyed Athena went away over the restless sea and left lovely Scheria. She came to Marathon and broad-wayed Athens, and went into the well-built house of Erechtheus; and Odysseus went to the splendid palace of Alcinous. He stood there and his heart turned over a great deal before he reached the bronze threshold; because there was a gleam as of sun or moon over the high-roofed house of great-hearted Alcinous.
The walls were of bronze, running this way and that from the threshold to the innermost room, with a cornice of blue enamel round them. Golden doors closed the well-built house in, and silver doorposts stood in a bronze threshold, with a silver lintel above and a golden handle. On either side of the door stood gold and silver dogs, which Hephaestus had made with cunning skill to guard the palace of great-hearted Alcinous; and they were immortal and ageless all their days. Inside, seats were fixed along the wall on either hand from the threshold to the innermost room, and robes of soft cloth were thrown over them, finely woven, the work of women. On these the leaders of the Phaeacians used to sit drinking and eating, because they had unfailing supplies. And golden youths stood on well-built pedestals holding lighted torches in their hands, to give light by night to the banqueters in the hall.
He had fifty slave women in the house. Some of them grind the yellow grain on the millstone, and others weave cloth or sit twirling the yarn, like the leaves of a tall poplar tree; and the soft olive oil drips off the closely woven linen. For as the Phaeacian men are more skilled than anyone else at driving a fast ship over the sea, so the women are cunning workers at the loom, since Athena has given them, above all others, skill in fine work and an understanding mind.
Outside the courtyard, close to the door, is a great orchard of four acres, with a hedge running round it on either side. Tall thriving trees grow there, pears and pomegranates and apple trees with their bright fruit, and sweet figs and thriving olives. Their fruit never fails or gives out, winter or summer, but lasts the whole year through; and the west wind, blowing steadily, is always bringing some to life and ripening others: pear ripens on pear, apple on apple, cluster on cluster and fig on fig. And his fruitful vineyard is planted there, one part of it a warm patch on level ground being dried in the sun, while other grapes are being gathered and others trodden; and in front are unripe grapes just shedding the blossom, and others turning purple. And there, along the last row of vines, grow trim garden beds of every kind, in bloom the year round. There are two springs in it, one of which sends its water all through the garden, while the other, opposite it, runs under the threshold of the court towards the high house, and the townspeople draw their water from that one. Such were the splendid gifts of the gods in the palace of Alcinous.
Much-enduring noble Odysseus stood there and gazed. And when he had marvelled at it all in his heart, he went quickly over the threshold into the house. There he found the leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians pouring offerings from their cups to the sharp-eyed slayer of Argus, to whom they always poured the wine last of all, when they were ready to go to bed. And much-enduring noble Odysseus went through the hall, wrapped in the thick mist Athena had poured round him, until he came to Arete and to Alcinous the king. He threw his arms round Arete's knees, and at that moment the marvellous mist melted off him. A hush fell on everyone in the room at the sight of the man, and they stared at him in astonishment. And Odysseus made his plea.
"Arete, daughter of godlike Rhexenor — after all my hard labours I have come to your husband and to your knees, and to these banqueters too, to whom may the gods grant happiness in life, and may each of them hand down to his children the wealth in his halls and the honours the people have given him. But send me on my way, so that I may come to my own country, and quickly. I have been suffering a long time, far from my friends."
With that he sat down on the hearth in the ashes by the fire, and they were all hushed and silent. At last the old lord Echeneus spoke among them, who was an elder among the Phaeacians, skilled in speech and knowing all the wisdom of the old days. He meant it kindly, and spoke to the gathering.
"Alcinous, this is not the better way and it is not seemly, that a stranger should sit on the ground on the hearth in the ashes, while the rest of us hold back waiting for your word. Come, get the stranger up and set him on a silver-studded chair, and tell the heralds to mix wine, so that we can pour an offering to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, since he always attends on suppliants who deserve respect. And let the housekeeper give the stranger supper out of the store in the house."
When the strong and mighty Alcinous heard this, he took Odysseus by the hand — Odysseus, the wise and cunning-minded — and raised him from the hearth and set him on a bright chair, telling his son, the good Laodamas, to get up from it; for he sat next to him and was his best loved. A maid brought water for his hands in a lovely golden jug and poured it over a silver basin for him to wash, and drew a polished table up beside him. The housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it out, and plenty of good things with it, giving freely from her stores. So much-enduring noble Odysseus drank and ate.
Then mighty Alcinous spoke to the herald. "Pontonous, mix the bowl and serve wine to everyone in the hall, so that we can pour an offering to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, since he always attends on suppliants who deserve respect."
He spoke, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine and served it out to everyone, pouring the first drops into the cups for an offering. And when they had poured the offering and drunk as much as they wanted, Alcinous spoke to the gathering.
"Listen to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and let me say what the heart in my breast tells me. Now that you have finished your feast, go home, each of you, and rest. In the morning we will call more of the elders together and entertain the stranger in our halls and make fine offerings to the gods. After that we will see about his sending, so that this stranger may come to his own country under our escort, without labour or pain, quickly and rejoicing, however far away he has come from. And he shall suffer no harm or trouble on the way, until he sets foot on his own land; after that he must suffer whatever Fate and the dread Spinners spun into his thread at his birth, when his mother bore him.
"But if he is one of the immortals come down from heaven, then this is some new thing the gods are planning. Up to now they have always appeared to us plainly, when we sacrifice them splendid hecatombs, and they feast among us sitting where we sit. And if one of us meets them travelling alone, they use no disguise, because we are close kin to them, as the Cyclopes are and the wild tribes of the Giants."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Alcinous, put that thought away. I am not like the immortals who hold the wide sky, either in height or in build, but like mortal men. Whoever you know among men who carries the heaviest load of trouble, those are the men I would compare myself to in my sorrows. Yes, and I could tell a longer tale still of all the evils I have suffered by the will of the gods.
"But let me eat now, in spite of my grief. There is nothing more shameless than a hateful belly, which insists that a man take notice of it however badly off he is and however weighed down with grief he is — as I am weighed down with grief, and yet my belly keeps ordering me to eat and drink, and makes me forget everything I have suffered, and commands me to eat my fill. But be quick at daybreak, so that you set me, unlucky as I am, on the soil of my own country, after all my troubles. And let life leave me, once I have seen my possessions again, and my slaves, and my great high-roofed house."
So he spoke, and they all praised his words and said the stranger should be sent on his way, since he had spoken properly. And when they had poured the offering and drunk as much as they wanted, they went off, each man to his own house, to rest.
Noble Odysseus was left behind in the hall, and Arete and godlike Alcinous sat beside him, while the women cleared away the dishes from the feast. Then white-armed Arete spoke first; for she had recognised his fine clothes when she saw them, the cloak and the tunic, which she had made herself with her women. And she spoke to him with winged words.
"Stranger, this is the question I will ask you myself, first. Who are you among men, and where from? Who gave you these clothes? Did you not say you came here wandering over the sea?"
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "It would be hard, my queen, to tell the whole tale of my troubles to the end, because the heavenly gods have given me a great many. But I will tell you this, which you ask me about. There is an island, Ogygia, lying far off in the sea. The daughter of Atlas lives there, Calypso of the lovely hair, full of tricks, a dread goddess, and nobody has anything to do with her, god or mortal. But fate brought me to her hearth alone, wretch that I am, because Zeus had struck my fast ship with his bright thunderbolt and smashed it in the middle of the wine-dark sea. There all the rest of my trusty companions died, and I got my arms round the keel of my curved ship and was carried adrift nine days, and on the tenth black night the gods brought me to the island of Ogygia, where Calypso of the lovely hair lives, a dread goddess.
"She took me into her house with a kind welcome, and gave me food, and said she would make me immortal and ageless all my days; but she could never persuade the heart in my breast. I stayed there without a break for seven years, and all that time I wetted with my tears the immortal clothes Calypso gave me. But when the eighth year came round, then she roused me and told me to go — either because of some message from Zeus, or because her own mind had changed. And she sent me off on a raft bound firm, and gave me plenty of bread and sweet wine, and dressed me in immortal clothes, and sent out a gentle warm wind.
"So for seventeen days I sailed over the sea, and on the eighteenth the shadowy mountains of your country appeared, and my heart was glad — ill-starred as I am, since I still had a great deal of misery to keep company with, which Poseidon the earth-shaker sent on me. He stirred the winds up against me and blocked my way, and roused the sea to an extraordinary pitch, and the wave would not let me stay on my raft while I groaned without stopping. The storm smashed the raft, but I swam and cut my way through that gulf of the sea, until the wind and the waves carried me and brought me to your shores. There, if I had tried to land, the waves would have flung me on the shore and dashed me against the great crags in a cheerless place; so I gave way and swam back until I came to a river, where the place looked best to me, since it was smooth of rocks and there was shelter from the wind besides. I struggled out and sank down, gasping for breath, and immortal night came on. Then I went away from the heaven-fed river and lay down to sleep in the bushes, gathering leaves round me; and a god poured endless sleep over me.
"So I slept there among the leaves, with my heart badly stricken, the whole night through and until morning and past midday, and the sun was turning towards his setting before sweet sleep let me go. Then I saw your daughter's women playing on the shore, and she was among them, lovely as the goddesses. I made my plea to her; and she showed no lack of good understanding, and behaved as you would not expect a younger person to behave on meeting you, since young people are always thoughtless. She gave me bread in plenty and bright wine, and bathed me in the river, and gave me these clothes. That is the truth, for all my sorrows."
Then Alcinous answered him and said: "Stranger, my daughter did not judge this rightly, in not bringing you to our house with her women. It was to her that you made your plea first."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Prince, do not blame your blameless daughter for that. She did tell me to follow with her women, but I would not, out of fear and shame, in case your heart should darken with anger when you saw it. We are quick to anger, we tribes of men on the earth."
And Alcinous answered him again: "Stranger, the heart in my breast is not the kind to fill with anger over nothing. Due measure is better in everything. Father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo — I wish that a man as fine as you, and of one mind with me, would take my daughter for a wife and be called my son and stay here. I would give you a house and possessions, if you chose to remain; but no Phaeacian will keep you here against your will. Let that never be the will of father Zeus.
"As for your sending, so that you may be sure of it, I fix the time for it: tomorrow. Then you shall lie down, overcome with sleep, and they will row you over the calm sea until you come to your country and your house, or wherever you like — even far beyond Euboea, which those of our people who saw it say is the furthest of lands, when they carried fair-haired Rhadamanthus to visit Tityus, the son of Gaea. They went there and finished the journey without labour, and came back home on the same day. So you shall find out for yourself how far my ships are the best, and my young men at tossing the salt water with the oar-blade."
So he spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad, and spoke in prayer and said: "Father Zeus, grant that Alcinous brings about everything he has said. Then his fame will never be put out over the grain-giving earth, and I shall reach my own country."
So they spoke to one another; and white-armed Arete told her women to set a bedstead under cover of the portico and to lay fine purple blankets on it and spread covers over the top, and put fleecy cloaks on those to wear. So they went out of the hall with torches in their hands, and when they had busily made up the strong-built bed they came to Odysseus and called him and said: "Get up now, stranger, and come to bed. Your bed is made."
So they spoke, and it seemed welcome to him to lie down and sleep. So he slept there, much-enduring noble Odysseus, on the corded bedstead under the echoing portico; and Alcinous lay down in the inner room of the high house, with the lady his wife beside him, who had made up the bed.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, the strong and mighty Alcinous got up from his bed, and Odysseus got up too, born of Zeus, the sacker of cities. And the strong and mighty Alcinous led the way to the meeting place of the Phaeacians, which was built for them close by their ships. They came there and sat down on the polished stones beside one another; and Pallas Athena went through the city in the likeness of the herald of wise Alcinous, planning a homecoming for great-hearted Odysseus. She came up to each man and said:
"Come now, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, come to the meeting place, and hear about the stranger who has just come to the palace of wise Alcinous after his wanderings over the sea, and who is like the immortals in build."
With that she stirred up the spirit and heart of every man, and the meeting place and the seats were quickly filled with the men who gathered. A great many marvelled at the sight of the wise son of Laertes, because Athena poured a marvellous grace over his head and shoulders, and made him taller and sturdier to look at, so that he would be welcomed by all the Phaeacians and win awe and respect, and might carry off the many feats the Phaeacians would test him with.
And when they had come together, Alcinous spoke to the gathering.
"Listen to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and let me say what the heart in my breast tells me. This stranger — I do not know who he is — has come to my house in his wanderings, whether from the men of the east or of the west. He is pressing to be sent on his way, and asks for a promise of it. Let us speed his sending, as we have always done. No man at all who comes to my house sits here long in distress for want of a sending. Come, let us draw a black ship down to the bright sea for her first voyage, and let the people pick fifty-two young men, the best there have been up to now. And when you have all lashed the oars properly to the thole-pins, go ashore and come to my house, and get a feast ready quickly; I will provide generously for everyone. That is my order to the young men. But the rest of you, the sceptred kings, come to my fine palace so that we can entertain the stranger in the halls; and let nobody refuse me. And call the divine singer here, Demodocus, since the god has granted him skill in song beyond anyone else, to give delight in whatever way his spirit prompts him to sing."
With that he led the way, and the sceptred kings followed him, while a herald went for the divine singer. And fifty-two picked young men went, as he ordered, to the shore of the restless sea. And when they had come down to the ship and the sea, they drew the black ship down to deep water and set the mast and sail in the black ship and fitted the oars in the leather thole-straps, all in their order, and spread the white sail. They moored the ship well out in the roadstead, and then went off to the great palace of wise Alcinous.
The porticoes and the courts and the rooms were full of the men who gathered, a great many of them, young and old. Alcinous slaughtered twelve sheep for them, and eight white-tusked boars, and two slow-moving oxen. They skinned them and dressed them and got a splendid feast ready.
Then the herald came up, leading the good singer, whom the Muse loved above all other men, and gave both good and evil: she took away his sight and gave him the gift of sweet song. Pontonous the herald set a silver-studded chair for him in the middle of the banqueters, leaning it against a tall pillar, and hung the clear-toned lyre from a peg just above his head and showed him how to reach it with his hands. And beside him he put a basket and a beautiful table and a cup of wine, to drink when his heart told him to. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them.
But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, the Muse moved the singer to sing of the famous deeds of fighting men, from a song whose fame had reached the wide sky in those days: the quarrel of Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus, how once they fell out with furious words at a rich feast of the gods, and Agamemnon, king of men, was glad in his heart that the best of the Achaeans were quarrelling — because Phoebus Apollo had told him in his answer that it would be so, in sacred Pytho, when he crossed the threshold of stone to consult the oracle. For then the beginning of the misery was rolling down on Trojans and Danaans alike, through the will of great Zeus.
That was the song the famous singer sang. But Odysseus took hold of his great purple cloak with his strong hands and drew it down over his head and hid his handsome face, because he was ashamed to let the Phaeacians see the tears falling from under his eyebrows. And whenever the divine singer stopped singing, Odysseus would wipe away his tears and pull the cloak off his head and take the two-handled cup and pour an offering to the gods. But every time he began again, and the Phaeacian nobles told him to sing because they enjoyed his song, Odysseus would cover his head again and groan.
He hid his weeping from all the rest of them, but Alcinous alone noticed him and took it in, because he sat beside him and heard him groaning heavily. And at once he spoke among the Phaeacians, who love the oar.
"Listen to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians. We have satisfied our hearts already with the shared banquet and with the lyre, which is the companion of a rich feast. Now let us go out and try our hands at every kind of game, so that the stranger can tell his friends, when he gets home, how far we are ahead of other men at boxing and wrestling and jumping and running."
With that he led the way and they followed him. The herald hung the clear-toned lyre on its peg and took Demodocus by the hand and led him out of the hall, guiding him by the same road the others had gone, the Phaeacian nobles, to watch the games. They went off to the meeting place, and a huge crowd went with them, past counting; and a good many noble young men stood up. Acroneus stood up, and Ocyalus, and Elatreus, and Nauteus, and Prymneus, and Anchialus, and Eretmeus, and Ponteus, and Proreus, Thoon and Anabesineus, and Amphialus, son of Polyneus, son of Tecton; and Euryalus stood up too, the equal of man-destroying Ares, the son of Naubolus, who was the best-looking and best-built of all the Phaeacians after faultless Laodamas. And the three sons of noble Alcinous stood up, Laodamas and Halius and godlike Clytoneus.
These made trial first in the foot race. A course was marked out for them from the turning point, and they all ran fast, raising the dust of the plain; but noble Clytoneus was far the best of them at running, and by as much as the range of a team of mules in fallow land he shot ahead and reached the crowd, and left the others behind. Then they tried the hard work of wrestling, and there Euryalus was better than all the princes. At jumping Amphialus was best of all, and with the discus Elatreus was far the best again, and at boxing Laodamas, the good son of Alcinous.
But when they had all taken their pleasure in the contests, Laodamas, son of Alcinous, spoke among them. "Come, friends, let us ask the stranger whether he knows any contests, or has learned any. He is certainly no small man in build — look at his thighs and his calves, and his two arms above, and his strong neck, and how powerful he is. He lacks nothing of the strength of youth; he has only been broken by a great deal of trouble. To my mind there is nothing worse than the sea for wrecking a man, however strong he is."
And Euryalus answered him: "Laodamas, that is very properly said. Go and challenge him yourself, and make your point."
When the good son of Alcinous heard this, he went and took his stand in the middle and said to Odysseus: "Come, sir, you try the contests too, if you know any. And you must know some, since there is no greater glory for a man as long as he lives than what he wins with his own hands and feet. Come and try, and throw the care out of your heart. Your journey will not be put off much longer; your ship is launched already and the crew is ready."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him: "Laodamas, why do you mock me with this challenge? There is far more sorrow in my mind than there are contests. I have suffered a great deal and worked hard in the past, and now I sit in the middle of your assembly longing for my homecoming, making my plea to the king and to all the people."
Then Euryalus answered him and taunted him to his face: "No, stranger, I would not compare you to a man skilled in the contests, of which there are plenty among men. I would compare you to a man who goes to and fro with his benched ship as the captain of sailors who are traders, a man with his mind on his freight, keeping an eye on his cargo and the profits of his greed. You do not look like an athlete."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave him a black look from under his brows and answered him: "Stranger, that was not well said. You are like a man blinded by his own foolishness. It is true, then, that the gods do not give gracious gifts to everyone alike, not looks or mind or eloquence. One man is poor in appearance, but the god sets a crown of beauty on his words, and men look at him with delight, and he speaks on steadily with sweet modesty and stands out among the gathered people, and as he goes through the city they gaze at him as at a god. Another is like the immortals to look at, and there is no crown of grace set about his words. So with you: your looks are outstanding, and a god himself could not improve them, but in mind you are stunted.
"You have stirred up the spirit in my breast by speaking so rudely. I am not unskilled in sports, as you chatter. I think I was among the first of them, as long as I could trust my youth and my hands. But now I am held down by suffering and pain; I have endured a great deal, passing through the wars of men and the grievous waves. Even so, and though I have suffered so much, I will try the contests. Your words stung me to the heart, and you provoked me with what you said."
He spoke, and jumped up with his cloak still round him as it was, and seized a discus larger than the rest and thick, a good deal heavier than the ones the Phaeacians used against one another. He whirled it and sent it from his strong hand, and the stone hummed as it flew; and down they crouched to the ground, the long-oared Phaeacians, men famous for their ships, under the rush of the stone. It flew past the marks of all of them, running lightly from his hand, and Athena, in the likeness of a man, set the mark, and spoke to him.
"Even a blind man could pick this mark out, stranger, groping for it with his hands, because it is not muddled up in the crowd of the others but far the first. Take heart about this bout at any rate: no Phaeacian will reach this or throw past it."
So she spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad, delighted to see a true friend among the contestants. Then he spoke among the Phaeacians with a lighter heart.
"Reach that now, young men. And soon, I think, I shall send another after it, as far or even further. And of the rest of you, if any man's heart and spirit tell him to, let him come here and try me — since you have made me thoroughly angry — at boxing or at wrestling or even at running, I do not mind. Let any of the Phaeacians come, except Laodamas alone. He is my host, and who would quarrel with the man who is entertaining him? That man is a fool and worth nothing who challenges his host to a contest in a strange country; he only spoils his own chances. Of all the rest I refuse nobody and think little of nobody, but I am willing to know them and try them man to man. I am no weakling at anything, at any of the contests men practise. I know well enough how to handle a polished bow, and I would always be the first to shoot and hit my man in a crowd of the enemy, even with a great many companions standing by me shooting at them. Philoctetes alone beat me with the bow in the land of the Trojans, when we Achaeans shot. Of all the others I say I am far the best, of all the mortals now alive on the earth who eat bread. But I will not try to compete with the men of the old days, with Heracles or Eurytus of Oechalia, who competed even with the immortals in archery. That is why great Eurytus died soon, and old age never came on him in his halls, because Apollo grew angry and killed him for challenging him to a contest with the bow. And with the spear I throw further than any other man can shoot with an arrow. It is only in the foot race that I am afraid some Phaeacian may outrun me. I have been cruelly broken among all those waves, since there was no lasting store of provisions in my ship, and my limbs are loosened."
So he spoke, and they were all hushed and silent; and only Alcinous answered him and said: "Stranger, since you speak among us in no ungracious way, but mean to show the ability that goes with you, in anger that this man came up to you among the contestants and taunted you in a way that no mortal would make light of your ability who knew in his heart how to speak properly — come, listen to me now, so that you can tell another hero, when you are feasting in your halls with your wife and children and remembering our skill, what feats Zeus has granted us from our fathers' days until now. We are not faultless boxers or wrestlers, but we run swiftly in the foot race, and we are the best seamen; and the banquet is always dear to us, and the lyre, and the dance, and changes of clothes, and warm baths, and bed.
"But come now, all you who are the best dancers of the Phaeacians, make sport, so that the stranger can tell his friends when he gets home how far we are ahead of others in seamanship and in speed of foot, and in the dance and in song. And let somebody go straight away and fetch the clear-toned lyre for Demodocus, which is lying somewhere in our halls."
So spoke godlike Alcinous, and the herald got up to fetch the hollow lyre from the king's palace. Then the masters of the lists stood up, nine of them, men chosen from the people, who used to put everything in order at their gatherings. They levelled a place for the dance and marked out a fine wide ring, and the herald came up carrying the clear-toned lyre for Demodocus. He moved into the middle, and boys stood round him in the first bloom of youth, skilled in the dance, and they beat the good dancing floor with their feet; and Odysseus watched the twinkling of their feet and marvelled in his spirit.
But the singer struck the chords and began his sweet song, and sang of the love of Ares and Aphrodite of the fair crown: how they first lay together in the house of Hephaestus, secretly, and Ares gave her many gifts, and shamed the bed of the lord Hephaestus. And someone came to him at once with the news, Helios, who had noticed them lying together in love. And when Hephaestus heard the bitter tale, he went off to his smithy turning evil over in the depths of his heart, and set the great anvil on the anvil block and forged bonds that could not be broken or loosed, so that the lovers should stay fast where they were.
And when he had made the snare in his anger against Ares, he went to his room, where his bed was, and spread the bonds all round the bedposts, and hung many of them from above, from the roof-beams, fine as spiders' webs, so that nobody could see them, not even one of the blessed gods; they were made so extraordinarily cunningly. And when he had spread the whole snare round the bed, he pretended he was going to Lemnos, that well-built city, which is far the dearest of all lands in his eyes.
And Ares of the golden rein was keeping no blind watch, and when he saw Hephaestus, famous for his craft, going off, he went to the house of famous Hephaestus, eager for the love of Cytherea of the fair crown. She had only just come from the presence of her father, the mighty son of Cronos, and had sat down. And Ares came into the house and took her hand and spoke to her.
"Come, my love, let us go to bed and take our pleasure lying together. Hephaestus is not in the country any longer; I imagine he has gone off to Lemnos by now, to visit the Sintians with their savage speech."
So he spoke, and it seemed a welcome thing to her to lie with him. So the two of them went to the bed and lay down to sleep, and the cunning bonds of clever Hephaestus closed round them, and they could not stir a limb or lift one. Then at last they understood there was no getting away.
And the famous god of the two strong arms came up close to them, having turned back before he reached the land of Lemnos, because Helios had kept watch for him and brought him word. He went to his house with a heavy heart and stood at the gateway, and fierce anger took hold of him, and he cried out terribly and called to all the gods:
"Father Zeus, and you other blessed gods who live for ever, come here and see something laughable and monstrous — how Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus, despises me for being lame, and loves destructive Ares because he is handsome and sound of limb, while I was born misshapen. And there is nobody to blame for that but my own two parents — I wish they had never had me. But look where the two of them have gone up into my bed and are sleeping together in love; and I am sick at the sight. Still, I do not think they will want to lie like that any longer, not for a moment, however much in love they are. Soon they will both lose their appetite for sleeping. But the snare and the bonds will hold them until her father pays me back every one of the wedding gifts I gave him for the sake of his shameless girl. His daughter is beautiful, but she cannot govern her passion."
So he spoke, and the gods gathered at the house of the bronze floor. Poseidon came, who holds the earth, and the helper Hermes came, and the lord Apollo the archer. The goddesses stayed at home, each of them, out of modesty; but the gods, the givers of good things, stood in the gateway; and unquenchable laughter rose up among the blessed gods when they saw the craft of clever Hephaestus. And one of them would say, with a glance at his neighbour:
"Bad deeds do not prosper. The slow one catches the swift — look how Hephaestus, slow as he is, has caught Ares, though Ares is the fastest of all the gods who hold Olympus. Lame as he is, he has caught him by craft. So Ares owes the adulterer's fine."
That is how they talked to one another. But the lord Apollo, son of Zeus, said to Hermes: "Hermes, son of Zeus, messenger, giver of good things — would you really be willing to lie on a bed beside golden Aphrodite, even tangled in strong bonds?"
Then the messenger, the slayer of Argus, answered him: "I only wish it might happen, lord Apollo, you archer god — that three times as many bonds might hold me fast past untying, and you gods, and all the goddesses too, might be looking on, so long as I slept beside golden Aphrodite."
So he spoke, and laughter rose up among the immortal gods. Only Poseidon did not laugh, but kept begging Hephaestus, the famous craftsman, to set Ares free; and he spoke to him with winged words: "Loose him, and I promise, as you tell me, that he will pay you everything that is right himself, in the presence of the immortal gods."
Then the famous god of the two strong arms answered him: "Do not ask this of me, Poseidon, you who hold the earth. Standing surety for a worthless man is a poor sort of security. How could I put you in bonds among the immortal gods, if Ares got out of both the debt and the bonds and went off?"
Then Poseidon the earth-shaker answered him again: "Hephaestus, even if Ares does get out of the debt and run away, I will pay you this myself."
Then the famous god of the two strong arms answered him: "It is not possible for me to refuse you, and it would not be right."
With that mighty Hephaestus loosed the bonds, and the two of them, when they were free of that bond so strong, sprang up at once. Ares went off to Thrace, and she, laughter-loving Aphrodite, went to Cyprus, to Paphos, where her precinct is and her fragrant altar. There the Graces bathed her and rubbed her with immortal oil, the kind that gleams on the gods who live for ever, and dressed her in lovely clothes, a wonder to look at.
That was the song the famous singer sang. And Odysseus was glad in his heart as he listened, and so were the long-oared Phaeacians, men famous for their ships.
Then Alcinous told Halius and Laodamas to dance alone, since nobody could compete with them. And when they had taken in their hands the beautiful purple ball, which clever Polybus had made for them, one of them would lean back and toss it towards the shadowy clouds, and the other would leap up off the ground and catch it skilfully before his feet touched down again. And when they had tried their skill at throwing the ball straight up, the two of them fell to dancing on the bountiful earth, tossing the ball to and fro all the while, and the other young men stood in the ring and beat time, and a great din rose up from it.
Then noble Odysseus said to Alcinous: "Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, you boasted that your dancers were the best, and your words are made good. Amazement takes hold of me looking at them."
So he spoke, and the strong and mighty Alcinous was glad, and at once he spoke among the Phaeacians, who love the oar: "Listen to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians. This stranger seems to me a man of understanding. Come, then, let us give him a friendship gift, as is fitting. Twelve glorious kings hold power in our country as rulers, and I am the thirteenth myself. Let each of the twelve of you bring a newly washed cloak and a tunic and a talent of precious gold, and let us bring it all together quickly, so that the stranger may go to his supper with our gifts in his hands and a glad heart. And let Euryalus make amends to the stranger himself, with words and with a gift, since what he said was not at all seemly."
So he spoke, and they all praised his words and said it should be so, and every man sent a herald to fetch the gifts. And Euryalus answered and said: "Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, I will indeed make amends to the stranger, as you tell me. I will give him this sword, all of bronze, with a silver hilt on it and a scabbard of newly sawn ivory worked round it; and it will be a thing of great worth to him."
With that he put the silver-studded sword into his hands, and spoke to him with winged words: "Greetings, sir stranger. If any word has been spoken that was harsh, may the storm winds snatch it up at once and carry it away. And for yourself, may the gods grant you to see your wife and to come to your own country; you have been suffering a long time, far from your friends."
And Odysseus of the many tricks answered him: "Greetings to you too, my friend, and may the gods grant you happiness; and may you never afterwards miss this sword you have given me, making amends with gentle words."
He spoke, and hung the silver-studded sword over his shoulders. And the sun set, and the splendid gifts were brought to him. The lordly heralds carried them to the palace of Alcinous, and the sons of faultless Alcinous took the beautiful gifts and set them down before their honoured mother. And the strong and mighty Alcinous led the way, and they came in and sat down on the high seats.
Then mighty Alcinous said to Arete: "Bring a fine chest here, wife, the best you have, and put a newly washed cloak and tunic in it yourself. And heat a cauldron on the fire for the stranger and warm some water, so that when he has bathed and seen all the gifts the noble Phaeacians have brought here safely stowed, he can take pleasure in the feast and in hearing the strains of the song. And I will give him this beautiful cup of mine, made of gold, so that he may remember me all his days as he pours offerings in his halls to Zeus and to the other gods."
So he spoke, and Arete told her women to set a great cauldron on the fire as fast as they could. They set the cauldron for the bath water on the blazing fire and poured water in and took billets of wood and kindled them underneath. The fire played round the belly of the cauldron and the water grew warm; and meanwhile Arete brought a beautiful chest out of the treasure chamber for the stranger and put the fine gifts in it, the clothes and the gold the Phaeacians had given. And she put a cloak and a fine tunic in it herself, and spoke to Odysseus with winged words.
"See to the lid yourself now, and throw a cord round it quickly, in case somebody robs you of your goods on the way, when you are lying in sweet sleep later on as you travel in the black ship."
When much-enduring noble Odysseus heard this he fitted the lid on at once and quickly threw a cord round it, in a cunning knot which queenly Circe had once taught him. Then the housekeeper told him to go to the bath and wash; and his heart was glad when he saw the warm bath, because he had not been used to such attention since he left the house of fair-haired Calypso, though up to then he had been attended constantly, like a god.
And when the women had bathed him and rubbed him with oil and put a fine cloak and a tunic on him, he came out of the bath and went to join the men at their wine. And Nausicaa, given her beauty by the gods, stood by the doorpost of the well-built hall, and marvelled at Odysseus as her eyes took him in, and spoke to him with winged words.
"Farewell, stranger. And afterwards, even in your own country, remember me, because it is to me first that you owe your life."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her: "Nausicaa, daughter of great-hearted Alcinous, may Zeus grant it so, the loud-thundering lord of Hera, that I reach my home and see the day of my return. Then I will pray to you there as to a god, all my days; because you gave me my life, girl."
He spoke, and sat down on a chair beside king Alcinous. And now they were serving out the portions and mixing the wine. Then the herald came up leading the good singer, Demodocus, honoured by the people, and seated him in the middle of the banqueters, leaning his chair against a high pillar.
Then Odysseus of the many tricks said to the herald, cutting off a portion of the chine of a white-tusked boar, with more still left on it and rich fat on either side: "Herald, take this portion and give it to Demodocus to eat, and let me greet him, in spite of my grief. Among all the men on earth singers win honour and respect, because the Muse has taught them the paths of song and loves the tribe of singers."
So he spoke, and the herald carried the portion and put it in the hands of the lord Demodocus, and he took it and was glad in his heart. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, Odysseus of the many tricks said to Demodocus:
"Demodocus, I praise you above all mortal men, whether it was the Muse who taught you, the daughter of Zeus, or Apollo. You sing the fate of the Achaeans truly and well, everything they did and suffered and all the labour they endured, as though you had been there yourself or heard it from someone who was. But come now, change your theme and sing of the building of the wooden horse, which Epeius made with Athena's help, the horse Odysseus once led up into the citadel as a thing of guile, when he had filled it with the men who sacked Ilios. If you tell me this tale properly, I will declare to all mankind that the god has granted you the gift of divine song with a ready heart."
So he spoke, and the singer, moved by the god, began and let his song be heard, taking up the tale where the Argives had gone aboard their benched ships and were sailing away, after throwing fire into their huts, while the others, led by glorious Odysseus, were sitting by then in the meeting place of the Trojans, hidden in the horse; because the Trojans had dragged it up to the citadel themselves. So it stood there, while the people talked on and on sitting round it, and could reach no decision. Three courses found favour with them: to split the hollow timber with the pitiless bronze, or to drag it to the height and throw it down the rocks, or to let it stand as a great offering to win the goodwill of the gods — which is what was to be done in the end, because it was their fate to die when their city took in the great wooden horse, with all the best of the Argives sitting inside it, bringing death and doom to the Trojans.
And he sang how the sons of the Achaeans poured out of the horse and left their hollow ambush and sacked the city; how the others laid waste the high city this way and that, and how Odysseus went like Ares to the house of Deiphobus together with godlike Menelaus. That, he said, was where Odysseus faced the most terrible fighting, and in the end conquered with the help of great-hearted Athena.
That was the song the famous singer sang. But the heart of Odysseus melted and the tears wet his cheeks under his eyelids. As a woman wails and flings herself over her dear husband, who has fallen in front of his city and his people, trying to keep the pitiless day away from his city and his children; and as she sees him dying and gasping for breath she clings to him and shrieks aloud, while behind her they strike her back and shoulders with their spears and lead her off into slavery, to hard labour and misery, and her cheeks waste away with the most pitiful grief — so Odysseus let the pitiful tears fall from under his brows.
He hid his weeping from all the rest of them, but Alcinous alone noticed him and took it in, because he sat beside him and heard him groaning heavily. And at once he spoke among the Phaeacians, who love the oar.
"Listen to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and let Demodocus stop his clear-toned lyre now, since this song does not give pleasure to everyone alike. From the moment we began to eat and the divine singer was moved to sing, the stranger there has never stopped his sorrowful lamenting. Grief has taken hold of his heart, I am sure of it. Let the singer stop, so that we can all enjoy ourselves, hosts and guest alike, since that is better. All this has been made ready for the sake of our honoured guest, his sending and the friendship gifts we give him out of our affection. A stranger and a suppliant is as dear as a brother to any man whose wits reach even a little way.
"So do not hide any longer with crafty thoughts whatever I ask you. Speaking out plainly is the better course. Tell me the name they called you by at home, your mother and your father and the others besides, your townsmen and the people living round about. There is nobody among all mankind who has no name, base man or noble, once he has been born; parents give names to all of them when they are born. And tell me your country, your people, and your city, so that our ships can carry you there, working out the course by their own wits. The Phaeacians have no pilots and no steering-oars such as other ships have; their ships understand the thoughts and minds of men by themselves, and they know the cities and the rich fields of every people, and cross the gulf of the sea most swiftly, hidden in mist and cloud, and never have any fear of damage or ruin.
"Yet I once heard this story told by my father Nausithous, who used to say that Poseidon was angry with us because we give safe convoy to everyone. He said that one day, as a well-built ship of the Phaeacians was coming home from a convoy over the misty water, Poseidon would strike her, and would throw a great mountain round our city. That is what the old man said, and the god may bring it about or leave it unfulfilled, whichever pleases him.
"But come, tell me this and tell me the truth. Where have you wandered, and what countries of men have you come to? Tell me about the people and their well-built cities, both those who are cruel and wild and unjust, and those who welcome strangers and whose minds fear the gods. And tell me why you weep and mourn in your spirit when you hear the doom of the Argive Danaans and of Ilios. The gods brought that about, and spun the thread of ruin for men, so that there might be a song for those yet to be born. Did some relative of yours fall before Ilios, some good true man, your daughter's husband or your wife's father, who are the nearest to a man after his own kin and blood? Or was it a companion who was dear to your heart, some good true man? A companion who has an understanding heart is no worse than a brother."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him.
Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, this is a good thing indeed, to listen to a singer as fine as this man, whose voice is like a god's. For myself, I say there is no better fulfilment of delight than when joy holds a whole people, and banqueters in the halls listen to a singer as they sit in their order, and the tables beside them are loaded with bread and meat, and the wine-steward draws wine from the bowl and carries it round and pours it into the cups. That seems to my mind the fairest thing there is.
But your heart has turned to asking about my miserable troubles, so that I may weep and groan the more. What shall I tell you first, then, and what last? The heavenly gods have given me a great many.
First I will tell you my name, so that you know it too, and so that afterwards, when I have got clear of the pitiless day of doom, I may be your host, though my home is far off. I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, known among men for every kind of trick, and my fame reaches to heaven. I live in clear-seen Ithaca, where there is a mountain, Neriton, covered with waving forests, that can be seen from far off; and round it lie a good many islands close to one another, Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus. Ithaca itself lies low, furthest out towards the dark, and the others lie apart towards the Dawn and the sun — a rugged island, but a good nurse of young men; and for myself I can see nothing sweeter than one's own country.
Calypso, the beautiful goddess, tried to keep me with her in her hollow caves, wanting me for a husband; and in the same way Circe held me back in her halls, the cunning lady of Aeaea, wanting me for a husband. But neither of them could ever persuade the heart in my breast. So true is it that nothing is sweeter than a man's own country and his parents, even if he is living in a rich house far away in a foreign land, away from his parents.
But come, let me tell you about my miserable homecoming too, which Zeus laid on me as I came from Troy.
The wind carried me from Ilios and brought me to the Cicones, to Ismarus. There I sacked the city and killed the men; and we took their wives out of the city, and a great store of treasure, and divided it among us, so that as far as it lay with me no man should go cheated of an equal share. Then I gave the order that we should get away as fast as we could; but the others in their great folly would not listen. There was a great deal of wine drunk, and they killed a great many sheep by the shore, and slow-moving cattle.
Meanwhile the Cicones went and called on other Cicones, their neighbours, more numerous than they were and braver — men who lived inland and were skilled at fighting from chariots, and on foot if they had to. They came in the morning, as thick as the leaves or the flowers come up in their season; and then an evil fate from Zeus fell on us, poor wretches, so that we should suffer a great deal. They drew up their line and fought beside the fast ships, and both sides threw bronze-tipped spears at each other. As long as it was morning and the sacred day was growing, so long we held our ground and beat them off, though they outnumbered us. But when the sun turned towards the hour for unyoking oxen, then the Cicones got the upper hand and routed the Achaeans, and six of my well-greaved companions died from each ship; the rest of us got clear of death and fate.
From there we sailed on, grieving in our hearts, glad to have escaped death, though we had lost our dear companions. And I did not let my curved ships go on until we had called three times on each of those unlucky companions of ours who died on the plain, cut down by the Cicones. But Zeus the cloud-gatherer roused the north wind against our ships with an extraordinary storm, and hid land and sea alike in cloud, and night rushed down out of the sky. The ships were driven headlong, and their sails were torn to shreds by the violence of the wind. So we lowered the sails and stowed them aboard, in fear of death, and rowed the ships hard towards the land. We lay there two nights and two days without a break, eating our hearts out with weariness and grief. But when fair-haired Dawn brought the third day to its birth, we set up the masts and hoisted the white sails and sat down, and the wind and the helmsmen steered the ships.
And now I would have come to my own country unhurt; but the wave and the current and the north wind beat me back as I was rounding Malea, and drove me off my course past Cythera.
From there I was carried for nine days by deadly winds over the teeming water; and on the tenth we set foot in the country of the Lotus-eaters, who eat a flowery food. There we went ashore and drew water, and my companions took their meal at once beside the fast ships. And when we had tasted food and drink, I sent some of my companions to go and find out who the men were who ate bread here on the earth. I chose two, and sent a third with them as a herald. They went off and mixed with the Lotus-eaters, and the Lotus-eaters did not plan any death for my companions, but gave them lotus to taste. And whichever of them ate the honey-sweet fruit of the lotus had no more wish to bring back word or to come home, but wanted to stay there among the Lotus-eaters, feeding on lotus, and forgot the way home. So I brought these men back to the ships by force, weeping, and dragged them under the benches and tied them fast in the hollow ships; and I told the rest of my trusty companions to embark quickly on the fast ships, in case anyone should eat the lotus and forget the way home. So they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches, and sitting in their order struck the grey sea with their oars.
From there we sailed on, grieving in our hearts, and we came to the country of the Cyclopes, an overbearing and lawless people, who trust in the immortal gods and plant nothing with their hands and do no ploughing; but everything comes up for them without sowing or ploughing — wheat and barley and vines that carry the rich clusters of wine — and the rain of Zeus makes them grow. They have no assemblies for council and no established laws, but live on the peaks of high mountains in hollow caves, and each of them lays down the law to his own children and wives, and they take no notice of one another.
Now there is a level island stretching aslant outside the harbour, not close to the shore of the country of the Cyclopes and not far off either, a wooded island. Wild goats live there past counting, because the tread of men does not frighten them off, and hunters do not go there, the men who endure hardship in the woodland ranging over the mountain peaks. It is not held with flocks or with ploughland; unsown and untilled all its days, it knows nothing of men and feeds the bleating goats. For the Cyclopes have no ships with vermilion cheeks, and there are no shipwrights in their country who might build them well-benched ships to do everything they need, crossing to the cities of other peoples as men often cross the sea in ships to visit one another — craftsmen, who would have made a fine settlement of this island too. It is not a poor island; it would bear everything in season. There are meadows by the shores of the grey sea, well-watered and soft, where vines would never fail, and level ploughland in it, where they could reap harvests season after season, extraordinarily deep, so rich is the soil underneath. And there is a harbour in it with safe anchorage, where there is no need of moorings, either to throw out anchor-stones or to make fast stern cables; a man can beach his ship and wait until the sailors' minds tell them to put out and the breezes blow fair. And at the head of the harbour a spring of bright water flows out from under a cave, and poplars grow round about it.
That is where we sailed in, and some god guided us through the murky night; there was no light to see by, but a mist lay deep about the ships and the moon gave no light from the sky, because it was shut in by clouds. So nobody's eyes made out that island, and we did not see the long waves rolling in on the beach until we had run our well-benched ships ashore. And when we had beached the ships we lowered all the sails and went out ourselves onto the shore of the sea, and there we fell asleep and waited for the bright Dawn.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, we wandered about the island, marvelling at it; and the nymphs, the daughters of Zeus who holds the aegis, roused the mountain goats, so that my companions might have something to make a meal of. Straight away we took our curved bows and long javelins out of the ships and, drawing up in three bands, started shooting; and the god soon gave us game enough to satisfy us. Twelve ships followed me, and nine goats fell to each by lot, but for me alone they picked out ten.
So all day long until sunset we sat feasting on plenty of meat and sweet wine. The red wine was not used up out of our ships; some was still left, because we had drawn plenty of it in jars for each crew when we took the sacred citadel of the Cicones. And we looked across at the land of the Cyclopes, who lived close by, and noticed the smoke, and the voices of men, and of the sheep and the goats. But when the sun set and the dark came on, we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea.
And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, I called my men together and spoke to them all.
"Stay here now, the rest of you, my trusty companions. I will go with my own ship and my own crew and find out about those men over there — whether they are cruel and wild and unjust, or whether they welcome strangers, and whether their minds fear the gods."
With that I went aboard the ship and told my companions to embark themselves and loose the stern cables. So they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches, and sitting in their order struck the grey sea with their oars.
But when we reached the place, which lay close by, we saw a high cave right at the edge of the land, close to the sea, roofed over with laurels, and a great many flocks, sheep and goats alike, used to sleep there. Round about it a high court was built with stones set deep in the earth, and with tall pines and high-crested oaks. A monstrous man slept there, who pastured his flocks alone and far off, and did not mix with the others but lived apart, with his heart set on lawlessness. He was made a marvellous monster, and was not like a man who lives on bread, but like a wooded peak of a high mountain that stands out alone, apart from the rest.
Then I told the rest of my trusty companions to stay there by the ship and guard the ship, and I picked twelve of my best companions and went off. I took with me a goatskin of the dark sweet wine which Maro, son of Euanthes, had given me, the priest of Apollo, the god who watched over Ismarus. He had given it me because we had protected him and his child and his wife out of respect; for he lived in a wooded grove of Phoebus Apollo. And he gave me splendid gifts: seven talents of well-worked gold, and a mixing bowl all of silver; and besides these, wine, which he filled twelve jars with in all, sweet and unmixed, a divine drink. Not one of his slaves or of the maids in his halls knew about it, only himself and his dear wife and one housekeeper. And whenever they drank that honey-sweet red wine, he would fill one cup and pour it into twenty measures of water, and a smell would rise from the mixing bowl marvellously sweet; and then you would not want to hold back. I filled a great skin with this wine and took it with me, and provisions in a bag as well; because my proud spirit had a feeling that a man would come at me before long clothed in great strength, a savage who knew nothing of justice or of law.
We reached the cave quickly, and did not find him inside; he was pasturing his fat flocks in the fields. So we went into the cave and stared at everything in it. The crates were loaded with cheeses, and the pens were crowded with lambs and kids. Each kind was penned separately: the firstlings by themselves, the later lambs by themselves, and the newly weaned by themselves again. And all the well-made vessels were swimming with whey, the milk-pails and the bowls he milked into.
Then my companions spoke and begged me first of all to take some of the cheeses and go, and after that to drive the kids and lambs quickly out of the pens to the fast ship, and sail over the salt water. But I would not listen to them — it would have been far better if I had — because I wanted to see the man himself, and whether he would give me guest-gifts. As it turned out, his appearing was not going to be a joy to my companions.
Then we kindled a fire and made an offering, and took some of the cheeses ourselves and ate, and sat in the cave and waited for him until he came back with his flocks. He was carrying a huge weight of dry wood to serve him at suppertime, and he flung it down with a crash inside the cave, and we shrank back into a recess of the cave in terror. He drove his fat flocks into the wide cavern, all the ones he milked, but the males, the rams and the goats, he left outside in the deep court. Then he lifted the great doorstone and set it in place, a mighty rock; twenty-two strong four-wheeled wagons could not have lifted it off the ground, such a towering mass of rock he set in the doorway. Then he sat down and milked the ewes and the bleating goats, all in turn, and put her young under each mother. Then he curdled half the white milk and gathered it into wicker baskets and put it away, and the other half he set in vessels, so that he could take it and drink it, and it would do for his supper.
But when he had busily got through his work, he rekindled the fire, and caught sight of us, and asked:
"Strangers, who are you? Where do you sail from over the watery roads? Is it on some business, or are you wandering at random over the sea like pirates, who wander with their lives in their hands and bring harm to people in other countries?"
So he spoke, and our spirits broke in our breasts at the terror of his deep voice and his monstrous self; but even so I answered him and said:
"We are Achaeans from Troy, driven wandering by all kinds of winds over the great gulf of the sea. Trying to get home, we have come by another way, by other roads; that is how Zeus was pleased to arrange it, I suppose. And we say we are the men of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, whose fame is now the greatest under heaven, so great a city did he sack, and killed so many people. But we, coming to you like this, have come as suppliants to your knees, hoping you will give us hospitality, or make us some present of another kind, which is what is due to strangers. Respect the gods, mightiest one; we are your suppliants. Zeus is the avenger of suppliants and strangers — Zeus the god of strangers — who always attends on strangers who deserve respect."
So I spoke, and he answered me straight away out of a pitiless heart: "You are a fool, stranger, or you have come from a long way off, if you tell me to fear the gods or avoid them. The Cyclopes take no notice of Zeus who holds the aegis, or of the blessed gods, since we are far stronger than they are. I would not spare you or your companions to avoid the anger of Zeus, not unless my own heart told me to. But tell me where you moored your well-made ship when you came. Was it somewhere at the far end of the country, or close by? I should like to know."
So he spoke, testing me; but he did not trap me, because I know too much. I answered him with crafty words: "Poseidon the earth-shaker smashed my ship, throwing it on the rocks at the edge of your country. He brought it close to the headland and the wind drove it in from the sea. But I and these men here got clear of destruction."
So I spoke, and out of his pitiless heart he made no answer at all, but sprang up and laid his hands on my companions. He seized two of them at once and dashed them on the ground like puppies, and their brains ran out on the ground and wetted the earth. Then he cut them limb from limb and got his supper ready, and ate them like a mountain-bred lion, leaving nothing — ate the entrails and the flesh and the marrowy bones. And we held our hands up to Zeus, wailing, seeing his cruel work; and helplessness took hold of our souls.
But when the Cyclops had filled his huge belly by eating human flesh and drinking unmixed milk afterwards, he lay down in the cave, stretched out among the sheep. And I made a plan in my great heart to steal up to him and draw my sharp sword from beside my thigh and stab him in the chest, where the midriff holds the liver, feeling for the place with my hand. But a second thought stopped me, because we too would have died right there in utter ruin: we could not have pushed the mighty stone he had set there away from the high door with our hands. So we waited, wailing, for the bright Dawn.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, he rekindled the fire and milked his fine flocks, all in turn, and put her young under each mother. And when he had busily got through his work he seized two men again at once and got his meal ready. And when he had eaten he drove his fat flocks out of the cave, moving the great doorstone away easily; and then he put it back in place, the way a man puts the lid on a quiver. Then, whistling loudly, the Cyclops turned his fat flocks towards the mountain, and I was left there, planning evil in the depths of my heart, hoping to take some revenge on him, and that Athena would grant me the glory.
And this seemed to my mind the best plan. There was a great club of the Cyclops lying beside a sheep-pen, a staff of green olive wood, which he had cut to carry when it was dry; and looking at it we thought it was as big as the mast of a black twenty-oared ship, a broad-beamed merchantman that crosses the great gulf: that was how huge it looked in length and thickness. I went to it and cut off about a fathom's length and handed it to my companions and told them to dress it down; and they made it smooth, and I stood by and sharpened it to a point, and then took it and hardened it in the blazing fire. Then I laid it carefully away, hiding it under the dung, which lay in great heaps all through the cave. And I told my companions to cast lots for which of them should have the nerve to lift the stake with me and grind it into his eye when sweet sleep came on him. And the lot fell on the very ones I would have chosen myself: there were four of them, and I made the fifth.
He came at evening, herding his flocks with their fine fleeces, and drove his fat flocks into the wide cave straight away, every one of them, and did not leave one outside in the deep court, either from some foreboding or because a god told him to. Then he lifted the great doorstone and set it in place, and sat down and milked the ewes and the bleating goats, all in turn, and put her young under each mother. And when he had busily got through his work, again he seized two men at once and got his supper ready.
Then I went up to the Cyclops and spoke to him, holding an ivy-wood bowl of the dark wine in my hands:
"Cyclops, here, drink wine after your meal of human flesh, so that you know what kind of drink our ship held. I was bringing it to you as an offering, hoping you might take pity and send me on my way home; but you rage past all bearing. Cruel man — how is anyone of all the crowds of men ever going to come to you again, when what you do is lawless?"
So I spoke, and he took the cup and drained it, and was marvellously pleased as he drank the sweet draught, and asked me for it a second time:
"Give me more, and readily, and tell me your name straight away, so that I can give you a stranger's gift to be glad of. The grain-giving earth bears the rich clusters of wine for the Cyclopes too, and the rain of Zeus makes them grow; but this is a stream of ambrosia and nectar."
So he spoke, and I handed him the flaming wine again. Three times I brought it and gave it him, and three times he drained it in his folly. But when the wine had got round the wits of the Cyclops, then I spoke to him with gentle words:
"Cyclops, you ask my famous name, and I will tell it you; and give me the stranger's gift, as you promised. Nobody is my name. Nobody they call me — my mother and my father and all my companions too."
So I spoke, and he answered me straight away out of a pitiless heart: "Nobody I will eat last among his companions, and the others before him. That shall be your gift."
He spoke, and reeled and fell on his back, and lay there with his thick neck bent aslant, and sleep that conquers everything took hold of him. And wine came up out of his gullet, and bits of human flesh, and he vomited in his drunken sleep.
Then I thrust the stake in under the deep ashes until it should get hot, and heartened all my companions with cheering words, so that no man should flinch from fear. But when the olive stake was about to catch fire, green as it was, and began to glow terribly, then I came close, bringing the stake out of the fire, and my companions stood round me, and a god breathed great courage into us. They took the olive stake, sharp at the point, and drove it into his eye, while I threw my weight on it from above and whirled it round, as a man bores a ship's timber with a drill while the men below keep it spinning with a thong, holding it by either end, and the drill runs round without stopping. So we took the fiery-pointed stake and whirled it round in his eye, and the blood flowed round the hot thing. The flame singed his eyelids and his brows all round as the eyeball burned, and its roots crackled in the fire. As when a smith dips a great axe or an adze in cold water with a loud hissing, to temper it — because that is where the strength of iron comes from — so his eye hissed round the olive stake.
Then he cried out terribly, and the rock rang round us, and we shrank back in terror, while he wrenched the stake out of his eye, all fouled with blood, and flung it away from him, waving his arms wildly. Then he called aloud to the Cyclopes who lived round about him in caves among the windy heights; and they heard his cry and came crowding from every side, and stood round the cave and asked him what was wrong.
"What is so badly wrong with you, Polyphemus, that you shout out like this through the immortal night and keep us from sleeping? Can it be that some mortal man is driving off your flocks against your will, or killing you himself by guile or by force?"
Then mighty Polyphemus answered them from inside the cave: "My friends, it is Nobody who is killing me by guile, and not by force."
And they answered him with winged words: "If nobody is doing you violence when you are alone, then it is a sickness from great Zeus and you cannot escape it. Pray to our father, the lord Poseidon."
So they spoke and went away; and my heart laughed inside me, that my name and my clever trick had taken them in so.
But the Cyclops, groaning and labouring in his pain, groped with his hands and took the stone away from the door and sat down in the doorway himself with his arms stretched out, hoping to catch anyone who tried to go out with the sheep: that was how witless he thought I was in his heart. But I was thinking how it might all turn out for the best, if I could find some way of escaping death for my companions and for myself. And I wove every kind of trick and plan, as a man will when it is a matter of life and death; for the danger was close on us. And this seemed to my mind the best plan.
There were rams, well fed and thick of fleece, fine big beasts with wool dark as the violet. These I bound together silently with the twisted withes the Cyclops used to sleep on, that monster with his heart set on lawlessness. I took them three at a time: the one in the middle carried a man each time, and the other two went one on either side, keeping my companions safe. So every three sheep carried one man. But for myself — there was a ram, far the best of the whole flock. I took hold of him by the back and curled up under his shaggy belly and lay there face upwards, holding on to his marvellous fleece with my hands, with a steady heart. So we waited, wailing, for the bright dawn.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, the males of the flock hurried out to pasture, and the females bleated unmilked round the pens, because their udders were bursting. And their master, in terrible pain, felt along the backs of all the sheep as they stood up in front of him; but in his folly he did not notice this, that my men were tied under the breasts of his fleecy sheep. Last of all the flock the ram went out, weighed down by his fleece and by my cunning self. And mighty Polyphemus felt along his back and said to him:
"Good ram, why are you going out through the cave like this, the last of the flock? You never used to lag behind the sheep before; you were always far the first to feed on the tender bloom of the grass, moving with long strides, and always the first to reach the streams of the river, and the first to want to come back to the fold in the evening. But now you are the last of all. Surely you are grieving for your master's eye, which an evil man blinded, with his miserable companions, when he had overpowered my wits with wine — Nobody, who I tell you has not yet escaped destruction. If only you could feel as I do, and could get the power of speech to tell me where he is skulking away from my anger, then his brains should be dashed on the ground here and there through the cave when I had struck him, and my heart should be lightened of the troubles that good-for-nothing Nobody has brought me."
With that he sent the ram out away from him. And when we had got a little way from the cave and the court, I first loosed myself from under the ram and then set my companions free. Quickly we drove off those long-shanked sheep, rich with fat, turning round again and again to look until we reached the ship. And the sight of us who had escaped death was welcome to our dear companions; but for the others they wept and wailed. I would not let them weep, though, but forbade each man with a frown. I told them instead to fling the many fine-fleeced sheep aboard quickly and sail over the salt water. So they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches, and sitting in their order struck the grey sea with their oars.
But when I was as far off as a man's voice carries when he shouts, then I spoke to the Cyclops with mocking words:
"Cyclops, that man was no weakling, it seems, whose companions you meant to eat by brute strength in your hollow cave. Your evil deeds were bound to fall on your own head, you cruel wretch, who did not shrink from eating your guests in your own house. So Zeus has taken his revenge on you, and the other gods."
So I spoke, and he grew angrier still in his heart, and broke off the peak of a high mountain and hurled it at us, and threw it in front of the dark-prowed ship. And the sea surged under the stone as it fell, and the backward flow, like a flood out of the deep, carried the ship quickly landward and drove it onto the shore. But I seized a long pole in my hands and shoved the ship off and along the shore, and roused my companions with a nod of my head and told them to fall to their oars so that we could get out of trouble. And they bent to the oars and rowed.
But when we had gone twice as far over the sea, then I wanted to call to the Cyclops, though my companions, one after another, tried to check me with gentle words: "Reckless man, why do you want to provoke a savage to anger? He has just thrown his missile into the sea and driven our ship back to the land, and we really thought we had died there. If he had heard one of us making a sound or speaking, he would have hurled a jagged rock and crushed our heads and the ship's timbers, he throws so hard."
So they spoke, but they could not persuade my great-hearted spirit, and I answered him again in anger:
"Cyclops, if any mortal man asks you about the shameful blinding of your eye, say that Odysseus blinded it, the sacker of cities, the son of Laertes, whose home is in Ithaca."
So I spoke, and he groaned and answered: "Now the prophecy spoken long ago has come on me. There was a seer here, a good tall man, Telemus, son of Eurymus, who was better than anyone at prophecy and grew old as a seer among the Cyclopes. He told me all this would come to pass in days to come, that I should lose my sight at the hands of Odysseus. But I always looked for some tall handsome man to come here, clothed in great strength; and now a puny thing, a man of no account and a weakling, has blinded me of my eye, after overpowering me with wine. But come here, Odysseus, so that I can set guest-gifts in front of you and speed your sending, and that the glorious earth-shaker may grant it you. I am his son, and he declares himself my father; and he himself will heal me, if he pleases, and nobody else, not one of the blessed gods and not any mortal man."
So he spoke, and I answered him: "I only wish I could rob you of soul and life and send you to the house of Hades, as surely as not even the earth-shaker will heal your eye."
So I spoke, and then he prayed to the lord Poseidon, stretching both his hands out to the starry sky: "Hear me, Poseidon, holder of the earth, dark-haired god, if I really am your son and you declare yourself my father. Grant that Odysseus, sacker of cities, may never reach his home, the son of Laertes, whose home is in Ithaca. But if it is his fate to see his friends and reach his well-built house and his own country, let him come late and in a bad way, after losing all his companions, in another man's ship; and let him find trouble in his house."
So he spoke in prayer, and the dark-haired god heard him. But the Cyclops lifted a far greater stone again and swung and hurled it, putting measureless strength into the throw. He threw it a little behind the dark-prowed ship, and barely missed the end of the steering-oar. And the sea surged under the stone as it fell, and the wave carried the ship on and drove it to the shore.
Now when we had come to the island where our other well-benched ships all lay together, and our companions sat round them weeping, always expecting us, we beached our ship on the sand when we got there, and went out ourselves onto the shore of the sea. Then we took the Cyclops's flocks out of the hollow ship and divided them, so that as far as it lay with me no man should go cheated of an equal share. But my well-greaved companions gave the ram to me alone, as a gift apart, when the flocks were divided; and I sacrificed him on the shore to Zeus, son of Cronos, the god of the dark clouds, who is lord of all, and burned the thigh-pieces. But he took no notice of my offering; he was planning how all my well-benched ships and my trusty companions might be destroyed.
So all day long until sunset we sat feasting on plenty of meat and sweet wine; and when the sun set and the dark came on we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea. And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, I roused my companions and told them to embark themselves and loose the stern cables. So they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches, and sitting in their order struck the grey sea with their oars.
From there we sailed on, grieving in our hearts, glad to have escaped death, though we had lost our dear companions.
Then we came to the Aeolian island, where Aeolus lived, son of Hippotas, dear to the immortal gods, on a floating island, with a wall of unbreakable bronze all round it and the cliff running up sheer. Twelve children of his live in the halls, six daughters and six sturdy sons, and he gave his daughters to his sons as wives. So they feast continually beside their dear father and their good mother, with boundless good things laid out in front of them; and the house, full of the savour of the feasting, rings all round it even in the outer court by day, and by night they sleep again beside their chaste wives on blankets and on corded bedsteads.
So we came to their city and their fine palace, and for a whole month he made me welcome and questioned me about everything, about Ilios and the ships of the Argives and the homecoming of the Achaeans; and I told him the whole story in its order. But when I asked him in my turn if I might go, and told him to send me on my way, he refused me nothing, and helped my sending. He gave me a bag made of the hide of a nine-year-old ox, which he skinned, and in it he bound the ways of the blustering winds; because the son of Cronos had made him keeper of the winds, to still or to rouse whichever one he pleases. And he made it fast in my hollow ship with a bright silver cord, so that not the slightest breath could escape. But he sent the breath of the west wind out to blow for my sending, so that it should carry ships and men on their way. And this he was not to bring off, because we were lost through our own folly.
For nine days we sailed, night and day alike, and now on the tenth our own country came in sight, and we were so close that we could see men tending the beacon fires. Then sweet sleep came over me, in my weariness; because I had kept the ship's sheet in my own hand the whole time and given it to none of my companions, so that we might get home sooner. And meanwhile my companions started talking to one another, and saying that I was bringing gold and silver home for myself as gifts from Aeolus, the great-hearted son of Hippotas. And one of them would say, with a glance at his neighbour:
"How loved and honoured this man is, wherever he comes, in whatever city and country. He is carrying a great deal of fine treasure away with him from the land of Troy out of the plunder, while we, who have made the same journey he has, are going home with empty hands. And now Aeolus has given him these gifts, granting them freely out of affection. Come, let us have a quick look at what is here, and see how much gold and silver is in the bag."
So they spoke, and my companions' bad advice won the day. They loosed the bag, and all the winds leapt out, and the storm wind seized them at once and carried them out to sea, weeping, away from their own country. And I woke, and turned it over in my good heart whether to throw myself out of the ship and die in the sea, or to endure in silence and stay among the living. I endured and stayed, and covered my head and lay down in the ship. And the ships were carried by an evil blast of wind back to the Aeolian island, and my companions groaned.
There we went ashore and drew water, and my companions took their meal at once beside the fast ships. And when we had tasted food and drink, I took a herald and one companion with me and went to the splendid palace of Aeolus, and found him feasting beside his wife and his children. So we went into the house and sat down by the doorposts on the threshold, and their hearts were amazed, and they asked us:
"How have you come here, Odysseus? What cruel god attacked you? We sent you off with every care, so that you should reach your own country and your home, and any place you wanted."
So they spoke, and I answered them with a sorrowing heart: "My wicked companions did me this harm, and an accursed sleep along with them. But heal it, my friends; the power is with you."
So I spoke, addressing them with gentle words, and they said nothing. Then their father answered and said: "Get off our island as fast as you can, you vilest of all living things. There is no way I can help or send on his way a man who is hated by the blessed gods. Get out, since you come here hated by the immortals."
With that he sent me out of the house, groaning heavily.
From there we sailed on, grieving in our hearts. And the men's spirits were worn down by the hard rowing, through our own folly, since there was no breeze any more to carry us on our way. So for six days we sailed, night and day alike, and on the seventh we came to the high citadel of Lamus, to Telepylus of the Laestrygonians, where one herdsman calls to another as he drives his flock in, and the other answers as he drives his out. There a man who never slept could have earned a double wage, one for herding cattle and one for pasturing white sheep; because the outgoings of the night and of the day are close together there.
When we had come in there to the fine harbour, which has a sheer cliff running unbroken along both sides of it, with jutting headlands opposite each other stretching out at the mouth and a narrow entrance, all the rest steered their curved ships in, and the ships were moored inside the hollow harbour close together; because no wave ever swelled in there, great or small, but there was a bright calm all round. But I alone moored my black ship outside, there at the edge of the land, making the cables fast to the rock. Then I climbed a rugged height, a point of outlook, and took my stand there. From there no works of oxen or of men could be seen; we saw only smoke going up from the land.
So I sent some of my companions to go and find out who the men were who ate bread here on the earth. I chose two, and sent a third with them as a herald. When they had gone ashore they went along a smooth road by which wagons used to bring wood down to the city from the high mountains. And in front of the city they met a girl drawing water, the fine daughter of Antiphates the Laestrygonian, who had come down to the fair-flowing spring Artacia, where they used to carry water to the town from. So they came up to her and spoke to her and asked her who was king of these people, and who they were that he was lord over. And she showed them at once the high-roofed house of her father.
But when they had gone into the splendid house, they found his wife there, huge as a mountain peak, and they were appalled at her. She called glorious Antiphates at once from the meeting place, her husband, and he contrived a miserable destruction for them. He seized one of my companions straight away and got his meal ready, and the other two sprang up and came running back to the ships. Then he raised a cry through the city, and as they heard it the mighty Laestrygonians came crowding from all sides, a host past counting, not like men but like the Giants. They pelted us from the cliffs with rocks as big as a man could lift, and at once a dreadful din went up through the ships, of men dying and of ships being crushed. And they speared them like fish and carried them home, a loathsome meal.
Now while they were killing the men inside the deep harbour, I drew my sharp sword from beside my thigh and cut the cables of my dark-prowed ship with it, and called quickly to my companions and told them to fall to their oars so that we could get out of trouble. And they all tossed the sea with their oar-blades in fear of death, and gladly my ship ran out to sea, away from the beetling cliffs; but all those other ships were lost together there.
From there we sailed on, grieving in our hearts, glad to have escaped death, though we had lost our dear companions; and we came to the island of Aeaea, where Circe of the lovely hair lived, a dread goddess with human speech, own sister of Aeetes of the deadly mind. Both of them are the children of Helios, who gives light to mortals, and of Perse their mother, whom Oceanus fathered.
Here we put in to shore with our ship in silence, into a harbour where ships may lie, and some god guided us. Then we disembarked and lay there two days and two nights, eating our hearts out with weariness and grief. But when Dawn of the lovely hair brought the third day to its birth, I took my spear and my sharp sword and went up quickly from the ship to a place with a wide view, hoping to see the works of men and hear their voices. So I climbed a rugged height, a place of outlook, and took my stand there, and I saw smoke rising from the broad-wayed earth in the halls of Circe, through the thick brush and the wood.
And I turned over in my mind and heart whether to go and look into it, since I had seen the flaming smoke. And as I turned it over, this seemed to me the better way: to go first to the fast ship and the shore of the sea and give my companions their meal, and then send them out to look. But when, as I went, I was near the curved ship, some god took pity on me in my loneliness, and sent a great high-antlered stag right into my path. He was coming down from his pasture in the wood to the river to drink, because the strength of the sun was oppressing him; and as he came out I struck him on the spine in the middle of the back, and the bronze spear went right through him, and down he fell in the dust with a moan, and his spirit flew from him.
Then I planted my foot on him and drew the bronze spear out of the wound and left it lying on the ground; and I pulled up twigs and osiers and wove a rope about a fathom long, well twisted from end to end, and bound the feet of the monstrous beast together and went off to the black ship carrying him across my back, leaning on my spear — because there was no way I could hold him on my shoulder with one hand; he was a very big beast. I flung him down in front of the ship and heartened my companions with gentle words, going up to each man in turn:
"Friends, we are not going down to the house of Hades yet, for all our sorrows, before the day of our fate comes. Come, while there is still food and drink in our fast ship, let us think about eating, so that we do not waste away with hunger."
So I spoke, and they quickly did as I said. They drew their cloaks off their faces and stared at the stag on the shore of the restless sea, because he was a very big beast. And when they had had their fill of looking they washed their hands and got a splendid feast ready. So all day long until sunset we sat feasting on plenty of meat and sweet wine. But when the sun set and the dark came on we lay down to rest on the shore of the sea.
And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, I called my men together and spoke to them all:
"Listen to me, companions, for all the trouble you are in. My friends, we do not know where the dark is or where the dawn, nor where the sun that gives light to mortals goes down under the earth, nor where he rises. Let us think at once whether there is any plan left to us. I do not think there is. I climbed a rugged point of outlook and saw the island, with the boundless deep set round it like a crown. The island itself lies low, and in the middle of it my eyes saw smoke through the thick brush and the wood."
So I spoke, and their spirits broke inside them as they remembered the doings of Antiphates the Laestrygonian, and the violence of the great-hearted Cyclops, the man-eater. And they wailed aloud and shed big tears. But nothing came of their mourning.
Then I divided all my well-greaved companions into two bands and appointed a leader for each. I took command of one, and godlike Eurylochus of the other. Then we quickly shook lots in a bronze helmet, and out leapt the lot of great-hearted Eurylochus. So he set out, and twenty-two companions went with him, all weeping; and they left us behind, lamenting.
In the forest glades they found the house of Circe, built of polished stone in a place with a wide view; and round about it were mountain wolves and lions, whom Circe had bewitched herself, because she gave them evil drugs. These beasts did not rush at my men, but pranced round them fawning, wagging their long tails. And as hounds fawn round their master when he comes from a feast, because he always brings them scraps to soothe their temper, so the stout-clawed wolves and lions fawned round them. But the men were seized with fear when they saw the dreadful creatures.
So they stood in the gateway of the goddess with the lovely hair, and inside they heard Circe singing in a sweet voice as she went to and fro at a great imperishable web, the kind of work that goddesses do, finely woven and beautiful and splendid. Then Polites spoke among them, a leader of men, the dearest and most trustworthy of my companions:
"Friends, somebody inside is going to and fro at a great web, singing sweetly, so that the whole floor echoes with it. Some goddess it is, or some woman. Come, let us call to her quickly."
So he spoke, and they called aloud to her. And she came out at once and opened the shining doors and asked them in; and they all went with her in their folly. Only Eurylochus stayed behind, because he suspected there was a trap.
She brought them in and made them sit on chairs and seats, and made them a potion of cheese and barley meal and yellow honey with Pramnian wine; but she mixed deadly drugs into the food, so that they should forget their own country altogether. And when she had given them the potion and they had drunk it off, she struck them at once with her wand and penned them in the sties. And they had the heads and the voices and the bristles and the shape of pigs, but their minds stayed unchanged, just as before. So they were penned there weeping, and Circe threw down mast and acorns for them, and the fruit of the cornel tree, to eat, the kind of thing wallowing pigs feed on.
But Eurylochus came straight back to the fast black ship to bring news of his companions and their shameful fate. He could not utter a word, for all he wanted to, so stricken to the heart was he with great distress; his eyes were full of tears and his spirit was set on lamenting. But when we questioned him in astonishment, then he told us what had happened to the others, his companions:
"We went through the thickets, as you told us, noble Odysseus. We found a fine palace in the forest glades, built of polished stone, in a place with a wide view. Somebody was going to and fro there at a great web, singing in a clear voice, some goddess or some woman; and they called aloud to her. And she came out at once and opened the shining doors and asked them in, and they all went with her in their folly. But I stayed behind, because I suspected there was a trap. And then they all vanished together, and not one of them appeared again, though I sat a long while and watched."
So he spoke, and I slung my silver-studded sword over my shoulders, a great sword of bronze, and slung my bow round me, and told him to lead me back by the same road. But he took hold of me with both hands and begged me by my knees, and spoke to me with winged words, wailing:
"Do not take me there against my will, you whom Zeus brought up; leave me here. I know that you will not come back yourself, and will not bring any of your companions back either. Let us get away as fast as we can with the men we have here; we may still escape the evil day."
So he spoke, but I answered him: "Eurylochus, you stay here in this place, eating and drinking beside the hollow black ship; but I am going, because a hard necessity is laid on me."
With that I went up from the ship and the sea. But when, as I went through the sacred glades, I was about to come to the great house of the sorceress Circe, then Hermes of the golden wand met me as I went towards the house, in the likeness of a young man with the first down on his lip, at the age when the charm of youth is loveliest. He took my hand and said to me:
"Where are you going now, again, unlucky man, alone through the hills, knowing nothing of the country? Your companions over there in the house of Circe are penned like pigs in close-barred sties. And have you come to set them free? I tell you, you will not get back yourself; you will stay there with the others. But come, I will save you from harm and get you out. Take this potent herb and go to the house of Circe, and it will keep the evil day off your head. And I will tell you all the deadly tricks of Circe.
"She will mix you a potion and throw drugs into the food; but even so she will not be able to bewitch you, because the potent herb I am going to give you will not allow it. And I will tell you the rest. When Circe strikes you with her long wand, then draw your sharp sword from beside your thigh and rush at Circe as if you meant to kill her. And she will be seized with fear and will tell you to lie with her. Then do not refuse the goddess's bed after that, so that she sets your companions free and gives you hospitality. But make her swear a great oath by the blessed gods that she is not plotting some fresh mischief against you to your harm, in case, when she has you stripped, she makes you a weakling and unmanned."
With that the slayer of Argus gave me the herb, pulling it out of the ground, and showed me what it was like. It was black at the root, and its flower was like milk. The gods call it moly, and it is hard for mortal men to dig; but with the gods everything is possible.
Then Hermes went off to high Olympus through the wooded island, and I went on to the house of Circe, and my heart turned over a great deal darkly as I went. So I stood at the gates of the goddess with the lovely hair. I stood there and called, and the goddess heard my voice. She came out at once and opened the shining doors and asked me in; and I went with her, with a badly troubled heart.
She brought me in and made me sit on a silver-studded chair, a beautiful chair, finely made, with a footstool below for the feet. And she made me a potion in a golden cup for me to drink, and put a drug into it, with evil purpose in her heart. But when she had given it to me and I had drunk it off, and was not bewitched, she struck me with her wand and said to me:
"Off with you to the sty now, and lie down with the rest of your companions."
So she spoke; but I drew my sharp sword from beside my thigh and rushed at Circe as though I meant to kill her. And she gave a loud cry and ran in under the blow and took hold of my knees, and spoke to me with winged words, wailing:
"Who are you among men, and where from? Where is your city, and where are your parents? Amazement takes hold of me that you have drunk this charm and were not bewitched at all. No other man has ever withstood this charm once he has drunk it and it has passed the barrier of his teeth. But the mind in your breast is not one that can be beguiled. You must be Odysseus, the man of ready invention, whom the slayer of Argus with the golden wand always told me would come here on his way home from Troy with his fast black ship. Come, put your sword back in its sheath, and let the two of us go up into my bed, so that we may lie together in love and trust each other."
So she spoke; but I answered her: "Circe, how can you tell me to be gentle to you, when you have turned my companions into pigs in your halls, and are keeping me here now and telling me with a guileful purpose to go to your chamber and go up into your bed, so that when you have me stripped you can make me a weakling and unmanned? No, I will not be willing to go up into your bed unless you, goddess, will consent to swear a great oath that you are not plotting some fresh mischief against me to my harm."
So I spoke, and she swore the oath at once to do me no harm, as I told her. And when she had sworn and finished the oath, then I went up into Circe's beautiful bed.
Meanwhile her women were busy in the halls, four girls who are her serving-women in the house. They are the children of the springs and the groves and the sacred rivers that flow out to the sea. One of them threw fine purple rugs over the chairs and spread a linen cloth underneath them; another drew silver tables up in front of the chairs and set golden baskets on them; and the third mixed sweet honey-hearted wine in a silver bowl and served out golden cups; and the fourth brought water and kindled a great fire under a big cauldron, and the water grew warm. And when the water boiled in the bright bronze she set me in a bath and bathed me with water from the great cauldron, mixing it to my liking and pouring it over my head and shoulders, until she took the soul-consuming weariness out of my limbs.
And when she had bathed me and rubbed me richly with oil and put a fine cloak and a tunic on me, she brought me into the hall and made me sit on a silver-studded chair — a beautiful chair, finely made, with a footstool below for the feet. Then a maid brought water for my hands in a lovely golden jug and poured it over a silver basin for me to wash, and drew a polished table up beside me. And the housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it in front of me, and plenty of meat with it, giving freely from her stores. Then she told me to eat, but my heart was not inclined to it. I sat there with other thoughts, and my spirit foreboded trouble.
Now when Circe noticed that I sat like that and did not put out my hands to the food, but was weighed down by hard grief, she came close to me and spoke winged words:
"Why do you sit like this, Odysseus, like a man struck dumb, eating your heart out, and touch neither food nor drink? Do you suspect some other trick? You need not be afraid at all; I have sworn a great oath already to do you no harm."
So she spoke, but I answered her: "Circe, what right-minded man could bring himself to taste food or drink before he had won his companions' freedom and seen them in front of his own face? If you are telling me to eat and drink with a ready heart, set them free, so that my eyes may see my trusty companions."
So I spoke, and Circe went out through the hall holding her wand in her hand, and opened the doors of the sty and drove them out in the shape of nine-year-old pigs. So they stood there in front of her, and she went through the middle of them and rubbed each man with another charm. Then the bristles fell away from their limbs, which the deadly drug queenly Circe had given them had made grow before, and they became men again, younger than they had been, and far handsomer and taller to look at. They knew me, and every one of them clung to my hands, and a passionate sobbing came over them all, and the house rang marvellously round them; and the goddess herself was moved to pity.
Then the beautiful goddess came up to me and said: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, go now to your fast ship and the shore of the sea. First of all draw the ship up on the land, and store your goods and all the tackle in the caves; and then come back yourself, and bring your trusty companions."
So she spoke, and my proud heart agreed. I went off to the fast ship and the shore of the sea, and there I found my trusty companions beside the fast ship, wailing pitifully, shedding big tears. As calves in a farmyard frisk about the droves of cows coming back to the yard when they have had their fill of grazing — they all frisk together in front of them, and the pens do not hold them any longer, but they run round their mothers lowing continually — so those men, when their eyes took me in, crowded round me weeping; and it seemed to their hearts as though they had got home to their own country and the very city of rugged Ithaca, where they were bred and born. And they spoke to me with winged words, wailing:
"We are as glad at your coming back, you whom Zeus brought up, as though we had got home to Ithaca, our own country. But come, tell us what happened to the others, our companions."
So they spoke, and I answered them with gentle words: "First of all let us draw the ship up on the land, and store our goods and all the tackle in the caves. Then hurry, every one of you, and come with me, so that you can see your companions in the sacred halls of Circe, eating and drinking; they have unfailing supplies."
So I spoke, and they quickly did as I said. Only Eurylochus tried to hold all my companions back, and he spoke to them with winged words:
"Poor wretches, where are we going? Why are you so in love with trouble, that you would go down to the house of Circe, who will turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions, so that we have to guard her great house whether we like it or not? It was the same with the Cyclops, when our companions went to his fold, and this reckless Odysseus went with them. It was through this man's folly that they died too."
So he spoke, and I turned it over in my heart whether to draw the long sword from beside my strong thigh and strike his head off with it and bring it to the ground, close kinsman of mine by marriage though he was. But my companions, one after another, tried to check me with gentle words:
"You who are sprung from Zeus, as for this man, we will leave him here beside the ship, if you say so, to guard the ship; but lead us to the sacred house of Circe."
With that they went up from the ship and the sea. And Eurylochus was not left beside the hollow ship either, but came with us, because he was afraid of my terrible rebuke.
Meanwhile in her halls Circe bathed the rest of my companions with kindly care, and rubbed them richly with oil, and put fleecy cloaks and tunics on them; and we found them all feasting generously in the halls. And when they saw and recognised each other face to face, they wept and wailed, and the house rang round them.
Then the beautiful goddess came up to me and said: "Do not rouse this great lamenting any longer. I know myself both all the troubles you have suffered on the teeming water and all the wrong cruel men have done you on land. Come, eat food and drink wine, until you get the spirit back in your breasts that you had when you first left your own country of rugged Ithaca. As it is you are withered and spiritless, always thinking of your weary wanderings, and your hearts are never glad, because you have suffered a great deal."
So she spoke, and our proud hearts agreed. So we stayed there day after day for a whole year, feasting on plenty of meat and sweet wine. But when a year had gone and the seasons turned, as the months waned and the long days came round in their course, then my trusty companions called me out and said:
"Strange man, think now at last of your own country, if it is fated for you to be saved and to reach your high-roofed house and your own country."
So they spoke, and my proud heart agreed. So all day long until sunset we sat feasting on plenty of meat and sweet wine. But when the sun set and the dark came on they lay down to sleep through the shadowy halls, and I went up into the beautiful bed of Circe and begged her by her knees; and the goddess heard my voice, and I spoke to her with winged words:
"Circe, keep the promise you made me, to send me home. My spirit is eager to be gone now, and so is the spirit of my companions, who wear my heart away sitting round me mourning, whenever you happen not to be there."
So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess answered at once: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, do not stay in my house any longer against your will. But you must finish another journey first, and come to the house of Hades and dread Persephone, to consult the spirit of Theban Teiresias, the blind seer, whose mind stays steady. To him, even in death, Persephone has granted reason, so that he alone has understanding; the others flit about as shadows."
So she spoke, and my spirit broke inside me, and I wept as I sat on the bed, and my heart had no more wish to live and see the light of the sun. But when I had had my fill of weeping and writhing, I answered her and said:
"Circe, who will guide us on this journey? No man has ever yet gone to Hades in a black ship."
So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess answered at once: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, let there be no concern in your mind for a pilot to guide your ship. Set up your mast and spread the white sail and sit down; and the breath of the north wind will carry her on. But when you have crossed the stream of Oceanus in your ship, where there is a level shore and the groves of Persephone — tall poplars and willows that shed their fruit — beach your ship there by the deep eddying Oceanus, and go yourself to the dank house of Hades.
"There Periphlegethon and Cocytus flow into Acheron, and Cocytus is a branch of the water of the Styx; and there is a rock, and the meeting place of the two roaring rivers. Go up close to that, prince, as I tell you, and dig a pit a cubit's length this way and that, and pour an offering round it to all the dead, first with milk and honey, then with sweet wine, and in the third place with water, and sprinkle white barley meal over it. And make an earnest plea to the powerless heads of the dead, promising that when you come to Ithaca you will sacrifice in your halls a barren heifer, the best you have, and will fill the altar with rich gifts; and that to Teiresias alone you will sacrifice separately a ram, wholly black, the finest in your flock.
"But when you have made your plea in prayer to the glorious tribes of the dead, then sacrifice a ram and a black ewe, turning their heads towards Erebus but turning yourself away and setting your face towards the streams of the river. Then many ghosts of men who are dead will come out. Then call to your companions and tell them to flay and burn the sheep lying there, killed by the pitiless bronze, and to pray to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread Persephone. And draw your own sharp sword from beside your thigh, and sit there, and do not let the powerless heads of the dead come near the blood until you have questioned Teiresias. Then the seer will come to you soon, leader of men, and will tell you your road and the measure of your journey, and about your homecoming, how you are to go over the teeming water."
So she spoke, and golden-throned Dawn came at once. She put a cloak and a tunic on me for clothes, and the nymph dressed herself in a long white robe, finely woven and beautiful, and put a fine golden girdle round her waist and a veil on her head.
But I went through the halls and roused my men with gentle words, going up to each man in turn: "Do not sleep any longer now, dozing in sweet slumber. Let us go; queenly Circe has told me everything."
So I spoke, and their proud hearts agreed. But not even from there could I bring my men away unhurt. There was one, Elpenor, the youngest of them all, not very brave in war and not sound in his understanding, who had lain down apart from his companions in the sacred house of Circe, looking for the cool air, because he was heavy with wine. He heard the noise and the bustle of his companions moving about and sprang up suddenly, and forgot to go to the long ladder to come down again, but fell headlong from the roof, and his neck was broken away from the spine, and his spirit went down to the house of Hades.
But as my men were going on their way I spoke among them and said: "You think, I suppose, that you are going to your own dear country. But Circe has marked out another journey for us, to the house of Hades and dread Persephone, to consult the spirit of Theban Teiresias."
So I spoke, and their spirits broke inside them, and they sat down right where they were and wept and tore their hair. But nothing came of their lamenting.
But as we were going on our way to the fast ship and the shore of the sea, sorrowing and shedding big tears, Circe had gone ahead meanwhile and made fast a ram and a black ewe beside the black ship; she had passed us easily. Who could see a god with his own eyes against the god's will, coming or going?
But when we had come down to the ship and the sea, first of all we drew the ship down to the bright sea and set the mast and sail in the black ship, and took the sheep and put them aboard, and got in ourselves, sorrowing and shedding big tears. And Circe of the lovely hair, dread goddess with human speech, sent a fair wind after our dark-prowed ship to help us, filling the sail, a good companion. So when we had made all the tackle fast through the ship we sat down, and the wind and the helmsman kept her straight on her course. All day long her sail was stretched as she ran over the sea; and the sun set and all the ways grew dark.
She came to the deep-flowing Oceanus, which bounds the earth, where the country and the city of the Cimmerians are, wrapped in mist and cloud. The bright sun never looks down on them with his rays, either when he climbs the starry sky or when he turns back to earth from the sky, but deadly night is spread over those wretched people. We came there and beached our ship and took the sheep out, and went ourselves along the stream of Oceanus until we came to the place Circe had told us of.
Here Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, while I drew my sharp sword from beside my thigh and dug a pit a cubit's length this way and that, and poured an offering round it to all the dead, first with milk and honey, then with sweet wine, and in the third place with water, and sprinkled white barley meal over it. And I made an earnest plea to the powerless heads of the dead, promising that when I came to Ithaca I would sacrifice in my halls a barren heifer, the best I had, and pile the altar with fine gifts, and that to Teiresias alone I would sacrifice separately a ram, wholly black, the finest in my flocks.
But when I had made my plea to the tribes of the dead with vows and prayers, I took the sheep and cut their throats over the pit, and the dark blood ran out. Then out of Erebus the spirits of the dead gathered — brides, and unmarried young men, and old men worn out with labour, and tender girls with hearts still new to sorrow, and many who had been wounded with bronze-tipped spears, men killed in fighting, still wearing their blood-stained armour. They came crowding round the pit from every side with an extraordinary cry, and pale fear took hold of me.
Then I called to my companions and told them to flay and burn the sheep that lay there killed by the pitiless bronze, and to pray to the gods, to mighty Hades and dread Persephone. And I drew my sharp sword from beside my thigh myself and sat there, and would not let the powerless heads of the dead come near the blood until I had questioned Teiresias.
The first to come was the spirit of my companion Elpenor. He had not yet been buried under the broad-wayed earth; we had left his body behind in the hall of Circe, unwept and unburied, because another task was pressing us on. When I saw him I wept, and my heart was full of pity for him, and I spoke to him with winged words:
"Elpenor, how did you come here, under the murky dark? You have come on foot and outstripped me in my black ship."
So I spoke, and he answered me with a groan: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, an evil doom from some god was my undoing, and measureless wine. When I had lain down to sleep in the house of Circe I did not think to go to the long ladder to come down again, but fell headlong from the roof, and my neck was broken away from the spine, and my spirit went down to the house of Hades. Now I beg you by those we left behind, who are not here with us, by your wife and by your father who brought you up when you were a baby, and by Telemachus, whom you left an only son in your halls — because I know that when you go from here, from the house of Hades, you will put in at the island of Aeaea with your well-built ship. There, prince, I ask you to remember me. Do not leave me behind unwept and unburied when you go, and do not turn away from me, in case I bring the anger of the gods on you. Burn me with my armour, everything that is mine, and heap a mound up for me on the shore of the grey sea, in memory of an unhappy man, so that men still to come may learn of me. Do this for me, and fix on the mound the oar I rowed with in life when I was among my companions."
So he spoke, and I answered him: "I will carry out all of it, unhappy man, and do it."
So the two of us sat and talked sadly to each other, I on one side holding my sword over the blood, while on the other side the phantom of my companion spoke at length.
Then the spirit of my dead mother came up, Anticleia, the daughter of great-hearted Autolycus, whom I had left alive when I went to sacred Ilios. At the sight of her I wept, and my heart was full of pity for her; but even so I would not let her come near the blood, for all my great sorrow, until I had questioned Teiresias.
Then the spirit of Theban Teiresias came up, carrying his golden staff in his hand, and he knew me and said to me: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, what is it now, unlucky man? Why have you left the light of the sun and come here to look at the dead and a country where there is no joy? Give way from the pit and draw back your sharp sword, so that I can drink the blood and tell you the truth."
So he spoke, and I gave way and thrust my silver-studded sword into its sheath; and when he had drunk the dark blood, then the blameless seer spoke to me and said:
"You are asking about your honey-sweet homecoming, glorious Odysseus; but a god will make it hard for you. I do not think you will get past the earth-shaker, who has stored up anger in his heart against you, furious that you blinded his dear son. Even so you may reach home, though in a bad way, if you will curb your own spirit and your companions', as soon as you bring your well-built ship to the island of Thrinacia, escaping from the violet sea, and find the cattle and fine flocks of Helios grazing there, who oversees and overhears everything. If you leave them unharmed and keep your mind on your homecoming, you may still reach Ithaca, though in a bad way. But if you harm them, then I foresee ruin for your ship and your companions; and even if you get clear yourself, you will come home late and badly, after losing all your companions, in another man's ship, and you will find trouble in your house — proud men eating up your living, courting your godlike wife and offering wedding gifts. But you will take your revenge on their violence when you come.
"And when you have killed the suitors in your halls, whether by trickery or openly with the sharp sword, then go out, taking a well-shaped oar, until you come to men who know nothing of the sea and do not eat food mixed with salt, and know nothing of ships with purple cheeks or of the well-shaped oars that are the wings of ships. And I will tell you a sign, quite unmistakable, which will not escape you. When another traveller meets you and says you have a winnowing-fan on your broad shoulder, then plant your well-shaped oar in the ground and make fine offerings to lord Poseidon — a ram and a bull and a boar that mates with sows — and go home and offer sacred hecatombs to the immortal gods who hold the wide sky, to each in his order. And death will come to you yourself far from the sea, a death so gentle that it will lay you low when you are worn out with a sleek old age, and your people will live in prosperity around you. This is the truth I have told you."
So he spoke, and I answered him: "Teiresias, the gods themselves must have spun the thread of all this. But tell me this, and tell me the truth. I see the spirit of my dead mother here. She sits in silence near the blood and does not think fit to look at her own son's face or to speak to him. Tell me, prince, how can she know that I am he?"
So I spoke, and he answered at once: "The word I shall say is an easy one, and I will put it in your mind. Whichever of the dead and gone you let come near the blood will tell you the truth; whichever you refuse will go back again."
With that the spirit of the prince Teiresias went back into the house of Hades, when he had delivered his prophecies; but I stayed there steadily until my mother came up and drank the dark blood. And at once she knew me, and spoke to me with winged words, wailing:
"My child, how did you come here under the murky dark, still alive? It is hard for the living to look on these regions, because there are great rivers between, and dreadful streams; Oceanus first, which nobody can cross on foot at all, but only with a well-built ship. Have you only now come here from Troy, after long wandering with your ship and your companions? And have you not reached Ithaca yet, or seen your wife in your halls?"
So she spoke, and I answered her: "Mother, necessity brought me down to the house of Hades, to consult the spirit of Theban Teiresias. I have not come near the shore of Achaea yet, nor set foot on my own land; I have been wandering all this time, loaded with trouble, since the day I first went with noble Agamemnon to Ilios, famous for horses, to fight the Trojans. But tell me this, and tell me the truth. What fate of miserable death overcame you? Was it a long illness, or did Artemis the archer attack you with her gentle arrows and kill you? And tell me about my father and my son, whom I left behind. Does the honour that was mine still rest with them, or does some other man hold it now, and do they say I shall never come back? And tell me about my wedded wife, what she means to do and what is in her mind. Does she stay with her son and keep everything safe? Or has one of the Achaeans married her already, whoever is best of them?"
So I spoke, and my honoured mother answered at once: "She does stay in your halls, with a steady heart; and the nights and the days waste away for her sorrowfully as she weeps. Nobody holds your fine honour yet; Telemachus keeps your estate undisturbed, and feasts at the shared banquets that a man who deals judgment should share in, because everybody invites him. But your father stays out there in the country and does not come to the city; and he has no bed for bedding, and no cloaks and bright coverlets, but through the winter he sleeps in the house where the slaves sleep, in the ashes by the fire, and wears poor clothes on his body. And when summer comes, and rich autumn, then all over the slope of his vineyard his low beds of fallen leaves are strewn. There he lies grieving, and nurses his great sorrow in his heart, longing for you to come back; and a heavy old age has come on him.
"And that is how I died too, and met my fate. The keen-sighted archer goddess did not attack me in my halls with her gentle arrows and kill me, and no illness came on me, the kind that most often takes the spirit out of the limbs by a miserable wasting. It was longing for you, and for your counsel, glorious Odysseus, and for your tenderness, that robbed me of honey-sweet life."
So she spoke, and I turned it over in my heart and wanted to take hold of the spirit of my dead mother. Three times I sprang towards her, and my heart told me to hold her, and three times she flitted out of my arms like a shadow or a dream, and the pain grew sharper at my heart. And I spoke to her with winged words:
"Mother, why do you not stay for me, when I want to hold you, so that even in the house of Hades the two of us might put our arms round each other and take our fill of cold lamenting? Is this only a phantom that august Persephone has sent me, so that I may lament and groan the more?"
So I spoke, and my honoured mother answered at once: "Oh, my child, unluckiest of all men, Persephone, the daughter of Zeus, is not deceiving you at all. This is the way it is with mortals when a man dies. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and the bones together, but the strong force of the blazing fire destroys them, as soon as the life leaves the white bones, and the spirit flits away like a dream and hovers to and fro. But make your way to the light as fast as you can, and keep all this in mind, so that you can tell it to your wife afterwards."
So the two of us talked to each other; and the women came, because august Persephone sent them out, all those who had been the wives and daughters of chieftains. They flocked in crowds about the dark blood, and I considered how I might question each of them; and this seemed to my mind the best plan. I drew my long sword from beside my strong thigh and would not let them all drink the dark blood at once. So they came up one after another, and each declared her birth, and I questioned them all.
The first I saw was high-born Tyro, who said she was the daughter of noble Salmoneus and declared herself the wife of Cretheus, son of Aeolus. She fell in love with the river, divine Enipeus, who is far the loveliest of the rivers that send their streams over the earth, and she used to go to the fair waters of Enipeus. But the Enfolder and Shaker of the earth took his shape and lay with her at the mouths of the eddying river. And the dark wave stood round them like a mountain, arched over, and hid the god and the mortal woman. And he loosed her maiden girdle and poured sleep over her. But when the god had finished his work of love, he took her hand and said to her:
"Be glad, woman, in our love. As the year goes round you will bear glorious children, because the embraces of a god are not feeble. Tend them and bring them up. But go home now, and hold your tongue, and tell nobody; and know that I am Poseidon, the shaker of the earth."
With that he plunged under the surging sea. And she conceived and bore Pelias and Neleus, who both became strong servants of great Zeus; and Pelias lived in spacious Iolcus and was rich in flocks, and the other lived in sandy Pylos. And her other children she bore to Cretheus, queenly among women as she was — Aeson, and Pheres, and Amythaon, who fought from chariots.
And after her I saw Antiope, the daughter of Asopus, who boasted that she had slept in the arms of Zeus himself; and she bore two sons, Amphion and Zethus, who first founded the seat of seven-gated Thebe and fenced it round with walls, because they could not live in spacious Thebe unfenced, however mighty they were.
And after her I saw Alcmene, the wife of Amphitryon, who lay in the arms of great Zeus and bore Heracles, steady in a fight, the lion-hearted. And I saw Megara, the daughter of high-hearted Creon, whom the son of Amphitryon had for a wife, always stubborn in his strength.
And I saw the mother of Oedipodes, lovely Epicaste, who did a monstrous thing in the ignorance of her mind, in marrying her own son; and he married her when he had killed his own father, and the gods made it known among men straight away. He stayed on as lord of the Cadmeans in lovely Thebe, suffering through the deadly counsels of the gods; but she went down to the house of Hades, the strong warder. She made a noose fast high up from a lofty beam, overcome by her sorrow; but for him she left behind a great many troubles, all the ones a mother's Avengers bring about.
And I saw beautiful Chloris, whom Neleus once married for her beauty, when he had brought countless wedding gifts. She was the youngest daughter of Amphion, son of Iasus, who once ruled mightily in Orchomenus of the Minyae; and she was queen of Pylos, and bore her husband glorious children, Nestor and Chromius and lordly Periclymenus, and besides these she bore noble Pero, a wonder to men. All who lived round about sought her in marriage, but Neleus would give her to no man except the one who should drive off from Phylace the cattle of mighty Iphicles, sleek and broad of brow; and they were hard to drive. The blameless seer alone undertook to drive them off; but a grievous fate from the gods trapped him, hard bonds and the herdsmen of the field. But when at last the months and the days were coming to fulfilment, as the year rolled round and the seasons came on, then mighty Iphicles released him, when he had told him all the oracles; and the will of Zeus was fulfilled.
And I saw Leda, the wife of Tyndareus, who bore Tyndareus two sons stout of heart, Castor the horse-tamer and Polydeuces the boxer. The earth, the giver of life, covers them both, alive as they are, and even in the world below they have honour from Zeus. One day they live in turn, and one day they are dead; and they have won honour equal to the gods'.
And after her I saw Iphimedeia, the wife of Aloeus, who declared she had lain with Poseidon. She bore two sons, but short-lived they were, godlike Otus and far-famed Ephialtes — men whom the grain-giving earth reared as the tallest, and far the handsomest, after famous Orion. At nine years old they were nine cubits across and nine fathoms in height. And they threatened to raise the din of furious war against the immortals on Olympus. They meant to pile Ossa on Olympus, and Pelion with its waving forests on Ossa, so that heaven could be scaled. And they would have done it, if they had reached the full measure of manhood; but the son of Zeus, whom fair-haired Leto bore, killed them both before the down blossomed under their temples and covered their chins with a full beard.
And I saw Phaedra and Procris, and lovely Ariadne, the daughter of Minos of the deadly mind, whom Theseus once wanted to carry from Crete to the hill of sacred Athens; but he had no joy of her, because Artemis killed her first in sea-girt Dia, on the witness of Dionysus.
And I saw Maera and Clymene, and hateful Eriphyle, who took precious gold as the price of her own husband's life.
But I cannot tell or name all the wives and daughters of heroes that I saw; immortal night would wane before I finished. It is time to sleep now, either when I have gone to the fast ship and the crew, or here. My sending rests with the gods, and with you.
So he spoke, and they were all hushed and silent, and were held spellbound through the shadowy halls. Then white-armed Arete was the first to speak among them.
"Phaeacians, how does this man seem to you, in looks and in build and in the balanced spirit inside him? And besides, he is my guest, though each of you has a share in the honour. So do not be in a hurry to send him away, and do not be sparing with your gifts to a man in such need; you have a great many treasures stored in your halls by the favour of the gods."
Then the old lord Echeneus spoke among them too, who was an elder among the Phaeacians: "Friends, the words of our wise queen are not wide of the mark, or of our own thinking. Do as she says. But it is on Alcinous here that the deed and the word depend."
Then Alcinous answered him and said: "This word of hers shall stand, as surely as I am alive and lord over the Phaeacians, who love the oar. But let our guest bear to stay until tomorrow, for all his great longing to get home, until I have made our gift complete. His sending rests with the men, with all of them, but most of all with me; the control in this country is mine."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, if you told me to stay here even for a year, and would speed my sending and give me splendid gifts, I would choose that too. It would be far better to come to my own dear country with a fuller hand. I would win more respect and more affection from every man who saw me when I had got back to Ithaca."
Then Alcinous answered him again and said: "Odysseus, looking at you we do not take you for a cheat and a dissembler of the kind the dark earth breeds and scatters far and wide, men who make up lies out of things nobody could ever see. There is grace on your words, and a good mind inside you, and you have told your tale with skill, like a singer — the bitter troubles of all the Argives and your own. But tell me this, and tell me the truth. Did you see any of your godlike companions, who went to Ilios along with you and met their fate there? The night is ahead of us, long, extraordinarily long, and it is not yet time to sleep in the hall. Tell me the rest of these marvellous doings. I could hold out until the bright dawn, if you were willing to tell me of these troubles of yours in the hall."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him.
Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, there is a time for many words and a time for sleep as well. But if you still want to listen, I would not grudge telling you of other things more pitiful still than these — the sorrows of my companions, who died afterwards, who got clear of the dreadful war-cry of the Trojans but died on their homecoming through the will of an evil woman.
When holy Persephone had scattered the spirits of the women this way and that, the spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, came up sorrowing; and round about him others were gathered, the spirits of all those who were killed with him in the house of Aegisthus and met their fate. He knew me at once when he had drunk the dark blood, and wept aloud and shed big tears and stretched his hands out towards me, eager to reach me. But he had no strength or force left in him any more, of the kind there used to be in his supple limbs.
When I saw him I wept, and my heart was full of pity for him, and I spoke to him with winged words: "Most glorious son of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, what fate of miserable death overcame you? Did Poseidon strike you aboard your ships, when he had roused a furious blast of cruel winds? Or did enemies do you harm on land, while you were cutting off their cattle and their fine flocks of sheep, or fighting to take their city and their women?"
So I spoke, and he answered at once: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, Poseidon did not strike me aboard my ships, when he had roused a furious blast of cruel winds, and enemies did not do me harm on land. Aegisthus contrived my death and my fate, and killed me with the help of my accursed wife, when he had invited me to his house and made me a feast — the way a man kills an ox at the stall. So I died by the most pitiful death, and round about me the rest of my companions were killed one after another, like white-tusked pigs slaughtered in the house of a rich and powerful man for a wedding feast, or a shared meal, or a rich drinking party.
"You have been present before now at the killing of a great many men, killed in single combat or in the press of a fight; but your heart would have felt the most pity if you had seen that sight, how we lay round the mixing bowl and the loaded tables in the hall, and the whole floor swam with blood. And the most pitiful cry I heard was Cassandra's, the daughter of Priam, whom treacherous Clytemnestra killed beside me. And I tried to lift my hands and strike the murderess down, dying as I was, run through with the sword. But she, the shameless creature, turned her back on me, and though I was going to the house of Hades she did not think fit to draw my eyelids down with her fingers or to close my mouth. So true is it that there is nothing more dreadful or more shameless than a woman who takes such deeds into her heart, as she too devised a monstrous thing, contriving death for her own wedded husband. I thought I would come home welcome to my children and my slaves; but she, with her heart set on utter wickedness, has poured shame on herself and on the women yet to come, even on the one who does right."
So he spoke, and I answered him: "Zeus, whose voice carries far, has visited an extraordinary hatred on the house of Atreus from the beginning, through the counsels of women. A great many of us died for Helen's sake, and Clytemnestra spread a snare for you while you were far away."
So I spoke, and he answered at once: "So in your own case never be gentle even to your wife. Do not tell her everything in your mind, but tell her something and let something be hidden. Yet death will not come to you from your wife, Odysseus; the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, is very prudent and has an understanding heart. We left her a bride newly married when we went to the war, and a boy was at her breast, a baby, who now, I suppose, sits in the ranks of men, a happy man, since his dear father will see him when he comes, and he will greet his father as he should. But my wife did not even let me fill my eyes with the sight of my own son. Before that she killed me too, her husband. And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart: bring your ship in to the shore of your own dear country in secret and not openly, because there is no trusting women any longer.
"But tell me this, and tell me the truth: do you hear of my son as still alive, in Orchomenus, it may be, or in sandy Pylos, or with Menelaus in wide Sparta? Noble Orestes has not died on the earth yet."
So he spoke, and I answered him: "Son of Atreus, why do you ask me this? I do not know at all whether he is alive or dead, and it is a bad thing to speak words as empty as wind."
So the two of us stood and talked sadly to each other, sorrowing and shedding big tears. And the spirit of Achilles, son of Peleus, came up, and those of Patroclus and of faultless Antilochus and of Ajax, who was the finest of all the Danaans in looks and in build after the faultless son of Peleus. And the spirit of the swift-footed grandson of Aeacus recognised me, and spoke to me weeping with winged words:
"Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, rash man, what greater thing than this will you think up in your heart? How did you dare to come down to Hades, where the unheeding dead live, the phantoms of men worn out?"
So he spoke, and I answered him: "Achilles, son of Peleus, far the mightiest of the Achaeans, I came because I needed Teiresias, in case he would tell me some plan by which I might reach rugged Ithaca. I have not come near the land of Achaea yet, nor set foot on my own country, but am always suffering; whereas no man before you was ever more blessed than you, Achilles, and none will be hereafter. In the old days, when you were alive, we Argives honoured you like the gods, and now that you are here you rule mightily among the dead. So do not grieve at all that you are dead, Achilles."
So I spoke, and he answered at once: "Do not try to speak soothingly to me about death, glorious Odysseus. I would rather be above ground still and labouring for some poor man with little land and not much to live on, than be lord over all the dead who have perished.
"But tell me news of my son, that lordly boy — whether he followed to the war to be a leader or not. And tell me of noble Peleus, if you have heard anything, whether he still has honour among the crowd of the Myrmidons, or whether they do him dishonour through Hellas and Phthia because old age binds him hand and foot. I am not there to help him under the rays of the sun, in the strength I once had in wide Troy, when I killed the best of their army in defence of the Argives. If I could come to my father's house in that strength, even for an hour, I would make many a one of those who do him violence and keep him from his honour rue my strength and my invincible hands."
So he spoke, and I answered him: "I have heard nothing of noble Peleus; but as for your dear son Neoptolemus, I will tell you the whole truth, as you ask me. It was I myself who brought him from Scyros in my trim hollow ship to join the army of the well-greaved Achaeans. And whenever we took counsel round the city of Troy he was always the first to speak, and he never missed with a word; godlike Nestor and I alone were better than he was. And whenever we fought with the bronze on the Trojan plain he never stayed back in the crowd or the press of men, but always ran far out to the front, yielding to nobody in his strength; and he killed a great many men in dreadful fighting. I could not tell or name them all, all the army he killed defending the Argives; but what a fighter that son of Telephus was whom he killed with the sword, the prince Eurypylus — and a great many of his companions, the Ceteians, were killed round about him, because of the gifts a woman wanted. He was the handsomest man I ever saw, next to noble Memnon.
"And again, when we, the best of the Argives, were about to go down into the horse that Epeus made, and the whole command was laid on me, both to open and to close the door of our stoutly-built ambush, then the other leaders and counsellors of the Danaans were wiping the tears from their eyes and every man's legs shook under him; but I never once saw his fine face go pale at all, or saw him wiping tears off his cheeks. He kept begging me to let him go out of the horse, and kept handling his sword-hilt and his spear heavy with bronze, and was eager to do the Trojans harm. And after we had sacked the high city of Priam he went aboard his ship with his share of the plunder and a fine prize, unhurt, neither struck by the sharp spear nor wounded in close fighting, as often happens in war; because Ares rages at random."
So I spoke, and the spirit of the grandson of Aeacus went off with long strides over the field of asphodel, glad that I had said his son was outstanding.
And the other spirits of the dead and gone stood there sorrowing, and each asked after those who were dear to him. Only the spirit of Ajax, son of Telamon, stood apart, still full of anger over the victory I had won against him in the contest by the ships for the arms of Achilles, which his honoured mother had set as the prize; and the judges were the sons of the Trojans and Pallas Athena. I wish I had never won in a contest for such a prize; the earth closed over so noble a head because of those arms, over Ajax, who in looks and in deeds of war was above all the other Achaeans, next to the faultless son of Peleus. I spoke to him with soothing words:
"Ajax, son of faultless Telamon, were you not even in death going to forget your anger against me over those accursed arms? The gods must have set them there to be a curse to the Argives: such a tower of strength was lost to them in you, and we Achaeans grieve for you in your death without stopping, as we grieve for the life of Achilles, son of Peleus. And nobody is to blame but Zeus, who bore a terrible hatred against the army of the Danaan spearmen and brought your doom on you. Come here, prince, and hear my word and my speech; and put down your anger and your proud spirit."
So I spoke, but he did not answer me a word, and went off to Erebus to join the other spirits of the dead and gone. Even so he would have spoken to me for all his anger, or I to him; but the heart in my breast wanted to see the spirits of the other dead.
There I saw Minos, the glorious son of Zeus, with the golden sceptre in his hand, giving judgment to the dead from his seat, while they sat and stood about the king through the wide-gated house of Hades and asked him for judgment.
And after him I made out huge Orion, driving together over the field of asphodel the wild animals he had killed himself on the lonely hills, with a club in his hands all of bronze, unbreakable for ever.
And I saw Tityos, the son of glorious Gaea, lying on the ground. He stretched over nine roods, and two vultures sat one on either side of him and tore at his liver, plunging their beaks into his bowels, and he could not beat them off with his hands. He had offered violence to Leto, the glorious wife of Zeus, as she went towards Pytho through Panopeus with its lovely lawns.
And I saw Tantalus in violent torment, standing in a pool, and the water came up close to his chin. He looked like a man dying of thirst, and could not take any and drink; because as often as the old man stooped down, eager to drink, so often the water was swallowed up and vanished away, and the black earth appeared at his feet, because some god dried it up. And tall leafy trees let their fruit stream down over his head, pears and pomegranates and apple trees with their bright fruit, and sweet figs and thriving olives. But as often as the old man reached out towards them to clutch them with his hands, the wind would toss them up to the shadowy clouds.
And I saw Sisyphus in violent torment, trying to lift a monstrous stone with both hands. He would brace himself with hands and feet and thrust the stone up towards the crest of a hill; but as often as he was about to heave it over the top, the weight would turn it back, and then the shameless stone would come rolling down again to the plain. And he would strain and thrust it back again, and the sweat ran down off his limbs and the dust rose up from his head.
And after him I made out mighty Heracles — his phantom; because he himself takes his pleasure at the feast among the immortal gods, and has Hebe for a wife, Hebe of the lovely ankles, the daughter of great Zeus and of Hera of the golden sandals. Round about him rose a clamour from the dead, like birds flying everywhere in terror; and he, like dark night, with his bow bare and an arrow on the string, glared round him terribly, like a man in the act of shooting. There was an awful belt about his breast, a baldric of gold, with marvellous things worked on it, bears and wild boars and lions with flashing eyes, and struggles and battles and murders and killings of men. May the man never design another like it, whoever stored up the design of that belt in his craft.
He knew me in his turn when his eyes took me in, and spoke to me weeping with winged words: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks — poor wretch, are you dragging out an evil lot too, of the kind I once bore under the rays of the sun? I was the son of Zeus, son of Cronos, and I had misery beyond measure; because I was made subject to a man far worse than myself, and he laid hard labours on me. He once sent me here to fetch the hound of Hades, because he could think of no other task mightier than that. I carried the hound off and led him out of the house of Hades; and Hermes was my guide, and grey-eyed Athena."
With that he went back into the house of Hades, but I stayed there steadily, hoping that some other of the warrior heroes who died in the old days might still come out. And I would have seen still others of the men of former times, whom I wanted to see, Theseus and Peirithous, the glorious children of the gods; but before that the countless tribes of the dead came crowding up with an extraordinary cry, and pale fear seized me, in case august Persephone might send out at me from the house of Hades the head of the Gorgon, that terrible monster.
So I went at once to the ship and told my companions to embark themselves and loose the stern cables. They went aboard quickly and sat down at the benches. And the swelling flood carried the ship down the stream of Oceanus, first with our rowing, and afterwards the wind was fair.
Now when our ship had left the stream of the river Oceanus and had come to the wave of the broad sea, and to the island of Aeaea, where early Dawn has her home and her dancing-lawns, and the sun his risings, we beached our ship on the sands when we came there, and went out ourselves onto the shore of the sea, and there we fell asleep and waited for the bright Dawn.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, I sent my companions to the house of Circe to fetch the body of the dead Elpenor. We cut billets of wood at once and buried him where the headland runs furthest out to sea, sorrowing and shedding big tears. And when the dead man was burned, and the dead man's armour, we heaped up a mound and dragged a pillar onto it, and planted his well-shaped oar on top of the mound.
So we were busy with these separate tasks; and Circe was not unaware of our coming back from the house of Hades, but got herself ready quickly and came, and her women brought bread and meat in plenty with her, and flaming red wine. And the beautiful goddess stood in the middle of us and spoke:
"Reckless men, who have gone down alive to the house of Hades, to meet death twice when other men die only once. Come, eat food and drink wine here this whole day through; and at the coming of Dawn you shall set sail, and I will point out the way and tell you everything, so that you do not suffer pain and misery through wretched bad planning, either by sea or on land."
So she spoke, and our proud hearts agreed. So all day long until sunset we sat feasting on plenty of meat and sweet wine. But when the sun set and the dark came on, they lay down to rest beside the stern cables of the ship; and Circe took me by the hand and led me apart from my dear companions and made me sit, and lay down close by herself and asked me the whole story. And I told her everything in its order.
Then queenly Circe said to me:
"So all that has found its end. Now listen to what I tell you, and a god himself will bring it back to your mind. You will come first to the Sirens, who beguile every man who comes to them. Whoever draws near them in ignorance and hears the Sirens' voice never comes home again, so that his wife and his little children may stand beside him rejoicing; the Sirens beguile him with their clear-toned song, sitting in a meadow, with a great heap of the bones of rotting men round about them, and the skin shrivelling on the bones. Row past them, and knead sweet wax and stop your companions' ears with it, so that none of the rest can hear. But if you have a mind to listen yourself, let them bind you in the fast ship hand and foot, upright in the step of the mast, with the ropes made fast at the ends to the mast itself, so that you may listen to the voice of the two Sirens with delight. And if you beg your companions and tell them to loose you, then let them tie you with still more bonds.
"But when your companions have rowed past them, then I shall not say for certain which way your course is to lie; think it over in your own mind, and I will tell you of both ways. On one side there are beetling crags, and the great wave of dark-eyed Amphitrite roars against them; the blessed gods call these the Planctae. No winged thing can get past them, not even the timid doves that carry ambrosia to father Zeus: the smooth rock always snatches away even one of these, and the father sends in another to make up the number. And no ship of men that has come there has ever got away, but the planks of ships and the bodies of men are whirled about together by the waves of the sea and the blasts of deadly fire. One seafaring ship alone has passed that way, the Argo that everyone speaks of, on her voyage home from Aeetes; and even her the wave would have dashed against the great crags there, if Hera had not sent her through, because Jason was dear to her.
"On the other path there are two cliffs. One of them reaches the wide sky with its sharp peak, and a dark cloud surrounds it. This never melts away, and clear sky never surrounds that peak, in summer or at harvest time. No mortal man could climb it or set foot on the top, not if he had twenty hands and feet; the rock is smooth, as if it had been polished. And in the middle of the cliff there is a dim cave, turned to the west, towards Erebus, and that is where you are to steer your hollow ship, glorious Odysseus. Not even a strong man could shoot an arrow from the hollow ship so as to reach into that vaulted cave. Scylla lives in there, yelping horribly. Her voice is only the voice of a new-born puppy, but she herself is an evil monster, and nobody would be glad at the sight of her, not even a god who met her. She has twelve feet, all misshapen, and six necks, extraordinarily long, and on each one a terrible head, with three rows of teeth in it, thick and close together and full of black death. She is hidden up to her middle in the hollow cave, but she holds her heads out beyond the dreadful chasm and fishes there, searching eagerly round the rock for dolphins and sea-dogs and any bigger creature she may catch, of the kind deep-moaning Amphitrite rears in numbers past counting. No sailors can yet boast that they have got past her unhurt in their ship, because with each head she carries off a man, snatching him out of the dark-prowed ship.
"But the other cliff, Odysseus, you will notice is lower — they are close to each other; you could shoot an arrow across — and there is a great fig tree on it with rich foliage; and beneath it divine Charybdis sucks down the black water. Three times a day she belches it out, and three times she sucks it down horribly. Do not be there when she sucks it down, because nobody could save you from ruin then, not even the earth-shaker. Keep very close to Scylla's cliff and drive your ship past quickly; it is far better to mourn six companions in your ship than all of them together."
So she spoke, but I answered her: "Come, goddess, tell me this truly: is there any way I might get clear of deadly Charybdis and fight the other off, when she does my companions harm?"
So I spoke, and the beautiful goddess answered: "Reckless man, your heart is set on the works of war again, and on hard labour. Will you not give way even to the immortal gods? She is not mortal; she is an immortal evil, dreadful and hard and fierce, and not to be fought with. There is no defence; the bravest thing is to run from her. If you linger to arm yourself by the cliff, I am afraid she may dart out again and attack you with as many heads and take as many men as before. Row past with all your strength, and call on Crataiis, the mother of Scylla, who bore her as a curse to mortals. Then she will stop her darting out again.
"And you will come to the island of Thrinacia. The cattle of Helios graze there in great numbers, and his fine flocks, seven herds of cattle and as many fine flocks of sheep, fifty in each. They bear no young and they never die, and goddesses are their shepherds, nymphs with lovely hair, Phaethusa and Lampetie, whom beautiful Neaera bore to Helios Hyperion. Their honoured mother, when she had borne them and brought them up, sent them to the island of Thrinacia to live far off and keep their father's flocks and his sleek cattle. If you leave them unharmed and keep your mind on your homecoming, you may still reach Ithaca, though in a bad way. But if you harm them, then I foretell ruin for your ship and for your companions; and even if you get clear yourself, you will come home late and badly, after losing all your companions."
So she spoke, and golden-throned Dawn came at once. Then the beautiful goddess went off up the island, and I went to the ship and roused my companions to embark themselves and loose the stern cables. So they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches, and sitting in their order struck the grey sea with their oars. And Circe of the lovely hair, dread goddess with human speech, sent a fair wind after our dark-prowed ship to help us, filling the sail, a good companion. So when we had quickly made all the tackle fast through the ship we sat down, and the wind and the helmsman guided the ship.
Then I spoke among my companions, grieving in my heart: "Friends, it is not right that one or two alone should know the oracles that Circe, the beautiful goddess, told me. So I will tell you, and then, knowing them, we shall either die or, avoiding death and fate, get clear. First she told us to avoid the voice of the marvellous Sirens and their flowery meadow. Me alone she told to listen to their voice. But you must bind me with hard bonds, so that I stay fast where I am, upright in the step of the mast, with the ropes made fast at the ends to the mast itself; and if I beg you and tell you to loose me, then tie me fast with still more bonds."
So I went through all this and told my companions. Meanwhile the well-built ship came quickly to the island of the two Sirens, because a fair and gentle wind carried her on. Then the wind dropped and there was a windless calm, and a god lulled the waves to sleep. But my companions got up and furled the sail and stowed it in the hollow ship, and then sat down at the oars and made the water white with their polished oars of fir. And I cut a great round cake of wax into small bits with my sharp sword and kneaded it with my strong hands, and the wax soon grew warm, forced by the strong pressure and by the rays of the lord Helios Hyperion. Then I stopped the ears of all my companions with it, one after another; and they bound me in the ship hand and foot, upright in the step of the mast, and made the ropes fast at the ends to the mast itself, and sat down themselves and struck the grey sea with their oars.
But when we were as far off as a man can make himself heard when he shouts, driving swiftly on our way, the Sirens did not fail to notice the fast ship as it drew near, and they raised their clear-toned song:
"Come here, as you go by, famous Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans; stop your ship, so that you may listen to the voice of us two. No man has ever yet rowed past this island in his black ship until he has heard the sweet voice from our lips. He has his joy of it, and goes on his way a wiser man. We know everything the Argives and the Trojans endured in wide Troy through the will of the gods, and we know everything that happens on the fruitful earth."
So they spoke, sending out their beautiful voices, and my heart wanted to listen, and I told my companions to loose me, nodding at them with my brows; but they fell to their oars and rowed on. And Perimedes and Eurylochus got up at once and bound me with still more bonds and drew them tighter. But when they had rowed past the Sirens, and we could hear their voices and their song no longer, then my trusty companions took away the wax I had stopped their ears with and loosed me from my bonds.
But when we had left the island I saw smoke straight away, and a great billow, and heard a booming. Then the oars flew out of my men's hands in their terror and splashed one and all in the swirl, and the ship stood still where it was, when they no longer worked the tapering oars with their hands. But I went through the ship and cheered my men with gentle words, going up to each man in turn:
"Friends, we have not been strangers to sorrow up to now. This evil that is on us is certainly no worse than when the Cyclops penned us in his hollow cave by brute strength; and even from there we got away by my courage and counsel and wit. I think we shall remember these dangers too, one day. Come now, do as I tell you, all of you. Keep your seats on the benches and strike the deep surf of the sea with your oars, and hope that Zeus grants us to escape and avoid this death. And to you, steersman, I give this order, and take it to heart, since you handle the steering-oar of the hollow ship: keep the ship well away from this smoke and surf, and hug the cliff, or before you know it she will swerve off to the other side and you will throw us into destruction."
So I spoke, and they quickly did as I said. But I said nothing about Scylla, that incurable evil, in case my companions were seized with fear and stopped rowing and huddled together in the hold. And then I forgot Circe's hard command, when she told me not to arm myself at all; but I put my glorious armour on and took two long spears in my hand and went to the fore-deck of the ship, because I thought Scylla of the rock would first be seen from there, who was to bring ruin on my companions. But nowhere could I make her out, and my eyes grew tired with gazing everywhere towards the misty rock.
So we sailed on up the narrow strait, wailing. On one side lay Scylla, and on the other divine Charybdis sucked down the salt water of the sea terribly. Whenever she belched it out, she would seethe and bubble in utter turmoil like a cauldron over a great fire, and high overhead the spray would fall on the tops of both cliffs. But as often as she sucked the salt water down, she could all be seen inside in utter turmoil, and the rock roared terribly round about, while beneath, the earth showed black with sand; and pale fear seized my men.
So we looked towards her, in fear of destruction; and meanwhile Scylla seized six of my companions out of the hollow ship, the best in strength and in force. Turning my eyes to the fast ship and to my men, I saw their feet and hands above me already, lifted high in the air. They cried aloud to me, calling me by name for that last time, in the anguish of their hearts. And as a fisher on a jutting rock, when he throws in his baits as a snare for the little fishes, lets down into the sea the horn of an ox from the farmyard on his long pole, and then flings the fish he catches ashore, writhing — so they were drawn writhing up towards the cliffs. And there at her doors she devoured them, shrieking and stretching their hands out towards me in their terrible death-struggle. That was the most pitiful thing my eyes ever saw of all I bore while I explored the paths of the sea.
Now when we had got clear of the rocks, and dreadful Charybdis and Scylla, we came to the god's fine island, where the beautiful broad-browed cattle were, and the many fine flocks of Helios Hyperion. While I was still out at sea in my black ship I heard the lowing of the cattle being stalled and the bleating of the sheep, and the words of the blind seer, Theban Teiresias, came into my mind, and the words of Aeaean Circe, who charged me very strictly to avoid the island of Helios, who gives joy to mortals. Then I spoke among my companions, grieving in my heart:
"Hear my words, companions, for all the trouble you are in, so that I can tell you the oracles of Teiresias and of Aeaean Circe, who charged me very strictly to avoid the island of Helios, who gives joy to mortals; because there, she said, was our most terrible danger. Row the black ship on past the island."
So I spoke, but their spirits broke inside them, and Eurylochus answered me at once with hateful words:
"You are a hard man, Odysseus. You have strength beyond other men, and your limbs never grow tired. You must be made of iron all through, since you will not let your companions, worn out with labour and drowsiness, set foot on shore, where on this sea-girt island we might get a good supper ready once more; you tell us to wander on just as we are through the swift night, driven away from the island over the misty water. It is out of the night that fierce winds are born, the wreckers of ships. How could a man escape utter destruction if a blast of the south wind or the blustering west wind came on suddenly, the winds that most often wreck ships in spite of the sovereign gods? Let us give way to the black night this time and get our supper ready, staying beside the fast ship, and in the morning we will go aboard and put out into the broad sea."
So spoke Eurylochus, and the rest of my companions agreed with him. Then I knew for certain that some god was contriving trouble, and I spoke to him with winged words:
"Eurylochus, you are forcing me, and I stand alone. But come now, all of you swear me a great oath, that if we find a herd of cattle or a great flock of sheep, no man will kill either cow or sheep in the blind folly of his mind, but will be content to eat the food immortal Circe gave us."
So I spoke; and they swore at once that they would not, as I told them. And when they had sworn and finished the oath, we moored our well-built ship in the hollow harbour near a spring of sweet water, and my companions went out of the ship and skilfully got their supper ready. But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, they began to weep, remembering their dear companions whom Scylla had snatched out of the hollow ship and devoured; and sweet sleep came on them as they wept.
But at the third watch of the night, when the stars had turned their course, Zeus the cloud-gatherer roused a fierce wind against us with an extraordinary storm, and hid land and sea alike in cloud, and night rushed down out of the sky. And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, we dragged our ship up and made her fast in a hollow cave, where the fine dancing-floors and the seats of the nymphs were. Then I called my men together and spoke among them:
"Friends, there is meat and drink in our fast ship. Let us keep our hands off those cattle, then, so that we come to no harm; because these are the cows and the fine sheep of a dread god, of Helios, who oversees everything and overhears everything."
So I spoke, and their proud hearts agreed. Then for a whole month the south wind blew without stopping, and no other wind rose except the east and the south.
Now as long as my men had grain and red wine they kept their hands off the cattle, because they were eager to save their lives. But when all the stores had been used up out of the ship, and they had to roam about hunting for game — fish and birds and whatever might come to their hands, fishing with bent hooks, because hunger was pinching their bellies — then I went off up the island to pray to the gods, hoping one of them would show me a way to go. And when, going through the island, I had got away from my companions, I washed my hands in a place where there was shelter from the wind and prayed to all the gods who hold Olympus; and they poured sweet sleep over my eyelids.
And meanwhile Eurylochus began to give my companions evil counsel:
"Hear my words, companions, for all the trouble you are in. Every kind of death is hateful to wretched mortals, but to die of hunger and meet your doom that way is the most pitiful of all. Come, let us drive off the best of the cattle of Helios and make sacrifice to the immortals who hold the wide sky. And if we ever get to Ithaca, our own country, we will build a rich temple to Helios Hyperion at once and put a great many fine offerings in it. And if he is angry at all about his straight-horned cattle, and means to destroy our ship, and the other gods consent, I would rather lose my life once and for all with a gulp at the wave than waste slowly away on a desert island."
So spoke Eurylochus, and the rest of my companions agreed with him. Straight away they drove off the best of the cattle of Helios from close at hand, because the beautiful sleek broad-browed cattle were grazing not far from the dark-prowed ship. They stood round them and prayed to the gods, plucking the tender leaves off a high-crested oak, because they had no white barley aboard the well-benched ship. And when they had prayed and cut the cattle's throats and flayed them, they cut out the thigh-pieces and covered them with a double layer of fat and laid raw flesh on top. They had no wine to pour over the blazing offering, but they made libations with water and roasted all the entrails over the fire.
Now when the thighs were burned up and they had tasted the inner parts, they cut up the rest and spitted it. And then sweet sleep fled from my eyelids, and I went off to the fast ship and the shore of the sea. But when, as I went, I came near the curved ship, the hot savour of the fat drifted round me, and I groaned and cried aloud to the immortal gods:
"Father Zeus, and you other blessed gods who live for ever, you lulled me in a pitiless sleep to my ruin, and my companions, left behind, have contrived a monstrous thing."
Lampetie of the long robes went quickly to Helios Hyperion with the news that we had killed his cattle; and he spoke at once among the immortals, angry at heart:
"Father Zeus, and you other blessed gods who live for ever, take vengeance now on the companions of Odysseus, son of Laertes, who have insolently killed my cattle, which I always took delight in when I climbed towards the starry sky and when I turned back to earth from the sky again. If they do not pay me a fitting atonement for the cattle, I will go down to Hades and shine among the dead."
Then Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him and said: "Helios, go on shining among the immortals and among mortal men on the grain-giving earth. As for these men, I will soon strike their fast ship with my bright thunderbolt and smash it to pieces in the middle of the wine-dark sea."
I heard this from fair-haired Calypso, and she said she had heard it herself from the messenger Hermes.
But when I had come down to the ship and the sea I rebuked my men, going up to each one in turn; but we could find no remedy — the cattle were dead already. And the gods showed my men portents at once. The hides crawled; the flesh, both roast and raw, bellowed on the spits; and there was a lowing as of cattle.
For six days my trusty companions feasted on the best of the cattle of Helios that they had driven off. But when Zeus, the son of Cronos, brought the seventh day on us, then the wind stopped blowing in a storm, and we went aboard at once and put out into the broad sea when we had set up the mast and hoisted the white sail.
But when we had left that island and no other land came in sight, but only sky and sea, then the son of Cronos set a black cloud over the hollow ship, and the sea grew dark beneath it. She ran on for no long time, because the shrieking west wind came at once, blowing with a furious storm, and the blast of the wind snapped both the forestays of the mast, so that the mast fell backwards and all its tackle was strewn in the bilge. The mast struck the head of the pilot in the stern of the ship and crushed all the bones of his skull together, and he fell from the deck like a diver, and his proud spirit left his bones. And Zeus thundered and hurled his bolt at the ship, and she shuddered from stem to stern, struck by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with sulphurous smoke, and my companions fell out of the ship. They were carried on the waves round the black ship like sea-crows, and the god took their homecoming from them.
But I kept pacing up and down the ship until the surge tore the sides away from the keel, and the wave carried her on dismantled and snapped the mast off at the keel. But the backstay, made of ox-hide, had been flung over the mast; with this I lashed the two together, keel and mast, and sat on them and was carried by the deadly winds.
Then the west wind stopped blowing in a storm, and the south wind came quickly, bringing sorrow to my heart, so that I should travel back the way to deadly Charybdis. All night long I was carried, and at sunrise I came to the cliff of Scylla and to dread Charybdis. She was sucking down the salt water of the sea; but I sprang up to the tall fig tree and took hold of it and clung to it like a bat. Yet I could not plant my feet firmly anywhere or climb the tree, because its roots spread far below and its branches hung out of reach above, long and great, overshadowing Charybdis. There I clung steadily until she should vomit the mast and keel out again; and to my joy they came at last. At the hour when a man gets up from the assembly for his supper, a man who settles the many quarrels of young men seeking judgment, at that hour those spars appeared out of Charybdis. And I let go with hands and feet from above and plunged down into the water out beyond the long spars, and sat on them and rowed on with my hands. And as for Scylla, the father of gods and men did not let her catch sight of me again, or I should never have escaped destruction.
From there I was carried for nine days, and on the tenth night the gods brought me to Ogygia, where Calypso of the lovely hair lives, dread goddess with human speech, who welcomed me and looked after me. But why should I tell you this tale? I told it yesterday in your hall to you and to your noble wife. It is a tiresome thing, I think, to tell a plainly told tale over again.
So he spoke, and they were all hushed and silent, and were held spellbound through the shadowy halls. And Alcinous answered him again and said:
"Odysseus, since you have come to my high-roofed house with its floor of bronze, I do not think you will be driven back and go home with your purpose baffled, however much you have suffered. And to each man of you who are always used to drinking the flaming wine of the elders in my halls and listening to the singer, I say this, and give this charge. Clothing for the stranger lies stored already in the polished chest, with finely worked gold and all the other gifts the counsellors of the Phaeacians brought here. But come, let us each give him a great tripod and a cauldron; and we in turn will gather the cost from among the people and repay ourselves. It would be hard for one man to give freely without being repaid."
So spoke Alcinous, and his word pleased them. They went off, each man to his house, to rest; but as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, they hurried to the ship and brought the bronze that gives men strength. And the strong and mighty Alcinous went through the ship himself and stowed the gifts carefully under the benches, so that they should not get in the way of any of the crew at their rowing when they worked the oars hard.
Then they went to the house of Alcinous and prepared a feast. And the strong and mighty Alcinous sacrificed a bull for them to Zeus, son of Cronos, god of the dark clouds, who is lord of all. And when they had burned the thigh-pieces they feasted a splendid feast and enjoyed themselves, and among them the divine singer Demodocus sang to the lyre, honoured by the people.
But Odysseus kept turning his head towards the blazing sun, eager to see it set, because he was eager to be gone home. As a man longs for supper when all day long a yoke of wine-dark oxen has drawn the jointed plough for him through fallow land, and the light of the sun sinks gladly for him so that he can get to his supper, and his knees are weary as he goes — so gladly did the light of the sun sink for Odysseus. And at once he spoke among the Phaeacians, who love the oar, and to Alcinous above all he declared his word:
"Lord Alcinous, renowned above all men, pour the offering now and send me on my way in peace; and to yourselves, farewell. Everything my heart wanted has been brought about: a convoy, and friendship gifts. May the gods of heaven make them a blessing to me, and may I find my faultless wife at home when I get back, and those I love unhurt. And may you, staying here, be a joy to your wedded wives and your children; and may the gods grant you prosperity of every kind, and may no trouble come on your people."
So he spoke, and they all praised his words and said the stranger should be sent on his way, since he had spoken properly. Then mighty Alcinous said to the herald:
"Pontonous, mix the bowl and serve wine out to everyone in the hall, so that when we have prayed to father Zeus we may send the stranger off to his own country."
So he spoke, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine and served it out to all, coming up to each in turn; and they poured offerings to the blessed gods who hold the wide sky, from where they sat. But noble Odysseus got up and put the two-handled cup into Arete's hand, and spoke to her with winged words:
"Farewell, my queen, through all the years, until old age comes, and death, which are the lot of mortals. I am going on my way; but may you have joy in this house of your children and your people and Alcinous the king."
So noble Odysseus spoke and crossed the threshold. And mighty Alcinous sent a herald with him to lead him to the fast ship and the shore of the sea. And Arete sent slave women with him, one carrying a newly washed cloak and a tunic, and another she told to follow carrying the strong chest, and another carried bread and red wine.
But when they had come down to the ship and the sea, the lordly young men of his escort took these things at once and stowed them in the hollow ship, all the food and drink. Then they spread a rug and a linen sheet for Odysseus on the deck of the hollow ship, at the stern, so that he could sleep soundly; and he went aboard too and lay down in silence. Then they sat down at the benches, each in his place, and loosed the hawser from the pierced stone.
And as soon as they leaned back and tossed the salt water with their oar-blades, sweet sleep fell on his eyelids, an unwaking sleep, the sweetest there is and most like death. And as four yoked stallions on a plain spring forward all together under the strokes of the lash, and leaping high finish their course quickly, so the stern of that ship leapt high, and in her wake the dark wave of the loud-sounding sea foamed mightily, and she ran on safely and surely; not even the wheeling hawk, the swiftest of winged things, could have kept pace with her. So she ran on swiftly and cut through the waves of the sea, carrying a man who was the equal of the gods in counsel, one who in time past had suffered a great deal in his heart, passing through the wars of men and the grievous waves; but now he slept in peace, forgetting all he had suffered.
Now when the brightest of the stars rose, which always comes to herald the light of early Dawn, the seafaring ship drew near to the island.
There is a certain harbour of Phorcys in the land of Ithaca, the old man of the sea, and at its mouth two jutting headlands sheer towards the sea but sloping down on the harbour side. These keep back the great waves raised by heavy winds outside, and inside the benched ships lie unmoored when they have reached the anchorage. At the head of the harbour there is a long-leafed olive tree, and near it a pleasant shadowy cave sacred to the nymphs who are called Naiads. Inside it are mixing bowls and jars of stone, and the bees store honey there too. And there are long looms of stone in the cave, where the nymphs weave purple-dyed webs, a wonder to look at; and there are ever-flowing springs in it as well. There are two doors to the cave, one towards the north wind, by which men go down; but the one towards the south wind is sacred, and men do not go in by it; it is the way of the immortals.
Here they rowed in, knowing the place from of old; and the ship ran a full half of her length up the shore in her swift course, at such a pace was she driven by the arms of the rowers. Then they stepped out of the benched ship onto the land, and first they lifted Odysseus out of the hollow ship, with the linen sheet and the bright rug just as they were, and laid him down on the sand, still overcome with sleep. And they lifted out the goods the lordly Phaeacians had given him as he set out for home, through the favour of great-hearted Athena. They set these all together by the trunk of the olive tree, out of the path, in case some traveller should come on them before Odysseus woke and spoil them. Then they went home again themselves.
But the Shaker of the Earth did not forget the threats he had first made against godlike Odysseus, and he asked what the purpose of Zeus was:
"Father Zeus, I shall not be held in honour among the immortal gods any longer, seeing that mortals do not honour me in the least — the Phaeacians, who as you know are of my own line. I said just now that Odysseus should suffer a great deal before he got home, though I did not rob him of his homecoming altogether, once you had promised it and confirmed it with your nod. And these men have carried him in his sleep over the sea in a fast ship and set him down in Ithaca, and given him gifts past telling, stores of bronze and gold and woven clothing, more than Odysseus would ever have brought back from Troy if he had come home unhurt with his fair share of the plunder."
Then Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him and said: "What a thing to say, shaker of the earth, wide of sway. The gods do you no dishonour; it would be a hard business to attack our eldest and best with dishonour. But as for men, if anyone gives way to his own strength and force and fails to honour you in anything, you may always take your revenge, even afterwards. Do as you like, and as pleases you."
Then Poseidon the earth-shaker answered him: "I would have done as you say at once, god of the dark clouds, but I always dread your anger and avoid it. Now I mean to strike the fine ship of the Phaeacians as she comes back from her convoy over the misty water, so that they may hold off and stop giving convoy to men, and to throw a great mountain round their city."
Then Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him and said: "Lazy one, this is what seems best to me. When all the people are looking out from the city at her as she speeds on her way, then turn her to stone close by the land — a stone in the shape of a fast ship, so that everyone may marvel; and throw a great mountain round their city."
Now when Poseidon the earth-shaker heard this he went off to Scheria, where the Phaeacians live, and waited there. And she drew close to shore, the seafaring ship, speeding swiftly on her way. Then the Earth-shaker came up to her and turned her to stone and rooted her fast underneath with a blow of the flat of his hand, and then he was gone.
And they spoke winged words to one another, the long-oared Phaeacians, men famous for their ships; and one would say, with a glance at his neighbour: "Who has fastened our fast ship on the sea like this on her way home? She was in plain sight."
That is how one of them would speak; but they did not know how these things were to go. Then Alcinous spoke to the company and said:
"Now the oracles of my father, spoken long ago, have come on me. He used to say that Poseidon was angry with us because we give safe convoy to everyone. He said that one day, as a beautiful ship of the Phaeacians was coming home from a convoy over the misty water, Poseidon would strike her, and would throw a great mountain round our town. That is what the old man said, and now all of it is coming to pass. But come, do as I say, all of you. Stop giving convoy to mortals, when anyone comes to our city, and let us sacrifice twelve choice bulls to Poseidon, in case he takes pity and does not throw a high mountain round our town."
So he spoke, and they were seized with fear and got the bulls ready.
So they were praying to the lord Poseidon, the leaders and counsellors of the land of the Phaeacians, standing round the altar; and Odysseus woke out of his sleep in his own country. But he did not know it after his long absence, because the goddess had poured a mist round him, Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus, so that she might make him unrecognisable and tell him everything, so that his wife should not know him, nor his townspeople, nor his friends, until the suitors had paid the full price for all their wrongdoing. So everything looked strange to their lord — the long paths, the bays offering safe anchorage, the sheer cliffs, and the thriving trees.
So he sprang up and stood and looked at his own country, and then he groaned and struck both his thighs with the flat of his hands, and said mournfully:
"What country have I come to now? What kind of people? Are they cruel and wild and unjust, or do they welcome strangers, and do their minds fear the gods? Where shall I take all this wealth, and where shall I go wandering myself? I wish I had stayed there among the Phaeacians, and had gone on to some other of the mighty kings, who would have entertained me and sent me on my way home. As it is I do not know where to put this wealth; and I will not leave it here, in case it becomes somebody else's plunder to my cost. It is a disgrace: they were not altogether wise or just, it seems, the leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, who have brought me to a strange country. They said they would bring me to clear-seen Ithaca, and they have not made their word good. May Zeus, the suppliant's god, pay them for it, who watches over all men and punishes anyone who sins. But come, I will count the goods and go over them, in case these men have carried something off with them in the hollow ship, to my cost."
So he spoke, and set about counting the beautiful tripods and the cauldrons and the gold and the finely woven clothing; and he missed nothing of them. Then, longing mournfully for his own country, he walked along the shore of the loud-sounding sea, with many a groan.
And Athena came up to him in the form of a young man, a shepherd of sheep, a delicate one, of the kind the sons of princes are. She wore a well-made cloak in a double fold about her shoulders, and had sandals under her shining feet, and a spear in her hands. Odysseus was glad at the sight of her and came to meet her, and spoke to her with winged words:
"Friend, since you are the first person I have come to in this country, greetings; and I hope you do not meet me with any evil in your mind. Save this treasure, and save me. I pray to you as to a god, and I have come to your dear knees. And tell me this too, truly, so that I know for certain: what country is this, and what people? What men live here? Is it some clear-seen island, or a shore of the deep-soiled mainland that lies resting on the sea?"
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "You are a fool, stranger, or you have come from far away, if you really have to ask about this country. It is not nameless at all; a great many people know it, both all those who live towards the dawn and the sun, and all those behind, towards the murky dark. It is a rugged island, not fit for driving horses, and yet it is not altogether poor, though it is narrow. Corn grows in it beyond measure, and the wine-grape too, and it never lacks rain or rich dew. It is a good land for pasturing goats and cattle; there are trees of every kind in it, and pools for watering that do not fail the year round. So the name of Ithaca, stranger, has reached even to the land of Troy, which they say is far from this country of Achaea."
So she spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad, and rejoiced in his country, the land of his fathers, hearing the word of Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis. And he spoke to her with winged words — and did not speak the truth, but checked the word before it was out, always turning over thoughts of great cunning in his breast:
"I heard of Ithaca even in broad Crete, far over the sea; and now I have come here myself with these goods of mine. I left as much again with my children when I fled the country, after I had killed the dear son of Idomeneus, Orsilochus, swift of foot, who in broad Crete outran all the men who live by their labour. He would have robbed me of all that plunder from Troy which I had suffered so much heartache for, passing through the wars of men and the grievous waves — because I would not do his father a favour and serve as his squire in the land of the Trojans, but commanded men of my own. So I struck him with my bronze-tipped spear as he came home from the field, lying in wait for him by the roadside with one of my men. A dark night covered the sky and nobody noticed us, and I took his life unseen.
"Now when I had killed him with the sharp bronze I went straight to a ship and made my plea to some lordly Phoenicians, giving them plunder enough to satisfy them. I told them to take me aboard and land me at Pylos, or at fine Elis, where the Epeans hold sway. But the force of the wind thrust them away from there, badly against their will, and they did not mean to play me false; and driven off our course we came here by night. We rowed on into the harbour in a hurry, and had no thought of supper, badly as we needed it, but went out of the ship just as we were and lay down, every one of us. Then sweet sleep came over me in my weariness, and they took my goods out of the hollow ship and set them where I was lying on the sand. And they went aboard and left for the well-peopled land of Sidon; and I was left here with a badly troubled heart."
So he spoke, and the goddess grey-eyed Athena smiled and stroked him with her hand, and changed herself into the form of a woman, handsome and tall and skilled in glorious handiwork. And she spoke to him with winged words:
"He would have to be cunning and a thief who could get past you in any kind of guile, even if it were a god who met you. Bold man, crafty in counsel, never satisfied with deceiving — not even in your own country, it seems, were you going to give up your tricks and your lying tales, which you love from the bottom of your heart. But come, let us talk no more of this; we are both well versed in craft, since you are far the best of all men in counsel and in speech, and I am famous among all the gods for wisdom and craft. And yet you did not know Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus — me, who always stand at your side and guard you in every trouble. And it was I who made you loved by all the Phaeacians.
"And now I have come here to weave a plan with you, and to hide all the treasure the lordly Phaeacians gave you by my counsel and will when you set out for home; and to tell you the full measure of trouble it is your fate to go through in your own well-built house. Be strong; you must bear it. And tell no man of them all, and no woman, that you have come back from your wanderings, but endure your many griefs in silence, and put up with the violence of men."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "It is hard for a mortal man to know you when he meets you, goddess, however clever he is, because you take whatever shape you like. But this I know well, that you were kind to me in the old days, as long as we sons of the Achaeans were fighting in the land of Troy. But after we had sacked the high city of Priam and gone away in our ships, and a god had scattered the Achaeans, I have never seen you since then, daughter of Zeus, and never noticed you coming aboard my ship to keep sorrow off me. I wandered on and on with a stricken heart in my breast, until the gods delivered me from trouble, until in the rich country of the Phaeacians you cheered me with your words and led me into their city yourself. But now I beg you by your father — because I do not think I have come to clear-seen Ithaca; this is some other country I am roaming in, and you are saying this to mock me and beguile my mind — tell me whether I really have come to my own dear country."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "That is always the way your mind works, and that is why I cannot leave you in your sorrow: because you are soft of speech, sharp-witted and prudent. Any other man coming home from his wanderings would have hurried eagerly to see his children and his wife in his halls; but you are not yet willing to know or learn anything until you have tested your wife, who stays in her halls as she always did, and the nights and the days waste away for her sorrowfully as she weeps.
"As for me, I never doubted this, but knew it well in my heart, that you would come home after losing all your companions. But you must understand, I was not willing to fight against Poseidon, my father's brother, who stored up anger in his heart against you, furious that you blinded his dear son. But come, I will show you the land of Ithaca, so that you can be sure. This is the harbour of Phorcys, the old man of the sea, and here at the head of the harbour is the long-leafed olive tree, and near it the pleasant shadowy cave sacred to the nymphs who are called Naiads. This is the vaulted cave where you used to offer the nymphs many hecatombs that bring fulfilment; and over there is Mount Neriton, clothed with its forests."
So spoke the goddess, and scattered the mist, and the land appeared. Then much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad, rejoicing in his own country, and he kissed the earth, the giver of grain. And at once he prayed to the nymphs with his hands stretched out:
"Naiad Nymphs, daughters of Zeus, I never thought to see you again; but now I greet you with loving prayers. And I will give you gifts too, as I used to, if the daughter of Zeus, who drives the spoil, graciously grants me to live, and brings my dear son to manhood."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him again: "Take heart, and do not let these things trouble your mind. But let us put your goods away at once in the innermost recess of the marvellous cave, where they will stay safe for you; and let us think ourselves how it may all turn out for the best."
With that the goddess went into the shadowy cave and searched out its hiding places. And Odysseus brought all the treasure there, the gold and the stubborn bronze and the finely worked clothing which the Phaeacians had given him. He laid them carefully away, and Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis, set a stone at the door.
Then the two of them sat down by the trunk of the sacred olive tree and planned death for the insolent suitors. And the goddess grey-eyed Athena was the first to speak:
"Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, think how you may lay your hands on the shameless suitors, who for three years now have been lording it in your halls, courting your godlike wife and offering wedding gifts. And she, looking mournfully for your coming, holds out hope to all of them and makes promises to each man, sending them messages, when her mind is on something else."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "I was very near dying in my halls by the evil fate of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, if you had not told me all of it properly, goddess. But come, weave some plan by which I can pay them back; and stand beside me yourself and put dauntless courage into me, as when we loosed the bright diadem of Troy. If you would stand at my side, grey-eyed one, as eager as you were then, I would fight three hundred men with you, mighty goddess, if you would give me help with a ready heart."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "I will be with you, and I will not forget you when we are busy with this work; and I think many a one of the suitors who eat up your substance will spatter the wide earth with his blood and brains. But come, I will make you unrecognisable to everyone. I will shrivel the fine skin on your supple limbs, and destroy the flaxen hair on your head, and dress you in a rag that anyone would shudder to see a man wearing. And I will dim your two eyes, that were so beautiful before, so that you will look mean in the sight of all the suitors, and of your wife, and of the son you left in your halls.
"And you must go first of all to the swineherd who keeps your pigs, and who has a kindly heart towards you, and loves your son and steady Penelope. You will find him staying with the pigs, and they are feeding by the rock of Corax and the spring Arethusa, eating acorns to their hearts' content and drinking the black water, the things that make the rich flesh of pigs grow fat. Stay there, and sit beside him and question him about everything, while I go to Sparta, the land of beautiful women, to call your dear son Telemachus back, Odysseus, who went to spacious Lacedaemon, to the house of Menelaus, to look for news of you, and whether you were still alive anywhere."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her: "Why did you not tell him, then, when your mind knows everything? Was it so that he too should suffer, wandering over the restless sea, while others ate up his substance?"
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Do not let your heart be too troubled about him. I guided him myself, so that he should win a good name by going there; and he has no hardship, but sits in peace in the palace of the son of Atreus, with good things past telling in front of him. There are young men lying in wait for him in a black ship, eager to kill him before he comes to his own country; but I do not think that will happen. Before that the earth will cover many a one of the suitors who eat up your substance."
With that Athena touched him with her wand. She withered the fine flesh on his supple limbs and destroyed the flaxen hair on his head, and put the skin of an old man over all his limbs. And she dimmed his two eyes, that were so beautiful before, and dressed him in other clothes, a vile ragged cloak and a tunic, torn and filthy, grimed with dirty smoke. And she threw the great skin of a swift hind over him, with the hair stripped off, and gave him a staff and a miserable bag full of holes, slung on a twisted cord.
So when the two of them had taken counsel together they parted; and the goddess went off to lovely Lacedaemon to fetch the son of Odysseus.
But Odysseus went up from the harbour by the rough path, over the woodland and through the heights, to the place where Athena had shown him he would find the good swineherd, who looked after his property better than any of the slaves noble Odysseus had got.
He found him sitting in the front porch of his house, where his yard was built high in a place with a wide view, a great fine yard with open ground round it. The swineherd had built it himself for the pigs of his master, who was gone, without the knowledge of his mistress or of the old man Laertes. He had built it with huge stones and set a coping of thorn on it. Outside he had driven stakes the whole length, this way and that, huge stakes set close together, which he had made by splitting an oak down to the black core. And inside the yard he had made twelve sties close to one another as beds for the pigs, and fifty wallowing sows were penned in each of them, breeding females; but the boars slept outside. They were far fewer in number, because the godlike suitors were feasting on them and thinning them out, since the swineherd always sent in the best of all the fatted hogs, which came to three hundred and sixty. And four dogs, savage as wild beasts, always slept beside them, which the swineherd had reared, a leader of men.
He was fitting boots round his feet, cutting an ox-hide of good colour, while the others had gone off, three of them, one here and one there, with the droves of pigs; and the fourth he had sent to the city to drive a boar for the insolent suitors, because he had to, so that they could kill it and satisfy themselves with meat.
Suddenly the baying hounds caught sight of Odysseus and rushed at him barking loudly; but Odysseus sat down, being cunning, and the staff dropped out of his hand. And then he would have suffered a cruel hurt on his own farm, but the swineherd came running after them with quick steps and hurried out through the gateway, and the hide fell out of his hand. He shouted at the dogs and drove them this way and that with a shower of stones, and said to his master:
"Old man, the dogs nearly tore you to pieces all of a sudden, and you would have poured reproach on me. And the gods have given me other griefs and sorrows already. Here I sit mourning and grieving for a godlike master, and rearing fat pigs for other men to eat, while he, it may be, wants for food and wanders over the land and the city of men of a strange language, if he is still alive at all and sees the light of the sun. But come with me, old man; let us go to the hut, so that when you have satisfied yourself with food and wine you can tell me where you are from and all the troubles you have gone through."
With that the good swineherd led him to the hut and brought him in and sat him down, spreading thick brushwood underneath and laying the skin of a shaggy wild goat over it, big and hairy, the one he slept on himself. Odysseus was glad that he gave him such a welcome, and said to him:
"Stranger, may Zeus and the other immortal gods grant you whatever you want most, since you have given me such a ready welcome."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Stranger, it would not be right for me to slight a stranger, not even if one came who was worse off than you are. All strangers and beggars come from Zeus, and a gift is welcome from people like us even when it is small; because this is the lot of slaves, always in fear when the masters who hold sway over them are young masters, as ours are. For the gods have blocked the homecoming of the man who would have loved me with real kindness and given me possessions of my own, a house and a bit of land and a wife whom many wanted — the kind of thing a kind master gives to a slave who has laboured hard for him, and whose work a god has made prosper, as this work of mine prospers, which I give my mind to. So my master would have rewarded me richly if he had grown old here at home. But he died — and I wish all the family of Helen had died in utter ruin, since she loosened the knees of so many fighting men. For he too went to Ilios, famous for horses, to win recompense for Agamemnon, so that he could fight the Trojans."
With that he quickly bound his tunic up with his belt and went off to the sties where the tribes of pigs were penned. He chose two out of them and brought them in and killed them both, and singed them and cut them up and spitted them. Then, when he had roasted it all, he brought it and set it in front of Odysseus, hot on the spits, and sprinkled white barley meal over it. Then he mixed honey-sweet wine in a bowl of ivy wood, and sat down opposite Odysseus himself, and invited him to eat.
"Eat now, stranger, the kind of food slaves have to offer, the meat of young pigs; the fatted hogs are eaten by the suitors, who take no thought in their hearts of the anger of the gods, and have no pity. The blessed gods do not love reckless doings; they honour justice and the righteous deeds of men. Even cruel enemies who set foot on another people's land, when Zeus gives them plunder and they fill their ships and go home — even on the hearts of those a great fear of the gods' anger falls. But these men here know something, and have heard some voice of a god about my master's pitiful death, seeing that they will not court righteously or go back to their own homes, but waste our substance at their ease in an insolent way, and there is no sparing. Every day and night that comes from Zeus they sacrifice, and not one victim or two either; and they draw the wine off and waste it insolently.
"His substance was great past telling. No lord has so much, either on the dark mainland or in Ithaca itself; not twenty men together have wealth as great. I will tell you the reckoning of it. Twelve herds of cattle he has on the mainland; as many flocks of sheep; as many droves of pigs; as many packed herds of goats, pastured by herdsmen, both foreigners and men of his own. And here too roving herds of goats graze on the edges of the island, eleven of them, and trusty men keep watch over them. And each of these men drives up one of his flock for the suitors every day, whichever of the fatted goats seems the best to him. And I guard and keep these pigs, and choose out the best of the boars carefully and send them in."
So he spoke, and Odysseus ate the meat eagerly and drank the wine, greedily, in silence, and was sowing the seeds of trouble for the suitors. But when he had dined and satisfied himself with food, the swineherd filled the bowl he drank from himself and gave it him brim full of wine, and he took it and was glad at heart; and he spoke to him with winged words:
"Friend, who was it who bought you with his wealth, a man so very rich and powerful, as you tell it? You said he died to win recompense for Agamemnon; tell me, in case I happen to know a man like that. Zeus and the other immortal gods know whether I have seen him and could bring you news; I have wandered a long way."
Then the swineherd, a leader of men, answered him: "Old man, no wanderer who came here bringing news of him could persuade his wife and his dear son. Vagabonds who need entertainment lie at random, and have no wish to speak the truth. Anyone who comes to the land of Ithaca in his wanderings goes to my mistress and tells her a lying tale. And she receives him kindly and entertains him and questions him about everything, and the tears fall from her eyelids as she weeps, the way a woman does when her husband has died far away. And you would soon make up a story yourself, old man, if somebody would give you a cloak and a tunic for clothes. But as for him, by now the dogs and the swift birds have most likely torn the flesh off his bones and his spirit has left him; or the fishes have eaten him in the sea, and his bones lie there on the shore wrapped in deep sand. So he died out there, and grief is appointed for his friends in the days to come, for all of them, and for me most of all. I shall never find so kind a master again, however far I go, not if I came back to the house of my father and mother, where I was born in the first place and they brought me up themselves. And it is not for them that I mourn so much now, eager as I am to see them with my eyes and to be in my own country; it is the longing for Odysseus, who is gone, that takes hold of me. I speak his name with awe, stranger, absent as he is, because he loved me greatly and cared for me at heart; but I call him my lord and my beloved, for all that he is not here."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "Friend, since you deny it altogether and say he will never come again, and your heart is always unbelieving, I will tell you — not at random, but with an oath — that Odysseus is coming back. And let me have a reward for bringing good news as soon as he comes and reaches his home: dress me in a cloak and a tunic, good clothes. Before that I will accept nothing, however badly off I am; because that man is as hateful to me as the gates of Hades who gives way to the pressure of poverty and tells a lying tale. Let Zeus be my witness above all gods, and this hospitable table, and the hearth of noble Odysseus that I have come to, that everything will happen exactly as I tell you. In the course of this very same year Odysseus will come here, as the old moon wanes and the new appears. He will come back, and take his revenge on all those who dishonour his wife and his glorious son here."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Old man, I do not think I shall be paying you this reward for good news, and Odysseus will never come home. Drink in peace, and let us turn our minds to something else, and do not bring this back to my mind; because the heart in my breast is grieved whenever anyone mentions my good master. As for your oath, let it be; but I wish Odysseus would come, as I want him to, and Penelope, and the old man Laertes, and godlike Telemachus.
"But now it is for his son that I grieve without stopping, for Telemachus, whom Odysseus fathered. When the gods had made him grow like a sapling, and I thought he would be no worse a man than his dear father, glorious in shape and looks, then one of the immortals damaged the good sense inside him, or some man did, and he went off to sacred Pylos after news of his father. And now the lordly suitors lie in wait for him on his way home, so that the line of godlike Arceisius may die out of Ithaca and leave no name. But let him be; he may be taken or he may get away, and the son of Cronos may stretch out his hand to guard him.
"But come, old man, tell me your own sorrows, and tell me the truth, so that I know for certain. Who are you among men, and where from? Where is your city, and where are your parents? What sort of ship did you come on, and how did sailors bring you to Ithaca? Who did they say they were? Because you certainly did not get here on foot."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Then I will tell you all of it plainly. I wish the two of us had food and sweet wine for a good while, to feast on quietly here in your hut, with others going about their work; then I could easily talk for a whole year and still not finish the tale of the sorrows of my spirit, all the labours I have gone through by the will of the gods.
"I declare that I come by descent from broad Crete, the son of a wealthy man. And a great many other sons were born and brought up in his halls, true sons of a lawful wife; but the mother who bore me was bought, a concubine. Yet Castor, son of Hylax, whom I say I am sprung from, honoured me the same as his true-born sons. He was honoured like a god among the Cretans in that country in those days, for his good estate and his wealth and his glorious sons. But the fates of death carried him off to the house of Hades, and his proud sons divided his substance among them and cast lots for it. To me they gave a very small portion, and allotted me a dwelling. But I took a wife from a house with wide possessions, winning her by my own courage; because I was no weakling and no coward in a fight. All that strength is gone now; and yet even so, seeing the stubble, I think you can judge what the grain was; because troubles surround me in full measure.
"But in those days Ares and Athena gave me courage, and strength that breaks the ranks of men; and whenever I picked the best fighters for an ambush, sowing the seeds of trouble for the enemy, my proud spirit never foresaw death, but I would always leap out far ahead of the others and kill with my spear whichever of the enemy gave way in flight in front of me. That was the kind of man I was in war; but work in the fields was never to my liking, or the care of a household that rears fine children. Oared ships were always dear to me, and wars, and polished spears, and arrows — grievous things, which other men shudder at. But those were the things dear to me, which a god must have put in my heart; different men take joy in different work. Before the sons of the Achaeans set foot on the land of Troy I had nine times led fighting men and fast-going ships against foreign peoples, and great plunder had always fallen to me. I would choose what pleased my mind out of it, and got a great deal more afterwards by lot. So my house grew rich at once, and after that I became a man feared and honoured among the Cretans.
"But when Zeus, whose voice carries far, contrived that hateful journey which loosened the knees of so many fighting men, then they told me and glorious Idomeneus to lead the ships to Ilios, and there was no way of refusing, because the voice of the people pressed hard on us. There for nine years we sons of the Achaeans made war, and in the tenth we sacked the city of Priam and set out for home in our ships, and a god scattered the Achaeans.
"But for me, wretch that I am, Zeus the counsellor contrived trouble. I stayed only a month, taking joy in my children and my wedded wife and my wealth; and then my spirit told me to sail to Egypt with my godlike companions, when I had fitted my ships out carefully. I fitted out nine ships, and the crews gathered quickly. For six days my trusty companions feasted, and I gave them a great many victims so that they could sacrifice to the gods and prepare a feast for themselves; and on the seventh we embarked and set sail from broad Crete, with the north wind blowing fresh and fair, and ran on as easily as if we were going downstream. No harm came to any of my ships, but we sat there free of injury and of sickness, and the wind and the helmsmen guided the ships.
"On the fifth day we came to the fair-flowing Aegyptus, and I moored my curved ships in the river Aegyptus. Then I told my trusty companions to stay there by the ships and guard the ships, and I sent scouts out to go to places of outlook. But my companions gave way to their own wantonness, and, led on by their own strength, set about wasting the fine fields of the men of Egypt straight away; and they carried off the women and the little children and killed the men; and the cry went up to the city quickly.
"Then, hearing the shouting, the people came out at daybreak, and the whole plain was filled with foot-soldiers and chariots and the flashing of bronze. And Zeus, who hurls the thunderbolt, threw an evil panic on my companions, and not one of them had the courage to hold his ground and face the enemy; trouble surrounded us on every side. So they killed a great many of us with the sharp bronze, and led others up to their city alive, to work for them because they had to. But Zeus himself put this thought in my heart — I wish I had died and met my fate there in Egypt instead, because sorrow was still waiting to welcome me. Straight away I took my well-made helmet off my head, and the shield off my shoulders, and let the spear fall out of my hand, and went towards the king's chariot horses. I took hold of his knees and kissed them, and he saved me and took pity on me, and set me in his chariot and took me home weeping. A great many of them rushed at me with their ash spears, eager to kill me, because they were furious; but he kept them off, and had regard for the anger of Zeus, the stranger's god, who more than anyone is indignant at evil deeds.
"There I stayed seven years, and gathered a great deal of wealth among the Egyptians, because everyone gave me gifts. But when the eighth year came round in its circle, then a man of Phoenicia came, well versed in guile, a greedy rogue who had already done a great deal of harm among men. He talked me round with his cunning and took me with him, until we reached Phoenicia, where his house and his possessions were. There I stayed with him for a whole year. But when at last the months and the days were coming to fulfilment, as the year rolled round and the seasons came on, he put me on a seafaring ship bound for Libya, giving me lying advice that I should carry a cargo with him, but in truth so that when we got there he could sell me and get a huge price.
"So I went aboard the ship with him, suspecting his guile but having no choice. And she ran before the north wind, blowing fresh and fair, on a mid-sea course to windward of Crete; and Zeus contrived destruction for the men. But when we had left Crete and no other land appeared, but only sky and sea, then the son of Cronos set a black cloud over the hollow ship, and the sea grew dark beneath it. And Zeus thundered and hurled his bolt at the ship, and she shuddered from stem to stern, struck by the bolt of Zeus, and was filled with sulphurous smoke, and the whole crew fell out of the ship. They were carried on the waves round the black ship like sea-crows, and the god took their homecoming from them.
"But as for me, Zeus himself, when my heart was hemmed in with trouble, put the tossing mast of the dark-prowed ship into my hands, so that I might escape destruction again. I clung round it and was carried by the deadly winds. For nine days I was carried, and on the tenth black night the great rolling wave brought me to the land of the Thesprotians. There Pheidon, the king of the Thesprotians, took me in and asked no ransom, because his dear son came on me when I was overcome with cold and weariness and raised me up by the hand and led me until he came to his father's palace; and he dressed me in a cloak and a tunic for clothes.
"There I learned of Odysseus, because the king said he had entertained him and given him welcome on his way to his own country. And he showed me all the treasure Odysseus had gathered, bronze and gold and iron worked with labour; it would feed his children after him to the tenth generation, so great was the wealth lying stored for him in the king's halls. But Odysseus, he said, had gone to Dodona, to hear the will of Zeus from the high-crested oak of the god, and how he might come back to the rich country of Ithaca after so long an absence, openly or in secret. And besides that he swore in my own presence, as he poured offerings in his house, that the ship was launched and the men ready who were to convey him to his own dear country.
"But he sent me off first, because a ship of the Thesprotians happened to be setting out for Dulichium, rich in wheat. He told them to convey me there with kindly care, to king Acastus. But an evil plan about me found favour in their hearts, so that I should be brought into utter misery even yet. When the seafaring ship had sailed far from the land, they set about bringing on the day of slavery for me. They stripped me of my clothes, my cloak and tunic, and dressed me in other clothes, a vile ragged cloak and tunic, the tattered things you see in front of your eyes. And in the evening they reached the tilled fields of clear-seen Ithaca. Then they bound me fast in the benched ship with a twisted rope, and went ashore themselves and hurried to take their supper on the shore of the sea.
"But the gods themselves undid my bonds easily enough, and I wrapped the tattered cloak round my head and slid down the smooth loading-plank and brought my breast to the sea, and then struck out with both hands and swam, and was very soon out of the water and away from them. Then I went up to a place where there was a thicket of leafy wood and lay there crouching. And they went this way and that with loud cries; but as there seemed no profit in going any further with the search, they went back aboard their hollow ship. And the gods themselves hid me easily and led me and brought me to the farm of a wise man; because it seems it is still my lot to live."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Poor stranger, you have stirred my heart deeply, telling the whole tale of your suffering and your wanderings. But in this you have not spoken rightly, and you will not persuade me with your tale about Odysseus. Why should a man in your state lie for no purpose? I know well enough myself about my master's homecoming: he was hated utterly by all the gods, in that they did not kill him among the Trojans, or in the arms of his friends, when he had wound up the whole skein of the war. Then the whole army of the Achaeans would have made him a tomb, and he would have won great glory for his son as well in the days to come. As it is, the spirits of the storm have swept him away and left no news.
"For my part I live off by myself with the pigs, and do not go to the city, unless wise Penelope calls me there when news comes to her from somewhere. Then men sit round the one who has come and question him closely, both those who grieve for their lord, who has long been gone, and those who are glad, as they eat up his substance without paying for it. But I have no wish to ask or enquire, since the time when an Aetolian took me in with his story — a man who had killed somebody, and came to my house after wandering over the wide earth, and I gave him a kindly welcome. He said he had seen Odysseus among the Cretans, at the house of Idomeneus, mending his ships which storms had shattered. And he said he would come either by summer or by harvest time, bringing a great deal of treasure along with his godlike companions. So you too, old man of many sorrows, since a god has brought you to me — do not try to win my favour with lies, or to cajole me in any way. It is not for that that I shall show you respect or kindness, but out of fear of Zeus, the stranger's god, and out of pity for you."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "You have a heart in your breast that is slow to believe, seeing that even with an oath I have not won you or persuaded you. But come, let us make an agreement, and the gods who hold Olympus shall be witnesses for us both in time to come. If your master comes back to this house, dress me in a cloak and a tunic for clothes and send me on my way to Dulichium, where I want to be. And if your master does not come as I say, set the slaves on me and throw me down from a great cliff, so that the next beggar takes care about deceiving people."
And the good swineherd answered him and said: "Yes, stranger — that would win me fine fame and prosperity among men, now and hereafter, if I first brought you to my hut and gave you hospitality and then killed you and took away your dear life. I should have a ready heart for praying to Zeus, son of Cronos, after that. But it is supper time now, and I hope my companions come soon, so that we can get a good supper ready in the hut."
So they talked to each other; and the pigs and the swineherds came up. They shut the sows in to sleep in their usual sties, and an extraordinary noise rose from them as they were penned in. Then the good swineherd called to his companions:
"Bring out the best of the boars, so that I can kill him for the stranger who comes from far away; and we shall have some profit from it ourselves, who have long borne labour and suffering for the sake of the white-tusked pigs, while others eat up our work without paying for it."
With that he split wood with the pitiless bronze, and the others brought in a fatted boar of five years old and set him by the hearth. And the swineherd did not forget the immortals, because he had an understanding heart, but as a first offering he threw bristles from the head of the white-tusked boar into the fire and prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus might come back to his own house. Then he raised himself up and struck the boar with a billet of oak he had left over from splitting the wood, and the life left him. And the others cut his throat and singed him and cut him up quickly, and the swineherd took bits of raw flesh from all the limbs as first offerings and laid them in the rich fat. These he threw into the fire when he had sprinkled them with barley meal; and the rest they cut up and spitted and roasted carefully, and drew it all off the spits and threw it in a heap on the platters.
Then the swineherd stood up to carve, because his heart knew well what was fair, and he cut up the meat and divided it into seven portions. One he set aside with a prayer for the nymphs and for Hermes, son of Maia, and the rest he handed round to each man. And he honoured Odysseus with the long chine of the white-tusked boar, and gladdened his master's heart; and Odysseus of the many tricks said to him:
"Eumaeus, may you be as dear to father Zeus as you are to me, since you honour me with a good portion, in the state I am in."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Eat, unhappy stranger, and enjoy such fare as there is here. It is the god who will give one thing and hold back another, whatever seems good to his heart; because he can do anything."
He spoke, and sacrificed the first pieces to the gods who live for ever; and when he had poured offerings of the flaming wine, he put the cup into the hands of Odysseus, the sacker of cities, and sat down by his own portion. And bread was served to them by Mesaulius, whom the swineherd had got by himself while his master was away, without the knowledge of his mistress or of old Laertes, buying him from the Taphians with his own goods. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, Mesaulius took the food away, and they were ready to go to bed, full of bread and meat.
Now the night came on, foul and moonless, and Zeus rained the whole night through, and the west wind, always the rainy wind, blew hard. Then Odysseus spoke among them, testing the swineherd, to see whether he would take off his own cloak and give it to him, or tell one of his companions to do it, since he cared for him so much:
"Listen to me now, Eumaeus, and all the rest of you, his men. There is a wish in my heart, and I will tell a tale; the wine tells me to, that fooling wine, which sets a man singing and laughing softly however wise he is, and makes him get up and dance, and brings out a word that would be better unsaid. Still, since I have spoken out once, I will hide nothing. I wish I were young and my strength firm, as when we made our ambush ready and led it up under the walls of Troy. The leaders were Odysseus and Menelaus, son of Atreus, and I was third in command with them; that was how they arranged it themselves.
"Now when we had come to the city and the steep wall, we lay round the town in the thick brushwood, among the reeds and the swamp land, crouching under our arms; and night came on, foul, when the north wind had dropped, and frosty, and snow came down on us from above, covering us like rime, bitterly cold, and ice formed on our shields. All the rest had cloaks and tunics and slept in peace, with their shields covering their shoulders; but I had left my cloak behind with my companions when I set out, in my folly, because I did not think I would be cold even so, and had come with only my shield and my bright kilt.
"But at the third watch of the night, when the stars had turned their course, I spoke to Odysseus, who was near me, nudging him with my elbow; and he listened at once. 'Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, I shall not be among the living much longer. The cold is killing me; I have no cloak. Some god beguiled me into wearing only my tunic, and now there is no way out.'
"So I spoke, and he thought up this plan in his heart — such a man he was both at planning and at fighting — and he said to me in a low voice: 'Be quiet now, in case one of the other Achaeans hears you.'
"With that he raised his head on his elbow and said: 'Listen, friends. A dream from the gods came to me in my sleep. We have come very far from the ships, and I wish there were somebody to take word to Agamemnon, son of Atreus, shepherd of the army, in the hope that he might order more men to come from the ships.'
"So he spoke, and Thoas, son of Andraemon, sprang up quickly and flung his purple cloak off and set out to run to the ships. And I lay gladly in his garment, and golden-throned Dawn appeared. I wish I were as young as I was then, and my strength as firm; then one of the swineherds on the farm would give me a cloak, both out of kindness and out of respect for a brave fighting man. As it is they look down on me, since I have foul clothes on me."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Old man, the tale you have told is a good one, and you have said nothing amiss or unprofitable so far. So you shall not lack clothing or anything else a hard-pressed suppliant should get when he meets somebody — for this night at least; but in the morning you will shake those rags of yours about you again. There are not many cloaks here or changes of tunics to put on; each man has one only. But when the dear son of Odysseus comes, he will give you a cloak and a tunic for clothes himself, and will send you wherever your heart and spirit tell you to go."
With that he sprang up and put a bed for Odysseus near the fire and threw skins of sheep and goats on it. Odysseus lay down there, and the swineherd threw a great thick cloak over him, which he kept at hand for a change of clothes whenever a terrible storm should come on.
So Odysseus slept there, and the young men slept beside him. But the swineherd did not like a bed in that place, where he would be lying away from the boars, so he got ready to go outside. And Odysseus was glad that he took such care of his master's property while he was away. First Eumaeus flung his sharp sword over his strong shoulders, and then put on a cloak, very thick, to keep the wind off; and he picked up the fleece of a large well-fatted goat and took a sharp javelin to keep off dogs and men, and went out to lie down and sleep where the white-tusked boars slept, under a hollow rock in a place sheltered from the north wind.
But Pallas Athena went to spacious Lacedaemon to remind the glorious son of great-hearted Odysseus about his homecoming and to hurry him on his way. She found Telemachus and the noble son of Nestor lying in the front porch of the palace of glorious Menelaus. Nestor's son was overcome with soft sleep, but sweet sleep did not hold Telemachus: all through the immortal night anxious thoughts about his father kept him awake. And grey-eyed Athena stood near him and said:
"Telemachus, you do wrong to wander any longer far from home, leaving your wealth behind you and men in your house as insolent as those — in case they divide it all up and eat your possessions, and you have made your journey for nothing. Rouse Menelaus, good at the war-cry, as fast as you can, to send you on your way, so that you may find your noble mother still at home. Her father and her brothers are telling her now to marry Eurymachus, because he is ahead of all the suitors in his presents and has increased his wedding gifts. Take care she does not carry some treasure out of your halls against your will. You know what sort of spirit there is in a woman's breast: she wants to build up the house of the man who marries her, and takes no thought for her earlier children or the husband of her youth, once he is dead, and asks about them no longer. So go, and put all your possessions in the charge of whichever of the women seems to you the best, until the gods show you a noble bride.
"And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. The best men among the suitors are lying in wait for you deliberately in the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos, eager to kill you before you come to your own country. But I do not think that will happen; before that the earth will cover many a one of the suitors who eat up your substance. Keep your well-built ship well away from the islands, and sail by night as well as by day; and that one of the immortals who keeps and guards you will send a fair breeze after you. And when you have reached the nearest shore of Ithaca, send your ship and all your companions on to the city, but go yourself first of all to the swineherd who keeps your pigs, and who has a kindly heart towards you. Spend the night there, and tell him to go to the city and take word to wise Penelope that she has you safe, and that you have come back from Pylos."
With that she went off to high Olympus. And Telemachus woke the son of Nestor out of sweet sleep, rousing him with a touch of his heel, and said to him:
"Wake up, Peisistratus, son of Nestor; bring up your fiery-hoofed horses and yoke them under the car, so that we can get on our way."
Then Peisistratus, son of Nestor, answered him and said: "Telemachus, there is no way we can drive through the dark night, however eager we are for our journey; and it will soon be dawn. Wait until the warrior son of Atreus, Menelaus, famous for his spear, brings his gifts and sets them in the car and sends us off with kindly words of farewell. A guest remembers all his days the host who shows him kindness."
So he spoke, and golden-throned Dawn came soon. Menelaus came up to them, good at the war-cry, getting up from his bed beside fair-haired Helen. And when the prince, the dear son of Odysseus, saw him, he hurried to put his bright tunic on and to fling a great cloak over his powerful shoulders, and went out. Then Telemachus, the dear son of godlike Odysseus, came up to Menelaus and said to him:
"Menelaus, son of Atreus, brought up by Zeus, leader of armies, send me back now at last to my own dear country; my heart is eager to be home."
Then Menelaus answered him, good at the war-cry: "Telemachus, I shall not hold you here a long time when you are eager to go back. I would blame another man who as a host loves too much or hates too much; due measure is better in everything. It is an equal wrong to speed a guest on who does not want to go and to hold back one who is eager to be gone. One should make the guest who is present welcome, and send off the one who wants to go. But wait until I bring fine gifts and put them in your car, and your own eyes see them, and until I tell the women to get a meal ready in the halls out of the plentiful store that is inside. It is a double good — it brings honour and glory, and profit as well — that a traveller should dine before he goes out over the wide and boundless earth. And if you would like to travel through Hellas and the middle of Argos, then let it be so, and I will go with you myself, and yoke horses for you and take you to the cities of men. And nobody will send us away empty-handed; every one of them will give us some one thing at least to take away, a fine bronze tripod or cauldron, or a pair of mules, or a golden cup."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Menelaus, son of Atreus, brought up by Zeus, leader of armies, I would rather go home at once, because when I left I left nobody behind to watch over my possessions. I do not want to die myself while looking for my godlike father, or to lose some fine treasure out of my halls."
Now when Menelaus heard this, good in battle, he told his wife and her women at once to get a meal ready in the halls out of the plentiful store that was inside. Eteoneus, son of Boethous, came up to him, just out of bed, because he lived not far off. Menelaus, good at the war-cry, told him to kindle a fire and roast some of the meat; and he heard and obeyed.
And Menelaus went down himself to his vaulted treasure chamber, not alone, because Helen went with him, and Megapenthes. And when they came to the place where his treasures were stored, the son of Atreus took a two-handled cup and told his son Megapenthes to carry a mixing bowl of silver. And Helen went to the chests where her richly embroidered robes were, which she had made herself. One of these Helen, that beautiful woman, lifted out and carried away, the one that was finest in its embroidery and the largest. It shone like a star, and it lay beneath all the rest.
Then they went through the house until they came to Telemachus; and fair-haired Menelaus said to him: "Telemachus, may Zeus, the loud-thundering lord of Hera, bring about your homecoming, just as your heart wants it. And of all the gifts stored as treasure in my house, I will give you the finest and the most valuable. I will give you a well-made mixing bowl. It is all of silver, with the rims finished in gold, the work of Hephaestus; and the warrior Phaedimus, king of the Sidonians, gave it to me when his house sheltered me on my way there; and now I have a mind to give it to you."
With that the warrior son of Atreus put the two-handled cup into his hands. And strong Megapenthes brought the bright mixing bowl of silver and set it in front of him. And Helen of the lovely cheeks came up with the robe in her hands and said to him:
"Here, I give you this gift too, dear child, a remembrance of the hands of Helen, for the day of the marriage you long for, for your bride to wear. Until then let it lie in your halls in your dear mother's keeping. And for yourself, I hope you reach your well-built house and your own country with joy."
With that she put it in his hands, and he took it gladly. And prince Peisistratus took the gifts and laid them in the box of the chariot, and looked at them all, marvelling in his heart. Then fair-haired Menelaus led them into the house, and the two of them sat down on chairs and high seats. And a maid brought water for their hands in a lovely golden jug and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash, and drew a polished table up beside them. And the housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it in front of them, and plenty of meat with it, giving freely from her stores. And the son of Boethous carved the meat close by and divided the portions, and the son of glorious Menelaus poured the wine. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them.
But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, then Telemachus and the glorious son of Nestor yoked the horses and got up into the inlaid car, and drove out through the gateway and the echoing portico. And the son of Atreus, fair-haired Menelaus, went after them, carrying honey-hearted wine in a golden cup in his right hand, so that they might pour an offering before they set out. He took his stand in front of the horses and pledged the young men and said:
"Farewell, young men, and take my greetings to Nestor, shepherd of the army; he was as kind as a father to me while we sons of the Achaeans were making war in the land of Troy."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Yes, king brought up by Zeus, we will tell him all this when we come, as you say. And I wish that when I get back to Ithaca I might find Odysseus at home just as surely, to tell him how I met with every kindness at your hands before I left, and am bringing away treasures many and fine."
Even as he spoke a bird flew past on the right, an eagle, carrying a great white goose in its talons, a tame bird from the yard, and men and women followed shouting. And the eagle came near them and darted off to the right in front of the horses; and they were glad when they saw it, and the hearts in all their breasts were cheered. And Peisistratus, son of Nestor, was the first to speak among them:
"Consider, Menelaus, brought up by Zeus, leader of armies, whether the god showed this sign for the two of us or for yourself."
So he spoke, and Menelaus, dear to Ares, turned over how he might interpret the sign rightly with understanding. But long-robed Helen took the word from him and said:
"Listen to me, and I will prophesy as the immortals put it in my heart, and as I think it will come about. As this eagle came from the mountain, where his kin are and where he was born, and snatched up the goose that was reared in the house, so Odysseus will come home after many labours and many wanderings, and will take his revenge; or he is at home even now, and sowing the seeds of trouble for all the suitors."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "May Zeus grant it so, the loud-thundering lord of Hera; then I will pray to you there as to a god."
He spoke, and touched the two horses with the lash, and they sped quickly towards the plain, running eagerly through the city. So all day long they shook the yoke they carried on their necks. And the sun set, and all the ways grew dark. And they came to Pherae, to the house of Diocles, son of Ortilochus, whose father was Alpheus. There they spent the night, and he set out for them the entertainment due to strangers.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, they yoked the horses and got up into the inlaid car and drove out through the gateway and the echoing portico. Then Peisistratus touched the horses with the whip to start them, and the pair went on willingly, and soon after that they reached the steep citadel of Pylos. Then Telemachus said to the son of Nestor:
"Son of Nestor, will you make me a promise now, and keep it, as I ask? We call ourselves friends from of old, through our fathers' friendship, and we are the same age besides, and this journey will settle us still more firmly in one mind. Do not take me past my ship, you whom Zeus brought up, but leave me there, in case that old man keeps me in his house against my will, wanting to show me kindness; and I must hurry home."
So he spoke, and the son of Nestor took counsel with his heart as to how he might properly give the promise and keep it. And as he turned it over, this seemed the better course. He turned his horses towards the fast ship and the shore of the sea, and took out the beautiful gifts Menelaus had given him, the clothes and the gold, and set them in the stern of the ship. And he urged Telemachus on and spoke to him with winged words:
"Go aboard quickly now, and tell all your companions to do the same, before I get home and bring the old man word. I know this well in my mind and heart: his spirit is so masterful that he will not let you go, but will come here himself to invite you to his house; and I tell you he will not go back without you, because he will be very angry, whatever anyone says."
With that he drove his horses with the beautiful manes back to the city of the Pylians, and quickly reached the palace. And Telemachus called to his men and gave them their orders:
"Set all the gear in order in the black ship, men, and let us go aboard ourselves and get on our way."
So he spoke, and they listened readily and obeyed; and they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches.
So he was busy with this, and was praying and making an offering to Athena by the stern of the ship, when a man from a far country came up to him, one who was fleeing out of Argos because he had killed a man; and he was a seer. By descent he came from Melampus, who lived long ago in Pylos, mother of flocks, a rich man with a very wealthy house among the Pylians, but who afterwards came to a land of strangers, fleeing from his country and from great-hearted Neleus, the most lordly of living men, who for a whole year had kept a great deal of wealth from him by force. Melampus meanwhile lay bound with bitter bonds in the halls of Phylacus, suffering hard pains because of the daughter of Neleus and the terrible blindness of heart the goddess had laid on him, the Erinys who brings houses to ruin.
But he escaped his fate, and drove the deep-lowing cattle from Phylace to Pylos, and took his revenge on godlike Neleus for that cruel deed, and brought the girl home to be his own brother's wife. And for himself he went to the country of other men, to horse-pasturing Argos, because it was appointed for him to live there, holding sway over many Argives. There he married a wife and built himself a high-roofed house and fathered Antiphates and Mantius, two stalwart sons. And Antiphates fathered great-hearted Oicles, and Oicles fathered Amphiaraus, the rouser of armies, whom Zeus who holds the aegis and Apollo loved heartily with every kind of love. Yet he did not reach the threshold of old age, but died at Thebe, because of a woman's gifts. Sons were born to him, Alcmaeon and Amphilochus. And Mantius fathered Polypheides and Cleitus. Golden-throned Dawn snatched Cleitus away for his beauty, so that he might live with the immortals; and Apollo made Polypheides, high of heart, a seer, far the best of mortals, after Amphiaraus was dead. He moved to Hyperesia, having grown angry with his father, and lived there and prophesied to all men.
It was his son, Theoclymenus by name, who now came and stood beside Telemachus. He found him pouring offerings and praying by his fast black ship, and spoke to him with winged words:
"Friend, since I find you making a burnt offering in this place, I beg you by your offerings and by the god, and by your own life and the lives of the companions who follow you, tell me truly what I ask and do not hide it. Who are you among men, and where from? Where is your city, and where are your parents?"
And clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Then I will tell you all of it plainly, stranger. I am from Ithaca by birth, and my father is Odysseus, as surely as there ever was such a man; but now he has died by a pitiful fate. So I have taken my companions and a black ship and come to look for news of my father, who has been gone so long."
Then godlike Theoclymenus answered him: "I too have fled from my country, because I killed a man, one of my own kin. And he has many brothers and kinsmen in horse-pasturing Argos, and they hold great sway among the Achaeans. It is to avoid death and black fate at their hands that I am running, because it seems it is my lot to be a wanderer among men. Take me aboard your ship, since I have made my plea to you in my flight, in case they kill me outright; I think they are after me."
And clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Then I will certainly not thrust you away from my trim ship, since you are eager to come. Follow with us, and you shall have such hospitality in our home as we have."
With that he took the man's bronze spear from him and laid it at full length on the deck of the curved ship, and went aboard the seafaring ship himself. Then he sat down in the stern and made Theoclymenus sit beside him; and his men loosed the stern cables. And Telemachus called to his men and told them to lay hold of the tackle, and they obeyed quickly. They raised the fir mast and set it in the hollow socket and made it fast with the forestays, and hauled the white sail up with twisted ox-hide ropes.
And grey-eyed Athena sent them a favourable wind, blowing strongly through the sky, so that the ship should run swiftly and finish her way over the salt water of the sea. So they went past Crouni and Chalcis with its beautiful streams. Now the sun set and all the ways grew dark. And the ship drew near to Pheae, sped by the wind of Zeus, and past fine Elis, where the Epeans hold sway. And from there he steered for the sharp isles, turning over whether he would escape death or be taken.
But the two of them, Odysseus and the good swineherd, were eating supper in the hut, and the other men ate with them. And when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, Odysseus spoke among them, testing the swineherd to see whether he would go on entertaining him with kindly care and tell him to stay there at the farm, or send him off to the city:
"Listen to me now, Eumaeus, and all you other men. In the morning I mean to go off to the city to beg, so that I am not the ruin of you and your men. Give me good advice, then, and send a trusty guide with me to lead me there. And through the city I shall have to wander by myself, hoping somebody will give me a cup of water and a loaf. And I would go to the house of godlike Odysseus and take news to wise Penelope, and join the company of the insolent suitors, in case they give me a meal, since they have plenty of good things. I could do them good service in anything they wanted at once. I will tell you, and you take heed and listen: by the favour of Hermes the messenger, who gives grace and glory to all men's work, no man can compete with me in the business of serving — at piling a fire well, at splitting dry faggots, at carving and roasting meat, and at pouring wine — in all the things in which meaner men serve the noble."
And you were deeply moved, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said to him: "Oh, stranger, how has such a thought come into your mind? You must be wanting to die on the spot, if you really mean to go into the crowd of the suitors, whose wantonness and violence reach the iron sky. Their serving men are nothing like you; the ones who serve them are young, well dressed in cloaks and tunics, and their heads and their bright faces are always sleek, and the polished tables are loaded with bread and meat and wine. No, stay here. Nobody is troubled by your being here, not I, and none of the other men with me. And when the dear son of Odysseus comes, he will dress you in a cloak and a tunic for clothes himself, and will send you wherever your heart and spirit tell you to go."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "I wish, Eumaeus, that you might be as dear to father Zeus as you are to me, since you have made me stop wandering and stop my miserable hardship. Nothing is worse for mortals than roaming; and yet for their cursed belly's sake men put up with terrible troubles, when wandering and sorrow and pain come on them. But now, since you keep me here and tell me to wait for your master, come, tell me about the mother of godlike Odysseus, and about his father, whom he left behind on the threshold of old age when he went away. Are they still alive under the rays of the sun, or are they dead now and in the house of Hades?"
Then the swineherd, a leader of men, answered him: "Then I will tell you plainly, stranger. Laertes is still alive, but he prays to Zeus all the time that the life may waste out of his limbs in his halls. He grieves extraordinarily for his son, who is gone, and for the wise lady his wedded wife, whose death troubled him more than anything and brought him to an untimely old age. And she died of grief for her glorious son, a miserable death, and I hope no man dies that way who lives here as my friend and does me kindness.
"As long as she lived, sorrowful as it was, it was always a pleasure to me to ask and enquire after her, because she had brought me up herself along with long-robed Ctimene, her noble daughter, the youngest child she bore. I was brought up with her, and her mother honoured me only a little less than her own children. But when we both reached the longed-for prime of youth, they sent Ctimene to Same to be married, and got themselves countless bridal gifts; and as for me, my lady dressed me in a cloak and a tunic, very good clothes, and gave me sandals for my feet and sent me out to the fields; but in her heart she loved me all the more.
"Now I go without all that; and yet for my own part the blessed gods make the work prosper that I give my mind to. From it I have eaten and drunk and given to strangers who deserve respect. But from my mistress I can hear nothing pleasant, in word or deed, because a plague has fallen on the house, these overbearing men. And servants long very much to speak before their mistress and learn everything, and to eat and drink, and then to carry something off to the fields as well — the kind of thing that always warms a servant's heart."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "So you must have wandered far from your country and your parents when you were only a child, Eumaeus the swineherd. But tell me this, and tell me the truth. Was some broad-wayed city of men sacked, where your father and your honoured mother lived? Or did enemies take you in their ships when you were alone with your sheep or your cattle, and carry you off for sale to this master's house, and he paid a good price for you?"
Then the swineherd, a leader of men, answered him: "Stranger, since you ask and question me about this, listen now in silence, and enjoy yourself, and drink your wine as you sit here. These nights are extraordinarily long. There is time for sleep, and time to take pleasure in hearing tales; you do not need to lie down before it is time. There is weariness even in too much sleep. As for the rest, if any man's heart and spirit tell him to, let him go out and sleep, and at daybreak let him eat and follow our master's pigs. But we two will drink and eat in the hut, and take delight each in the other's hard troubles as we call them to mind. In later time a man finds joy even in his troubles, if he has suffered a great deal and wandered a great deal. But I will tell you what you ask and enquire about.
"There is an island called Syria, if you have heard of it, above Ortygia, where the turning-places of the sun are. It is not so very thickly settled, but it is a good country, rich in herds, rich in flocks, full of wine, plentiful in wheat. Famine never comes into that country, and no hateful sickness besides falls on wretched mortals; but when the tribes of men grow old through the city, Apollo of the silver bow comes with Artemis and attacks them with his gentle arrows and kills them. There are two cities in that island, and all the land is divided between them; and my father ruled as king over both, Ctesius, son of Ormenus, a man like the immortals.
"Phoenicians came there, men famous for their ships, greedy rogues, bringing countless trinkets in their black ship. Now there was a Phoenician woman in my father's house, handsome and tall and skilled in glorious handiwork. The wily Phoenicians beguiled her. First, as she was washing clothes, one of them lay with her in love beside the hollow ship; and that beguiles the minds of women, even an upright one. Then he asked her who she was and where she came from, and she pointed out at once the high-roofed house of my father, and said:
"'I declare I come from Sidon, rich in bronze, and I am the daughter of Arybas, to whom wealth flowed in streams. But Taphian pirates seized me as I was coming from the fields, and brought me here and sold me to that man's house, and he paid a good price for me.'
"Then the man who had lain with her in secret answered her: 'Would you go back home with us, then, and see the high-roofed house of your father and mother, and see them too? They are still alive, and they are accounted rich.'
"Then the woman answered him and said: 'That might well be, if you sailors will pledge yourselves by an oath to bring me safely home.'
"So she spoke, and they all swore to it, as she told them. But when they had sworn and finished the oath, the woman spoke among them again and said:
"'Be quiet now, and let none of your company speak to me if he meets me in the street, or at the well, in case somebody goes to the palace and tells the old king, and he grows suspicious and binds me with hard bonds and contrives death for you. Keep my words in mind, and hurry on the trading of your wares. And when your ship is loaded with goods, let a message come to me quickly at the palace; because I will bring whatever gold comes to my hand as well. And I would gladly give another thing for my passage. There is a child of my noble master, whose nurse I am in the palace, such a knowing child, who is always running out with me. I would bring him aboard, and he would fetch you an enormous price, wherever you took him for sale among men of a strange language.'
"With that she went off to the fine palace. And they stayed there in our country a whole year, and got a great deal of substance by trading in their hollow ship. But when their hollow ship was loaded for the voyage home, then they sent a messenger to bring the woman word. A man came to my father's house, well versed in guile, with a golden necklace strung with amber beads between. The girls in the hall and my honoured mother were handling it and gazing at it and offering him their price; and he nodded at the woman in silence. And when he had nodded to her he went off to the hollow ship; and she took me by the hand and led me out of the house.
"In the front hall of the palace she found the cups and the tables of the banqueters who waited on my father. They had gone out to the council and the people's place of debate; and she quickly hid three goblets in her dress and carried them off, and I followed her without a thought. Then the sun set and all the ways grew dark. And we hurried and came to the fine harbour where the fast Phoenician ship was. Then they went aboard, putting the two of us on board as well, and sailed over the watery roads, and Zeus sent them a favourable wind.
"For six days we sailed, night and day alike; but when Zeus, son of Cronos, brought the seventh day on us, then Artemis the archer struck the woman, and she fell with a thud into the hold the way a sea bird plunges. They threw her out to be a prey for seals and fishes, and I was left with my heart badly stricken. And the wind and the wave carried them and brought them to Ithaca, where Laertes bought me with his wealth. That is how my eyes came to see this country."
Then Odysseus, born of Zeus, answered him and said: "Eumaeus, you have deeply stirred the heart in my breast, telling all this tale of the sorrow you have borne. And yet in your case Zeus has given good side by side with the bad, since after all your labour you have come to the house of a kindly man, who gives you food and drink, and does it kindly, and you live well; whereas I have come here wandering through the many cities of men."
So they talked to one another, and then lay down to sleep, not for long, but for a little; because fair-throned Dawn came soon.
But the companions of Telemachus, drawing in to shore, furled the sail and took the mast down quickly, and rowed the ship to her anchorage with their oars. Then they threw out the mooring-stones and made the stern cables fast, and went out themselves onto the shore of the sea and got their meal ready and mixed the flaming wine. But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, clear-headed Telemachus was the first to speak among them:
"Row the black ship on to the city now; but I will visit the fields and the herdsmen, and come down to the city in the evening when I have looked over my lands. And in the morning I will set a good feast of meat and sweet wine before you as wages for your journey."
Then godlike Theoclymenus answered him: "Where shall I go, dear child? Whose house shall I come to, of the men who rule in rocky Ithaca? Or shall I go straight to your mother's house and yours?"
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "If things were otherwise I would tell you to go to our house, because there is no lack of hospitality for strangers there; but it would be worse for you, since I shall be away and my mother will not see you. She does not often appear before the suitors in the house, but weaves at her loom in an upper room, away from them. But I will tell you of another man you may go to, Eurymachus, the glorious son of wise Polybus, whom the men of Ithaca now look on as on a god. He is far the best man of them, and the most eager to marry my mother and to have the honour of Odysseus. But Olympian Zeus, who lives in the sky, knows whether he will bring the evil day on them before that marriage."
Even as he spoke a bird flew out on the right, a hawk, the swift messenger of Apollo. He held a dove in his talons and was plucking her and shedding the feathers on the ground, midway between the ship and Telemachus himself. Then Theoclymenus called him apart from his companions and took his hand and said to him:
"Telemachus, this bird has not flown out on our right without a god's warrant; I knew as I looked at him that he was a bird of omen. There is no house in the land of Ithaca more kingly than yours; you are supreme for ever."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him again: "Stranger, I wish this word of yours might be fulfilled. Then you would soon know kindness and many a gift from me, so that anyone who met you would call you a lucky man."
Then he spoke to Peiraeus, his trusty companion: "Peiraeus, son of Clytius, you are the one who in other matters listens to me above all my companions who went with me to Pylos; so now take this stranger, please, and give him a kindly welcome in your house and treat him with honour until I come."
Then Peiraeus, the famous spearman, answered him: "Telemachus, however long you stay here, I will entertain him, and he shall have no lack of what is due to a stranger."
With that he went aboard the ship and told his companions to embark themselves and loose the stern cables. So they went aboard at once and sat down at the benches. But Telemachus bound the fine sandals under his feet and took his mighty spear, tipped with sharp bronze, from the deck of the ship. Then the men loosed the stern cables and thrust off and sailed to the city, as Telemachus told them, the dear son of godlike Odysseus.
But his feet carried him quickly on as he strode forward, until he reached the farm where his countless pigs were, and where the worthy swineherd slept among them with a heart loyal to his masters.
Meanwhile the two in the hut, Odysseus and the good swineherd, had kindled a fire and were getting their breakfast ready at dawn, and had sent the herdsmen out with the droves of pigs. And the baying hounds fawned round Telemachus and did not bark as he came near. And noble Odysseus noticed the fawning of the hounds, and the sound of footsteps came to his ears, and at once he spoke winged words to Eumaeus:
"Eumaeus, some companion of yours must be coming, or somebody you know at least, because the hounds are not barking but fawning round him, and I hear the sound of footsteps."
The word was not fully out of his mouth before his own dear son stood in the doorway. The swineherd sprang up in astonishment, and the vessels dropped out of his hands that he was busy with, mixing the flaming wine. He went to meet his lord and kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes and his two hands, and a big tear fell from him. As a loving father greets his own dear son, who comes in the tenth year from a distant country — his only son and best loved, for whose sake he has borne much sorrow — so the good swineherd took godlike Telemachus in his arms and kissed him all over, like a man escaped from death; and he spoke to him with winged words, wailing:
"You have come, Telemachus, sweet light of my eyes. I thought I would never see you again after you had gone to Pylos in your ship. But come in, dear child, so that I can delight my heart with looking at you here in my house, newly come from other countries. You do not often visit the farm and the herdsmen, but stay in the town; it seems good to your heart, I suppose, to keep an eye on the destructive crowd of the suitors."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "So it shall be, father. It is for your sake that I have come here, to see you with my eyes and to hear you tell me whether my mother is still in the halls, or whether some other man has married her by now, and the bed of Odysseus lies without its bedding, covered with foul spiders' webs."
Then the swineherd, a leader of men, answered him: "Yes indeed, she stays in your halls with a steady heart, and the nights and the days waste away for her sorrowfully as she weeps."
With that he took the bronze spear from him, and Telemachus went in and crossed the stone threshold. As he came in, his father Odysseus got up from his seat to give him place; but Telemachus checked him and said:
"Sit down, stranger. We shall find a seat somewhere else in our farm; here is a man who will set one for us."
So he spoke, and Odysseus went back and sat down again; and the swineherd strewed green brushwood underneath for Telemachus and a fleece over it, and the dear son of Odysseus sat down there. Then the swineherd set platters of roast meat in front of them, left over from their meal the day before, and quickly heaped bread up in baskets and mixed honey-sweet wine in a bowl of ivy wood, and sat down himself opposite godlike Odysseus. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them.
But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, Telemachus said to the good swineherd: "Father, where did this stranger come to you from? How did sailors bring him to Ithaca? Who did they say they were? Because he certainly did not get here on foot."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Then I will tell you the whole truth, my child. He says he is from broad Crete by birth, and says he has wandered roaming through many cities of mortals; that is the lot a god has spun for him. And now he has run away from a ship of the Thesprotians and come to my farm, and I put him in your hands. Do what you like. He declares himself your suppliant."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Eumaeus, this word of yours stings me to the heart. How am I to welcome this stranger in my house? I am young myself, and I have no trust yet in my strength to defend me against a man when one of them grows angry over nothing. And as for my mother, the heart in her breast wavers this way and that, whether to stay here with me and keep the house, respecting her husband's bed and the voice of the people, or to go now with whichever of the Achaeans who court her in the halls is the best and offers the most wedding gifts. But as for this stranger, now that he has come to your house, I will dress him in a cloak and a tunic, good clothes, and give him a two-edged sword and sandals for his feet, and send him wherever his heart and spirit tell him to go. Or, if you like, keep him here at the farm and look after him, and I will send clothes here and all his food to eat, so that he is not the ruin of you and your men. But I will not let him go there, to join the company of the suitors; they are too full of wanton insolence. They might mock him, and I would be badly grieved. And it is hard for one man to achieve anything against many, however strong he is; they are far stronger."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "Friend, since it must be right for me to answer — you two tear my heart when I hear your words, the kind of wantonness you say the suitors contrive in the halls in spite of you, a man as fine as you are. Tell me, are you letting yourself be put down like this? Or do the people through the country hate you, following the voice of a god? Or have you cause to blame your brothers, whose fighting a man trusts in even when a great quarrel arises?
"I wish I were as young as you are with the temper I have now, either the son of blameless Odysseus, or Odysseus himself — some stranger might cut my head off my neck straight away if I did not prove myself the ruin of the whole lot of them when I had got to the halls of Odysseus, son of Laertes. And if they overwhelmed me by their numbers, alone as I was, I would far rather die, killed in my own halls, than go on seeing these shameful things — strangers mishandled, and men dragging the women through the fine halls in a shameful way, and wine drawn off and wasted, and men eating up my bread without a thought, without limit, with no end to the business."
And clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Then I will tell you all of it plainly, stranger. The people at large bear me no grudge and no hatred, and I have no cause to blame brothers, whose fighting a man trusts in even when a great quarrel arises. The son of Cronos has made our house run in a single line: Arceisius fathered Laertes as his only son, and his father again fathered Odysseus as his only son, and Odysseus fathered me as his only son and left me in his halls, and had no joy of me. That is why enemies past counting are in the house now: all the princes who hold sway over the islands — Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus — and those who lord it over rocky Ithaca, every one of them is courting my mother and wasting my house. And she will not refuse the marriage, which she hates, and cannot bring the matter to an end; and they eat up my substance with their feasting, and will bring me to ruin too before long. But all this lies on the knees of the gods.
"But go quickly, father, and tell steady Penelope that she has me safe and that I have come back from Pylos. I will stay here; and you come back here when you have told your tale to her alone. And let none of the rest of the Achaeans learn it; there are a great many contriving harm against me."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "I see, I take your point; you are telling this to a man who understands. But tell me this, and tell me the truth: shall I go the same way with news to Laertes too, wretched man? For a time, though he grieved badly for Odysseus, he used to oversee the fields and eat and drink with the slaves in the house, as the heart in his breast told him. But now, from the day you went to Pylos in your ship, they say he has not eaten and drunk the same way, or overseen the fields, but sits groaning and wailing and weeping, and the flesh wastes off his bones."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "That is sadder still; but even so we will let him be, for all our sorrow. If mortals could have everything they wished for, we should choose first of all the day of my father's homecoming. No, come back when you have given your message, and do not wander over the fields looking for Laertes. But tell my mother to send her housekeeper out to him as fast as she can, and secretly; she could take word to the old man."
With that he roused the swineherd, and he took his sandals in his hands and bound them under his feet and went off to the city.
And Athena was not unaware that Eumaeus the swineherd had gone from the farm, but she came near in the likeness of a woman, handsome and tall and skilled in glorious handiwork. And she stood opposite the door of the hut, showing herself to Odysseus; but Telemachus did not see her in front of him or notice her, because the gods do not appear openly to everyone. But Odysseus saw her, and the hounds did; and they did not bark, but slunk whining in fear to the far side of the farm. She made a sign with her brows, and noble Odysseus understood it and went out of the hall, past the great wall of the court, and stood in front of her; and Athena said to him:
"Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, reveal your word to your son now and do not hide it, so that when the two of you have planned death and doom for the suitors you may go to the famous city. And I myself will not be far from you for long, because I am eager for the fight."
With that Athena touched him with her golden wand. First of all she threw a well-washed cloak and a tunic round his breast, and increased his height and his youthful bloom. He grew dark of colour again, and his cheeks filled out, and the beard about his chin grew dark. And when she had done this she went away; and Odysseus went into the hut.
And his dear son marvelled, and turned his eyes aside in fear, in case it should be a god; and he spoke to him with winged words: "You seem to me another sort of man now, stranger, than you were a little while ago; the clothes you have on are different and your colour is not the same. You must be a god, one of those who hold the wide sky. Be gracious, then, so that we may offer you acceptable sacrifices and golden gifts, finely made; and spare us."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "I am no god; why do you compare me to the immortals? I am your father, for whose sake you groan and endure so many griefs and put up with the violence of men."
With that he kissed his son and let a tear fall from his cheeks to the ground, though before this he had always held them back steadily.
But Telemachus — because he still did not believe it was his father — answered him again and said: "You are not my father Odysseus; some god is beguiling me, so that I may weep and groan still more. No mortal man could contrive this by his own wit, unless a god came to him himself and made him young or old easily, by his will. Just now you were an old man and meanly dressed, and now you are like the gods who hold the wide sky."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Telemachus, it does not become you to marvel too much that your father is in the house, or to be amazed. No other Odysseus will ever come here; I am the man, just as you see me, come to my own country in the twentieth year after suffering and many wanderings. This is the work of Athena, driver of the spoil, who makes me whatever she likes — because she has the power — now like a beggar, and now again like a young man wearing fine clothes on his body. It is easy for the gods who hold the wide sky both to glorify a mortal man and to bring him low."
With that he sat down, and Telemachus flung his arms round his noble father and wept and shed tears, and a longing for lamentation rose in the hearts of both of them. They wailed aloud more insistently than birds, sea-eagles or vultures with crooked talons, whose young the country people have taken out of the nest before they were fledged; just so pitifully did they let the tears fall from under their brows. And the light of the sun would have gone down on their weeping, if Telemachus had not spoken suddenly to his father:
"In what kind of ship, dear father, have sailors brought you here to Ithaca now? Who did they say they were? Because you certainly did not get here on foot."
And much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "Then I will tell you the whole truth, my child. The Phaeacians brought me, men famous for their ships, who send other men on their way too, whoever comes to them. They brought me over the sea in a fast ship while I slept, and set me down in Ithaca, and gave me glorious gifts, stores of bronze and gold and woven clothing. These treasures are lying in caves, by the favour of the gods. And now I have come here at Athena's bidding, so that we can plan the killing of our enemies. Come, count the suitors for me and give me their number, so that I know how many they are and what kind of men, and can turn it over in my noble heart and decide whether the two of us are able to take them on alone, without others, or whether we should look for others too."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Father, I have always heard of your great fame, that you were a fighter in strength of hand and in wise counsel; but this is too much of a thing to say. Amazement takes hold of me. It could not be that two men should fight against so many, and mighty men at that. The suitors are not ten, or twice ten, but a great many more. You shall learn their number here and now. From Dulichium there are fifty-two picked young men, and six serving men attend them; from Same came twenty-four men; from Zacynthus there are twenty young Achaeans; and from Ithaca itself twelve men, all of them the noblest, and with them Medon the herald and the divine singer and two squires skilled at carving meat. If we meet all of them inside the halls, I am afraid your coming to avenge their violence will be bitter and deadly. Think whether you can think of some helper, one who would help us two with a ready heart."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "Then I will tell you, and you take heed and listen to my words, and consider whether Athena, with father Zeus, will be enough for the two of us, or whether I should think of some other helper."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Those two helpers you name are good ones, certainly, though they live high up in the clouds; and they rule over all men alike and over the immortal gods."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "Those two will not hold off long from the mighty struggle, when the strength of Ares is put to the test between the suitors and us in my halls. But for now, go home at daybreak and join the company of the haughty suitors. The swineherd will bring me to the city later on, in the likeness of a miserable old beggar. And if they treat me with contempt in the house, let the heart in your breast endure while I am badly used — even if they drag me by the feet through the house to the door, or throw things at me and strike me; you must endure the sight of it. You may tell them to stop their folly, trying to talk them round with gentle words; but they will not listen to you at all, because their day of doom is at hand.
"And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. When Athena, rich in counsel, puts it into my mind, I will nod to you with my head; and when you notice it, take all the weapons of war that are lying in your halls and put every one of them away in the secret place of the high store-room. And when the suitors miss the arms and question you, beguile them with gentle words, and say:
"'I have put them away out of the smoke, since they are no longer like the ones Odysseus left behind him when he went off to Troy, but are all fouled as far as the breath of the fire has reached them. And the son of Cronos has put this greater fear in my heart besides: that when you are heated with wine you may start a quarrel among yourselves and wound one another, and so bring shame on your feasting and your courting. Iron draws a man to it of itself.'
"But leave two swords behind for the two of us alone, and two spears, and two ox-hide shields for us to take hold of, so that we can rush at them and seize them; and as for the suitors, Pallas Athena and Zeus the counsellor will beguile them.
"And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. If you are truly my son and of our blood, then let nobody hear that Odysseus is at home; let Laertes not know it, or the swineherd, or anybody in the household, or Penelope herself. You and I by ourselves will learn the temper of the women; and we will make trial of a good many of the serving men too, and see which of them honours us and fears us at heart, and which takes no notice of us and scorns you, a man as fine as you are."
Then his glorious son answered him and said: "Father, I think you will come to know my spirit hereafter; there is no slackness of will in me. But I do not think this plan will be a gain to us both, and I tell you to think it over. You will go about for a long time to no purpose, testing each man as you visit the farms, while in your halls those others are wasting your substance insolently at their ease, and there is no sparing. As for the women, I do tell you to find out which of them dishonour you and which are innocent. But I would not have us make trial of the men at the farms; let us deal with that afterwards, if you really do know some sign from Zeus who holds the aegis."
So they talked to one another; and meanwhile the well-built ship that had brought Telemachus and all his companions from Pylos put in to Ithaca. And when they had come into the deep harbour they drew the black ship up on the shore, while proud squires carried their armour out and took the beautiful gifts straight to the house of Clytius. And they sent a herald to the house of Odysseus to take word to wise Penelope that Telemachus was at the farm and had told the ship to sail on to the city, so that the noble queen should not grow anxious and let the round tears fall.
So the two of them met, the herald and the good swineherd, on the same errand, to bring the lady news. And when they reached the palace of the godlike king, the herald spoke out in the middle of the women and said: "Your son has come back from Pylos just now, my queen."
But the swineherd came close to Penelope and told her everything her dear son had told him to say. And when he had told her the whole of what he had been ordered, he went off to the pigs and left the courtyard and the hall.
But the suitors were dismayed and downcast in spirit, and went out of the hall past the great wall of the court, and sat down there in front of the gates. Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the first to speak among them:
"My friends, a great piece of work has been insolently brought off by Telemachus, this journey, and we thought he would never get it done. Come, let us launch a black ship, the best we have, and get seamen together as rowers, to take word to the others as quickly as possible to come home."
The word was not fully out of his mouth when Amphinomus, turning where he sat, saw a ship in the deep harbour and men furling the sail with oars in their hands. And he broke into a merry laugh and spoke among his companions:
"Let us not send any message; here they are at home. Either some god told them of this, or they saw the ship of Telemachus sailing past themselves and could not catch her."
So he spoke, and they got up and went to the shore of the sea. The men quickly drew the black ship up on the shore, and proud squires carried their armour out. And they went all together to the meeting place, and would not let anyone else sit with them, young or old. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke among them:
"See how the gods have delivered this man from destruction. Day after day watchmen sat on the windy heights, watch following watch; and at sunset we never spent a night on shore, but sailed over the deep in our fast ship and waited for the bright Dawn, lying in wait for Telemachus so that we could take him and kill the man himself; and meanwhile some god has brought him home. But let us contrive a miserable death for him here, for Telemachus, and let him not slip out of our hands; because while he lives, I think, this work of ours will not prosper. He is shrewd himself in counsel and in wisdom, and the people show us no favour any longer.
"Come, before he gathers the Achaeans to the meeting place — because I do not think he will be slow to act, but will be full of anger, and will stand up and declare among them all how we contrived his utter destruction and did not catch him; and they will not praise us when they hear of our wickedness. Take care, then, that they do not do us some harm and drive us out of our country, and we come to a land of strangers. Let us act first, and seize him in the fields far from the city, or on the road; and let us keep his substance and his wealth ourselves, dividing it fairly among us — though we would give the house to his mother to keep, and to the man who marries her.
"But if this plan does not please you, and you would rather he lived and kept all his father's wealth, then let us stop eating up his store of pleasant things gathering here, and let each man court her from his own hall with his gifts and try to win her; and she would marry the man who offers most and comes as her fated husband."
So he spoke, and they were all hushed and silent. Then Amphinomus spoke to the gathering and said his word among them. He was the glorious son of prince Nisus, son of Aretias, and he led the suitors who came from Dulichium, rich in wheat and in grass; and he pleased Penelope with his words more than all the others, because he had an understanding heart. He meant it kindly, and he spoke to the gathering:
"Friends, I would not choose to kill Telemachus. It is a dreadful thing to kill one of royal stock. Let us first try to learn the will of the gods. If the oracles of great Zeus approve, I will kill him myself and tell all the others to do it; but if the gods turn us from the act, I tell you to hold off."
So spoke Amphinomus, and his word pleased them. So they got up at once and went to the house of Odysseus, and went in and sat down on the polished seats.
Then wise Penelope thought of something else, to show herself to the suitors, overbearing in their insolence. For she had learned of the death threatened against her son in her halls, since the herald Medon told her, who had heard their plan. So she went towards the hall with her women. But when that lovely woman reached the suitors she stood by the doorpost of the well-built hall, holding her shining veil in front of her face; and she rebuked Antinous and said to him:
"Antinous, full of insolence, deviser of evil — and yet they say you are the best of all your years in the land of Ithaca in counsel and in speech. You are nothing of the kind. Madman, why do you contrive death and doom for Telemachus, and take no thought for suppliants, whom Zeus is witness for? It is an impious thing to plot evil against one another. Do you not know of the time your father came to this house as a fugitive, in terror of the people? They were furious with him, because he had joined Taphian pirates and harried the Thesprotians, who were in league with us. They meant to kill him and take his life by violence and eat up his great and pleasant living altogether; but Odysseus held them back and stopped them, for all their eagerness. And it is his house you consume now without paying for it, and his wife you court, and his son you try to kill, and on me you bring great distress. Stop it, I tell you, and tell the rest to stop."
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her: "Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, take heart, and do not let these things distress you. The man is not alive, and shall not live, and shall never be born, who will lay hands on your son Telemachus while I live and look on the light of the earth. I tell you this outright, and it will happen: that man's black blood will soon be running round my spear. Odysseus, the sacker of cities, often set me on his knees too, and put roast meat in my hands and held red wine to my lips. So Telemachus is by far the dearest of all men to me, and I tell him to have no fear of death, from the suitors at least; but from the gods no man can avoid it."
So he spoke to cheer her, and was plotting death against that son himself. So she went up to her bright upper room and wept for Odysseus, her dear husband, until grey-eyed Athena put sweet sleep on her eyelids.
But in the evening the good swineherd came back to Odysseus and his son, and they were busy getting supper ready and had killed a boar of a year old. And Athena came close to Odysseus, son of Laertes, and struck him with her wand and made him an old man again, and put mean clothes on his body, in case the swineherd should look at him and know him and go to bring news to steady Penelope, and not hold the secret fast in his heart.
Then Telemachus spoke first to the swineherd and said: "You have come, good Eumaeus. What news is there in the city? Have the proud suitors come home from their ambush by now, or are they still watching for me where they were, to take me on my way home?"
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "I had no mind to go about the city asking and enquiring about that; my heart told me to come back here as fast as I could when I had given my message. But a swift messenger from your companions joined me, a herald, who was the first to tell your mother the news. And I know this much besides, because I saw it with my own eyes. I was above the city as I went on my way, at the hill of Hermes, when I saw a fast ship putting into our harbour, and there were a great many men in her, and she was loaded with shields and double-pointed spears. And I thought it was them, but I have no knowledge of it."
So he spoke, and the strong young Telemachus smiled, and glanced at his father with his eyes, and avoided the swineherd's eye.
And when they had finished their work and got the meal ready they fell to feasting, and their hearts lacked nothing of the equal feast. But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, they thought about rest, and took the gift of sleep.
As soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, Telemachus, the dear son of godlike Odysseus, bound the fine sandals under his feet and took his mighty spear, which fitted his grip, hurrying to the city; and he said to his swineherd:
"Father, I am going to the city, so that my mother may see me; because I do not think she will stop her miserable wailing and tearful lamenting until she sees me in person. And this is my charge to you: bring this wretched stranger to the city, so that he can beg his food there, and whoever wants to will give him a loaf and a cup of water. I cannot possibly burden myself with everybody, when I have grief at heart. And if the stranger is badly angered at that, it will be the worse for him. I like to speak the truth."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Friend, I have no wish to be left here myself. It is better for a beggar to beg his food in the town than in the fields, and whoever wants to will give it me. I am no longer of an age to stay at a farm and do everything an overseer tells me. Go on, then; this man you have told will bring me as soon as I have warmed myself at the fire and the sun has grown hot. These clothes I have on are miserably poor, and I am afraid the morning frost will finish me; and you say the city is a long way off."
So he spoke, and Telemachus went out through the farm with rapid strides, and was sowing the seeds of trouble for the suitors. And when he came to the stately house he set his spear in place, leaning it against a tall pillar, and went in himself and crossed the stone threshold.
The nurse Eurycleia was far the first to see him, as she was spreading fleeces over the richly worked chairs. She came straight towards him, bursting into tears; and the other women of Odysseus, who endures everything, gathered round them and kissed his head and his shoulders in loving welcome. Then wise Penelope came out of her room, like Artemis or golden Aphrodite, and burst into tears and flung her arms round her dear son and kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes; and she spoke to him with winged words, wailing:
"You have come, Telemachus, sweet light of my eyes. I thought I would never see you again after you had gone to Pylos in your ship — secretly, and in spite of me, to look for news of your dear father. Come, tell me what sight you had of him."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Mother, do not stir up lamenting, and do not rouse the heart in my breast, when I have escaped utter destruction. Wash, and take clean clothes for your body, and go up to your room with your women and make a vow to all the gods that you will offer hecatombs that bring fulfilment, in the hope that Zeus may one day bring about deeds of requital. And I will go to the meeting place to invite to our house a stranger who followed me from Pylos on my way here. I sent him on ahead with my godlike companions, and told Peiraeus to take him home and give him a kindly welcome and show him honour until I came."
So he spoke, and her word stayed unwinged. Then she washed and took clean clothes for her body and made a vow to all the gods that she would offer hecatombs that bring fulfilment, in the hope that Zeus would one day bring about deeds of requital.
But Telemachus went out through the hall with his spear in his hand, and two swift hounds went with him. And Athena poured a marvellous grace over him, and all the people stared at him as he came. The proud suitors thronged round him, speaking him fair and turning over evil in the depths of their hearts. But he avoided the great crowd of them, and went and sat down where Mentor was sitting, and Antiphus, and Halitherses, who were friends of his father's house from of old; and they questioned him about everything.
Then Peiraeus, the famous spearman, came up, leading the stranger through the city to the meeting place; and Telemachus did not turn away from his guest for long, but went up to him. Peiraeus was the first to speak:
"Telemachus, send women to my house quickly, so that I can send you the gifts Menelaus gave you."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Peiraeus, we do not know how these things will go. If the proud suitors kill me secretly in my hall and divide all my father's goods among them, I would rather you kept these things and enjoyed them yourself than one of them. But if I sow the seeds of death and doom for them, then bring it all to my house gladly, as I shall be glad."
With that he led the sorely tried stranger to the house. Now when they had come to the stately house they laid their cloaks on the chairs and high seats, and went into the polished baths and washed. And when the maids had bathed them and rubbed them with oil and put fleecy cloaks and tunics on them, they came out of the baths and sat down on the chairs. And a maid brought water for their hands in a lovely golden jug and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash, and drew a polished table up beside them. And the housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it in front of them, and plenty of meat with it, giving freely from her stores. And his mother sat opposite Telemachus by the doorpost of the hall, leaning against a chair and spinning fine threads of yarn. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them.
But when they had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted, wise Penelope spoke first among them: "Telemachus, I shall go up to my room and lie down on my bed, which has become a bed of wailing for me, always wet with my tears, since the day Odysseus set out for Ilios with the sons of Atreus. And you took no care, before the proud suitors come into this house, to tell me plainly about your father's homecoming, if you heard anything."
And clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Then I will tell you the whole truth, mother. We went to Pylos and to Nestor, the shepherd of the people, and he received me in his high house and gave me a kindly welcome, as a father might his own son who had newly come home after a long time from far away; that is how kindly he tended me, with his glorious sons. But of Odysseus, who endures everything, he said he had heard nothing from any man on earth, whether he was living or dead. But he sent me on with horses and a jointed car to Menelaus, son of Atreus, the famous spearman. There I saw Argive Helen, for whose sake Argives and Trojans laboured so much by the will of the gods.
"And Menelaus, good at the war-cry, asked me at once what I had come to lovely Lacedaemon in search of; and I told him the whole truth. Then he answered me and said:
"'The disgrace of it — that men with no courage in them should want to lie in the bed of a man of such a heart. It is as when a hind puts her new-born suckling fawns to sleep in the thicket lair of a strong lion, and goes off over the mountain slopes and the grassy valleys looking for pasture, and then the lion comes back to his lair and lets loose a cruel doom on the two of them. That is how Odysseus will let loose a cruel doom on these men. Father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo — I wish that Odysseus might come among the suitors with the strength he had that time in well-built Lesbos, when he stood up and wrestled a match with Philomeleides and threw him hard, and all the Achaeans were delighted. If he came in that strength, every one of them would find a quick death and a bitter courtship. But as for what you are asking me and begging me about, I will not turn aside and talk of other things, or deceive you; of everything the unerring old man of the sea told me, I will not hide or keep back one word. He said he had seen Odysseus on an island in bitter distress, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who keeps him there by force. And he cannot come to his own country, because he has no ships with oars at hand and no companions to send him on his way over the broad back of the sea.'
"That is what Menelaus said, son of Atreus, the famous spearman. And when I had finished all this I set out for home, and the immortals gave me a fair wind and brought me quickly to my own dear country."
So he spoke, and stirred the heart in her breast. Then godlike Theoclymenus spoke among them too, and said:
"Honoured wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes — he truly has no clear understanding of it; but listen to my words, because I will prophesy to you with certain knowledge and hide nothing. Let Zeus be my witness above all gods, and this hospitable table, and the hearth of noble Odysseus that I have come to, that Odysseus is in his own country even now, resting or moving about, learning of these evil doings, and sowing the seeds of trouble for all the suitors. So plain a bird of omen did I mark as I sat on the benched ship, and I declared it to Telemachus."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Stranger, I wish this word of yours might be fulfilled. Then you would soon know kindness and many a gift from me, so that anyone who met you would call you a lucky man."
So they talked to one another. And meanwhile the suitors in front of the palace of Odysseus were amusing themselves, throwing the discus and the javelin on the levelled ground, in their usual insolence of heart. But when it was the hour for dinner, and the flocks came in from the fields on all sides, and the men who usually led them led them in, then Medon spoke to them, who of all the heralds was the most to their liking and was always present at their feasts:
"Young men, now that you have all gladdened your hearts with sport, come to the house so that we can get a feast ready; it is no bad thing to take one's dinner at the right hour."
So he spoke, and they got up and went, and did as he said. And when they had come to the stately house they laid their cloaks on the chairs and high seats, and men set about killing great sheep and fat goats, and fatted hogs, and a heifer from the herd, and so got the meal ready.
But Odysseus and the good swineherd were hurrying to go from the farm to the city; and the swineherd, a leader of men, spoke first and said:
"Stranger, since you are eager to go to the city today, as my master told you — though for myself I would rather you were left here to keep the farm, but I respect him and I am afraid of him, in case he scolds me afterwards, and masters' rebukes are hard — come now, let us go. The day is far gone, and you will soon find it colder towards evening."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "I see, I take your point; you are telling this to a man who understands. Come, let us go, and be my guide the whole way. But give me a staff to lean on, if you have one cut anywhere, because you said the road was treacherous."
He spoke, and flung his miserable bag round his shoulders, full of holes, slung on a twisted cord, and Eumaeus gave him a staff that suited him. So the two of them set out, and the dogs and the herdsmen stayed behind to guard the farm; and the swineherd led his master to the city in the likeness of a miserable old beggar, leaning on a staff, and the clothes he wore on his body were wretched.
But when, going along the rugged path, they were near the city and had come to a well-made, fair-flowing fountain where the townspeople drew their water — Ithacus had made it, and Neritus, and Polyctor — and there was a grove of poplars round about it, the kind that grow by water, circling it on every side, and the cold water flowed down from the rock above, and on the top an altar to the nymphs was built where everyone who passed made offerings — there Melanthius, son of Dolius, met them, driving his she-goats, the best in all the herds, to make a feast for the suitors; and two herdsmen followed with him.
When he saw them he spoke and abused them in terrible and unseemly words, and stirred the heart of Odysseus:
"Now here is the vile leading the vile, truly. As always, the god brings like and like together. Where are you taking this filthy wretch, you miserable swineherd, this nuisance of a beggar to spoil our feasts? He is the kind of man to stand and rub his shoulders on a great many doorposts, begging for scraps and not for swords or cauldrons. If you would give me this fellow to keep my farm, to sweep out the pens and carry young shoots to the kids, he might get himself a sturdy thigh by drinking whey. But since he has learned nothing but evil ways, he will not want to busy himself with work, but would rather go skulking through the country and feed his insatiable belly by begging. But I tell you outright, and this word will come to pass: if he comes to the palace of godlike Odysseus, a good many footstools flung at his head by the hands of men will be broken on his ribs as he is pelted through the house."
So he spoke, and as he passed he kicked Odysseus on the hip, in his folly; but he did not drive him off the path, and Odysseus stood firm. And Odysseus turned over whether to leap on him and take his life with the staff, or to seize him round the middle and lift him up and dash his head on the ground. But he endured it and held himself back from his purpose.
And the swineherd looked the man in the face and rebuked him, and lifted up his hands and prayed aloud: "Nymphs of the fountain, daughters of Zeus, if ever Odysseus burned pieces of the thighs of lambs or kids on your altars, wrapped in rich fat, fulfil this prayer for me: grant that he, my master, may come back, and that some god may guide him. Then he would scatter all these proud airs you put on in your insolence, always roaming about the city, while evil herdsmen destroy the flock."
Then Melanthius the goatherd answered him: "Listen to the cur talk, with his mind full of mischief. One day I will take him on a black benched ship far from Ithaca, so that he brings me in a great deal of wealth. I wish Apollo of the silver bow would strike Telemachus down in the halls today, or that he might be killed by the suitors, as surely as the day of homecoming has been lost for Odysseus in a far country."
With that he left them there, walking slowly on, and strode forward himself and came very quickly to the palace of the king. He went straight in and sat down among the suitors opposite Eurymachus, because he loved him best of all. And the servants set a portion of meat beside him, and the housekeeper, a grave woman, brought bread and set it in front of him to eat.
And Odysseus and the good swineherd halted as they came near, and the sound of the hollow lyre rang round them, because Phemius was striking the chords to sing before the suitors. Then Odysseus took the swineherd by the hand and said:
"Eumaeus, this must be the beautiful house of Odysseus. It would be easy to recognise, even seen among a great many others. There is building on building, and the court is built with a wall and a coping, and the double gates are well fenced; no man could look down on it. And I can tell that a great many men are feasting inside, because the savour of meat rises from it, and the sound of the lyre goes with it, which the gods have made the companion of the feast."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "You have recognised it easily; you are quick-witted in everything. But come, let us think how this shall be done. Either you go first into the stately palace and go in among the suitors, and I will stay behind here; or, if you like, stay here and I will go in front of you. But do not wait long, in case somebody sees you outside and pelts you or strikes you. I tell you to think about that."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "I see, I take your point; you are telling this to a man who understands. Go on ahead, and I will stay here; I am not unused to blows and peltings. My heart is steady; I have suffered a great deal on the waves and in war. Let this be added to what has gone before. But a ravening belly is a thing no man can hide, an accursed plague that brings a great many troubles on men. It is because of the belly that the benched ships are fitted out too, carrying harm to enemies over the restless sea."
So they talked to one another. And a dog that was lying there raised his head and pricked up his ears: Argos, the dog of Odysseus, who endures everything, whom he had bred himself long ago and had no joy of, because he went to sacred Ilios before that. In the old days the young men used to take the dog out to hunt wild goats and deer and hares; but now he lay neglected, with his master gone, in the deep dung of mules and cattle which lay in heaps in front of the doors, until the slaves of Odysseus should take it away to manure his wide lands. There the dog Argos lay, full of vermin.
And even now, when he saw Odysseus standing near, he wagged his tail and dropped both his ears; but he had no strength left to come nearer to his master. And Odysseus looked aside and wiped away a tear, hiding it easily from Eumaeus; and at once he questioned him and said:
"Eumaeus, it is strange that this dog lies here in the dung. He is fine in form, but I cannot tell clearly whether he had speed to match his beauty, or whether he was only the kind of dog men keep at their tables for show."
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "That is the dog of a man who has died far away. If he were still in body and in action what he was when Odysseus left him and went to Troy, you would be amazed straight away, seeing his speed and his strength. Nothing he started in the depths of the thick wood could get away from him, and he was keen of scent in tracking too. But now he is in a bad way, and his master has died far from his own country, and the heedless women give him no care. Slaves, when their masters lose their power, no longer want to do honest service afterwards; because Zeus, whose voice carries far, takes half a man's worth away from him when the day of slavery comes on him."
With that he went into the stately house and straight to the hall, to join the company of the lordly suitors. And as for Argos, the fate of black death took him at once, when he had seen Odysseus in the twentieth year.
Now as the swineherd came through the hall, godlike Telemachus was far the first to see him, and called him quickly to his side with a nod. And Eumaeus looked about and took a stool that lay near, where the carver used to sit when he was carving the many joints of meat for the suitors as they feasted in the hall. He took this and set it at the table of Telemachus, opposite him, and sat down there himself. And a herald took a portion of meat and set it in front of him, and bread out of the basket.
And Odysseus came into the palace after him in the likeness of a miserable old beggar, leaning on a staff, and the clothes he wore on his body were wretched. He sat down on the ashen threshold inside the doorway, leaning against a post of cypress wood which a carpenter had planed skilfully long ago and made straight to the line.
Then Telemachus called the swineherd to him, and took a whole loaf out of the beautiful basket, and all the meat his hands could hold in their grasp, and said to him: "Take this and give it to the stranger over there, and tell him to go about and beg from the suitors, every one of them. Shame is no good companion for a man in need."
So he spoke, and the swineherd went when he had heard this, and came up to Odysseus and spoke winged words to him: "Stranger, Telemachus gives you these, and tells you to go about and beg from the suitors, every one of them. Shame, he says, is no good thing in a beggar man."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "King Zeus, grant that Telemachus may be blessed among men, and may have everything his heart desires."
He spoke, and took the food in both hands and set it down there in front of his feet on his miserable bag. And he ate as long as the singer sang in the halls. But when he had dined and the divine singer was leaving off, the suitors broke into uproar through the halls; and Athena came close to Odysseus, son of Laertes, and roused him to go among the suitors and gather bits of bread, and learn which of them were righteous and which lawless. But even so she did not mean to save one of them from ruin.
So he set out to beg from every man, beginning on the right, holding his hand out on every side as though he had long been a beggar. And they pitied him and gave, and marvelled at him, asking one another who he was and where he came from. Then Melanthius the goatherd spoke among them:
"Listen to me, suitors of the glorious queen, about this stranger; I have seen him before. It was certainly the swineherd who brought him here, but I do not know for certain about the man himself, where he says he was born."
So he spoke, and Antinous rebuked the swineherd, saying: "Notorious swineherd, why did you bring this man to the city? Have we not enough vagabonds without him, nuisances of beggars to spoil our feast? Is it not enough for you that they gather here and eat up your master's substance, that you invite this one too?"
And you answered him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Antinous, those are not fair words, noble as you are. Who ever goes out and invites a stranger from abroad himself, unless it is one of those who are masters of some public craft — a prophet, or a healer of ills, or a builder, or a divine singer, who gives delight with his song? Those men are invited all over the boundless earth. But nobody would invite a beggar to be a burden to himself. You are always harsh above all the suitors to the slaves of Odysseus, and to me most of all; but I do not care, as long as my lady, steady Penelope, lives in the hall, and godlike Telemachus."
Then clear-headed Telemachus said to him: "Be quiet; do not answer that man with many words. Antinous is always provoking people to anger with harsh words, and urging the others on too."
And with that he spoke winged words to Antinous: "Antinous, you certainly care for me well, like a father for his son, when you tell me to drive that stranger from the hall with a word of compulsion. May the god never bring such a thing to pass. Take something and give it to him; I do not grudge it, I tell you to give it. And in this matter take no notice of my mother, or of any of the slaves who are in the house of godlike Odysseus. But the thought in your breast is quite different; you are far more eager to eat yourself than to give to another."
Then Antinous answered him and said: "Telemachus, you big talker with no check on your nerve, what a thing to say. If all the suitors handed him as much as I shall, this house would keep him at a distance for three whole months."
So he spoke, and seized the footstool he used to rest his shining feet on as he feasted, and showed it from under the table where it lay. But all the rest gave gifts, and filled his bag with bread and bits of meat. And Odysseus was about to go back to the threshold and to have tried the Achaeans at no cost to himself; but he stopped by Antinous and said to him:
"Friend, give me something. You do not seem to me the meanest of the Achaeans, but the noblest, because you are like a king. So it is fitting that you should give a better portion of bread than the rest; and then I would make your fame known all over the boundless earth. I too once lived in a house of my own among men, a rich man in a wealthy house, and often gave gifts to a wanderer, whoever he was and with whatever need he came. And I had slaves past counting, and everything else in plenty, the things by which men live well and are reputed wealthy.
"But Zeus, son of Cronos, brought it all to nothing — that must have been his pleasure — who sent me off with roaming pirates to go to Egypt, a long voyage, so that I should meet my ruin; and I moored my curved ships in the river Aegyptus. Then I told my trusty companions to stay there by the ships and guard the ships, and I sent scouts out to go to places of outlook. But my companions gave way to their own wantonness, and, led on by their own strength, set about wasting the fine fields of the men of Egypt straight away; and they carried off the women and the little children and killed the men; and the cry went up to the city quickly. Then, hearing the shouting, the people came out at daybreak, and the whole plain was filled with foot-soldiers and chariots and the flashing of bronze. And Zeus, who hurls the thunderbolt, threw an evil panic on my companions, and none of them had the courage to stand his ground and face the enemy; trouble surrounded us on every side. So they killed a great many of us with the sharp bronze, and led others up to their city alive, to work for them because they had to. But they gave me to a friend of theirs who met them, to take to Cyprus, to Dmetor, son of Iasus, who ruled mightily over Cyprus; and from there I have come here now, in bitter distress."
Then Antinous answered him and said: "What god has brought this pest here to spoil our feast? Stand off over there in the middle, away from my table, or you may come to a bitter Egypt and a bitter Cyprus, seeing that you are a bold and shameless beggar. You come up to every man in turn, and they give recklessly; there is no restraint or scruple in giving freely from another man's goods, since each of them has plenty beside him."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks drew back and said to him: "So it seems you have no wits to match your beauty. You would not give a suppliant a grain of salt out of your own substance, you who now, sitting at another man's table, could not bring yourself to take a piece of the bread and give it me — and here it lies in plenty at your hand."
So he spoke, and Antinous grew angrier still at heart, and gave him a black look from under his brows and spoke winged words to him: "Now I do not think you will get out of the hall in good order any more, since you go so far as to speak abuse."
With that he seized the footstool and flung it, and struck Odysseus at the base of the right shoulder, where it joins the back. But he stood firm as a rock, and the missile of Antinous did not make him reel; he only shook his head in silence, turning evil over in the depths of his heart. Then he went back to the threshold and sat down and laid down his well-filled bag; and he spoke among the suitors:
"Listen to me, suitors of the glorious queen, so that I can say what the heart in my breast tells me. There is no pain of heart and no grief when a man is struck fighting for his own possessions, for his cattle or for his white sheep. But Antinous has struck me for my wretched belly's sake, an accursed plague that brings a great many troubles on men. And if there are gods and avengers for beggars, may the doom of death come on Antinous before his marriage."
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: "Sit still and eat, stranger, or go somewhere else; or the young men will drag you by hand or foot through the house for words like these, and strip all the skin off you."
So he spoke, but they were all filled with enormous indignation; and one of the proud young men would say: "Antinous, you did wrong to strike that wretched wanderer. Doomed man, what if he happens to be some god come down from heaven? The gods do take the likeness of strangers from far away and put on every kind of shape, and visit the cities, looking at the violence and the righteousness of men."
That is what the suitors said, but Antinous paid no attention to their words. And Telemachus nursed great grief in his heart at the blow, though he let no tear fall from his eyelids to the ground; he only shook his head in silence, turning evil over in the depths of his heart.
But when wise Penelope heard of the man being struck in the hall, she spoke among her women and said: "May the famous archer Apollo strike you the same way."
And Eurynome the housekeeper said to her: "I wish our prayers might be fulfilled. Then not one of these men would come to fair-throned Dawn."
And wise Penelope answered her: "Nurse, they are all enemies, because they contrive evil. But Antinous more than any of them is like black fate. Some wretched stranger is roaming through the house, begging alms of the men, because want drives him to it, and all the others filled his bag and gave him things, and Antinous flung a footstool and struck him at the base of the right shoulder."
So she spoke among her women, sitting in her room, while noble Odysseus was at his meal. Then she called the good swineherd to her and said:
"Go, good Eumaeus, and tell the stranger to come here, so that I can greet him and ask him whether he has heard anything of Odysseus, who endures everything, or seen him with his eyes. He looks like a man who has wandered far."
And you answered her, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "I wish the Achaeans would keep quiet, my queen; he says such things as would charm your very soul. I had him with me three nights, and kept him three days in my hut — because it was to me he came first when he ran away from a ship — and he had still not finished the tale of his sufferings. As a man gazes at a singer who sings songs of longing to mortals which the gods have taught him, and their desire to hear him has no end, however long he sings, so he charmed me as he sat in my house. He says he is a friend of Odysseus by descent, and that he lives in Crete, where the race of Minos is. From there he has come on this journey here, suffering as he wanders on and on. And he insists he has heard news of Odysseus, alive and near at hand, in the rich land of the Thesprotians; and he is bringing a great deal of treasure home."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Go and call him here, so that he can tell me to my face. And as for these men, let them make sport, sitting in the doorway or here in the house, since their hearts are merry. Their own possessions lie untouched in their homes, bread and sweet wine, and their servants feed on them. But they crowd our house day after day, killing our oxen and sheep and fat goats, and feasting and drinking the flaming wine recklessly, and all this wealth is being wasted; because there is no man here as Odysseus was, to keep ruin off the house. But if Odysseus should come back to his own country, he and his son would take vengeance on these men for their violence at once."
So she spoke, and Telemachus sneezed loudly, and the whole room echoed round about extraordinarily. And Penelope laughed, and at once spoke winged words to Eumaeus:
"Go, call the stranger here in front of me. Do you not notice that my son has sneezed at everything I said? So utter death will fall on the suitors, every one of them, and not one of them will escape death and the fates. And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. If I find that he speaks the truth in everything, I will dress him in a cloak and a tunic, good clothes."
So she spoke, and the swineherd went when he had heard this; and he came up to Odysseus and spoke winged words to him: "Sir stranger, wise Penelope is calling for you, the mother of Telemachus, and her heart tells her to make enquiries about her husband, though she has suffered a great deal. And if she finds you speak the truth in everything, she will dress you in a cloak and a tunic, which you need most of all. And as for your food, you shall beg it through the country and feed your belly, and whoever wants to will give it you."
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him: "Eumaeus, I will soon tell the whole truth to the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope. I know all about Odysseus, and we have borne affliction in common. But I am afraid of this crowd of harsh suitors, whose wantonness and violence reach the iron sky. Just now, as I was going through the hall doing no harm, that man struck me and hurt me, and neither Telemachus nor anyone else did anything to keep the blow off. So tell Penelope to wait in the halls, eager as she is, until sunset; and then let her ask me about her husband and the day of his homecoming, giving me a seat nearer the fire, since the clothes I have on are poor — and you know this yourself, because it was to you that I made my plea first."
So he spoke, and the swineherd went when he had heard this. And as he crossed the threshold Penelope said to him: "You are not bringing him, Eumaeus. What does the wanderer mean by this? Is he afraid of somebody beyond all measure, or does he feel ashamed for no reason in the house? Shame is a bad thing in a beggar."
And you answered her, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "He speaks rightly, and any other man would think the same, in trying to avoid the insolence of overbearing men. He tells you to wait until sunset. And for yourself too it is far more seemly, my queen, to speak to the stranger alone and hear what he says."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "The stranger is not without wisdom; he sees how it may be. There are no mortal men, I think, who contrive such wicked folly in their wantonness as these do."
So she spoke, and the good swineherd went off into the crowd of the suitors when he had told her everything. And at once he spoke winged words to Telemachus, holding his head close to him so that the others should not hear:
"Friend, I am going out to guard the pigs and everything there, your living and mine; and you take charge of everything here. Keep yourself safe first of all, and let your mind be on guard in case some harm comes to you; a great many of the Achaeans are contriving evil, and I hope Zeus destroys them utterly before harm falls on us."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "So it shall be, father; go on your way when you have eaten. And come in the morning and bring good victims. But everything here shall be a care to me and to the immortals."
So he spoke, and the swineherd sat down again on the polished chair. And when he had satisfied his heart with meat and drink he went off to the pigs, and left the courts and the hall full of banqueters. And they were making merry with dance and song, because evening had come on by now.
Now there came up a public beggar, who used to beg through the town of Ithaca and was known for his greedy belly, eating and drinking without end. He had no strength or force in him, but in bulk he was big enough to look at. Arnaeus was his name, which his honoured mother had given him at his birth; but all the young men called him Irus, because he used to run errands whenever anybody told him to.
He came now, and set about driving Odysseus out of his own house, and began abusing him with winged words: "Get out of the doorway, old man, or you will be dragged out by the foot before long. Do you not see that they are all winking at me and telling me to drag you out? I am ashamed to do it myself. Get up, or our quarrel will come to blows."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave him a black look from under his brows and answered him: "My good fellow, I am doing you no harm in word or deed, and I do not grudge it that anybody should give to you, however big the portion he takes up. This threshold will hold us both, and you have no need to be jealous over other people's goods. You seem to me to be a vagrant, as I am; and as for good fortune, it is the gods who are likely to give us that. But do not provoke me too far with your fists, in case you make me angry and I foul your chest and your lips with blood, old man as I am. Then I should have more peace tomorrow, because I do not think you would come back a second time to the hall of Odysseus, son of Laertes."
Then the vagrant Irus grew angry and said to him: "Listen how glibly the filthy wretch talks, like an old kitchen woman. But I will contrive trouble for him, hitting him left and right, and I will scatter all the teeth out of his jaws on the ground, like a pig caught wasting the corn. Gird yourself up now, so that all these men may know about our fighting. But how are you going to fight a younger man?"
So on the polished threshold in front of the high doors they stirred each other's rage in good earnest. And the strong and mighty Antinous heard the two of them, and broke into a merry laugh and spoke among the suitors:
"Friends, nothing like this has ever happened before: a god has brought sport of this kind into the house. That stranger and Irus are provoking each other to blows. Come, let us set them on quickly."
So he spoke, and they all sprang up laughing and gathered round the tattered beggars. And Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke among them and said:
"Listen to me, proud suitors, and let me say something. There are goats' paunches lying here at the fire, which we set there for supper when we had filled them with fat and blood. Whichever of the two wins and proves himself the better man, let him get up and choose which of these he likes for himself. And besides that, he shall always feast with us, and we will not let any other beggar join our company and beg from us."
So spoke Antinous, and his word pleased them. Then Odysseus of the many tricks spoke among them, with cunning in his mind: "Friends, an old man worn down with trouble has no business fighting a younger one. But my belly, that worker of evil, urges me on, to be beaten down by his blows. But come now, all of you swear me a great oath, that no man will do Irus a favour and deal me a foul blow with a heavy hand, and beat me down for this fellow by force."
So he spoke, and they all swore the oath not to strike him, as he told them. But when they had sworn and finished the oath, the strong young Telemachus spoke among them again:
"Stranger, if your heart and your proud spirit tell you to beat this fellow off, then do not be afraid of any man of the Achaeans, because whoever strikes you will have more than you to fight. I am your host, and the princes agree with me, Antinous and Eurymachus, both men of prudence."
So he spoke, and they all praised his words. But Odysseus girded his rags round his loins and showed his thighs, handsome and big, and his broad shoulders came into view, and his chest and mighty arms. And Athena came near and made the limbs of the shepherd of the people greater. Then all the suitors marvelled exceedingly, and one would say with a glance at his neighbour:
"Irus will very soon be un-Irused, and it will be a ruin of his own bringing, with such a thigh as that old man shows from under his rags."
So they spoke, and the mind of Irus was miserably shaken; but even so the serving men girded him and led him out because they had to, in a state of dread, and the flesh trembled on his limbs. And Antinous scolded him and said to him:
"You would be better off now not living, you braggart, or never having been born, if you quail like this and are so terribly afraid of a man who is old and worn down by the trouble that has come on him. But I tell you outright, and this word will come to pass: if this fellow beats you and proves the better man, I will fling you into a black ship and send you to the mainland, to king Echetus, the maimer of all men, who will cut off your nose and your ears with the pitiless bronze and pull out your vitals and give them raw to the dogs to tear."
So he spoke, and a still greater trembling seized the other man's limbs; and they led him into the ring, and both men put up their hands.
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus was divided in his mind, whether to hit him so that the life should leave him where he fell, or to deal him a light blow and stretch him on the ground. And as he turned it over, this seemed the better course, to deal him a light blow, so that the Achaeans should not take notice of him. So when they had put up their hands, Irus let drive at his right shoulder; but Odysseus hit him on the neck under the ear and crushed in the bones, and the red blood ran out of his mouth at once, and down he fell in the dust with a moan, and gnashed his teeth, kicking the ground with his feet. And the lordly suitors threw up their hands and were nearly dying of laughter.
Then Odysseus took him by the foot and dragged him out through the doorway until he came to the court and the gates of the portico. And he set him down and leaned him against the wall of the court and thrust his staff into his hand and spoke to him with winged words:
"Sit there now and scare off the pigs and dogs, and do not set yourself up as lord over strangers and beggars, miserable as you are, or you may meet with something worse still."
He spoke, and flung his miserable bag round his shoulders, full of holes and slung on a twisted cord; and he went back to the threshold and sat down. And the suitors went in, laughing merrily, and greeted him, saying:
"May Zeus grant you what you want most, stranger, and the other immortal gods, and the dearest wish of your heart, since you have stopped this insatiable fellow from begging in the country. We shall soon take him to the mainland, to king Echetus, the maimer of all men."
So they spoke, and noble Odysseus was glad at the word of omen. And Antinous set the great paunch in front of him, filled with fat and blood; and Amphinomus took two loaves out of the basket and set them in front of him and pledged him in a golden cup and said:
"Greetings, sir stranger; may good fortune be yours in time to come, though at present you are the thrall of many sorrows."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Amphinomus, you seem to me a man of prudence; and your father was such a man too, because I have heard of his good name, that Nisus of Dulichium was brave and wealthy. You are his son, they say, and you seem a man who speaks softly. So I will tell you, and you take heed and listen.
"Earth nurtures nothing feebler than a man, of all the things that breathe and move on the earth. He thinks he will never suffer evil in time to come, as long as the gods give him prosperity and his knees are quick; and when the blessed gods decree him sorrow, he bears that too, badly against his will, with a steady heart. The spirit of men on the earth is just like the day the father of gods and men brings on them. I too was once likely to be prosperous among men, and I did a great many wanton things, giving way to my might and my strength and trusting in my father and my brothers. So let no man ever be lawless at any time, but let him keep in silence whatever gifts the gods give.
"I see the suitors contriving wantonness, wasting the wealth and dishonouring the wife of a man who, I tell you, will not be away from his friends and his own country long; he is very near. And may some god take you home out of here, and may you not meet him when he comes home to his own dear country. Because I do not think the suitors and he will part from one another without bloodshed, once he comes under his own roof."
So he spoke, and poured an offering and drank of the honey-sweet wine, and then gave the cup back into the hands of the marshaller of the people. And Amphinomus went through the hall with a heavy heart, bowing his head; because his spirit foreboded ruin. Yet even so he did not escape his fate: Athena bound him too, to be killed outright at the hands of Telemachus and by his spear. So he sat down again on the chair he had got up from.
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena put it into the heart of the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, to show herself to the suitors, so that she might set their hearts fluttering and win greater honour from her husband and her son than before. Then she laughed a meaningless laugh and said to the nurse:
"Eurynome, my heart longs, though it has never longed before, to show myself to the suitors, hateful as they are. And I would say a word to my son as well that will do him good: that he should not always keep company with the overbearing suitors, who speak him fair and have evil plans afterwards."
Then Eurynome the housekeeper said to her: "Yes, child, all this you have said rightly. Go, then, and tell your son your word and do not hide it. But first wash your body and anoint your face, and do not go as you are, with both cheeks stained with tears. Go; it is a bad thing to grieve for ever without stopping. Your son is of an age now, and it has been your dearest prayer to the immortals to see him a bearded man."
Then wise Penelope answered her again: "Eurynome, do not beguile me like this, in your love for me, telling me to wash my body and anoint myself with oil. The gods who hold Olympus destroyed all the beauty I had on the day my lord went away in the hollow ships. But tell Autonoe and Hippodameia to come to me, so that they can stand by my side in the hall. I will not go among men alone; I am ashamed."
So she spoke, and the old woman went out through the room to bring the women word and tell them to come.
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena thought of something else. She poured sweet sleep over the daughter of Icarius, and she leaned back and slept there on her couch, and all her joints went slack. And meanwhile the beautiful goddess was giving her immortal gifts, so that the Achaeans should marvel at her. First she made her lovely face fair with an ambrosial balm, the kind Cytherea of the fair crown anoints herself with when she goes into the lovely dance of the Graces; and she made her taller too, and statelier to look at, and made her whiter than newly sawn ivory.
Now when she had done this the beautiful goddess went away, and the white-armed women came out of the room, drawing near with the sound of talking. And sweet sleep let Penelope go, and she rubbed her cheeks with her hands and said:
"In my utter wretchedness a soft slumber wrapped me round. I wish pure Artemis would give me a death as soft as that even now, so that I might not go on wasting my life away with sorrow at heart, longing for the many excellences of my dear husband, because he stood out above the Achaeans."
With that she went down from the bright upper room, not alone, because two women went with her. Now when that lovely woman reached the suitors she stood by the doorpost of the well-built hall, holding her shining veil in front of her face, with a faithful maid on either side of her. And the knees of the suitors were loosened at once and their hearts enchanted with love, and every one of them prayed to be the man to lie beside her.
But she spoke to Telemachus, her dear son: "Telemachus, your mind and your thoughts are no longer steady as they used to be. When you were only a child you used to turn more cunning thoughts over in your mind; but now that you are grown and have reached the bounds of manhood, and would be called a rich man's son by anyone from far away who looked only at your height and your looks, your mind and your thoughts are no longer right as they were. What a thing this is that has been done in these halls, that you have let this stranger be maltreated so. What if the stranger, sitting in our house like this, should come to some harm through bad handling? Then shame and disgrace would fall on you among men."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Mother, I do not take it badly that you are angry over this. But I know each thing in my heart and understand it, the good and the bad, whereas before this I was only a child. But I cannot plan everything wisely, because these men here thwart my will, keeping close by me, one on this side and one on that, with evil purpose, and I have nobody to help me. And I can tell you, this fight between the stranger and Irus did not turn out the way the suitors wanted; the stranger proved the better man. Father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo — I wish the suitors were beaten down like that in our halls even now, and were hanging their heads, some in the court and some inside the hall, and every man's limbs were loosened, the way Irus sits over there now by the gate of the court, hanging his head like a drunken man, and cannot stand upright on his feet or go home wherever it is he goes, because his limbs are loosened."
So they talked to one another. But Eurymachus spoke to Penelope and said: "Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, if all the Achaeans through Iasian Argos could see you, there would be even more suitors feasting in your halls from tomorrow on, because you are ahead of all women in beauty and in stature and in the wise heart inside you."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Eurymachus, the immortals destroyed every excellence of mine, of beauty and of form, on the day the Argives embarked for Ilios, and my husband Odysseus went with them. If he might only come and watch over this life of mine, my fame would be greater and finer. But now I am in sorrow, so many troubles has some god brought on me.
"When he went out and left his own country, he took my right hand by the wrist and said: 'Wife, I do not think the well-greaved Achaeans will all come back from Troy safe and unhurt. They say the Trojans are men of war, spear-throwers and drawers of the bow and drivers of swift horses, the kind who most quickly decide the great struggle of an equal war. So I do not know whether the god will bring me back, or whether I shall be cut off there in the land of Troy. Have charge of everything here. Remember my father and my mother in the halls as you do now, or more so, while I am far away. And when you see my son a bearded man, marry whom you like and leave your house.'
"That is what he said, and now all of it is coming about. The night will come when a hateful marriage will fall to me, accursed as I am, whose happiness Zeus has taken away. And this has come as a bitter grief to my heart and soul: yours was never the way of suitors before this. Men who want to court a woman of worth, a rich man's daughter, and compete with one another, bring cattle and fine flocks of their own, a banquet for the bride's friends, and give her glorious gifts; they do not eat up somebody else's living without paying for it."
So she spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad, because she was drawing gifts out of them and beguiling their souls with gentle words, while her mind was set on something else.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke to her again and said: "Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, as for gifts, take them, if any man of the Achaeans wants to bring them here; it is not right to refuse a gift. But we shall not go to our lands or anywhere else until you marry whichever of the Achaeans is best."
So spoke Antinous, and his word pleased them, and each man sent a herald to bring his gifts. For Antinous the herald brought a large and beautiful robe, richly embroidered, with golden brooches in it, twelve of them, fitted with curved clasps. And another brought Eurymachus a chain at once, cunningly made of gold and strung with amber beads, bright as the sun. His squires brought Eurydamas a pair of earrings with three clustering drops, and great grace shone from them. And out of the house of lord Peisander, son of Polyctor, his squire brought a necklace, a jewel of extraordinary beauty. So one of the Achaeans brought one fine gift and one another.
And she, that lovely woman, went up to her upper room afterwards, and her women carried the beautiful gifts for her. But the suitors turned to dance and cheerful song, and made merry, and waited for the evening to come on. And as they made merry, the dark evening came on them.
They set up three braziers in the hall at once to give them light, and put dry faggots round them, long seasoned and hard and newly split with the axe; and in the spaces between they set torches. And the women of Odysseus, who endures everything, kindled the flame by turns. Then Odysseus himself, born of Zeus, of the many tricks, spoke among the maids and said:
"Women of Odysseus, who has been gone so long, go to the rooms where your honoured queen is, and twist the yarn beside her and gladden her heart, sitting in the room, or card the wool with your hands. I will give light to all these men. Even if they want to wait for fair-throned Dawn, they will not outlast me; I am a man who can endure a great deal."
So he spoke, and the maids broke into laughter and glanced at one another. And Melantho of the lovely cheeks scolded him shamefully — Melantho, whom Dolius had fathered, but whom Penelope had reared and cherished like her own child and given playthings to whenever she wanted them. Even so she had no sorrow in her heart for Penelope, but loved Eurymachus and used to lie with him. She scolded Odysseus with abusive words:
"Wretched stranger, you are a crack-brained creature, unwilling to go and sleep at a smithy or at a public lodge, but chattering on and on here, unabashed among a crowd of lords, and with no fear in your heart. Wine has certainly mastered your wits, or else your mind is always like this and you babble idly. Are you beside yourself because you beat that vagrant Irus? Take care that a better man than Irus does not stand up against you before long, to beat you about the head with heavy hands and foul you with streams of blood and send you out of the house."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave her a black look from under his brows and answered her: "I shall go over there presently, you shameless thing, and tell Telemachus what you say, so that he can cut you limb from limb on the spot."
So he spoke, and with his words scattered the women, who fled through the hall, and the limbs of each of them went slack beneath her in terror, because they thought he spoke the truth.
But Odysseus took his stand by the burning braziers to give light, and looked at all the men; and his heart inside him was turning over other things, which were not to go unfulfilled.
But Athena would not let the proud suitors hold off from bitter outrage at all, so that the pain might sink deeper still into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak among them, jeering at Odysseus and making sport for his companions:
"Listen to me, suitors of the glorious queen, and let me say what the heart in my breast tells me. This man has not come to the palace of Odysseus without the will of the gods; at any rate there is a glare of torches coming from him — from his head, because there is no hair on it, not a trace."
And with that he called to Odysseus, sacker of cities: "Stranger, would you have a mind to work for hire, if I took you on at an outlying farm — your pay would be assured — gathering stones for walls and planting tall trees? There I would provide you with food the year round and clothe you and give you sandals for your feet. But since you have learned nothing but evil ways, you will not want to busy yourself with work, but would rather go skulking through the country, so that you have something to feed your insatiable belly with."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Eurymachus, I wish the two of us might have a match at working in the spring season, when the long days come, at mowing grass — I with a curved scythe in my hands and you with another like it, and the grass in plenty, so that we might test our work, fasting till late evening. Or I wish there were oxen to drive, the best there are, tawny and big, both of them well fed with grass, of the same age and the same power to bear the yoke, tireless in strength, and a field of four acres, and the soil giving way before the plough: then you would see whether I could cut a straight furrow to the end or not. Or I wish the son of Cronos might bring war on us today from wherever he liked, and I had a shield and two spears and a bronze helmet that fitted my temples well: then you would see me mixing among the front-rank fighters, and you would not prate and taunt me about this belly of mine.
"But you are thoroughly insolent, and your heart is cruel, and you think yourself some great and mighty man because you keep company with a few weak ones. If Odysseus could come back and reach his own country, those doors over there, wide as they are, would prove far too narrow for you as you fled out through the doorway."
So he spoke, and Eurymachus grew angrier still at heart, and gave him a black look from under his brows and spoke winged words to him: "Wretch, I will do you harm presently, for prating like this, unabashed among a crowd of lords, and with no fear in your heart. Wine has certainly mastered your wits, or else your mind is always like this and you babble idly. Are you beside yourself because you beat that vagrant Irus?"
With that he seized a footstool; but Odysseus sat down at the knees of Amphinomus of Dulichium, in fear of Eurymachus. And so Eurymachus struck a cup-bearer on the right hand, and the wine-jug fell to the ground with a clang, and the boy groaned and fell backwards in the dust.
Then the suitors broke into uproar through the shadowy halls, and one man would say with a glance at his neighbour: "I wish that stranger had died somewhere else in his wanderings before he came here; then he would never have brought all this tumult among us. As it is we are brawling about beggars, and there will be no pleasure in our rich feast, since worse things are winning."
Then the strong young Telemachus spoke among them: "Strange sirs, you are mad, and you no longer hide that you have eaten and drunk; some god must be moving you. Now that you have feasted well, go home and rest, when your spirits tell you to. I drive nobody out."
So he spoke, and they all bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus, that he spoke so boldly. Then Amphinomus spoke to them — he was the son of the noble prince Nisus, son of Aretias:
"Friends, no man should grow angry at what has been fairly said and answer with quarrelling words. Do not abuse this stranger any more, or any of the slaves in the house of godlike Odysseus. Come, let the bearer pour drops into the cups for an offering, so that we can pour our offerings and go home to rest. And as for this stranger, let us leave him in the halls of Odysseus to be looked after by Telemachus; it is to his house that he has come."
So he spoke, and the words he said pleased them all. Then a bowl was mixed for them by lord Mulius, a herald from Dulichium, who was squire to Amphinomus; and he served it out to all of them, coming up to each in turn. And they poured offerings to the blessed gods and drank the honey-sweet wine. And when they had poured their offerings and drunk as much as they wanted, they went off, each man to his own house, to rest.
So noble Odysseus was left behind in the hall, planning the killing of the suitors with Athena's help; and at once he spoke winged words to Telemachus:
"Telemachus, you must lay the weapons of war away inside, every one of them; and when the suitors miss them and question you, beguile them with gentle words, and say: 'I have put them away out of the smoke, since they are no longer like the ones Odysseus left behind him when he went off to Troy, but are all fouled as far as the breath of the fire has reached them. And a god has put this greater fear in my heart besides: that when you are heated with wine you may start a quarrel among yourselves and wound one another, and so bring shame on your feasting and your courting. Iron draws a man to it of itself.'"
So he spoke, and Telemachus did as his dear father said, and called the nurse Eurycleia and said to her: "Nurse, shut the women up in their rooms, I tell you, while I lay away my father's weapons in the store-room — the fine weapons which lie uncared-for and dulled by the smoke in the hall, since my father went away and I was still a child. Now I mean to lay them away where the breath of the fire will not reach them."
Then his dear nurse Eurycleia answered him: "Yes, child, I wish you would always take thought to look after the house and guard all its wealth. But come, who is to fetch a light and carry it for you, since you would not let the maids go in front of you, who could have given light?"
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "This stranger here. I will let no man be idle who touches my portion of meal, even if he has come from far away."
So he spoke, and her word stayed unwinged, and she locked the doors of the stately hall.
Then the two of them sprang up, Odysseus and his glorious son, and set about carrying in the helmets and the bossy shields and the sharp-pointed spears; and Pallas Athena went in front of them carrying a golden lamp and made a most beautiful light. Then Telemachus suddenly said to his father:
"Father, this is a great marvel that my eyes are looking at. The walls of the house and the fine beams and cross-beams of fir and the pillars that reach up high glow before my eyes as if with the light of a blazing fire. Some god must be inside, one of those who hold the wide sky."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Hush, hold back your thought and ask no question. This is the way of the gods who hold Olympus. Go and rest, and I will stay behind here, so that I can stir up the minds of the maids and of your mother still more; and she will ask me about each thing separately, weeping."
So he spoke, and Telemachus went out through the hall by the light of blazing torches, to go to his room and lie down where he always used to rest when sweet sleep came on him. He lay down there now too, and waited for the bright Dawn.
But noble Odysseus was left behind in the hall, planning the killing of the suitors with Athena's help.
Then wise Penelope came out of her room, like Artemis or golden Aphrodite; and they set a chair for her by the fire where she always sat, inlaid with spirals of ivory and silver, which the craftsman Icmalius had made long ago, and had set a footstool below it for the feet, which was part of the chair, and a great fleece used to be laid on it. Wise Penelope sat down on this, and the white-armed maids came out of the women's hall. They set about taking away the plentiful food and the tables and the cups the lordly men had been drinking from, and they threw the embers out of the braziers onto the floor and piled fresh logs on the braziers in plenty, to give light and warmth.
But Melantho started scolding Odysseus a second time: "Stranger, are you still going to be a plague to us through the night, roaming through the house and spying on the women? Get out, you wretch, and be content with your supper, or you will be struck with a torch and go out that way."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave her a black look from under his brows and answered her: "My good woman, why do you attack me like this with an angry heart? Is it because I am filthy and wear mean clothes on my body and beg through the country? Necessity drives me to it. That is what beggars and vagabonds are like. I too once lived in a house of my own among men, a rich man in a wealthy house, and often gave gifts to a wanderer, whoever he was and with whatever need he came. And I had slaves past counting and everything else in plenty, the things by which men live well and are reputed wealthy. But Zeus, son of Cronos, brought it all to nothing; that must have been his pleasure.
"So take care, woman, that you do not lose one day all the glory that puts you above the other women now; in case your mistress grows angry and is furious with you, or Odysseus comes home — because there is still room for hope. And if he is dead, as it seems, and is never to come back, then his son is by now such a man, by the favour of Apollo, as he was — Telemachus. It does not escape him if any of the women in the halls behaves wantonly; he is no longer the child he was."
So he spoke, and wise Penelope heard him; and she rebuked the maid and said to her: "You bold and shameless thing, be sure your outrageous behaviour is not hidden from me at all, and you shall wipe out the stain of it with your own head. You knew perfectly well, because you heard it from my own lips, that I meant to question the stranger in my halls about my husband; because I am in bitter distress."
And with that she spoke to Eurynome the housekeeper, and said: "Eurynome, bring a chair here and a fleece on it, so that the stranger can sit down and tell his tale and listen to me; I want to ask him about everything."
So she spoke, and Eurynome quickly brought a polished chair and set it in place, and threw a fleece on it. Then much-enduring noble Odysseus sat down on it, and wise Penelope spoke first:
"Stranger, this is the question I will ask you first myself. Who are you among men, and where from? Where is your city, and where are your parents?"
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Lady, nobody of all the mortals on the boundless earth could find fault with you; your fame goes up to the wide sky, like the fame of some blameless king who, with the fear of the gods in his heart, is lord over many strong men and upholds justice; and the black earth bears wheat and barley, and the trees are loaded with fruit, and the flocks bring forth young without stopping, and the sea yields fish, all from his good leading, and the people prosper under him. So question me now in your house about anything else, but do not ask about my family and my own country, in case you fill my heart with still more pain as I think of it; I am a man of many sorrows. And besides, it is not fitting that I should sit weeping and wailing in another man's house; it is a bad thing to grieve for ever without stopping. I would not have one of your maids, or you yourself, vexed with me and saying that I swim in tears because my mind is heavy with wine."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Stranger, the immortals destroyed every excellence of mine, of beauty and of form, on the day the Argives embarked for Ilios and my husband Odysseus went with them. If he might only come and watch over this life of mine, my fame would be greater and finer. But now I am in sorrow, so many troubles has some god brought on me. All the princes who hold sway over the islands — Dulichium and Same and wooded Zacynthus — and those who live round about in clear-seen Ithaca itself, all of them court me against my will and lay my house waste. So I take no notice of strangers, or of suppliants, or of heralds at all, whose trade is a public one; but I waste my heart away longing for Odysseus.
"So these men press on my marriage, and I wind a skein of tricks. First some god breathed the thought into my heart to set up a great web in my halls and start weaving a robe — fine in the thread and very wide; and I said to them at once: 'Young men, my suitors, since noble Odysseus is dead, be patient about marrying me, however eager you are, until I finish this robe. I do not want my spinning to be wasted. It is a shroud for lord Laertes, for the time when the cruel fate of death lays him low, so that none of the Achaean women in the country can be angry with me for letting a man who won so much lie without a shroud.'
"That is what I said, and their proud hearts agreed. And then day by day I would weave at the great web, and by night I would unravel it, when I had had torches set beside me. So for three years I kept the Achaeans from finding out, and fooled them; but when the fourth year came, as the seasons rolled on, as the months waned and the many days came round in their course, then with the help of my maids, shameless and reckless creatures, they came on me and caught me, and abused me loudly. So I finished the web because I had to, against my will.
"And now I cannot escape the marriage, and I cannot think of any other plan, and my parents are pressing me to marry, and my son frets while these men eat up his living, and he takes note of it all; because he is a man by now, and quite able to look after a household to which Zeus grants honour. But even so, tell me about your stock and where you come from; you were not born from an oak of the old story, or from a stone."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Honoured wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes, will you never stop asking me about my family? Well, I will tell you, though you will give me over to still more pain than I am held in now; because that is always how it is, when a man has been away from his country as long as I have now, wandering through the many cities of men in bitter distress. But even so I will tell you what you ask and enquire about.
"There is a land called Crete, in the middle of the wine-dark sea, a fine rich land, girt about with water, and there are a great many men in it, past counting, and ninety cities. They do not all have the same speech, but their tongues are mixed. There are Achaeans there, and great-hearted native Cretans, and Cydonians, and Dorians with waving plumes, and fine Pelasgians. Among their cities is the great city of Cnosus, where Minos was king from nine years old, who held converse with great Zeus, and was the father of my father, great-hearted Deucalion. Deucalion fathered me and prince Idomeneus. Idomeneus had gone off in his beaked ships to Ilios with the sons of Atreus; and my own famous name is Aethon. I was the younger by birth, and he was the elder and the better man.
"It was there that I saw Odysseus and gave him guest-gifts. The force of the wind had brought him to Crete too, as he was making for the land of Troy, and drove him off his course past Malea. So he anchored his ships at Amnisus, where the cave of Eilithyia is, in a difficult harbour, and he only just escaped the storm. Then he went up to the city at once and asked for Idomeneus, because he said he was his friend, loved and honoured. But it was the tenth or the eleventh dawn since Idomeneus had gone in his beaked ships to Ilios. So I took him to the house and gave him hospitality with a kindly welcome out of the rich store that was in the house; and to the rest of his companions who came with him I gathered barley meal and flaming wine and bulls for sacrifice out of the public store and gave it out, so that their hearts should be satisfied. There the good Achaeans stayed twelve days, because the strong north wind penned them there and would not let them stand on their feet on the land; some angry god had roused it. But on the thirteenth day the wind dropped and they put to sea."
He spoke, and made the many falsehoods of his tale seem like the truth; and as she listened her tears flowed and her face melted, as the snow melts on the high mountains, the snow which the east wind thaws when the west wind has strewn it, and as it melts the streams of the rivers run full: so her lovely cheeks melted as she wept and mourned for her husband, who was sitting beside her even then. And Odysseus pitied his weeping wife in his heart, but his eyes stood fixed between his lids as though they were horn or iron, and he hid his tears with guile.
But she, when she had had her fill of tearful wailing, answered him again and said: "Now, stranger, I mean to test you, and see whether you really did entertain my husband there in your halls with his godlike companions, as you say. Tell me what kind of clothes he wore on his body, and what kind of man he was himself; and tell me about the companions who went with him."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Lady, it is hard for a man who has been away so long to tell you this; it is the twentieth year now since he went away and left my country. But I will tell you as my mind pictures him. Noble Odysseus wore a fleecy purple cloak, a cloak of double fold; and the brooch on it was made of gold with double clasps, and on the front it was curiously worked: a hound held a dappled fawn in his forepaws and pinned it in his jaws as it writhed. And everyone marvelled at it, how, gold as they were, the hound was pinning the fawn and strangling it and the fawn was writhing with its feet and struggling to get away. And I noticed the tunic on his body, all shining like the sheen on the skin of a dried onion, it was so soft; and it glistened like the sun. A great many women gazed at him in wonder.
"And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. I do not know whether Odysseus was dressed like that at home, or whether one of his companions gave him the clothes when he went aboard the fast ship, or perhaps even some stranger; because Odysseus was dear to a great many men, and few of the Achaeans were his equal. I gave him a bronze sword myself, and a fine purple cloak of double fold and a fringed tunic, and sent him off on his benched ship with every honour. And a herald attended him, a little older than he was, and I will tell you about him too, what kind of man he was. He was round-shouldered, dark of skin, and curly-haired, and his name was Eurybates; and Odysseus honoured him above his other companions, because he was of one mind with him."
So he spoke, and roused in her still more the desire to weep, as she recognised the sure tokens that Odysseus told her of. But when she had had her fill of tearful wailing she answered him and said:
"Now, stranger, though you were pitied before, you shall be dear and honoured in my halls; because it was I who gave him those clothes, since you describe them so, and folded them and brought them out of the store-room, and added the shining brooch to be a joy to him. But my husband I shall never welcome back, coming home to his own dear country. So it was with an evil fate that Odysseus went off in the hollow ship to see evil Ilios, that should never be named."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Honoured wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes, do not spoil your lovely face any more now, and do not waste your heart at all in weeping for your husband. I count it no blame in you; any woman weeps when she has lost the husband she married, to whom she has borne children in her love, even if he were a very different man from Odysseus, who they say is like the gods. But stop weeping and listen to me; I will tell you the sure truth and hide nothing.
"I heard only lately of the homecoming of Odysseus, that he is near at hand in the rich land of the Thesprotians, and alive, and is bringing many rich treasures with him, begging through the country. But he lost his trusty companions and his hollow ship on the wine-dark sea, as he was travelling from the island of Thrinacia; because Zeus and Helios grew angry with him, since his companions had killed the cattle of Helios. So they all died in the surging sea; but he was flung out by the wave on the keel of his ship onto the shore, onto the land of the Phaeacians, who are close kin to the gods. They honoured him heartily as if he were a god, and gave him many gifts, and wanted to send him home unhurt themselves. And Odysseus would have been here long ago, only it seemed to his mind more profitable to gather wealth by roaming over the wide earth; so truly does Odysseus know more gainful ways than any mortal man, and no other mortal could compete with him.
"That is the tale Pheidon, king of the Thesprotians, told me. And he swore in my own presence, as he poured offerings in his halls, that the ship was launched and the men ready who were to convey him to his own dear country. But he sent me off first, because a ship of the Thesprotians happened to be setting out for Dulichium, rich in wheat. And he showed me all the treasure Odysseus had gathered; it would feed his children after him to the tenth generation, so great was the wealth lying stored for him in the king's halls. But Odysseus, he said, had gone to Dodona to hear the will of Zeus from the high-crested oak of the god, and how he might come back to his own dear country after so long an absence, openly or in secret.
"So, as I tell you, he is safe and will come soon; he is very near, and he will not be far from his friends and his own country much longer. And I will give you an oath on it. Let Zeus be my witness first, the highest and best of gods, and the hearth of noble Odysseus that I have come to, that all this will happen exactly as I tell you. In the course of this very month Odysseus will come here, as the old moon wanes and the new appears."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Stranger, I wish this word of yours might be fulfilled. Then you would soon know kindness and many a gift from me, so that anyone who met you would call you a lucky man. But my heart forebodes how it will be: Odysseus will never come home any more, and you will not get a convoy from here, since there are no masters in the house now such as Odysseus was among men — as surely as there ever was such a man — to send strangers who deserve respect on their way, and to welcome them.
"But still, my maids, wash the stranger's feet and make his bed ready — a bedstead and cloaks and bright coverlets — so that he may come to golden-throned Dawn in warmth and comfort. And early in the morning bathe him and rub him with oil, so that he can think about his food in our house, sitting in the hall beside Telemachus. And it will be the worse for any man among them who vexes this man's soul with pain; he shall accomplish nothing here afterwards, however fierce his anger. Because how are you to learn about me, stranger, whether I am at all ahead of other women in wit and prudent counsel, if you sit at meat in my halls all unkempt and in poor clothes? Men are short-lived. If a man is hard himself and has a hard heart, all mortal men call down troubles on him for the time to come, while he is still alive, and when he is dead they all mock him. But if a man is blameless and has a blameless heart, strangers carry his fame far and wide among all men, and a great many call him a true man."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Honoured wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes, cloaks and bright coverlets became hateful to me on the day I first left the snowy mountains of Crete behind me, travelling on my long-oared ship. I will lie down as I used to rest through sleepless nights in the past; because I have lain many a night on a foul bed and waited for bright-throned Dawn. And baths for the feet give my heart no pleasure either, and no woman shall touch my foot of all those who are serving-women in your hall — unless there is some old true-hearted woman who has suffered as many troubles in her heart as I have; her I would not grudge to touch my feet."
Then wise Penelope answered him again: "Dear stranger, no man as discreet as you, of all the strangers from far away, has ever come to my house as a more welcome guest, so wise and prudent is everything you say. I have an old woman with an understanding heart in her breast, who lovingly nursed and cherished my unlucky husband and took him in her arms on the day his mother bore him. She shall wash your feet, weak with age as she is. Come, wise Eurycleia, get up and wash the feet of a man of the same age as your master. The feet of Odysseus are probably like his now, and his hands too; men grow old quickly in bad fortune."
So she spoke, and the old woman hid her face in her hands and let the hot tears fall, saying words of lamentation: "Oh, my grief for you, child, and I can do nothing. Zeus must have hated you above all men, though you had a god-fearing heart. No mortal ever burned so many fat thigh-pieces to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, or so many choice hecatombs, as you gave him, praying that you might reach a sleek old age and rear your glorious son. And now from you alone he has wholly cut off the day of homecoming.
"So women mocked at him too, I suppose, in a strange and distant land, when he came to some man's glorious house, as all these shameless creatures here mock at you. It is to avoid their insults and their many taunts that you will not let them wash your feet; and the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, has told me to do it, and I am not unwilling. So I will wash your feet, both for Penelope's own sake and for yours, because the heart in me is stirred with sorrow. But listen to what I say. Many hard-tried strangers have come here, but I declare I have never yet seen any man so like another as you are like Odysseus, in build and in voice and in your feet."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Old woman, that is what everyone says who has seen the two of us, that we are very like each other, just as you notice and say yourself."
So he spoke, and the old woman took the shining cauldron with the water she was about to wash his feet with, and poured in cold water in plenty and then added the warm. But Odysseus sat down away from the hearth and turned himself at once towards the dark, because he suddenly had a foreboding in his heart that as she handled him she might notice a scar, and the truth would come out.
So she came near and began to wash her lord, and knew the scar of the wound at once, which a boar had dealt him long ago with his white tusk, when Odysseus had gone to Parnassus to visit Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus, his mother's noble father, who was better than any man at thieving and at oaths. It was a god himself who had given him that skill, Hermes; because he used to burn acceptable sacrifices to him of the thighs of lambs and kids, and Hermes befriended him with a ready heart.
Now Autolycus, coming once to the rich land of Ithaca, had found his daughter's son a new-born baby; and when he was finishing his supper Eurycleia laid the child on his knees and said to him: "Autolycus, find a name yourself to give to your child's own child; he has been prayed for a long time."
Then Autolycus answered her and said: "My daughter's husband, and my daughter — give him whatever name I say. Since I have come here as a man who has been angry with a great many, both men and women, over the fruitful earth, let the name the child is named by be Odysseus. And when he is grown and comes to the great house of his mother's kin at Parnassus, where my possessions are, I will give him some of them and send him back rejoicing."
That was why Odysseus had come, so that Autolycus might give him the glorious gifts. And Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus took his hands in welcome and greeted him with gentle words, and Amphithea, his mother's mother, took Odysseus in her arms and kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes. And Autolycus called to his glorious sons to get the meal ready, and they did as he called. At once they led in a bull, five years old, and flayed it and dressed it and cut up all the limbs; and then they sliced them cunningly and pierced them with spits and roasted them skilfully and shared out the portions. So all day long until sunset they feasted, and their hearts lacked nothing of the equal feast. But when the sun set and the dark came on they lay down to rest and took the gift of sleep.
And as soon as the early dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, they went out to the hunt, the hounds and the sons of Autolycus, and noble Odysseus went with them. They climbed the steep mountain Parnassus, clothed with forests, and soon reached its windy hollows. The sun was just striking on the fields, rising from the softly-gliding, deep-flowing Oceanus, when the beaters came to a glade. The hounds went in front of them, tracking the scent, and behind them the sons of Autolycus, and noble Odysseus among them, following close on the hounds, brandishing his long spear.
Now a great wild boar was lying there in a thick lair, through which the strength of the wet winds could never blow, and the rays of the bright sun could not beat, and the rain could not get through, it was so thick; and fallen leaves were in it in plenty. And the noise of the feet of men and dogs came round the boar as they pressed on in the chase, and he came out of his lair against them with his back bristling and his eyes flashing fire, and stood there at bay close in front of them.
Then Odysseus rushed on first of all, holding his long spear high in his strong hand, eager to strike him; but the boar was too quick for him and struck him above the knee, charging at him sideways, and tore a long gash in the flesh with his tusk, but did not reach the man's bone. But Odysseus struck him with sure aim on the right shoulder, and the point of the bright spear went clean through, and the boar fell in the dust with a cry, and his life flew from him.
Then the dear sons of Autolycus busied themselves with the carcase, and bound up the wound of noble godlike Odysseus skilfully, and checked the black blood with a charm, and went back at once to their dear father's house. And when Autolycus and the sons of Autolycus had fully healed him and given him glorious gifts, they sent him back quickly and with joy to his own country, to Ithaca. And his father and his honoured mother rejoiced at his coming, and asked him the whole story, how he got his wound; and he told them the whole truth, how a boar had struck him with his white tusk while he was hunting, when he had gone to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.
This scar the old woman knew by the touch when she had taken the limb in the flat of her hands, and she let the foot go. The leg fell into the basin and the bronze vessel rang; it tilted over, and the water was spilled on the ground. Then joy and grief came on her soul in one moment, and both her eyes filled with tears and the flow of her voice was checked. And she touched the chin of Odysseus and said:
"You are Odysseus, dear child, and I did not know you, until I had handled all the body of my lord."
She spoke, and looked towards Penelope with her eyes, wanting to show her that her dear husband was at home. But Penelope could not meet her glance or understand, because Athena had turned her thoughts aside. But Odysseus felt for the woman's throat and seized it with his right hand, and with the other drew her closer to him and said:
"Mother, why do you want to destroy me? You nursed me yourself at this breast of yours, and now after many hard labours I have come in the twentieth year to my own country. But since you have found me out, and a god has put this in your heart, be silent, in case anyone else in the halls learns of it. Because I will tell you outright, and it will happen: if a god beats the lordly suitors down for me, I will not spare you, my nurse though you are, when I kill the other serving-women in my halls."
Then wise Eurycleia answered him: "My child, what a thing to let past your teeth. You know how firm my spirit is, and unyielding; I shall be as close as hard stone or iron. And there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. If a god beats the lordly suitors down for you, then I will name over the women in your halls for you, which of them dishonour you and which are innocent."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Mother, why should you speak of them? There is no need at all. I shall mark them well myself and come to know each one. Keep the matter to yourself, and leave the outcome to the gods."
So he spoke, and the old woman went out through the hall to bring water for his feet, because all the first lot was spilled. And when she had washed him and rubbed him richly with oil, Odysseus drew his chair nearer the fire again to warm himself, and hid the scar with his rags.
Then wise Penelope was the first to speak: "Stranger, there is this one small thing more I will ask you myself, because it will soon be the hour for pleasant rest, for anyone at least who can have sweet sleep come over him for all his care. But a god has given me sorrow beyond all measure. Day by day I find my joy in mourning and lamenting while I look to my household tasks and my women's in the house; but when night comes and sleep takes hold of everyone, I lie on my bed, and sharp cares crowd close about my throbbing heart and disquiet me as I mourn.
"As when the daughter of Pandareus, the nightingale of the greenwood, sings sweetly when spring is newly come, perched among the thick leaves of the trees, and pours out her rich voice in many trilling notes, wailing for her child, dear Itylus, whom she once killed with the sword without knowing it, Itylus, the son of king Zethus — so my heart sways to and fro in doubt, whether to stay with my son and keep everything safe, my possessions, my slaves, and my great high-roofed house, respecting my husband's bed and the voice of the people, or to go now with whichever of the Achaeans is best, who courts me in the halls and offers bride-gifts past counting. And my son, as long as he was a child and slack of wit, would not let me marry and leave my husband's house; but now that he is grown and has reached the bounds of manhood, he even begs me to go away out of these halls, because he is vexed for his substance, which the Achaeans eat up at his cost.
"But listen to this dream of mine and interpret it for me. I have twenty geese in the house that come out of the water and eat wheat, and my heart warms with joy as I watch them. But a great eagle with a crooked beak came down from the mountain and broke all their necks and killed them; and they lay strewn in a heap in the halls, while he was carried up to the bright sky. And I wept and wailed, dream as it was, and the fair-haired Achaean women crowded round me while I grieved pitifully, because the eagle had killed my geese.
"Then back he came and perched on a projecting roof-beam, and checked my weeping with the voice of a mortal man, and said: 'Take heart, daughter of far-famed Icarius. This is no dream, but a true vision of good which will really be fulfilled. The geese are the suitors, and I, who was the eagle before, have now come back as your husband, and I will let loose a cruel doom on all the suitors.'
"So he spoke, and sweet sleep let me go; and looking about I saw the geese in the halls, feeding on wheat beside the trough, where they always used to feed."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Lady, there is no way of twisting this dream aside and giving it another meaning, since Odysseus himself has shown you how he will bring it about. The destruction of the suitors is plain to see, for every one of them; not one of them will escape death and the fates."
Then wise Penelope answered him again: "Stranger, dreams are baffling and unclear of meaning, and they are not fulfilled in everything for men. There are two gates of shadowy dreams: one is made of horn and one of ivory. Those dreams that come through the gate of sawn ivory deceive men, bringing words that are never fulfilled; but those that come out through the gate of polished horn bring true things to pass, when any mortal sees them. But I do not think my strange dream came from there. It would have been welcome to me if it had, and to my son.
"But there is another thing I will tell you, and you must take it to heart. This morning of evil name is coming now which is to cut me off from the house of Odysseus; because now I shall set as a contest those axes which he used to set up in a line in his halls, like the props of a ship that is building, twelve in all; and he would stand a long way off and shoot an arrow through them. Now I shall set this contest before the suitors: whoever most easily strings the bow in his hands and shoots an arrow through all twelve axes, with him I will go, and leave this house of my marriage, a house most beautiful and full of livelihood, which I think I shall remember even in my dreams."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Honoured wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes, do not put off this contest in your halls any longer; because I tell you Odysseus of the many tricks will be here before these men, handling this polished bow, have strung it and shot an arrow through the iron."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "If you would only be willing to sit here in my halls and give me pleasure, stranger, sleep would never be shed over my eyelids. But it is not possible for men to be sleepless for ever; the immortals have appointed a proper time for everything on the earth, the giver of grain. But I will go up to my upper room and lie on my bed, which has become a bed of wailing for me, always wet with my tears, since the day Odysseus went to see evil Ilios, that should never be named. I will lie down there; and you lie down here in the hall, when you have strewn bedding on the floor, or let the maids set a bedstead for you."
With that she went up to her bright upper room, not alone, because her women went with her too. And when she had gone up to her upper room with her women, she wept for Odysseus, her dear husband, until grey-eyed Athena put sweet sleep on her eyelids.
But noble Odysseus lay down to sleep in the front hall of the house. He spread an undressed ox-hide on the ground and many fleeces of sheep over it, from the sheep the Achaeans kept killing; and Eurynome threw a cloak over him when he had lain down. There Odysseus lay sleepless, turning over evil for the suitors in his heart.
And the women came out of the hall, the ones who had been in the habit of sleeping with the suitors, laughing and joking among themselves. And the heart was stirred in his breast, and he debated a great deal in his mind and heart, whether to rush after them and deal death to each of them, or to let them lie with the insolent suitors for the last and latest time; and his heart growled inside him. As a bitch stands over her tender puppies growling when she sees a man she does not know, and is eager to fight, so his heart growled inside him in his anger at their evil doings. But he struck his breast and rebuked his heart:
"Endure, my heart. You endured a worse thing than this once, on the day the Cyclops, with no check on his daring, devoured my mighty companions; and you endured until cunning got you out of the cave where you thought you were going to die."
So he spoke, chiding the heart in his breast; and his heart stayed bound inside him and endured steadily. But he himself lay tossing this way and that. As a man before a great blazing fire turns a paunch full of fat and blood swiftly this way and that, very eager to have it roasted quickly, so Odysseus tossed from side to side, turning over how he might lay his hands on the shameless suitors, one man as he was against so many.
Then Athena came down from heaven and drew near to him in the likeness of a woman, and stood over his head and said to him: "Why are you awake again, unluckiest of all men? This is your house, and your wife is inside it, and your child, the kind of man anybody might pray to have for a son."
And Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Goddess, all this you have said rightly. But the heart in my breast is turning over how I may lay my hands on the shameless suitors, all alone as I am, while they stay in the house always in a body. And besides that I turn this other and harder thing over in my mind: even if I killed them by the will of Zeus and of yourself, where should I then find any escape from ruin? I ask you to think about that."
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena answered him: "Obstinate man, a great many people trust even in a weaker friend than I am, one who is mortal and does not know such wisdom as mine. But I am a god, who guard you to the end in all your labours. And I will tell you openly: if fifty companies of mortal men stood round us, eager to kill us in battle, you would drive off their cattle and their fine sheep even then. Let sleep come over you now. There is weariness in keeping awake on watch the whole night through as well; and you are going to come out of your dangers now."
So she spoke, and poured sleep over his eyelids; and the beautiful goddess went back to Olympus herself.
Now while sleep took hold of him, loosening the cares of his heart, sleep that loosens the limbs of men, his true-hearted wife woke and wept, sitting up on her soft bed. And when her heart had had its fill of weeping, she first of all made her prayer to Artemis, that lovely woman:
"Artemis, mighty goddess, daughter of Zeus, I wish you would fix your arrow in my breast and take my life away this very hour; or that a storm wind would catch me up and carry me off over the murky ways and throw me out at the mouth of backward-flowing Oceanus, as the storm winds once carried off the daughters of Pandareus. The gods had killed their parents, and they were left orphans in the halls; and beautiful Aphrodite tended them with cheese and sweet honey and pleasant wine, and Hera gave them beauty and wisdom above all women, and chaste Artemis gave them stature, and Athena taught them skill in famous handiwork. But while beautiful Aphrodite was going to high Olympus to ask for the girls the accomplishment of a joyful marriage — going to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt, because he knows everything well, both the happiness and the unhappiness of mortal men — meanwhile the spirits of the storm snatched the girls away and gave them to the hateful Erinyes to deal with.
"I wish those who live on Olympus would blot me out of sight like that, or that fair-haired Artemis would strike me, so that I might go down under the hateful earth with Odysseus before my mind, and never gladden the heart of a lesser man in any way. Yet when a man weeps by day with a heart in bitter distress, and sleep holds him at night, it brings an evil with it that can be borne — because sleep makes one forget everything, the good and the bad, once it wraps the eyelids. But on me a god sends evil dreams as well. This night again one lay beside me who was like him, just as he was when he went out with the army, and my heart was glad, because I thought it was no dream but the truth at last."
So she spoke, and golden-throned Dawn came at once. But noble Odysseus heard her voice as she wept, and thought about it, and it seemed to his heart that she knew him and was standing by his head. Then he gathered up the cloak and the fleeces he had been lying on and laid them on a chair in the hall, and carried the ox-hide out of doors and set it down; and he lifted up his hands and prayed to Zeus:
"Father Zeus, if you gods have brought me over land and sea to my own country of your goodwill, when you had afflicted me badly, let one of those who are waking speak a word of omen for me inside, and let a sign from Zeus be shown outside besides."
So he spoke in prayer, and Zeus the counsellor heard him. At once he thundered from gleaming Olympus, high up out of the clouds; and noble Odysseus was glad.
And a woman grinding at the mill spoke a word of omen from inside the house close by, where the mills of the shepherd of the people were set. Twelve women in all used to work at these mills, making meal of barley and of wheat, the marrow of men. The others were sleeping, because they had ground their wheat; but she alone had not finished yet, because she was the weakest of them all. She stopped her mill now and spoke a word, a sign for her master:
"Father Zeus, who are lord over gods and men, you have thundered loud from the starry sky, and there is not a cloud anywhere: this must be a sign you are showing to somebody. Fulfil for me too, wretched as I am, the word I shall speak. May the suitors hold their glad feast in the halls of Odysseus today for the last and latest time. They have loosened my limbs with bitter labour, making them barley meal; may this be the last supper they eat."
So she spoke, and noble Odysseus was glad at the word of omen and at the thunder of Zeus, because he thought he had got his revenge on the guilty.
Now the other maids in the fine palace of Odysseus had gathered and were kindling an unwearied fire on the hearth. And Telemachus got up from his bed, a godlike man, and put on his clothes. He slung his sharp sword over his shoulder and bound the fine sandals under his shining feet and took his mighty spear, tipped with sharp bronze, and went and stood on the threshold, and said to Eurycleia:
"Dear nurse, have you honoured the stranger in our house with a bed and food, or does he lie all uncared for? That is my mother's way, wise as she is: she honours one mortal man extraordinarily, though he is the worse man, and sends the better away without honour."
Then wise Eurycleia answered him: "You should not blame her in this, child; she is blameless. He sat here and drank wine as long as he wanted; and as for food, he said he had no more hunger, because she asked him. And when he thought about rest and sleep she told the maids to strew his bed. But he, like a man wholly wretched and unlucky, would not sleep on a bed and under blankets, but slept in the front hall on an undressed ox-hide and fleeces of sheep, and we flung a cloak over him."
So she spoke, and Telemachus went out through the hall with his spear in his hand, and two swift hounds went with him. And he went off to the meeting place to join the company of the well-greaved Achaeans.
But Eurycleia, that good lady, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor, called to her maids: "Come, some of you sweep the hall busily and sprinkle it, and throw purple coverlets over the shapely chairs; and let others wipe all the tables with sponges and clean the mixing-bowls and the well-made double cups; and let others go to the spring for water and bring it here quickly. The suitors will not be away from the hall long, but will come back very early; it is a feast-day for everyone."
So she spoke, and they listened readily and obeyed. Twenty of them went to the spring of dark water, and the others busied themselves in the house there, skilfully. Then the serving-men of the Achaeans came in, and split logs of wood well and skilfully; and the women came back from the spring.
After them came the swineherd, driving three boars, the best in all his herd. He left them to feed in the fine courtyards, and spoke to Odysseus himself with gentle words: "Stranger, do the Achaeans look on you with any more regard, or do they dishonour you in the halls as before?"
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Eumaeus, I wish the gods might take vengeance for the outrage these men contrive in their wantonness, in another man's house, wicked folly, with no room in them for shame."
So they talked to one another. And Melanthius the goatherd came near them, leading she-goats that were the best in all the herds, to make a feast for the suitors, and two herdsmen followed with him. He tethered the goats under the echoing portico and spoke to Odysseus himself with taunting words:
"Stranger, are you still going to be a plague to us here in the hall, asking alms of men, and will you not be gone? I think the two of us will not part company until we taste each other's fists; your begging is not decent in any way. And there are feasts of the Achaeans in other places besides this one."
So he spoke, but Odysseus of the many tricks made no answer; he only shook his head in silence, turning evil over in the depths of his heart.
Besides these a third man came, Philoetius, a leader of men, driving a barren heifer and fat she-goats for the suitors. They had been brought over from the mainland by ferrymen, who send other men on their way too, whoever comes to them. He tethered the beasts carefully under the echoing portico, and came close to the swineherd and questioned him:
"Who is this stranger, swineherd, who has just come to our house? What men does he say he is sprung from? Where are his kinsmen and his native fields? Unlucky man — and yet in build he is like a royal prince. But the gods bring far-wandering men to misery whenever they spin the threads of trouble for them, even if they are kings."
And with that he came up to Odysseus and held out his right hand in greeting and spoke to him with winged words: "Greetings, sir stranger; may good fortune be yours in time to come, though now you are the thrall of many sorrows. Father Zeus, no other god is more deadly than you: you have no pity on men when you have given them birth yourself, but bring them into misery and wretched pain.
"The sweat broke out on me when I noticed this man, and my eyes are full of tears as I think of Odysseus; because he too, I suppose, is dressed in rags like these and wandering among men, if he is still alive and sees the light of the sun. And if he is dead already and in the house of Hades, then my grief is for blameless Odysseus, who set me over his cattle when I was still a boy, in the land of the Cephallenians. And now they have grown past counting; the breed of broad-browed cattle could not increase better for any mortal man in any other way. But strangers tell me to drive these in for themselves to eat, and they care nothing for the son in the house, and do not tremble at the anger of the gods; they are eager now to divide up the possessions of our lord, who has been gone so long.
"Now the heart in my breast keeps turning this matter over: it is a very bad thing, while the son is alive, to go off with my cattle to a land of strangers, to a foreign people; but this is worse still, to stay here and suffer in charge of cattle that are handed over to others. I would have run away long ago and gone to some other of the proud kings, because things are past bearing now; but I still think of that unlucky man, in case he comes back from somewhere and scatters the suitors through his house."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Herdsman, since you seem to be neither an evil man nor a fool, and I can see for myself that you have an understanding heart, I will speak out and swear a great oath to confirm what I say. Let Zeus be my witness above all gods, and this hospitable table, and the hearth of noble Odysseus that I have come to, that while you are here Odysseus will come home, and you will see the killing of the suitors with your own eyes, if you want to, who lord it here."
Then the herdsman of the cattle answered him: "Stranger, I wish the son of Cronos would fulfil that word of yours. Then you would know what kind of might is mine, and how my hands obey me."
And in the same way Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus might come back to his own home.
So they talked to one another. And the suitors meanwhile were plotting death and doom for Telemachus; but a bird came to them on their left, an eagle flying high, clutching a timid dove. Then Amphinomus spoke in their assembly and said: "Friends, this plan of ours will not run the way we want it to, the killing of Telemachus. Let us think about the feast."
So spoke Amphinomus, and his word pleased them. Then they went into the house of godlike Odysseus and laid their cloaks on the chairs and high seats, and men set about killing great sheep and fat goats, and fatted hogs, and the heifer from the herd. Then they roasted the entrails and served them out, and mixed wine in the bowls, and the swineherd handed out the cups. And Philoetius, a leader of men, handed them bread in a beautiful basket, and Melanthius poured their wine. So they put out their hands to the good food in front of them.
But Telemachus, with crafty thought, made Odysseus sit inside the well-built hall by the stone threshold, and set a mean stool and a little table for him. He set portions of the entrails beside him and poured wine into a golden cup, and said to him:
"Sit down here among the lords and drink your wine; and I will keep off the revilings and the blows of all the suitors from you myself. This is no public resort, but the house of Odysseus, and he won it for me. And you, suitors, keep your minds off rebukes and blows, so that no strife or quarrel arises."
So he spoke, and they all bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus, that he spoke so boldly. And Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke among them: "Hard as it is, Achaeans, let us accept what Telemachus says, though he threatens us boldly in his speech. Zeus, son of Cronos, did not allow it, or we would have silenced him in the halls before now, clear-voiced talker as he is."
So spoke Antinous, but Telemachus paid no attention to his words.
Meanwhile the heralds were leading the holy hecatomb of the gods through the city, and the long-haired Achaeans gathered under a shady grove of Apollo, the archer god. And when they had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off the spits they divided the portions and feasted a splendid feast. And those who served set a portion beside Odysseus equal to the one they took themselves, because Telemachus had ordered it, the dear son of godlike Odysseus.
But Athena would not let the proud suitors hold off from bitter outrage at all, so that the pain might sink deeper still into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. There was a man among the suitors with his heart set on lawlessness — Ctesippus was his name, and his home was in Same — who, trusting in his boundless wealth, was courting the wife of Odysseus, who had been gone so long. He spoke now among the haughty suitors:
"Listen to me, proud suitors, and let me say something. The stranger has had a portion for a while now, an equal one, as is right; because it is neither good nor just to rob the guests of Telemachus of their due, whoever comes to this house. Come, I will give him a stranger's gift too, so that he can give a present in his turn either to the bath-woman or to some other of the slaves in the house of godlike Odysseus."
With that he took the hoof of an ox out of the basket where it lay and hurled it with a strong hand. But Odysseus avoided it with a quick turn of his head, and in his heart he smiled a grim and bitter smile; and the ox's hoof struck the well-built wall.
Then Telemachus rebuked Ctesippus and said: "Ctesippus, that turned out more to the profit of your soul. You did not hit the stranger, because he avoided your missile himself; or I would have run you through the middle with my sharp spear, and your father would have been busy with a funeral in this country instead of a wedding. So let nobody make a display of forwardness in my house, I warn you. I notice and understand everything now, the good and the bad, whereas before this I was only a child. And even so we still endure to watch these doings, while sheep are slaughtered and wine drunk and bread eaten up, because it is hard for one man to restrain many. But do me no more harm out of your own wickedness. And if you mean to kill me myself with the sword even now, I would choose that too; it would be far better to die than to go on watching these shameful things, strangers mishandled and men dragging the women through the fine hall in a shameful way."
So he spoke, and they were all hushed and silent; but at last Agelaus, son of Damastor, spoke among them: "Friends, no man should grow angry at what has been fairly said and answer with quarrelling words. Do not abuse the stranger any more, or any of the slaves in the house of godlike Odysseus. But to Telemachus and his mother I would say a gentle word, in case it finds favour in the minds of both. As long as the hearts in your breasts had hope that wise Odysseus would come back to his own house, there was no blame in your waiting and holding the suitors off in your halls; that was the better course, if Odysseus had come back to his house. But now it is plain that he will never come back. So come, sit by your mother and tell her this: that she must marry whichever man is the best and offers the most gifts, so that you may enjoy all your father's heritage in peace, eating and drinking, and she may keep another man's house."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "By Zeus, Agelaus, and by the sufferings of my father, who has died somewhere far from Ithaca or is wandering, I do not delay my mother's marriage in any way. I tell her to marry whatever man she likes, and I offer gifts past counting besides. But I am ashamed to drive her out of the hall against her will with a word of compulsion. May God never bring such a thing to pass."
So spoke Telemachus; but Pallas Athena roused unquenchable laughter among the suitors and turned their wits awry. And now they laughed with alien lips, and the flesh they ate was all dabbled with blood, and their eyes filled with tears and their spirits were set on wailing.
Then godlike Theoclymenus spoke among them: "Wretched men, what evil is this you are suffering? Your heads and your faces and your knees beneath you are shrouded in night; a sound of wailing has been kindled, your cheeks are bathed in tears, and the walls and the fine rafters are sprinkled with blood. And the porch is full of ghosts, and the court is full of them, ghosts hurrying down to Erebus under the dark; and the sun has perished out of heaven, and an evil mist hovers over everything."
So he spoke, but they all laughed merrily at him. And Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the first to speak among them: "The stranger who has just come from abroad is mad. Quick, young men, take him out of doors to go to the meeting place, since he finds it like night here."
Then godlike Theoclymenus answered him: "Eurymachus, I am not asking you to give me guides for my way. I have eyes and ears and my two feet, and a mind in my breast that is not meanly made. With these I will go out of doors, because I can see evil coming on you which not one of the suitors will escape or avoid — all you who insult men in the house of godlike Odysseus and contrive wicked folly."
With that he went out of the stately halls and came to Peiraeus, who received him with a ready heart.
But all the suitors, looking at one another, set about provoking Telemachus by laughing at his guests. And one of the proud young men would say: "Telemachus, nobody is more unlucky in his guests than you, seeing that you keep a filthy vagabond like this man here, always wanting bread and wine, and not skilled in the works of peace or of war either, but a mere burden on the earth. And this other one stood up to prophesy. But it would be far better if you would listen to me: let us fling these strangers aboard a benched ship and send them to the Sicilians, where they would bring you in a fitting price."
So spoke the suitors; but he paid no attention to their words. In silence he watched his father, waiting all the time for the moment when he would lay his hands on the shameless suitors.
But the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, had set her beautiful chair opposite them, and heard what every man said in the hall. For they had got their meal ready in the middle of their laughing, a sweet meal and one to satisfy the heart, since they had killed a great many beasts. But no meal could ever have been more graceless than the supper a goddess and a mighty man were soon to set before them. For they had been contriving deeds of shame, and were not provoked to it.
But the goddess grey-eyed Athena put it into the heart of the daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, to set the bow and the grey iron before the suitors in the halls of Odysseus, to be a contest and the beginning of death.
She climbed the high stairway to her room and took the bent key in her strong hand, a fine key of bronze with an ivory handle on it. And she went with her women to a store-room far off, where the treasures of her lord lay, bronze and gold and iron worked with labour. And the back-bent bow lay there, and the quiver that held the arrows, and there were many arrows in it, loaded with groans — gifts which a friend of Odysseus had given him when he met him once in Lacedaemon, Iphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like the immortals.
The two of them had met one another in Messene, in the house of wise Ortilochus. Odysseus had come to collect a debt the whole people owed him, because the men of Messene had lifted three hundred sheep from Ithaca in their benched ships, and the shepherds with them. It was on that embassy that Odysseus had come a long journey, while he was still a boy; his father and the other elders had sent him. And Iphitus for his part had come looking for twelve brood mares he had lost, with sturdy mules at the teat; but they brought him death and doom afterwards, when he came to the stout-hearted son of Zeus, the man Heracles, who knew all about deeds of daring. Heracles killed him, guest though he was, in his own house, ruthlessly, and had no regard for the anger of the gods or for the table he had set in front of him, but killed the man and kept the strong-hoofed mares in his halls himself.
It was while asking for these that Iphitus met Odysseus, and gave him the bow, which great Eurytus had carried in the old days and had left to his son at his death in his high house. And Odysseus gave Iphitus a sharp sword and a mighty spear, as the beginning of a loving friendship; but they never knew each other at the table, because before that could happen the son of Zeus killed Iphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like the immortals, who had given Odysseus the bow. Odysseus would never take this bow with him on the black ships when he went out to war, but it lay in his halls at home as a memorial of a dear friend, and he carried it in his own country.
Now when that lovely woman had come to the store-room and stepped on the threshold of oak, which the carpenter had planed skilfully long ago and made straight to the line — and had fitted doorposts to it and set bright doors on them — she quickly loosed the thong from the handle and thrust in the key and shot the bolts back with sure aim. And as a bull bellows grazing in a meadow, so the fine doors bellowed, struck by the key; and they flew open quickly in front of her.
Then she stepped up onto the high floor, where the chests stood with fragrant clothing stored in them, and stretched out her hand from there and took the bow off its peg, with the bright case that surrounded it. And she sat down there and laid the case on her knees and wept aloud, and took out her lord's bow.
But when she had had her fill of tearful wailing she went to the hall, to the company of the lordly suitors, carrying the back-bent bow in her hands and the quiver that held the arrows, and there were many arrows in it, loaded with groans. And her women carried a chest beside her, with plenty of iron and bronze in it, her lord's battle-gear.
Now when that lovely woman reached the suitors she stood by the doorpost of the well-built hall, holding her shining veil in front of her face, with a faithful maid on either side of her. And at once she spoke among the suitors:
"Listen to me, proud suitors, who have beset this house to eat and drink without end, since its master has been gone so long, and could find no other plea to urge except that you wanted to marry me and take me for a wife. Come then, suitors, since this is shown to be your prize. I will set the great bow of godlike Odysseus in front of you; and whoever most easily strings the bow in his hands and shoots an arrow through all twelve axes, with him I will go, and leave this house of my marriage, a house most beautiful and full of livelihood, which I think I shall remember even in my dreams."
So she spoke, and told Eumaeus, the good swineherd, to set the bow and the grey iron before the suitors. And Eumaeus took them and laid them down, bursting into tears; and in another part of the hall the herdsman wept when he saw his lord's bow.
Then Antinous rebuked them and said: "You foolish country creatures, who mind only the things of the day. Wretched pair, why do you shed tears now and trouble the soul in the lady's breast, when her heart lies low in pain as it is, since she has lost her dear husband? Sit and feast in silence, or go outside and weep, and leave the bow here behind for the suitors as a decisive contest; because I do not think this polished bow will be easy to string. There is no man among all these here such as Odysseus was; I saw him myself, and I remember him, though I was still only a child."
So he spoke; but the heart in his breast hoped that he would string the bow and shoot an arrow through the iron. Yet he was to be the first to taste an arrow from the hands of noble Odysseus, whom he was dishonouring then as he sat in the halls, and urging on all his companions.
Then the strong young Telemachus spoke among them: "Zeus, son of Cronos, must have made me witless. My dear mother, wise as she is, says she will follow another lord and leave this house; and I laugh, and am glad, with a witless mind. Come then, suitors, since this is shown to be your prize — a lady whose like is not in the Achaean land now, not in sacred Pylos or in Argos or in Mycene, nor in Ithaca itself, nor on the dark mainland. But you know that yourselves; what need have I to praise my mother? Come, do not put the matter aside with excuses, and do not turn away any longer from the drawing of the bow, so that we may see the outcome. And I would make trial of the bow myself. If I string it and shoot an arrow through the iron, it will not vex me that my honoured mother should leave this house and go off with another man, since I should be left here able to wield my father's fine battle-gear at last."
With that he flung the scarlet cloak off his back and sprang up, and laid his sharp sword off his shoulders. First he set the axes up, digging a trench, one long trench for all of them, and made it straight to the line, and stamped the earth in about them. And amazement seized everyone who saw him, that he set them out so orderly, when he had never seen it done before.
Then he went and stood on the threshold and began to try the bow. Three times he made it quiver in his eagerness to draw it, and three times he relaxed his effort, though in his heart he hoped to string the bow and shoot an arrow through the iron. And now at last he would have strung it by main strength, as he tried a fourth time to draw the string up; but Odysseus nodded in refusal and checked him in his eagerness.
Then the strong young Telemachus spoke among them again: "I shall be a coward and a weakling in the days to come, it seems, or else I am too young, and have no trust yet in my strength to defend me against a man when one grows angry over nothing. But come, you who are mightier than I am, try the bow and let us end the contest."
With that he set the bow away from him on the ground, leaning it against the jointed polished door, and leaned the swift arrow close by against the fine bow-tip; and then sat down again on the seat he had got up from.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke among them: "Get up in order, all of you, from left to right, beginning from the place where the cup-bearer pours the wine."
So spoke Antinous, and his word pleased them. Then Leiodes got up first, the son of Oenops, who was their soothsayer and always sat by the fine mixing-bowl in the innermost part of the hall. He alone hated deeds of wanton folly, and was full of indignation at all the suitors. He was the first to take the bow and the swift arrow now, and he went and stood on the threshold and began to try the bow; but he could not string it. His hands grew tired before that, as he tried to draw the string up, his soft unworn hands. And he spoke among the suitors:
"Friends, I am not the one to string it; let another take it. This bow will rob a great many princes of spirit and of life, since it is far better to die than to live on and fail of the thing we always gather here for, waiting expectantly day after day. There is many a man who hopes in his heart even now and wants to marry Penelope, the wife of Odysseus. But when he has tried the bow and seen the outcome, then let him court some other of the fair-robed Achaean women with his gifts and try to win her; and let Penelope marry the man who offers most and comes as her fated husband."
So he spoke, and set the bow away from him, leaning it against the jointed polished door, and leaned the swift arrow close by against the fine bow-tip; and then sat down on the seat he had got up from.
But Antinous rebuked him and said to him: "Leiodes, what a word has escaped the barrier of your teeth, a dreadful and grievous word. It makes me angry to hear it, if this bow is really going to rob princes of spirit and of life, because you are not able to string it. Your honoured mother did not bear you with the kind of strength to draw a bow and shoot arrows; but others of the lordly suitors will string it soon enough."
So he spoke, and called to Melanthius the goatherd: "Come, light a fire in the hall, Melanthius, and set a great seat beside it with a fleece on it, and bring out a great cake of the fat that is inside, so that we young men can warm the bow and rub it with fat, and try it, and end the contest."
So he spoke, and Melanthius at once rekindled the unwearied fire and brought and set a great seat by it with a fleece on it, and brought out a great cake of the fat that was inside. So the young men warmed the bow and tried it; but they could not string it, because they fell far short in strength.
Now Antinous was still holding off, and godlike Eurymachus, leaders of the suitors, who were far the best of them in ability. But those other two had gone out of the hall together, the herdsman and the swineherd of godlike Odysseus; and Odysseus himself went out of the house after them. And when they were outside the gates and the courtyard he spoke to them with gentle words:
"Herdsman, and you too, swineherd, shall I tell you something, or keep it to myself? My spirit tells me to say it. What kind of men would you be to defend Odysseus, if he came from somewhere suddenly like this, and some god brought him? Would you bring help to the suitors or to Odysseus? Speak out as your heart and spirit tell you."
Then the herdsman of the cattle answered him: "Father Zeus, I wish you would fulfil this wish. Grant that that man may come back, and that some god may guide him. Then you would know what kind of might is mine, and how my hands obey me."
And in the same way Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus might come back to his own home.
But when he knew the minds of these two for certain, he answered and spoke to them again: "I am here at home before you, my very self. After many hard labours I have come in the twentieth year to my own country. And I know that of all my slaves it is you two alone who wanted me to come; of the rest I have not heard a single one praying that I might come back to my home. So I will tell you the truth, exactly as it will be. If a god beats the lordly suitors down for me, I will bring you each a wife, and will give you possessions and a house built near my own, and after that you two will be friends and brothers to Telemachus in my eyes. And more than that, I will show you a plain sign as well, so that you may know me well and be sure in your hearts: the scar of the wound a boar dealt me long ago with his white tusk, when I went to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus."
With that he drew the rags aside from the great scar. And when the two of them had seen it and taken it all in, they flung their arms round wise Odysseus and wept; and they kissed his head and shoulders in loving welcome, and in the same way Odysseus kissed their heads and hands. And the light of the sun would have gone down on their weeping, if Odysseus himself had not checked them and said:
"Stop weeping and wailing now, in case somebody comes out of the hall and sees us and makes it known inside as well. Go in one after another, not all together — I first and you afterwards. And let this be the sign: all the rest, all the lordly suitors, will not allow the bow and the quiver to be given to me; but you, good Eumaeus, as you carry the bow through the halls, put it into my hands, and tell the women to bar the close-fitting doors of their hall. And if any of them hears groaning or the din of men inside our walls, let them not rush out, but stay where they are in silence at their work. And to you, good Philoetius, I give the charge of fastening the gate of the court with a bar, and quickly throwing a cord over it."
With that he went into the stately house and sat down on the seat he had got up from; and the two slaves of godlike Odysseus went in as well.
Eurymachus was handling the bow by now, warming it on this side and on that in the light of the fire; but even so he was not able to string it. And he groaned in his noble heart, and spoke to them with a burst of anger:
"I am grieved for myself and for all of you. It is not for the marriage that I mourn so much, grieved as I am; there are a great many other Achaean women, some in sea-girt Ithaca itself and some in other cities. But I mourn if we really fall so far short of godlike Odysseus in strength that we cannot string his bow. This is a reproach for men yet to come to hear of."
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered him: "Eurymachus, that will not be so, and you know it yourself. Today is the feast of the god through the land, a holy feast. Who would bend a bow on it? Set it quietly by; and as for the axes — what if we let them all stand as they are? Nobody, I think, will come to the hall of Odysseus, son of Laertes, and carry them off. Come, let the bearer pour drops into the cups for an offering, so that we can pour our offerings and lay the curved bow aside. And in the morning tell Melanthius the goatherd to bring she-goats, far the best in all the herds, so that we can lay thigh-pieces on the altar of Apollo, the famous archer; and then try the bow and end the contest."
So spoke Antinous, and his word pleased them. Then the heralds poured water over their hands, and boys filled the bowls to the brim and served them out to all, pouring the first drops into the cups for an offering. But when they had poured their offerings and drunk as much as they wanted, then Odysseus of the many tricks spoke among them, with cunning in his mind:
"Listen to me, suitors of the glorious queen, so that I can say what the heart in my breast tells me. It is to Eurymachus most of all that I make my plea, and to godlike Antinous, because this word of his was rightly spoken too, that you should stop trying the bow for the present and leave the outcome to the gods; and in the morning the god will give the victory to whoever he likes. But give me the polished bow, so that I can prove my hands and my strength among you, and see whether I still have the might I once had in my supple limbs, or whether my wanderings and my lack of food have destroyed it by now."
So he spoke, and they were all exceedingly angry, afraid he might string the polished bow. And Antinous rebuked him and said to him:
"Wretched stranger, you have no wits, not a trace of them. Are you not content to feast undisturbed in our proud company, and go short of nothing at the banquet, and hear our words and our talk, when no other stranger and beggar hears our words? It is wine that wounds you, honey-sweet wine, which does harm to others too, if a man takes it in great gulps and drinks beyond measure. It was wine that made even the centaur foolish, glorious Eurytion, in the hall of great-hearted Peirithous, when he went to the Lapiths. And when his heart had been made foolish with wine, in his madness he did evil in the house of Peirithous. Then grief seized the heroes, and they leapt up and dragged him out through the gateway when they had sheared his ears and his nostrils off with the pitiless bronze; and he went off with his heart made foolish, carrying the curse of his sin with him in the folly of his heart. That is where the feud between the centaurs and mankind began; but it was for himself first that he found the evil, being heavy with wine.
"So I declare great harm for you, if you string the bow. You will meet with no kindness at anyone's hands in our country, and we will send you straight away in a black ship to king Echetus, the maimer of all men, out of whose hands you will not get away alive. So be still and drink your wine, and do not compete with men younger than you are."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Antinous, it is neither good nor just to rob the guests of Telemachus of their due, whoever comes to this house. Do you think that if that stranger strings the great bow of Odysseus, trusting in his strength and his might, he will take me home and make me his wife? He has no such hope in his own breast, I am sure of it. So let none of you sit at meat here with sorrow in your heart on that account; that would be quite unseemly."
Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her: "Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, it is not that we think the man will take you home — that would be quite unseemly. It is that we dread the talk of men and women, in case some base fellow among the Achaeans should say afterwards: 'Truly, men far weaker are courting the wife of a noble man, and cannot string his polished bow. But another man, a beggar, who came in his wanderings, strung the bow easily and shot through the iron.' That is what men will say, and it would become a reproach to us."
Then wise Penelope answered him again: "Eurymachus, there can be no good report in the land for men who dishonour and consume the house of a prince. Why do you make this matter a reproach? This stranger is very tall and well built, and says he was born the son of a good father. Come, give him the polished bow and let us see. I tell you outright, and this word will come to pass: if he strings the bow, and Apollo grants him the glory, I will dress him in a cloak and tunic, good clothes, and give him a sharp javelin to keep off dogs and men, and a two-edged sword; and I will give him sandals to bind under his feet, and send him wherever his heart and spirit tell him to go."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered her: "Mother, as for the bow, no man of the Achaeans has a better right than I have to give it or refuse it to whoever I like — not one of all those who lord it in rocky Ithaca or in the islands towards horse-pasturing Elis. Not one of them shall thwart me against my will, even if I wanted to give this bow outright to the stranger to carry away with him. But go to your room and see to your own work, the loom and the distaff, and tell the women to get on with theirs. The bow will be the men's business, all of them, and mine most of all: the authority in this house is mine."
She went back to her room astonished, taking her son's good sense to heart. She went up to her upper room with her women, and wept for Odysseus, her dear husband, until grey-eyed Athena put sweet sleep on her eyelids.
Now the good swineherd had taken the curved bow and was carrying it, and the suitors all cried out in the halls. And one of the proud young men would say: "Where are you carrying the curved bow, you miserable swineherd, you distracted creature? Soon the swift hounds will devour you among your pigs, alone and apart from men, hounds you reared yourself — if only Apollo is gracious to us, and the other immortal gods."
So they spoke, and he set the bow down where he was carrying it, seized with fear because so many men were shouting in the halls. But Telemachus called out threateningly from the other side: "Father, carry the bow on — you will soon regret it if you listen to everybody — or I will drive you off to the fields, young as I am, and pelt you with stones; I am the better man in strength. I wish I were as much better in strength and might than all the suitors in the house; then I would soon send many a one of them out of our house to go on his way in a bad state, because they contrive wickedness."
So he spoke, and all the suitors laughed merrily at him, and relaxed the bitterness of their anger against Telemachus. And the swineherd carried the bow through the hall and came up to wise Odysseus and put it in his hands. Then he called the nurse Eurycleia out and said to her:
"Telemachus tells you, wise Eurycleia, to bar the close-fitting doors of the hall; and if any of the women hears groaning or the din of men inside our walls, they are not to rush out, but to stay where they are in silence at their work."
So he spoke, and her word stayed unwinged, and she barred the doors of the stately halls. And Philoetius hurried out of the house in silence and barred the gates of the well-fenced court. Now the cable of a curved ship was lying under the portico, made of byblus plant, and he made the gates fast with it, and then went inside himself. Then he came and sat down on the seat he had got up from, and gazed at Odysseus.
He was already handling the bow, turning it round and round and trying it this way and that, in case worms had eaten the horns while its lord was away. And one man would say with a glance at his neighbour: "He has a shrewd eye, and he is a cunning rogue with a bow. Perhaps he has bows like this stored away at home himself, or else he means to make one, the way he turns it this way and that in his hands, the rascally vagabond."
And another of the proud young men would say: "I hope the fellow finds profit in just the measure that he proves able to string this bow."
So the suitors spoke. But Odysseus of the many tricks, as soon as he had lifted the great bow and looked it over on every side — as a man well skilled in the lyre and in song stretches a string easily round a new peg, making the twisted sheep-gut fast at either end — so without effort Odysseus strung the great bow. And he held it in his right hand and tried the string, which sang sweetly under his touch, like a swallow in tone.
But great grief came on the suitors, and the colour of their faces changed; and Zeus thundered loud, showing his signs. Then much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad at heart, that the son of crooked-counselling Cronos had sent him an omen; and he took up a swift arrow, which lay by him on the table, bare, while the others were stored inside the hollow quiver — the ones the Achaeans were soon to taste. He took this and laid it on the bridge of the bow and drew the bowstring and the notched arrow, from the very chair where he sat, and let the shaft fly with sure aim; and he did not miss the end of the handle of a single one of the axes, but the bronze-weighted arrow passed clean through and out at the end.
And he said to Telemachus: "Telemachus, the stranger sitting in your halls brings no shame on you. I did not miss the mark at all, and I did not labour long in stringing the bow; my strength is unbroken still — not as the suitors taunt me and hold me in scorn. But now it is time that supper should be made ready for the Achaeans too, while there is still light; and after that there must be other sport as well, with song and with the lyre, since those are the accompaniments of a feast."
He spoke, and made a sign with his brows; and Telemachus, the dear son of godlike Odysseus, girded his sharp sword about him and took his spear in his grasp and stood by the chair at his father's side, armed in gleaming bronze.
Then Odysseus of the many tricks stripped off his rags and sprang to the great threshold with the bow and the quiver full of arrows, and poured the swift arrows out right there in front of his feet, and spoke among the suitors:
"So this decisive contest is over at last. Now I will see whether I can hit another mark, which no man has ever hit yet, and whether Apollo grants me the glory."
He spoke, and aimed a bitter arrow at Antinous. He was on the point of lifting a fine goblet to his lips, a two-eared cup of gold, and was handling it at that moment to drink the wine; and death was not in his thoughts. For who among men sitting at meat could think that one man among so many, however strong, would bring evil death and black fate on him?
But Odysseus took aim and struck him with an arrow in the throat, and the point went clean out through the tender neck. He sank to one side, and the cup fell from his hand as he was struck, and a thick jet of human blood came up at once through his nostrils; and he quickly thrust the table away from him with a kick of his foot and spilled all the food on the floor, and the bread and the roast meat were fouled.
Then the suitors broke into uproar through the halls when they saw the man fall, and they sprang up from their high seats, driven in fear through the hall, looking everywhere along the well-built walls; but nowhere was there a shield or a mighty spear to seize. And they railed at Odysseus with angry words:
"Stranger, you shoot at men to your own cost. You will never take part in any other contest; your utter destruction is certain now. You have killed a man who was far the best of the young men in Ithaca; so vultures will devour you here."
That is what each man said, because they thought he had not killed the man on purpose; and in their folly they did not know this, that the cords of destruction had been made fast over every one of them.
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave them a black look from under his brows and answered them: "You dogs, you thought I would never come home again from the land of the Trojans, and so you wasted my house and lay with the serving-women by force, and courted my wife by stealth while I was still alive, with no fear of the gods who hold the wide sky, or of the indignation of men that was to come afterwards. Now the cords of destruction have been made fast over every one of you."
So he spoke, and pale fear seized them all, and every man looked about to see how he might escape utter destruction. Only Eurymachus answered him:
"If you really are Odysseus of Ithaca, come home again, what you say is just about everything the Achaeans have done — many deeds of wanton folly in your halls and many in the fields. But the man who was to blame for all of it lies dead now, Antinous. He set these things going, not so much out of desire or need of the marriage but with another purpose, which the son of Cronos did not bring about for him: that he might be king himself in the land of settled Ithaca, and might lie in wait for your son and kill him. Now he has been killed, as he deserved. But spare your own people; and we will go about the land afterwards and get you recompense for everything that has been drunk and eaten in your halls, and each man will bring the worth of twenty oxen for himself in requital, and pay you back in bronze and gold until your heart is warmed. Until then nobody could blame you for being angry."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave him a black look from under his brows and answered him: "Eurymachus, not even if you gave me all your fathers' inheritance in requital, everything you have now, and added other wealth to it from wherever you could — not even then would I hold my hands from killing from now on, until the suitors had paid the full price for all their wrongdoing. It lies before you now to fight in open fight or to run, if any man can avoid death and the fates; but I think a good many of you will not escape utter destruction."
So he spoke, and their knees were loosened where they stood and their hearts melted. And Eurymachus spoke among them a second time:
"Friends, this man will not hold his invincible hands. Now that he has got the polished bow and the quiver, he will shoot from the smooth threshold until he has killed us all. So let us think about fighting. Draw your swords and hold the tables in front of you against the arrows that bring swift death, and let us all go at him in a body, hoping we may thrust him from the threshold and the doorway and get out through the city, and raise the alarm quickly; then this fellow would soon have shot his last."
With that he drew his sharp bronze sword, two-edged, and sprang at Odysseus with a terrible cry. But at the same instant noble Odysseus let an arrow fly and struck him on the breast beside the nipple, and fixed the swift shaft in his liver. And Eurymachus let the sword fall out of his hand to the ground, and writhed over the table and bowed and fell, and spilled the food and the two-handled cup on the floor. He beat the earth with his brow in the agony of his soul, and spurned and shook the chair with both his feet; and a mist was shed over his eyes.
Then Amphinomus went at glorious Odysseus, rushing straight at him, and had drawn his sharp sword, hoping Odysseus might give way in front of him from the door. But Telemachus was too quick for him, and cast and struck him from behind with his bronze-tipped spear between the shoulders, and drove it through his breast; and he fell with a thud and struck the ground full with his forehead. And Telemachus sprang back, leaving the long spear where it was, fixed in Amphinomus, because he was badly afraid that as he tried to draw the long spear out one of the Achaeans might rush at him and stab him with his sword, or deal him a blow as he stooped over the corpse.
So he started to run and came quickly to his dear father, and stood beside him and spoke winged words: "Father, now I will bring you a shield and two spears and a helmet all of bronze, well fitted to the temples; and when I come back I will arm myself, and give armour to the swineherd and to the herdsman too; it is better to be clothed in armour."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Run and bring them, while I still have arrows to defend me, in case they thrust me from the door, alone as I am."
So he spoke, and Telemachus did as his dear father said, and went to the store-chamber where the glorious arms were kept. He took four shields from there and eight spears and four bronze helmets with thick horse-hair plumes, and carried them out and came quickly to his dear father. Then first of all he girded the bronze about his own body, and the two slaves put the beautiful armour on in the same way, and took their stand on either side of Odysseus, the wise and cunning-minded.
And he, as long as he had arrows to defend him, kept aiming and striking the suitors one by one in his house, and they fell thick and fast. But when the arrows failed the prince as he shot, he leaned the bow against the doorpost of the well-built hall and let it stand against the bright entrance wall. And he put a four-fold shield about his shoulders and set a well-made helmet with a horse-hair plume on his mighty head, and the plume waved terribly above him; and he took two mighty spears tipped with bronze.
Now there was a certain postern door in the well-built wall, and along the topmost level of the threshold of the well-built hall there was a way into a passage, and well-fitting folding doors closed it. Odysseus told the good swineherd to watch this postern, taking his stand close by, because there was only one way to reach it.
Then Agelaus spoke among the suitors and declared his word to them all: "Friends, will not one of us climb up by the postern door and tell the people, so that the alarm may be raised at once? Then this fellow would soon have shot his last."
Then Melanthius the goatherd answered him: "It cannot be done, Agelaus, brought up by Zeus; the fine door of the court is terribly close, and the mouth of the passage is hard. One man could bar the way for everybody, if he were brave. But come, let me bring you arms to put on out of the store-room, because I think it is inside there, and nowhere else, that Odysseus and his glorious son have laid the arms."
With that Melanthius the goatherd climbed up by the steps of the hall to the store-rooms of Odysseus. He took twelve shields from there, and as many spears, and as many bronze helmets with thick horse-hair plumes, and went off and quickly brought them and gave them to the suitors.
Then the knees of Odysseus were loosened and his heart melted, when he saw them putting armour on and brandishing long spears in their hands, and his task looked great to him. And he quickly spoke winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, one of the women in the halls is rousing an evil battle against us — or perhaps it is Melanthius."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Father, it is I myself who am at fault in this, and nobody else is to blame, because I left the close-fitting door of the store-room open; and their watcher was better than I was. Go now, good Eumaeus, and shut the door of the store-room, and see whether it is one of the women who does this, or Melanthius, son of Dolius, as I suspect."
So they talked to one another. But Melanthius the goatherd went to the store-room again to bring back beautiful armour; and the good swineherd noticed him, and said at once to Odysseus, who was near:
"Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, there is that pestilent fellow again, the one we suspected ourselves, going to the store-room. Tell me truly, shall I kill him if I prove the better man, or bring him here to you, so that the fellow may pay for the many crimes he has planned in your house?"
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Telemachus and I will keep the lordly suitors inside the hall, however fierce they are; but you two bend his feet and his arms up behind him and throw him into the store-room and tie boards behind his back; and then make a twisted rope fast to his body and hoist him up the tall pillar until you bring him near the roof-beams, so that he stays alive a long while and suffers grievous torment."
So he spoke, and they listened readily and obeyed. They went out to the store-room, unseen by the man inside. He was searching for armour in the innermost part of the store-room, and the two of them lay in wait, standing on either side of the doorposts. And when Melanthius the goatherd was about to cross the threshold, carrying a fine helmet in one hand and a broad old shield in the other, flecked with rust — the shield of lord Laertes, which he used to carry in his youth, but which was laid by now with the seams of its straps loosened — then the two of them sprang on him and seized him. They dragged him in by the hair and flung him down on the ground in bitter terror, and bound his feet and hands with galling bonds, tying them firmly behind his back, as the son of Laertes told them, much-enduring noble Odysseus; and they made a twisted rope fast to his body and hoisted him up the tall pillar until they brought him near the roof-beams.
Then you mocked him, Eumaeus the swineherd, and said: "Now you will keep watch the whole night through, Melanthius, lying on a soft bed, as suits you; and you will not fail to notice the early Dawn, golden-throned, as she comes out from the streams of Oceanus, at the hour when you usually drive your she-goats for the suitors, to prepare a feast in the halls."
So he was left there, stretched in that deadly bond; and the two of them put their armour on and closed the bright door and went to Odysseus, the wise and cunning-minded. And there they stood, breathing fury — those on the threshold only four, while those inside the hall were many and brave.
Then Athena, daughter of Zeus, came near them, like Mentor in shape and voice; and Odysseus saw her and was glad, and said: "Mentor, keep off ruin, and remember me, your dear companion, who often did you good. You are of the same age as I am."
So he spoke, though he believed it was Athena, the rouser of armies. But the suitors on the other side shouted aloud in the hall, and Agelaus, son of Damastor, was the first to rebuke Athena:
"Mentor, do not let Odysseus beguile you with his words into fighting against the suitors and bringing help to himself. This is how our will is going to be brought about, I think: when we have killed these men, father and son, you shall be killed with them afterwards, for the kind of thing you mean to do in these halls; you shall pay the price with your own head. And when we have stripped you of your strength with the sword, all the possessions you have indoors and in the fields we will mingle with those of Odysseus, and we will not let your sons or your daughters live in your halls, or your faithful wife go about the city of Ithaca."
So he spoke, and Athena grew angrier still at heart, and rebuked Odysseus with angry words: "Odysseus, you no longer have the steady might or the courage that was yours when you fought the Trojans for nine years without stopping for high-born Helen of the white arms, and killed a great many men in dreadful fighting, and the broad-wayed city of Priam was taken by your counsel. How is it that now, when you have come to your house and your own possessions, you shrink and wail at playing the man, and against suitors? Come here, friend, and take your stand beside me and watch what I do, so that you may know what kind of man Mentor, son of Alcimus, is at repaying kindness in the middle of the enemy."
She spoke, but did not give him the strength to turn the course of the battle altogether; she was still testing the might and the courage of Odysseus and his glorious son. And for herself, she flew up to the roof-beam of the smoky hall and sat there in the likeness of a swallow, to look on.
Now the suitors were urged on by Agelaus, son of Damastor, and by Eurynomus, and Amphimedon and Demoptolemus and Peisander, son of Polyctor, and wise Polybus; because these were far the best in ability of all the suitors who were still alive and fighting for their lives; the rest the bow and the swiftly falling arrows had laid low by now.
And Agelaus spoke among them and declared his word to them all: "Friends, this man will hold his invincible hands at last. Look, Mentor has gone off from him and has only uttered empty boasts, and they are left alone there at the outer doors. So do not hurl your long spears at them all at once. Come, let six of you throw first, and hope that Zeus grants Odysseus to be hit and that we win the glory. Of the rest there is no need to think, once he has fallen."
So he spoke, and they all hurled their spears as he told them, eagerly. But Athena made them all come to nothing. One man struck the doorpost of the well-built hall, another the close-fitting door, another's ash spear, heavy with bronze, struck the wall. But when they had avoided the suitors' spears, much-enduring noble Odysseus spoke first among his men:
"Friends, now I give the word that we too should cast our spears into the crowd of the suitors, who mean to kill us on top of all their earlier wrongs."
So he spoke, and they all hurled their sharp spears with sure aim. Odysseus struck Demoptolemus, Telemachus struck Euryades, the swineherd struck Elatus, and the herdsman of the cattle killed Peisander. So all of these at the same moment bit the vast floor with their teeth, and the suitors drew back to the innermost part of the hall. And the others sprang forward and drew their spears out of the dead bodies.
Then the suitors hurled their sharp spears again, eagerly; but Athena made them come to nothing, many as they were. One man struck the doorpost of the well-built hall, another the close-fitting door, another's ash spear, heavy with bronze, struck the wall. But Amphimedon struck Telemachus on the hand by the wrist, a grazing blow, and the bronze tore the surface of the skin. And Ctesippus grazed the shoulder of Eumaeus with his long spear, over his shield, but the spear flew on and fell on the ground.
Then once more Odysseus, the wise and cunning-minded, and his company hurled their sharp spears into the crowd of the suitors; and again Odysseus, the sacker of cities, struck Eurydamas, and Telemachus struck Amphimedon, and the swineherd struck Polybus, and then the herdsman of the cattle struck Ctesippus in the breast, and boasted over him:
"Son of Polytherses, you lover of abuse, never speak big again, giving way to folly, but leave the matter to the gods, since they are far mightier. This is my gift of welcome to match the hoof you gave godlike Odysseus lately, when he went begging through the house."
So spoke the herdsman of the sleek cattle. And Odysseus wounded the son of Damastor in close fighting with a thrust of his long spear, and Telemachus wounded Leiocritus, son of Evenor, with a spear-thrust full in the groin, and drove the bronze clean through; and he fell headlong and struck the ground full with his forehead.
Then Athena held her aegis up on high from the roof, the bane of mortals, and the minds of the suitors were panic-stricken, and they fled through the halls like a herd of cattle that the darting gadfly falls on and drives along in the spring season, when the long days come. And as vultures with crooked talons and curved beaks come out of the mountains and dart on smaller birds, which scour the plain flying low beneath the clouds, and the vultures pounce on them and kill them, and they have no defence and no way of escape, and men are glad at the chase — so those others set on the suitors and struck them left and right through the hall. And a hideous groaning rose from it as heads were struck, and the whole floor swam with blood.
But Leiodes rushed forward and took hold of the knees of Odysseus and made his plea to him and spoke winged words: "I beg you by your knees, Odysseus; respect me and have pity. I declare to you that I never wronged one of the women in your halls by a wanton word or deed. I tried to check the other suitors when any of them would do such things. But they would not listen to me and hold their hands from evil, and so through their wanton folly they have met a cruel doom. And I, who was the soothsayer among them and have done no wrong, shall be laid low the same as they are; so true is it that there is no gratitude afterwards for good deeds done."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks gave him a black look from under his brows and answered him: "If you really declare yourself the soothsayer among these men, you must often have prayed in the halls that the outcome of a joyful homecoming should be kept far from me, and that my dear wife should go with you and bear you children. So you shall not escape a grievous death."
With that he seized in his strong hand a sword that lay near, which Agelaus had let fall to the ground when he was killed, and struck him full on the neck with it. And his head was mingled with the dust while he was still speaking.
Now the son of Terpes, the singer, was still trying to escape black fate — Phemius, who sang for the suitors because they made him. He stood with the clear-toned lyre in his hands near the postern door, and was divided in his mind whether to slip out of the hall and sit down by the well-built altar of great Zeus, the god of the court, where Laertes and Odysseus had burned so many thigh-pieces of oxen, or whether to rush forward and take hold of the knees of Odysseus in supplication. And as he turned it over, this seemed the better course, to take hold of the knees of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So he laid the hollow lyre on the ground between the mixing-bowl and the silver-studded chair, and rushed forward himself and took Odysseus by the knees and made his plea to him and spoke winged words:
"I beg you by your knees, Odysseus; respect me and have pity. Sorrow will come to you yourself afterwards if you kill a singer, one who sings to gods and men. I am self-taught, and the god has planted every kind of song in my heart; and I am fit to sing to you as to a god. So do not be eager to cut my throat. And Telemachus will bear witness to this too, your dear son, that it was through no will or wish of mine that I used to come to your house to sing to the suitors at their feasts; they were far more and stronger, and they brought me here by force."
So he spoke, and the strong young Telemachus heard him, and quickly said to his father, who was near: "Hold your hand, and do not wound this guiltless man with the sword. And let us save the herald Medon too, who always cared for me in our house when I was a child — unless Philoetius has killed him already, or the swineherd, or he ran into you as you raged through the house."
So he spoke, and Medon, who had good sense, heard him, because he was lying crouched under a chair and had wrapped himself in the skin of an ox, newly flayed, trying to avoid black fate. He got up at once from under the chair and stripped the ox-hide off, and rushed forward and took Telemachus by the knees and made his plea and spoke winged words:
"Friend, here I am. Hold your hand and tell your father to hold his, in case in the greatness of his strength he harms me with the sharp bronze in his anger against the suitors, who wasted his possessions in the halls and in their folly gave you no honour at all."
But Odysseus of the many tricks smiled and said to him: "Take heart; he has delivered you and saved you, so that you may know in your heart and tell another man too how much better the doing of good deeds is than of evil. But go out of the halls and sit down outside in the court, away from the slaughter, you and the singer of many songs, until I have finished everything I have to do in the house."
So he spoke, and the two of them went out of the hall and sat down by the altar of great Zeus, looking about on every side, expecting death all the time.
And Odysseus too looked about all through his house, to see if any man were still alive and hiding there, trying to avoid black fate. But he found every one of them fallen in the blood and the dust — the whole host of them, like fish that fishermen have drawn out of the grey sea in the meshes of their net onto the curving beach, and they all lie heaped on the sand longing for the waves of the sea, and the bright sun takes their life away: so the suitors lay now, heaped on one another.
Then Odysseus of the many tricks said to Telemachus: "Telemachus, go and call me the nurse Eurycleia, so that I can tell her what is in my mind."
So he spoke, and Telemachus did as his dear father said, and shook the door and said to Eurycleia: "Up and come here, old woman, who have charge of all our serving-women in the halls. Come; my father is calling you, so that he can tell you something."
So he spoke, and her word stayed unwinged. She opened the doors of the stately hall and came out, and Telemachus led the way in front of her.
There she found Odysseus among the bodies of the dead, all fouled with blood and filth, like a lion that comes from feeding on an ox of the farmyard, with all his breast and both his cheeks stained with blood, and he is terrible to look at: that was how Odysseus was fouled, his feet and his hands above.
But she, when she saw the corpses and the great welter of blood, was ready to raise loud cries of joy, seeing what a thing had been done. But Odysseus stopped her and checked her in her eagerness, and spoke to her with winged words:
"Rejoice in your own heart, old woman, but restrain yourself and do not cry out aloud. It is an unholy thing to boast over slain men. The fate of the gods destroyed these men, and their own reckless deeds; they honoured nobody on earth, evil or good, whoever came among them, and so by their wanton folly they brought a shameful death on themselves. But come, name over to me the women in the halls, which of them dishonour me and which are innocent."
Then his dear nurse Eurycleia answered him: "Then I will tell you the whole truth, my child. You have fifty serving-women in the halls, women we have taught to do their work, to card the wool and bear the lot of slaves. Of these, twelve in all have set their feet in the way of shamelessness, and take no notice of me or of Penelope herself. And Telemachus is only newly grown to manhood, and his mother would not let him rule over the serving-women. But let me go up to the bright upper room and take word to your wife, on whom some god has sent sleep."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Do not wake her yet; tell those women to come here, the ones who have contrived shameful deeds in the past."
So he spoke, and the old woman went out through the hall to bring the women word and tell them to come. And Odysseus called Telemachus and the herdsman and the swineherd to him, and spoke winged words to them:
"Begin carrying the dead bodies out now, and tell the women to help you; and after that clean the beautiful chairs and the tables with water and porous sponges. And when you have set the whole house in order, lead the women out of the well-built hall to a place between the dome and the good fence of the court, and strike them down there with your long swords, until you have taken the life out of all of them, and they forget the love they had at the suitors' bidding, when they lay with them in secret."
So he spoke, and the women came all in a crowd, wailing terribly and shedding big tears. First they carried out the bodies of the dead and set them down under the portico of the well-fenced court, propping them one against another; and Odysseus gave the orders himself and hurried the work on, and they carried the bodies out because they had to. Then they cleaned the beautiful high seats and the tables with water and porous sponges. And Telemachus and the herdsman and the swineherd scraped the floor of the well-built house with hoes, and the women carried the scrapings out and threw them out of doors.
But when they had set the whole hall in order, they led the women out of the well-built hall to a place between the dome and the good fence of the court, and shut them into a narrow space, where there was no possible way of escape. Then clear-headed Telemachus was the first to speak to the others:
"Let it not be by any clean death that I take the lives of these women, who have poured reproaches on my own head and on my mother, and used to lie with the suitors."
So he spoke, and tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship to a great pillar and flung it round the dome, stretching it high up so that none of them could reach the ground with her feet. And as long-winged thrushes or doves fall into a snare set in a thicket as they try to reach their resting-place, and the bed that welcomes them is hateful — so the women held their heads in a row, and nooses were laid round the necks of all of them, so that they should die most pitifully. And they writhed a little while with their feet, but not long.
Then they led Melanthius out through the doorway and the court, and cut off his nostrils and his ears with the pitiless bronze, and drew out his vitals for the dogs to eat raw, and cut off his hands and his feet in their furious anger.
After that they washed their own hands and feet and went into the house to Odysseus, and the work was done. But Odysseus said to his dear nurse Eurycleia: "Bring sulphur, old woman, to cleanse from pollution, and bring me fire, so that I can purge the hall. And tell Penelope to come here with her women, and order all the women in the house to come."
Then his dear nurse Eurycleia answered him: "Yes, my child, all this you have said rightly. But come, let me bring you a cloak and a tunic for clothes, and do not stand like this in the halls with your broad shoulders wrapped in rags; that would give cause for blame."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered her: "First of all let a fire be made for me in the hall."
So he spoke, and his dear nurse Eurycleia did not disobey, but brought fire and sulphur; and Odysseus purged the hall thoroughly, and the house, and the court.
Then the old woman went back through the fine house of Odysseus to bring the women word and tell them to come; and they came out of their hall with torches in their hands. They crowded round Odysseus and embraced him, and clasped and kissed his head and his shoulders and his hands in loving welcome; and a sweet longing seized him to weep and wail, because in his heart he knew every one of them.
Then the old woman went up to the upper room, laughing aloud, to tell her mistress that her dear husband was in the house. Her knees moved nimbly, and her feet trotted along under her. And she stood over her lady's head and said to her:
"Wake up, Penelope, dear child, and see with your own eyes what you have wanted all your days. Odysseus is here; he has come home, late as his coming has been, and he has killed the proud suitors who troubled his house and ate up his substance and oppressed his son."
Then wise Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, the gods have made you mad — they who can make even a very wise person foolish, and set the simple-minded on the paths of understanding. It is they who have spoiled your wits, when you were sound in mind before. Why do you mock me, when my heart is full of sorrow, telling me this wild tale, and rouse me out of sleep, the sweet sleep that bound me and wrapped my eyelids? I have never slept so soundly since the day Odysseus went off to see evil Ilios, that should never be named. Go down now and back to the women's hall. If any other of my women had come and told me this and roused me out of sleep, I would have sent her back into the hall in a sorry state at once. But your old age will bring you this much profit."
Then her dear nurse Eurycleia answered her: "I am not mocking you, dear child. Odysseus really is here, and has come home, just as I tell you. He is that stranger they all dishonoured in the halls. But Telemachus knew he was here long ago, and in his prudence hid his father's purpose, until he should take vengeance on the violence of overbearing men."
So she spoke, and Penelope was glad, and leapt out of bed and flung her arms round the old woman and let the tears fall from her eyelids; and she spoke to her with winged words:
"Come now, dear nurse, tell me truly: if he really has come home, as you say, how did he lay his hands on the shameless suitors, all alone as he was, when they stayed in the house always in a body?"
Then her dear nurse Eurycleia answered her: "I did not see, I did not ask; I only heard the groaning of men being killed. We women sat terror-stricken in the innermost part of our well-built rooms, and the close-fitting doors shut us in, until the hour when your son Telemachus called me from the hall — his father had sent him to call me. Then I found Odysseus standing among the bodies of the killed, and they were stretched all round him on the hard floor, lying one on another; the sight would have warmed your heart with cheer.
"And now the bodies are all gathered together at the gates of the court, and he is purging the fine house with sulphur and has kindled a great fire, and he has sent me to call you. Come with me, so that the hearts of you two may come into joy; you have suffered so much. And now at last this long desire of yours has been fulfilled: he has come himself, alive, to his own hearth, and has found both you and his son in the halls; and as for those who did him harm, the suitors, he has taken vengeance on every one of them in his house."
Then wise Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, do not boast loudly over them with laughter yet. You know how welcome the sight of him in the halls would be to everyone, but most of all to me and to the son we two had. But this is no true tale as you tell it. One of the immortals has killed the lordly suitors in anger at their grievous insolence and their evil doings. They honoured nobody on earth, evil or good, whoever came among them; and so it is through their own wanton folly that they have suffered. But Odysseus has lost his homecoming to the land of Achaea far away, and is lost himself."
Then her dear nurse Eurycleia answered her: "My child, what a word has escaped the barrier of your teeth, saying that your husband, who is here at his own hearth this very moment, would never come home again. Your heart is always unbelieving. Come, I will tell you a plain sign besides: the scar of the wound the boar dealt him long ago with his white tusk. I noticed it while I was washing his feet, and I wanted to tell you as well, but he laid his hand on my mouth and in the great wisdom of his heart would not let me speak. Come with me. And I will stake my very life on it, that if I am deceiving you, you should kill me by the most pitiful death."
Then wise Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, it is hard for you to understand the counsels of the gods who live for ever, however wise you are. But even so let us go to my son, so that I may see the suitors dead, and the man who killed them."
With that she went down from the upper room, and her heart turned over a great deal, whether to stand apart and question her dear husband, or to go up to him and clasp and kiss his head and hands. But when she had come in and crossed the stone threshold, she sat down opposite Odysseus in the light of the fire, by the further wall. And he was sitting by a tall pillar, looking down, waiting to see whether his noble wife would say anything to him when her eyes took him in. But she sat a long while in silence, and amazement came on her soul. Now with her eyes she would look full at his face, and now again she would fail to know him, because he had mean clothes on.
But Telemachus rebuked her and said to her: "Mother, cruel mother, with your unyielding heart, why do you hold off from my father like this, and not sit beside him and ask him questions? No other woman would harden her heart as you do and stand apart from a husband who has come back to her in the twentieth year to his own country after so much hard suffering. But your heart is always harder than stone."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "My child, the heart in my breast is lost in wonder, and I have no power to speak at all, or to ask a question, or to look him in the face. But if he really is Odysseus and has come home, then the two of us will know each other more surely; because we have signs which the two of us alone know, hidden from everyone else."
So she spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus smiled, and at once spoke winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, let your mother test me in the halls now; she will come to a surer knowledge presently. As it is, because I am filthy and dressed in mean clothing about my body, she looks down on me and will not yet admit that I am he. But let us think how it may all turn out for the best. When a man has killed only one man in a country, even a man who leaves few behind him to avenge him, he goes into exile and leaves his kinsmen and his own country; and we have killed men who were the very stay of the city, far the noblest of the young men of Ithaca. I ask you to think about that."
Then clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "Look to it yourself, dear father; they say your counsel is the best among men, and no other mortal could compete with you. We will follow with you eagerly, and I do not think we shall be wanting in courage, as far as our strength goes."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Then I will tell you what seems to me the best way. First bathe yourselves and put your tunics on, and tell the women in the halls to take their clothes. And let the divine singer, with his clear-toned lyre in his hand, lead us in a cheerful dance, so that any man who hears the sound from outside — a passer-by or one of the neighbours — may say it is a wedding feast; and then the rumour of the killing of the suitors will not spread through the city before we go out to our well-wooded farm. There we will afterwards think out whatever advantage the Olympian may grant us."
So he spoke, and they all listened readily and obeyed. First they bathed and put on their tunics, and the women dressed themselves, and the divine singer took the hollow lyre and roused in them the desire for sweet song and good dancing. So the great hall rang all round with the tread of dancing men and fair-girdled women; and anyone who heard the noise from outside the house would say:
"So somebody has married the queen who was courted by so many. Cruel woman, she had not the heart to keep the great house of the husband she married to the end, until he should come."
That is what they would say; but they did not know how these things were.
Meanwhile Eurynome the housekeeper bathed great-hearted Odysseus in his house and rubbed him with oil and threw a fine cloak and a tunic round him; and Athena shed abundant beauty over his head, making him taller to look at and stronger, and made the hair flow down from his head in curls like the hyacinth flower. As when a man lays gold over silver, a skilled workman whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athena have taught every kind of craft, and the work he turns out is full of grace — so the goddess shed grace on his head and shoulders. And he came out of the bath like the immortals in form.
Then he sat down again on the chair he had got up from, opposite his wife, and said to her: "Strange lady, to you beyond all women the dwellers on Olympus have given a heart that cannot be softened. No other woman would harden her heart as you do and stand apart from a husband who has come to her in the twentieth year to his own country after so much hard suffering. Come then, nurse, strew me a bed, so that I may lie down alone; the heart in her breast is made of iron."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Strange man, I am not proud in any way, and I do not scorn you, and I am not too greatly astonished either; but I know very well what kind of man you were when you went out of Ithaca on your long-oared ship. Come then, Eurycleia, strew the strong bedstead for him outside the well-built bridal chamber which he made himself. Bring the strong bedstead out there for him and throw bedding on it, fleeces and cloaks and bright coverlets."
So she spoke, and made trial of her husband. But Odysseus spoke to his true-hearted wife in a burst of anger:
"Woman, that is a bitter word you have spoken. Who has moved my bed somewhere else? It would be hard for anybody, however skilled, unless a god came himself and easily set it in another place by his will. Of men there is no mortal alive, not the youngest and strongest, who could easily prise it from its place; because a great token is worked into that fashioned bed, and it was I who built it and nobody else. A bush of long-leafed olive was growing inside the court, strong and vigorous, and thick as a pillar. I built my chamber round it, until I had finished it, with close-set stones, and roofed it over well, and added jointed doors, close-fitting. And then I cut away the leafy branches of the long-leafed olive, and trimmed the trunk from the root, and smoothed it round with the adze, well and cunningly, and made it straight to the line, so making the bed-post; and I bored it all with the auger. Beginning from that, I hewed out my bed until I had finished it, inlaying it with gold and silver and ivory; and I stretched a thong of ox-hide on it, bright with purple. That is the token I declare to you. But I do not know, woman, whether my bedstead is still fast in its place, or whether some man has cut it away from under the olive stump by now and set the bedstead somewhere else."
So he spoke, and her knees were loosened where she sat, and her heart melted, as she knew the sure tokens Odysseus told her. Then she ran straight towards him with a burst of tears, and flung her arms round the neck of Odysseus and kissed his head, and said:
"Do not be vexed with me, Odysseus; in everything else you were always the wisest of men. It was the gods who gave us sorrow, the gods who grudged that we two should stay with each other and enjoy our youth and come to the threshold of old age together. Do not be angry with me now over this, or full of indignation, because when I first saw you I did not welcome you like this. The heart in my breast was always full of dread, in case some man should come and beguile me with his words; there are a great many who plan wicked devices. Argive Helen, daughter of Zeus, would not have lain in love with a man of another people if she had known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans were going to bring her home again to her own dear country. It was a god who drove her to do that shameful thing; she never laid up the thought of that folly in her mind until then, the grievous folly that first brought sorrow on us too. But now, since you have told the clear tokens of our bed, which no mortal has ever seen except you and me alone and one single woman, the daughter of Actor, whom my father gave me before I came here, who kept the doors of our strong bridal chamber — now you convince my heart, unbending as it is."
So she spoke, and roused in him a still greater desire for lamentation; and he wept, holding his dear and true-hearted wife in his arms. And as the sight of land is welcome to men swimming, whose well-built ship Poseidon has smashed on the sea as it was driven on by the wind and the swollen wave, and only a few have escaped from the grey sea to the shore by swimming, and their bodies are thickly crusted with brine, and they set foot on the land gladly, having escaped their trouble — so welcome was her husband to her as she gazed at him, and she could not let her white arms go from his neck at all.
And rosy-fingered Dawn would have risen on their weeping, if the goddess grey-eyed Athena had not thought of something else. She held the long night back at the end of its course, and kept golden-throned Dawn at the streams of Oceanus and would not let her yoke the swift-footed horses that bring light to men, Lampus and Phaethon, the colts that carry the Dawn.
Then Odysseus of the many tricks said to his wife: "Wife, we have not come to the end of all our trials yet; there is still measureless labour ahead, long and hard, which I must carry through to the end. That is what the spirit of Teiresias foretold to me on the day I went down into the house of Hades to ask about the homecoming of my companions and myself. But come, wife, let us go to bed, so that we may take our joy of rest now, lulled by sweet sleep."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "Your bed will be ready for you whenever your heart wants it, since the gods have brought you back to your well-built house and your own country. But since you have thought of this, and a god has put it in your heart, tell me about this trial. I shall learn of it in time to come, I suppose, and it is no worse to know it at once."
And Odysseus of the many tricks answered her and said: "Strange lady, why do you press me so urgently to tell you? Well, I will declare it and hide nothing. Your heart will have no joy of it, and I have none myself. Teiresias told me to go out to a great many cities of men, carrying a well-shaped oar in my hands, until I came to men who know nothing of the sea and do not eat food mixed with salt, and know nothing of ships with purple cheeks, or of the well-shaped oars that serve as wings to ships. And he told me a sign, quite unmistakable, and I will not hide it from you. When another traveller met me and said I had a winnowing fan on my broad shoulder, then he told me to plant my oar in the earth and make fine offerings to lord Poseidon — a ram and a bull and a boar that mates with sows — and to go home and make sacred hecatombs to the immortal gods who hold the wide sky, to each in his order. And death will come to me myself far from the sea, a death so gentle that it will lay me low when I am worn out with a sleek old age, and my people will live in prosperity around me. All this, he said, I should see fulfilled."
Then wise Penelope answered him: "If the gods are really going to bring about a happier old age for you, then there is hope that you will find an escape from your troubles."
So they talked to one another; and meanwhile Eurynome and the nurse made the bed ready with soft coverlets by the light of blazing torches. And when they had busily spread the strong-built bedstead, the old nurse went back to her room to lie down, and Eurynome, the woman of the bedchamber, led them on their way to the bed with a torch in her hands; and when she had brought them to the bridal chamber she went back. And then the two of them gladly came to the place of the bed that had been theirs of old.
But Telemachus and the herdsman and the swineherd stopped their feet from dancing, and stopped the women, and lay down to sleep themselves through the shadowy halls.
But when the two of them had had their fill of the joy of love, they took delight in talking, each telling the other. She, that lovely woman, told of everything she had endured in the halls, looking at the destructive crowd of the suitors, who killed so many beasts for her sake, cattle and fine sheep, and drew off a great store of wine from the jars. And Odysseus, born of Zeus, recounted all the troubles he had brought on men, and all the labour he had endured himself in his sorrow; and she was glad to listen, and sweet sleep did not fall on her eyelids until he had told the whole tale.
He began by telling how at the first he overcame the Cicones, and then came to the rich land of the Lotus-eaters, and everything the Cyclops did, and how he made him pay the price for his mighty companions whom the Cyclops had eaten and shown no pity. Then how he came to Aeolus, who received him with a ready heart and sent him on his way; but it was not yet his fate to come to his own dear country, and the storm wind caught him up again and carried him over the teeming water, groaning heavily. Next how he came to Telepylus of the Laestrygonians, who destroyed his ships and his well-greaved companions, every one of them, and Odysseus alone escaped in his black ship. Then he told of all the tricks and craftiness of Circe, and how he had gone in his benched ship to the dank house of Hades to consult the spirit of Theban Teiresias, and had seen all his companions and the mother who bore him and nursed him when he was a child. And how he heard the voice of the Sirens, who sing without stopping, and had come to the Wandering Rocks, and to dread Charybdis, and to Scylla, whom no men had ever got past unhurt. Then how his companions killed the cattle of Helios, and how Zeus, who thunders on high, struck his fast ship with a flaming thunderbolt, and his fine companions all died together while he alone escaped the evil fates. And how he came to the island of Ogygia and to the nymph Calypso, who kept him there in her hollow caves, wanting him for a husband, and tended him, and said she would make him immortal and ageless all his days; and yet she could never persuade the heart in his breast. Then how he came after many labours to the Phaeacians, who honoured him heartily as if he were a god and sent him in a ship to his own dear country, after giving him stores of bronze and gold and clothing. That was the end of the tale he told, when sweet sleep, that loosens the limbs of men, leapt on him and loosened the cares of his heart.
Then the goddess grey-eyed Athena thought of something else again. When she judged that the heart of Odysseus had had its fill of his wife and of sleep, at once she roused golden-throned Dawn from Oceanus to bring light to men; and Odysseus got up from his soft bed and gave his wife his charge:
"Wife, by now we have had our fill of many trials, you and I — you here, mourning over my troubled journey home, while Zeus and the other gods bound me fast in sorrows far from my own country, eager as I was to come back. But now that we have both come to the bed we wanted, look after the wealth that I have inside the halls. As for the flocks the insolent suitors have wasted, I shall get a great many myself as plunder, and the Achaeans will give others, until they fill all my folds. But I am going to my well-wooded farm to see my noble father, who is in bitter distress for my sake. And on you, wife, I lay this charge, wise as you are. As soon as the sun rises the report will go about concerning the suitors I killed in the halls. So go up to your upper room with your women and stay there. Look at no man, and ask no question."
He spoke, and girded his beautiful armour about his shoulders, and roused Telemachus and the herdsman and the swineherd, and told them all to take weapons of war in their hands. They did not disobey, but clothed themselves in bronze and opened the doors and went out, and Odysseus led the way. There was light over the earth by now, but Athena hid them in night and led them quickly out of the city.
Meanwhile Cyllenian Hermes called out the spirits of the suitors. He held his wand in his hands, a fine wand of gold, with which he lulls the eyes of whoever he likes to sleep, and wakes others again out of their slumber. With this he roused them and led them, and they followed gibbering. As bats flit about gibbering in the innermost recess of a marvellous cave when one of them has fallen off the rock from the chain they cling to one another in, so these went with him gibbering; and Hermes the Helper led them down the dank ways.
They went past the streams of Oceanus, past the rock Leucas, past the gates of the sun and the land of dreams, and quickly came to the meadow of asphodel, where the spirits live, the phantoms of men who have done with their labours.
There they found the spirit of Achilles, son of Peleus, and the spirits of Patroclus and of faultless Antilochus and of Ajax, who was the finest of all the Danaans in looks and in build after the faultless son of Peleus. So these were thronging round Achilles, and the spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, came near them, sorrowing; and round about him others were gathered, the spirits of all those who were killed with him in the house of Aegisthus and met their fate.
And the spirit of the son of Peleus was the first to speak to him: "Son of Atreus, we thought that of all heroes you were dear to Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt all your days, because you were lord over many mighty men in the land of the Trojans, where we Achaeans suffered so much. But deadly doom was to come to you too, far too early, the doom that nobody who is born avoids. I wish you had met death and fate in the land of the Trojans, in the pride of the honour you held. Then the whole army of the Achaeans would have made you a tomb, and you would have won great glory for your son as well in the days to come. But as it is, it was decreed that you should be cut off by the most pitiful death."
Then the spirit of the son of Atreus answered him: "Fortunate son of Peleus, godlike Achilles, who were killed in the land of Troy far from Argos, and others fell round you, the best of the sons of the Trojans and the Achaeans, fighting over your body; and you lay in the whirl of dust, mighty in your mightiness, forgetful of your horsemanship. We fought the whole day long, and would never have stopped fighting if Zeus had not stopped us with a storm.
"But when we had carried you to the ships out of the fighting, we laid you on a bier and cleaned your fine flesh with warm water and with ointment, and the Danaans shed a great many hot tears round you and sheared their hair. And your mother came out of the sea with the immortal sea-nymphs when she heard the news, and an extraordinary cry went up over the deep, and trembling took hold of all the Achaeans at it. And they would all have sprung up and rushed to the hollow ships, if a man wise in the wisdom of old had not stopped them — Nestor, whose counsel had proved the best before. He meant it kindly, and spoke to their gathering:
"'Hold, Argives; do not run, Achaean youths. It is his mother coming out of the sea with the immortal sea-nymphs, to look on the face of her dead son.'
"So he spoke, and the great-hearted Achaeans stopped their flight. Then the daughters of the old man of the sea stood round you wailing pitifully, and clothed you in immortal clothing. And the Muses, nine in all, answering one another with sweet voices, led the dirge. There you could not have seen an Argive who was not in tears, so deeply did the clear-toned Muse move their hearts.
"So for seventeen days, by night and by day alike, we mourned for you, immortal gods and mortal men; and on the eighteenth we gave you to the fire, and killed many well-fatted sheep round you, and sleek cattle. So you were burned in the clothing of the gods and in plenty of unguents and sweet honey; and many Achaean warriors moved in their armour about the pyre while you were burning, both footmen and charioteers, and a great din rose up.
"But when the flame of Hephaestus had finished with you, in the morning we gathered your white bones, Achilles, and laid them in unmixed wine and unguents. Your mother had given a two-handled golden urn, and said it was the gift of Dionysus and the handiwork of famous Hephaestus. Your white bones lie in that, glorious Achilles, and mingled with them the bones of the dead Patroclus, son of Menoetius; and apart from them lie the bones of Antilochus, whom you honoured above all the rest of your companions after the dead Patroclus. And over them we heaped up a great and fine tomb, we the mighty host of Argive spearmen, on a jutting headland by the broad Hellespont, so that it might be seen from far off over the sea both by men who are alive now and by those who are born hereafter.
"And your mother asked the gods for beautiful prizes and set them in the middle of the field for the chiefs of the Achaeans. You have been present before now at the funeral games of many men who were warriors, when the young men gird themselves at the death of a king and make ready for the contests; but if you had seen that sight you would have marvelled most in your heart, at the beautiful prizes the goddess set there in your honour, silver-footed Thetis; because you were very dear to the gods. So not even in death did you lose your name, but you will have fair renown among all men for ever, Achilles.
"But as for me, what pleasure have I in this now, that I wound up the skein of the war? On my homecoming Zeus contrived a miserable doom for me at the hands of Aegisthus and my accursed wife."
So they talked to one another. But the messenger, the slayer of Argus, came near, leading down the spirits of the suitors whom Odysseus had killed; and the two of them, seized with wonder, went straight towards them when they saw them. And the spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, recognised the dear son of Melaneus, glorious Amphimedon, who had been his host, living in Ithaca.
And the spirit of the son of Atreus spoke to him first: "Amphimedon, what has happened to you, that you have come down under the dark earth, all of you picked men and of the same age? Nobody would make another choice, if he were to pick the best men in a city. Did Poseidon strike you aboard your ships, when he had roused cruel winds and long waves? Or did enemies do you harm on land, while you were cutting off their cattle and their fine flocks of sheep, or while they were fighting in defence of their city and their women? Tell me what I ask; I declare that I am a friend of your house. Do you not remember when I came to your house there with godlike Menelaus, to urge Odysseus to go with us to Ilios on the benched ships? It took us a whole month to cross the wide sea, because we could hardly win Odysseus over to our will, the sacker of cities."
Then the spirit of Amphimedon answered him and said: "Most glorious son of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon, I remember all of it, you whom Zeus brought up, exactly as you tell it; and I will tell you the whole truth in my turn, how an evil end of death was brought about for us.
"We courted the wife of Odysseus, who had been gone so long; and she would not refuse the marriage, which she hated, and would not ever make an end, contriving death and black fate for us. And here is another trick she thought up in her heart. She set up a great web in her halls and started weaving — fine in the thread and very wide; and she said to us at once:
"'Young men, my suitors, since noble Odysseus is dead, be patient about marrying me, however eager you are, until I finish this robe. I do not want my spinning to be wasted. It is a shroud for lord Laertes, for the time when the cruel fate of death lays him low, so that none of the Achaean women in the country can be angry with me for letting a man who won so much lie without a shroud.'
"That is what she said, and our proud hearts agreed. And then day by day she would weave at the great web, and by night she would unravel it, when she had had torches set beside her. So for three years she kept the Achaeans from finding out by her craft, and fooled them; but when the fourth year came, as the seasons rolled on, as the months waned and the many days came round in their course, then one of her women who knew all about it told us, and we caught her unravelling the splendid thing. So she finished it because she had to, against her will.
"Now when she had shown us the robe, after weaving the great web and washing it, and it shone like the sun or the moon, then some cruel god brought Odysseus from somewhere to the edge of the country, where the swineherd lived. And the dear son of godlike Odysseus came there too, back from sandy Pylos in his black ship. And the two of them, when they had planned an evil death for the suitors, came to the famous city — Odysseus later, and Telemachus leading the way in front of him.
"Now the swineherd brought his master, dressed in mean clothing, in the likeness of a miserable old beggar leaning on a staff, and the clothes he wore on his body were wretched. And not one of us could tell it was he when he appeared so suddenly, not even the older men; and we attacked him with evil words and with missiles. He endured being pelted and taunted in his own halls with a steady heart for a while; but when at last the will of Zeus who holds the aegis roused him, he took all the beautiful arms with the help of Telemachus and laid them away in the store-room and made the bolts fast.
"Then in his great cunning he told his wife to set his bow and the grey iron in front of the suitors, to be a contest for us ill-fated men and the beginning of death. And not one of us was able to stretch the string of that mighty bow; we fell far short of that strength. But when the great bow came into the hands of Odysseus, then we all cried out aloud not to give him the bow, however much he might say; and Telemachus alone urged him on and told him to take it. Then much-enduring noble Odysseus took the bow in his hand and strung it easily and sent an arrow through the iron. Then he went and stood on the threshold and poured out the swift arrows, glaring about him terribly, and struck king Antinous. And after that he let his shafts fly at the others with sure aim, loaded with groans, and the men fell thick and fast. Then it was plain that some god was their helper; because at once they rushed on through the halls in their fury and killed men left and right, and a hideous groaning rose from it as heads were struck, and the whole floor swam with blood.
"That is how we died, Agamemnon; and even now our bodies still lie uncared for in the halls of Odysseus. Our friends in each man's home know nothing about it yet — our friends who might wash the black blood off our wounds and lay our bodies out with wailing; because that is what is due to the dead."
Then the spirit of the son of Atreus answered him: "Happy son of Laertes, Odysseus of the many tricks, the wife you won was full of every excellence, and faultless Penelope, the daughter of Icarius, had so good an understanding, and was so loyally mindful of Odysseus, her wedded husband. So the fame of her virtue will never perish, and the immortals will make a pleasant song among men on earth in honour of steady Penelope. It was not so that the daughter of Tyndareus contrived evil deeds and killed the husband she had married; and the song about her will be hateful among men, and she brings an evil reputation on all womankind, even on the woman who does right."
So the two of them talked to one another, standing in the house of Hades under the depths of the earth.
But Odysseus and his men, when they had gone down from the city, quickly came to the fine well-ordered farm of Laertes, which he had won for himself in the past and had laboured hard for. His house was there, and the sheds ran all round it where the slaves who were his servants ate and sat and slept, the ones who did what he wanted. And inside the house there was an old Sicilian woman, who tended the old man with kindly care there at the farm, far from the city.
Then Odysseus spoke to the servants and to his son: "Go inside the well-built house now, and kill the best of the pigs for dinner straight away. And I will make trial of my father, and see whether he will recognise me and know me by sight, or whether he will fail to know me, since I have been away so long."
With that he gave his battle-gear to the slaves, and they went quickly to the house; but Odysseus went towards the fruitful vineyard on his quest.
He did not find Dolius as he went down into the great orchard, or any of his slaves or his sons; as it happened they had gone to gather stones for the vineyard wall, and the old man was leading them. But he found his father alone in the well-ordered vineyard, digging round a plant. He was wearing a filthy tunic, patched and wretched, and he had stitched greaves of ox-hide bound about his shins to guard against scratches, and gloves on his hands because of the thorns, and a goatskin cap on his head; and he was nursing his sorrow.
Now when much-enduring noble Odysseus saw him, worn with old age and loaded with great grief at heart, he stood still under a tall pear tree and shed tears. And he debated in his mind and heart whether to kiss his father and embrace him and tell him everything, how he had come home to his own country, or whether to question him first and try him on every point. And as he turned it over, this seemed the better course, to try him first with mocking words. So with that in mind noble Odysseus went straight towards him.
He was holding his head down, digging round a plant; and his glorious son came up to him and said:
"Old man, you have no lack of skill at tending a garden; your care is good, and there is nothing at all in the whole field, plant or fig tree or vine, or olive or pear or garden-plot, that lacks care. But I will tell you another thing, and do not store up anger about it in your heart: you enjoy no good care yourself. You bear a miserable old age, and you are filthy and unkempt with it, and dressed in mean clothes. It is surely not because you are idle that your master takes no care of you; and there is nothing about you that looks like a slave, either in build or in stature. You are like a king — like a man who, when he has bathed and eaten, should sleep soft; that is the way with old men.
"But tell me this, and tell me the truth. Whose slave are you, and whose orchard do you tend? And tell me this too, truly, so that I know for certain: is this really Ithaca that we have come to, as a man told me who met me just now on my way here? He was not over sound of wit; he did not deign to tell me about each thing, or to listen to what I said, when I questioned him about a friend of mine, whether he is still alive or is dead now and in the house of Hades. I will tell you, and you take heed and listen. I once entertained a man in my own dear country who came to our house, and no other stranger who lives far away ever came to my house as a more welcome guest. He said he came from Ithaca by descent, and said that his own father was Laertes, son of Arceisius. So I took him to the house and gave him hospitality with a kindly welcome out of the rich store that was inside, and I gave him friendship gifts, as is fitting. I gave him seven talents of well-worked gold, and a mixing bowl all of silver, embossed with flowers, and twelve cloaks of single fold, and as many coverlets, and as many fine mantles, and as many tunics besides; and women too, skilled in fine handiwork, four handsome women, whom he chose himself."
Then his father answered him, weeping: "Stranger, you have come to the country you ask about; but wanton and reckless men hold it now. And you bestowed all those gifts in vain, the countless gifts you gave. If you had found him still alive in the land of Ithaca, he would have sent you on your way with a full return of gifts and good entertainment; that is what is due to the man who begins the kindness.
"But tell me this, and tell me the truth. How many years have gone by since you entertained that guest, that unlucky guest, my son — as surely as there ever was such a man — my ill-starred son, whom the fishes have devoured in the deep, far from his friends and his own country, or who has become the spoil of beasts and birds on some shore? His mother did not deck him for burial and weep over him, nor did his father, we who gave him life; and his wife, wooed with so many gifts, steady Penelope, did not mourn her own husband on the bier as she should have, when she had closed his eyes in death; and that is what is due to the dead. And tell me this too, truly, so that I know for certain: who are you among men, and where from? Where is your city, and where are your parents? Where is the fast ship moored that brought you here with your godlike companions? Or did you come as a passenger on somebody else's ship, and did they go off when they had set you ashore?"
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Then I will tell you all of it plainly. I come from Alybas, where I have a glorious house, and I am the son of Apheidas, son of lord Polypemon, and my own name is Eperitus. But a god drove me wandering from Sicania to come here against my will, and my ship lies over there off the tilled land, away from the city. As for Odysseus, it is five years now since he went away and left my country. Unlucky man — and yet he had birds of good omen when he set out, birds on the right. So I was glad of them as I sent him on his way, and he went out gladly, and our hearts hoped that we should meet again as host and guest and give one another glorious gifts."
So he spoke, and a dark cloud of grief wrapped Laertes round; and he took the dark dust in both his hands and strewed it over his grey head, groaning without stopping. Then the heart of Odysseus was stirred, and a keen pang shot up through his nostrils as he looked at his dear father. And he sprang towards him and clasped him in his arms and kissed him, and said:
"Father, here I am, my very self, the man you are asking about. I have come in the twentieth year to my own country. But stop grieving and stop your tearful lamenting; I will tell you everything, though there is great need of haste. I have killed the suitors in our halls, and taken vengeance for their grievous insolence and their evil deeds."
Then Laertes answered him again and said: "If you really are Odysseus, my son, come home, tell me some clear sign now, so that I can be sure."
And Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "First mark this scar with your eyes, the scar of the wound a boar dealt me with his white tusk on Parnassus, when I had gone there. It was you who sent me out, you and my honoured mother, to Autolycus, my mother's father, so that I might get the gifts he promised and agreed to give me when he came here. And I will tell you the trees in the well-ordered garden which you once gave me, when I was only a child following you through the garden and asking you for this and that. We passed through these very trees, and you named them and told me about each one. You gave me thirteen pear trees and ten apple trees and forty fig trees. And you promised to give me rows of vines too, just as I say, fifty of them, which ripened separately at different times — and there are clusters of every kind on them — whenever the seasons of Zeus weighed them down from above."
So he spoke, and his father's knees were loosened where he stood, and his heart melted, as he knew the sure tokens Odysseus told him. He flung both his arms round his dear son, and much-enduring noble Odysseus caught him as he fainted. But when he came round and his spirit came back into his breast, he answered again and said:
"Father Zeus, you gods still hold sway on high Olympus, if the suitors have really paid the price of their wanton insolence. But now I have a terrible dread at heart, that all the men of Ithaca will come here against us at once, and send messengers everywhere to the cities of the Cephallenians."
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Take heart, and do not let these things distress you. Let us go to the house, which is near the orchard; I sent Telemachus on there, and the herdsman and the swineherd, to get our meal ready as fast as they could."
So the two of them spoke, and went off to the fine house. And when they came to the stately house they found Telemachus and the herdsman and the swineherd carving meat in plenty and mixing the flaming wine.
Meanwhile the Sicilian woman bathed great-hearted Laertes in his house and rubbed him with oil and threw a fine cloak round him. And Athena came near and made the limbs of the shepherd of the people greater, and made him taller than before and mightier to look at. Then he came out of the bath, and his dear son marvelled at him, seeing him like the immortal gods in presence; and he spoke to him with winged words:
"Father, some one of the gods who live for ever has made you finer to look at, in beauty and in stature."
Then wise Laertes answered him: "Father Zeus, and Athena, and Apollo — I wish that in the strength I had when I took Nericus, the well-built citadel on the shore of the mainland, when I was lord of the Cephallenians, I had stood beside you yesterday in our house with my armour on my shoulders and had beaten the suitors back. Then I would have loosened the knees of a great many of them in the halls, and your heart would have been glad in you."
So they talked to one another. And when the others had finished their work and got the meal ready, they sat down in order on the chairs and the high seats. And they were about to put their hands to the food when the old man Dolius came up, and the old man's sons with him, worn out with their work in the fields; because their mother, the old Sicilian woman, had gone out and called them — she who saw to their food and tended the old man with kindly care, now that old age had laid hold of him.
And when they saw Odysseus and took him in, they stood in the halls lost in wonder. But Odysseus spoke to them with gentle words and said: "Old man, sit down to dinner, and all of you forget your wonder. We have been waiting a long while in the halls, eager to put our hands to the food, and expecting you all the time."
So he spoke, and Dolius ran straight towards him with both hands stretched out, and took the hand of Odysseus and kissed it on the wrist, and spoke to him with winged words:
"Dear master, since you have come back to us, who longed for you badly and had no more thought of seeing you, and the gods themselves have brought you — greetings, and every welcome, and may the gods grant you happiness. And tell me this too, truly, so that I know for certain: does wise Penelope know for sure that you have come back here, or shall we send her a messenger?"
Then Odysseus of the many tricks answered him and said: "Old man, she knows already; why should you busy yourself with that?"
So he spoke, and the other sat down again on the polished chair. And in the same way the sons of Dolius gathered round glorious Odysseus and greeted him and clasped his hands; and then they sat down in order beside Dolius, their father.
So they were busy with their meal in the halls. But meanwhile Rumour, the messenger, went swiftly through the whole city, telling of the terrible death and fate of the suitors. And the people heard it all at once, and gathered from every side with moaning and wailing in front of the palace of Odysseus. They brought their dead out of the halls, each man his own, and buried them; and those from other cities they sent home, each to his own place, putting them aboard fast ships for the seamen to carry. And they themselves went together to the meeting place, sad at heart.
Now when they were assembled and met together, Eupeithes stood up and spoke among them, because a comfortless grief for his son lay heavy on his heart, for Antinous, the first man noble Odysseus had killed. Weeping for him, he spoke to the gathering and said:
"Friends, this man has contrived a monstrous thing against the Achaeans. He led many good men off in his ships, and lost the hollow ships and lost the men utterly; and now he has come home and killed others, far the best of the Cephallenians. Come then, before the fellow gets quickly away to Pylos or to fine Elis where the Epeans hold sway — let us go out. We shall be disgraced for ever, even in the days to come. This is a shame for men yet to be born to hear of, if we do not take vengeance on the killers of our sons and our brothers. Life would be no more sweet to me then; I would rather die at once and be among the dead. Let us go, before they get across the sea ahead of us."
So he spoke, weeping, and pity took hold of all the Achaeans. Then Medon came near them, and the divine singer, from the halls of Odysseus, because sleep had let them go; and they took their stand in the middle, and wonder seized every man. And Medon, who had good sense, spoke among them:
"Listen to me now, men of Ithaca. It was not without the will of the immortal gods that Odysseus contrived these deeds. I saw an immortal god myself, who stood close beside Odysseus and looked in every way like Mentor. And now as an immortal god he would appear in front of Odysseus, heartening him, and now again he would rage through the hall, scaring the suitors; and they fell thick and fast."
So he spoke, and pale fear seized them all. Then the old lord Halitherses spoke among them, son of Mastor, because he alone saw before and after; he meant it kindly, and spoke to the gathering:
"Listen to me now, men of Ithaca, and hear what I have to say. It is through your own cowardice, friends, that these things have come to pass; you would not obey me, or Mentor, shepherd of the people, and make your sons stop their folly. They did a monstrous thing in their blind and wanton wickedness, wasting the wealth and dishonouring the wife of a prince, who they said would never come back again. Now let it be like this: listen to me, as I tell you. Let us not go out, in case some man finds a ruin that he has brought on himself."
So he spoke; but they sprang up with loud cries, more than half of them, while the rest stayed together in their seats; because his speech was not to their liking, and they listened to Eupeithes. And soon after that they rushed for their arms. And when they had clothed their bodies in gleaming bronze they gathered together in front of the spacious city. And Eupeithes led them in his folly, thinking he would avenge the killing of his son; but he was never to come back himself, and was to meet his doom there.
But Athena spoke to Zeus, son of Cronos: "Father of us all, son of Cronos, highest of the powers, tell me, since I ask you, what purpose your mind is hiding now. Will you bring on evil war still further, and the dreadful din of battle, or will you establish friendship between the two sides?"
Then Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered her and said: "My child, why do you ask and question me about this? Did you not plan this yourself, that Odysseus should take vengeance on these men when he came? Do as you like; but I will tell you what is fitting. Now that noble Odysseus has taken vengeance on the suitors, let them swear a solemn oath, and let him be king all his days; and let us bring about a forgetting of the killing of their sons and their brothers, and let them love one another as before, and let wealth and peace abound."
With that he roused Athena, who was eager already, and she went darting down from the heights of Olympus.
But when they had eaten the honey-hearted food they wanted, much-enduring noble Odysseus was the first to speak among his company: "Let one of you go out and see whether they are not drawing near by now."
So he spoke, and a son of Dolius went out as he told him; he went and stood on the threshold and saw them all close at hand, and at once spoke winged words to Odysseus: "Here they are, close at hand. Quick, let us arm."
So he spoke, and they got up and arrayed themselves in armour. Odysseus and his men were four, and the sons of Dolius six; and Laertes and Dolius put their armour on among them, grey-headed as they were, warriors because they had to be. And when they had clothed their bodies in gleaming bronze they opened the doors and went out, and Odysseus led them.
Then Athena, daughter of Zeus, came near them in the likeness of Mentor, in shape and in voice; and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad at the sight of her, and at once said to Telemachus, his dear son: "Telemachus, now you will learn this — having come yourself to the place of battle, where the best warriors are put to the test — not to bring disgrace on the house of your fathers; because we have always been outstanding in strength and in courage over all the earth."
And clear-headed Telemachus answered him: "You will see me, if you like, dear father, in the temper I am in now, bringing no disgrace on your house, just as you say."
So he spoke, and Laertes was glad and said: "What a day this is for me, kind gods. I am truly glad: my son and my son's son are competing with one another in courage."
Then grey-eyed Athena came near him and said: "Son of Arceisius, far the dearest of all my friends, make a prayer to the grey-eyed maiden and to father Zeus, and then raise your long spear high at once and hurl it."
So spoke Pallas Athena, and breathed great might into him. Then he prayed to the daughter of great Zeus, and raised his long spear high at once and hurled it, and struck Eupeithes through the helmet with its bronze cheek-piece. It did not stop the spear; the bronze went through, and he fell with a thud and his armour clanged about him.
Then Odysseus and his glorious son fell on the front-rank fighters and thrust at them with swords and double-pointed spears. And now they would have killed them all and cut them off from coming home, if Athena, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis, had not shouted aloud and checked the whole host:
"Hold off from grievous war, men of Ithaca, so that you may part as quickly as possible, and without bloodshed."
So spoke Athena, and pale fear seized them. And in their terror the weapons flew out of their hands and fell one and all to the ground as the goddess uttered her voice; and they turned towards the city, eager to save their lives.
Then much-enduring noble Odysseus gave a terrible shout, and gathered himself together and swooped on them like an eagle of lofty flight. And at that moment the son of Cronos cast a flaming thunderbolt, and down it fell in front of the grey-eyed daughter of the mighty father.
Then grey-eyed Athena said to Odysseus: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of the many tricks, hold your hand, and make the strife of equal war stop, in case the son of Cronos grows angry with you, Zeus, whose voice carries far."
So spoke Athena, and he obeyed her and was glad at heart. And then a solemn covenant between the two sides was made for all time to come by Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus who holds the aegis, in the likeness of Mentor, in shape and in voice.