Chapter 13
Odysseus’ tale was finished, and such was the spell he had cast on the whole company that not a sound was heard throughout the shadowy hall, till at last Alcinous turned to his guest and said: “Odysseus, you have suffered much. But now that you have set foot on the bronze floor of my great house I feel assured that you will reach your home without any further wanderings from your course. As for you, sirs, here are my wishes – let them stand as an order to every one of you that frequent my palace to drink the sparkling wine of the elders and enjoy the minstrel’s song. I know that the clothing, gold ornaments, and other presents that our counsellors brought in are already laid by for our guest in a wooden strong-box. I now suggest that we each give him a large tripod and a cauldron. Later we will recoup ourselves by a tax on the people, since it would be hard on us singly to have to make so generous a donation.”
His proposal was approved and all went home to their beds. But as soon as Dawn had flecked the morning sky with red, they came bustling down to the ship with their welcome bronze-ware gifts, and the great King Alcinous himself went up and down the vessel, stowing them carefully under the benches, so as not to hamper any of the ship’s hands as they tugged at the oars. This done, they repaired for a banquet to Alcinous’ house, and for their entertainment the divine king sacrificed a bullock to Zeus of the Black Cloud, the son of Cronos, who is lord of all. They burnt the thighs and settled down happily to a splendid feast, while in their midst the people’s favourite, Demodocus, that admirable bard, sang to the music of his harp. But Odysseus kept turning his face towards the blazing sun, as though to hasten its descent, for he was longing to be off. And as the ploughman, whose two dun oxen have pulled the ploughshare through the fallow all day long, yearns for his supper and welcomes the sunset that frees him to seek it and drag home his weary legs, so did Odysseus welcome the setting of the sun that day. No sooner was it down than he appealed to his sailor hosts, and to Alcinous in particular:
“Lord Alcinous, my most worshipful prince, make your drink-offerings now and see me safely off. And may every blessing be yours! For now my dearest wish has been fulfilled: I have secured your escort and I have your friendly gifts. May the gods in heaven allow me to enjoy them, and may I find my wife and dear ones safe and sound in my home when I reach it. As for you that I leave here, may you all bring happiness to your good wives and to your children; and may the gods prosper you in every way and keep your people from harm!”
This speech of Odysseus pleased the whole company. They felt the justice of his claim and held that their guest should now be sent on his way. King Alcinous called to his squire. “Pontonous,” he said, “mix a bowl of wine and serve everyone in the hall so that we can make a drink-offering to Father Zeus before seeing our visitor off to the land of his birth.” Pontonous mixed the mellow wine, went his rounds and served each of the guests, who then made libations to the blessed gods that live in the far-flung heavens. All remained seated for this ritual except the gallant Odysseus, who rose from his chair, put his two-handled beaker in Arete’s hands, and made her this cordial adieu: “My Queen, here’s fortune all your life, until man’s common lot, old age and death, comes on you! I take my leave of you now. May your house be blessed, and may you be happy in your children, your people, and Alcinous your king!”
With this the noble Odysseus stepped across the threshold. King Alcinous ordered an equerry to accompany him and lead him to the good ship and the sea-shore, while Arete sent with him a party of serving-women, one with a clean mantle and a tunic, and another to carry his strong-box, while a third conveyed his bread and the red wine.
When they had come down to the ship and the sea, the young nobles who were to escort him took charge of his baggage, including all the food and drink, and stowed it in the hold. For Odysseus himself they spread a rug and sheet on the ship’s deck, well aft, so that he might enjoy unbroken sleep. Then he too climbed on board and quietly lay down, while the crew found their seats on the benches like men drilled to their work and untied the cable from the pierced stone that held it. But no sooner had they swung back and struck the water with their blades than sweet oblivion sealed Odysseus’ eyes in sleep delicious and profound, the very counterfeit of death. And now, like a team of four stallions on the plain who start as one horse at the touch of the whip and break into their bounding stride to make short work of the course, the ship lunged forward, and above the great dark wave that the sea sent roaring in her wake her stern began to rise and fall. With unfaltering speed she forged ahead, and not even the wheeling falcon, the fastest thing that flies, could have kept her company. Thus she sped lightly on, cutting her way through the waves and carrying a man wise as the gods are wise, who in long years of war on land and wandering across the cruel seas had suffered many agonies of spirit but now was lapped in peaceful sleep, forgetting all he had once endured.
When the brightest of all stars came up, the star which often ushers in the tender light of Dawn, the ship’s voyage was done and she drew near to Ithaca. Now in that island is a cove named after Phorcys, the Old Man of the Sea, with two bold headlands squatting at its mouth so as to protect it from the heavy swell raised by rough weather in the open and allow large ships to ride inside without so much as tying up, once within mooring distance of the shore. At the head of the cove grows a long-leaved olive-tree and nearby is a cavern that offers welcome shade and is sacred to the Nymphs whom we call Naiads. This cave contains a number of stone basins and two-handled jars, which are used by bees as their hives; also great looms of stone where the Nymphs weave marvellous fabrics of sea-purple; and there are springs whose water never fails. It has two mouths. The one that looks north is the way down for men. The other, facing south, is meant for the gods; and as immortals come in by this way it is not used by men at all.
It was here that the Phaeacians put in, knowing the spot; and such was the headway of the ship, rowed by those able hands, that when she drove against the shore a full half of her keel’s length mounted the beach. They rose from the benches, jumped out, and made it their first task to lift Odysseus, sheet, glossy rug and all, out of the gallant ship and deposit him on the sand still fast asleep. Next they took out all the treasures which Athene’s generous impulse had caused their noble countrymen to give him when he left for home. These they stacked in a pile by the trunk of the olive-tree, well away from the path, lest some passer-by should happen to come upon them before he awoke and rob him. This done, they set out for home.
Meanwhile the Lord of the Earthquake, who had by no means forgotten the threats he had once uttered against the noble Odysseus, tried to find out what purpose was in Zeus’ mind. “Father Zeus,” he said, “the immortal gods will think nothing of me, flouted as I am by mortal men, by these Phaeacians, I mean, who after all are sprung from my own stock. I said that Odysseus should suffer much before he reached his home, though I never put a final ban on his return, once you had promised it and nodded your assent. But now these people have brought him over the sea in their good ship and landed him asleep in Ithaca, after showering gifts upon him, gifts of copper, gold, and woven stuffs in such profusion as he could never have won for himself from Troy, even if he had come back unhurt with his fair share of the spoils.”
“Imperial Earth-shaker,” replied the Gatherer of the Clouds, “your fears are preposterous! The gods are innocent of all irreverence towards you. Indeed it would be an abominable thing for them to scoff at the eldest and best of their company. As for mankind, if anyone thinks himself powerful enough to slight you, you have all the future in which to take your revenge. You are free to please yourself: act as you see fit.”
“Lord of the Black cloud,” Poseidon answered him, “I should promptly have done as you say but for my ingrained deference to your will and dread of your resentment. Now, however, I propose to wreck that fine ship of the Phaeacians on the high seas as she comes back from her mission, to teach them to hold their hands and give up this habit of escorting travellers. And I will also fence their town with a ring of high mountains.”
“My friend,” said the Gatherer of the Clouds, “this is what I think best. Choose the moment when all eyes in the city are fixed on the ship’s approach to turn her into a rock off-shore, and let this rock look like a ship, so that all the world may wonder. Then throw a circle of high mountains round their city.”
With this encouragement from Zeus, Poseidon made for Scherie, where the Phaeacians live; and there he bode his time till the approaching ship, making good headway, showed in the offing. The Earth-shaker then went up to her and with one blow from the flat of his hand turned her into stone and rooted her to the sea-bottom, where he left her.
The Phaeacian spectators, oarsmen themselves and seamen of repute, looked at each other and cried out in their amazement. “Who in heaven’s name,” they asked, “has stopped our good ship out at sea as she was making port? Only a moment ago we could see every spar.”
They might well ask, for they had no inkling of what had happened till Alcinous explained.
“Alas!” he cried. “My father’s prophecy of long ago has indeed come home to me! He used to maintain that Poseidon resented our giving safe-conduct to all and sundry, and he foretold that one day he would wreck one of our fine ships on the high seas as she was returning from such a mission, and would overshadow our city with a ring of high mountains. Now all these prophecies of the old king’s are coming true! But listen: I have remedies to suggest, which I hope you will all accept. For the future give up your custom of seeing home any traveller who comes to our city; and for the present let us sacrifice twelve picked bulls to Poseidon. He may take pity on us and refrain from hemming in our town with a long mountain range.” They were filled with consternation and at once prepared the bulls for sacrifice.”
Thus the chieftains and counsellors of the Phaeacian people were gathered round the altar and interceding with the Lord Poseidon at the moment when the good Odysseus awoke from sleep on his native soil. After so long an absence, he failed to recognize it; for the goddess, Pallas Athene, Daughter of Zeus, had thrown a mist over the place to give herself time to make plans with Odysseus and disguise him, so that he should not be recognized by his wife and friends or the people of the town before the Suitors had paid for all their crimes. As a result everything in Ithaca, the long hill-paths, the quiet bays, the beetling rocks, and the green trees seemed unfamiliar to its King. He leapt to his feet and stood staring at his native land. Then he groaned, and slapping his thighs with the flat of his hands gave vent to his disappointment:
“Alas! Whose country have I come to now? Are they some brutal tribe of lawless savages, or a kindly and god-fearing people? Where shall I put all these goods of mine, and where on earth am I myself to go? If only I had stayed there with the Phaeacians! Then I could have gone on to some other powerful prince, who might have received me well and seen me on my way. As it is, I have not the least idea where to stow them, and I certainly can’t leave them here, or someone else will make free with my property. And what a blow to find that those Phaeacian lords and chieftains are not exactly the wise and honest men I took them for! They say they will put me down in my own sunny Ithaca, and then they carry me off to this outlandish spot. A broken promise – for which I pray they may be punished by Zeus, the suppliants’ god, who watches all mankind and punishes offenders. But now I had better count my belongings and make sure that the crew have not robbed me and carried something off in the hold of their ship.”
He proceeded to check his fine tripods and cauldrons, his gold and his splendid Woven fabrics, and found not a single item missing. But this did not console him for the homeland he had sought, and weeping bitterly he dragged his feet along the shore of the sounding sea.
Athene now appeared upon the scene. She had disguised herself as a young shepherd, with all the delicate beauty that marks the sons of kings. A handsome cloak was folded back across her shoulders, her feet shone white between the sandal-straps, and she carried a javelin in her hand. She was a welcome sight to Odysseus, who came forward at once and accosted her eagerly. “Good-day to you, sir,” he said.
“Since you are the first person I have met in this place, I hope to find no enemy in you, but the saviour of my treasures here and of my very life; and so I pray to you as I should to a god and kneel at your feet. But what I beg of you first is to tell me exactly where I am. What part of the world is this? What is the country called and who live here? Is it one of the sunny islands or is it one of those coastal tracts that run down from the rich mainland to meet the sea?”
“Sir,” said the goddess of the gleaming eyes, “you must be a simpleton or have travelled very far from your home to ask me what this country is. It has a name by no means so inglorious as that. In fact it is known to thousands, to all the peoples of the dawn and sunrise and all that live on the other side toward the western gloom. I grant that it is rugged and unfit for driving horses, yet narrow though it may be it is very far from poor. It grows abundant corn and wine in plenty. The rains and the fresh dews are never lacking; and it has excellent pasturage for goats and cattle, timber of all kinds, and watering-places that never fail. And so, my friend, the name of Ithaca has travelled even as far as Troy; and that, they say, is a good long way from Achaea.”
Odysseus’ patient heart leapt up as the divine Pallas Athene told him this, and he revelled in the knowledge that he was on his native soil. He answered her readily enough, but not with the truth. It had been on the tip of his tongue, but loyal as ever to his own crafty nature he contrived to keep it back.
“Of course,” he said, “I heard tell of Ithaca even over there across the seas in the spacious land of Crete. And now I have come there myself with all these goods of mine, leaving the other half of my fortune to my children. For I had to take to my heels. I had killed Idomeneus’ son, the great runner Orsilochus, who was faster on his feet than any living man in the whole island of Crete. He tried to fleece me of all the spoil I had won at Troy, my wages for the long-drawn agonies of war and all the miseries that sea-travel means, merely because I refused to curry favour with his father by serving as his squire at Troy and preferred to lead my own command. So with a friend at my side I laid an ambush for him close to the road, and let fly at him with my bronze spear as he was coming in from the country. There was a pitch-black sky that night and not a soul saw us; so no one knew that it was I who’d killed him. However, with the man’s blood fresh on my hands, I hastily sought out a Phoenician ship, threw myself on the mercy of its honest crew, and with a liberal donation from my booty persuaded them to take me on board and set me down in Pylos or the good land of Elis, where the Epeians rule. But as things turned out, the wind was too strong for them and drove them off their course, much to their distress, for they had no wish to disappoint me.”
“We beat about for a time, and in the night we made this island and rowed the ship helter-skelter into harbour. And though we stood in sore need of it, not a man among us thought of his supper; we all tumbled out of the ship and lay down just as we were. I was so exhausted that I fell sound asleep. Meanwhile the crew fetched my goods out of the good ship and dumped them down on the sand where I lay. After which they embarked once more and set sail for their own fine city of Sidon, leaving me and my troubles behind.”
The bright-eyed goddess smiled at Odysseus’ tale and caressed him with her hand. Her appearance altered, and now she looked like a woman, tall, beautiful, and accomplished. And when she replied to him she abandoned her reserve.
“What a cunning knave it would take,” she said, “to beat you at your tricks! Even a god would be hard put to it.”
“And so my stubborn friend, Odysseus the arch-deceiver, with his craving for intrigue, does not propose even in his own country to drop his sharp practice and the lying tales that he loves from the bottom of his heart. But no more of this: we are both adepts in chicane. For in the world of men you have no rival as a statesman and orator, while I am pre-eminent among the gods for invention and resource.”
“And yet you did not know me, Pallas Athene, Daughter of Zeus, who always stand by your side and guard you through all your adventures. Why, it was I who made all the Phaeacians take to you so kindly. And here I am once more, to plan your future course with you; to hide the treasures that the Phaeacian nobles, prompted by me, gave to you when you left for home, and to warn you of all the trials you will have to undergo within the walls of your palace. Bear these with patience, for bear them you must. Tell not a single person in the place, man or woman, that you are back from your wanderings; but endure all vexations in silence and submit yourself to the indignities that will be put upon you.”
Odysseus was ready with his answer. “Goddess,” he said, “it is hard for a man to recognize you at sight, however knowledgeable he may be, for you have a way of donning all kinds of disguises. But this I know well, that you were gracious to me in the old days so long as we Achaeans were campaigning at Troy. Yet when we had sacked Priam’s lofty citadel and gone on board our ships, and a god had scattered the Achaean fleet, I did not notice you then, Daughter of Zeus, nor see you set foot on my ship to save me from any of my ordeals. No; I was left to wander through the world with a stricken heart, till the gods put a term to my sufferings and the day came, in the rich land of the Phaeacians, when you comforted me with your talk and yourself guided me to their city. But now I beseech you in your Father’s name – since I cannot think that I have come to my bright Ithaca but feel that I must be at large in some foreign country and that you must have said what you did in a spirit of mockery to lead me astray – I beseech you to tell me, am I really back in my own beloved land?”
“How like you to be so wary!” said Athene. “And that is why I cannot desert you in your misfortunes: you are so civilized, so intelligent, so self-possessed. Any other man on returning from his travels would have rushed home in high spirits to see his children and his wife. You, on the contrary, are in no hurry even to ask questions and to learn the news. No; with your own eyes you must first make sure of your wife – who, by the way, does nothing but sit at home with her eyes never free from tears as the slow nights and days pass sorrowfully by.”
“As for your home-coming, I myself was never in any doubt: I knew in my heart that you would get back with the loss of all your men. But you must understand that I was not prepared to oppose my uncle Poseidon, who was highly incensed when you blinded his own son and has cherished his grudge against you. And now, to convince you, let me show you the Ithacan scene. Here is the harbour of Phorcys, the Old Man of the Sea; and there at the head of the haven is the long-leaved olive-tree with the cave nearby, the pleasant shady spot that is sacred to the Nymphs whom men call Naiads. Over there you can see its vaulted roof – it will put you in mind of many a solemn sacrifice you have made there to the Nymphs – while the forest-clad slopes behind are those of Mount Neriton.”
As she spoke the goddess dispersed the mist, and the countryside stood plain to view. And now joy came at last to the gallant long-suffering Odysseus. So happy did the sight of his own land make him that he kissed the generous soil, then with uplifted hands invoked the Nymphs: “And I had thought, you Nymphs of the Springs, you Daughters of Zeus, that I should never set my eyes on you again! Accept my greetings and my loving prayers. Gifts too will follow as in days gone by, if through the kindness of this warrior Child of Zeus I am allowed to live and see my son grow up.”
“Be bold,” said Athene of the flashing eyes, “and dismiss all such doubts from your heart. Our immediate task is to hide your goods in some corner of this haunted cave where they may lie in safety. After that we must decide on our best course for the future.”
The goddess now plunged into the gloom of the cavern to explore it for a hiding-place, while Odysseus made haste to bring in all his belongings, the gold, the indestructible copper and the fine fabrics the Phaeacians had given him. After he had stowed them carefully away, Pallas Athene, Daughter of Zeus, closed the entrance with a stone.
The pair then sat down by the trunk of the sacred olive-tree to scheme the downfall of the presumptuous Suitors, and the bright-eyed goddess put the case to Odysseus. “Royal son of Laertes,” she said, “you are a man of resource. Consider now how you will come to grips with this gang of profligates who for three whole years have been lording it in your palace, paying court to your incomparable wife and tempting her with marriage settlements. All this time she has pined for your home-coming, and though she has given them all some grounds for hope and doled out promises in private messages to each, her real wishes are very different.”
“Alas!” cried Odysseus of the nimble wits. “It seems to me that I should have come to the same miserable end as King Agamemnon directly I set foot in my home, if you, goddess, had not made all this clear to me. I beseech you to think of some way by which I could pay these miscreants out. And take your stand at my side, filling me with the spirit that dares all, as you did on the day when we pulled down Troy’s shining diadem of towers. Ah, Lady of the bright eyes, if only you would aid me with such vehemence as you did then, I could fight against three hundred, with you beside me, sovran goddess, and with your whole-hearted help to count on!”
“Indeed I will stand at your side,” Athene answered. “I shall not forget you when the time comes for this task of ours. As for those Suitors who are wasting your fortune, I can already see them staining your broad floors with their own blood and brains. But now to work! I am going to change you beyond recognition. I shall wither the smooth skin on those supple limbs of yours and rob your head of its auburn locks; I shall clothe you in rags from which people will shrink in disgust; and I shall take all the light out of those fine eyes that you have – all this to make the whole gang of Suitors and even your wife and the son you left at home take you for a disreputable vagabond. And now for your part – the first man you must approach is the swineherd in charge or your pigs. His loyal heart is on your side as firmly as ever, and he loves your son and your wise queen Penelope. You will find him watching over his swine out at their pastures by the Raven’s Crag and at the Spring of Arethusa, where they find the right fodder to make them fat and healthy pigs, feeding on the acorns they love and drinking water from deep pools. Stay there, sit down with the old man, and question him about the whole affair. Meanwhile I shall go to Sparta, the city of fair women, to summon Telemachus, your own son, Odysseus, who, I must tell you, has travelled to the broad vale of Lacedaemon and visited Menelaus in the hope of getting on your track and finding out if you are still alive.”
Odysseus replied with a shrewd question: “But why, in your omniscience, did you not tell him the truth? Do you want him too to scour the barren seas in misery while strangers eat him out of house and home?”
“You need not be alarmed for him,” the bright-eyed goddess answered. “I myself arranged the journey for him, feeling that the adventure would redound to his credit. He is in no difficulties, but is sitting quite at ease in Menelaus’ palace, in the lap of luxury. It is true that those young men in their black ship have laid an ambush for him on his journey home, with murder in their hearts. But I have an idea that they will not succeed. No; sooner than that, the earth will close over some of these gallants who are wasting your wealth.”
Athene touched him now with her wand. She withered the smooth skin on his supple limbs, robbed his head of its auburn locks, covered his whole body with the wrinkles of old age, and dimmed the light that shone in his beautiful eyes. His clothing too she changed into a shabby cloak and tunic, filthy rags begrimed by smoke. Over his back she threw the great bald hide of a nimble stag; and finally she gave him a staff and a mean and tattered knapsack with a shoulder-strap.
Their plans made, the two parted company, and Athene went off to the sacred land of Lacedaemon to fetch Odysseus’ son.