Chapter 16
When Telemachus arrived, Odysseus and the worthy swine-herd were preparing their breakfast in the hut by the light of dawn, after stirring up the fire and sending the herdsmen off with the pigs to the pastures. The dogs, usually so obstreperous, not only did not bark at the newcomer but greeted him with wagging tails. Odysseus heard footsteps and at the same moment observed the dogs’ friendly behaviour. Immediately alert, he turned to his companion and said: “Eumaeus, you have a visitor: I can hear his steps. He must be a friend of yours or someone familiar here, for the dogs are wagging their tails instead of barking.”
The last words were not out of his mouth when his own son appeared in the gateway. Eumaeus jumped up in amazement and the bowls in which he had been busy mixing the sparkling wine tumbled out of his grasp. He ran forward to meet his young master, he kissed his forehead, kissed him on both his lovely eyes, and then kissed his right hand and his left, while the tears streamed down his cheeks. Like a fond father welcoming back his son after nine years abroad, his only son, the apple of his eye and the centre of all his anxious cares, the admirable swineherd threw his arms round Prince Telemachus and showered kisses on him as though he had just escaped from death.
“So you are back, Telemachus, light of my eyes!” he said in a voice filled with emotion. “And I thought I should never see you again, once you had sailed for Pylos! Come in, come in, dear child, and let me feast my eyes on the wanderer just home. We herdsmen see little of you here on the farm: you are too fond of the town. It seems as though you found it amusing to watch that crew of wreckers at their work!”
“I’ll come in with pleasure, uncle,” said Telemachus. “In fact it was for you I came here. I wanted to see you myself and find out from you whether my mother is still in the palace or whether she has married again and Odysseus’ bed is hung with cobwebs for lack of occupants.”
“Of course she’s still at home,” said the excellent swineherd. “She has schooled her heart to patience, though her eyes are never free from tears as the slow nights and days pass sorrowfully by.”
As he spoke he relieved his visitor of his bronze spear, and Telemachus crossed the stone threshold into the house. At his entrance, Odysseus his father rose to give him his seat. But Telemachus from the other side of the room checked him with a gesture and said: “Keep your seat, sir. I am sure that in our own farmhouse we can find a seat elsewhere; and here is someone to provide it.”
So Odysseus resumed his chair, while the swineherd made a pile of green brushwood for his son, with a fleece spread on top, and there Telemachus sat down. Eumaeus then put beside them platters of roast meat that had been left over from their meal on the previous day, and with eager hospitality piled baskets high with bread and mixed them some sweet wine in an ivy-wood bowl. This done, he himself sat down opposite King Odysseus, and they fell to on the good fare before them. When they had satisfied their hunger and thirst, Telemachus turned to the worthy swineherd and said: “Uncle, where does this guest of yours hail from? I am quite sure he didn’t walk to Ithaca. Some ship’s crew must have brought him here. How did it happen and who may they have been?”
“My child,” Eumaeus replied, “you shall have nothing but the truth from me. He claims to be a native of the large island of Crete and says he has tramped as an outcast through half the towns in the world, for that seems the kind of life that heaven has let him in for. But quite recently he managed to escape from a Thesprotian ship and came to my homestead here. I propose to make him over to you, to deal with as you like, for he has decided to throw himself on your mercy.”
“Eumaeus, this is very mortifying to me,” Telemachus thoughtfully replied. “How can I possibly receive the stranger in my house? In the first place I myself am young and I doubt whether I yet have the physical strength to cope with anyone who might care to pick a quarrel with me. Then again my mother is in two minds whether to stay at home and keep house for me, in deference to her husband’s bed and to public opinion, or whether to choose among the nobles in the palace who are candidates for her hand and go off with the likeliest and most generous bidder. However, as the stranger has sought refuge in your house, I will fit him out in a good cloak and tunic, give him a two-edged sword and sandals for footwear, and see that he reaches his destination, wherever that may be. But I should be glad if you could agree to keep him at the farm and look after him. I’ll send you the clothes and all the food he’ll need, so that he shan’t be a burden to you and your mates. But I will not permit him to come down to the palace and meet the Suitors. For their brutality goes beyond all bounds, and if they insult him, as I fear is likely, I should take it very much to heart. But it is extremely difficult for a man to do anything single-handed against a crowd, however strong he may be. They have an overwhelming advantage.”
“I feel sure, my dear sir,” the gallant Odysseus interposed, “that there can be no objection to my joining in your discussion. My indignation has been deeply stirred by what I have learnt from you of the outrageous conduct of these Suitors, which you, a gentleman, have had to put up with in your house. Tell me, do you take this lying down; or have the people of Ithaca been turned into enemies of yours by some wave of irrational feeling? Or again, is it your brothers who cannot be trusted to stand by you as they should through thick and thin? Ah, I wish I had the youth, as I have the stomach, for this work; that I were the noble Odysseus’ son, or that Odysseus himself had come back from his travels – as there is still reason to hope that he may! I should be ready here and now to let anyone cut my head off, if I didn’t go straight down to the palace of Laertes’ heir and make myself a curse to every man in that crowd. And what if they did overwhelm me by numbers, single-handed as I should be? I would rather die by the sword in my own house than witness the perpetual repetition of these outrages, the brutal treatment of visitors, men hauling the maids about for their foul purposes in that lovely house, wine running like water, and those rascals gorging themselves, just for the sport of the thing, with no excuse, no rational end in sight!”
“My friend,” said the wise Telemachus, “let me explain the situation to you. I cannot say that the people as a whole have fallen out with me and taken up a hostile attitude. Nor can I complain of any disloyalty in the brothers I should normally rely on to stand by me through thick and thin. For Zeus has made only sons the rule in our family. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius, and Odysseus of Laertes, while I was the only son who had been born to Odysseus when he left his home – and little joy he had of me. As a result, the house is infested by our enemies. Of all the island chieftains in Dulichium, in Same, in wooded Zacynthus, or in rocky Ithaca, there is not one that isn’t courting my mother and wasting my property. As for her, she neither refuses, though she hates the idea of remarrying, nor can she bring herself to take the final step. Meanwhile they are eating me out of house and home. And I shouldn’t be surprised if they finished me myself. However, the issue of all this is on the knees of the gods. And now, uncle, will you go quickly down and tell my wise mother, Penelope, that she has me safely back from Pylos. I myself propose to wait here till you return after delivering your message – which is for her ears alone. Let none of the men in the place hear it. There are plenty of them eager to do me a mischief.”
“I know; I understand,” said the swineherd Eumaeus.
“You’ve chosen a man who can think for himself. But what do you say to my making one journey of it and telling Laertes also the news? The poor man, for all his great grief for Odysseus, used till lately to take a look round the fields and eat and drink with the hands at the farm when he felt disposed to do so. But ever since you sailed for Pylos, they say that he has not so much as taken a bite or sup, nor cast an eye over the work on the farm, but sits there moaning and groaning in his misery, with the flesh withering on his bones.”
“So much the worse,” said me cautious Telemachus, “but all the same we will let him be. Not that I do not sympathize; for if men could have anything for the asking, my father’s return would be my first choice. However, deliver your message and come straight back. Don’t go wandering about the countryside after Laertes, but ask my mother to send out one of her waiting-women, quickly and secretly. She could tell the old man.”
So Telemachus gave him his errand, and Eumaeus picked up his sandals, bound them on his feet and set off for the town. His departure from the farm was not unobserved by Athene, who now approached, to all appearance a tall, beautiful, and accomplished woman, and halting opposite the door of the hut made herself visible to Odysseus, though Telemachus could neither see her nor become conscious of her presence, since it is by no means to everyone that the gods grant a clear sight of themselves. Thus, only Odysseus and the dogs saw her, and the dogs did not bark but ran whimpering in panic to the other side of the farm. Athene frowned and, nodded to Odysseus, who caught her signal, and leaving the house passed along by the great wall of the yard and presented himself before her. Athene spoke to him. “The time has come,” she said, “royal son of Laertes, Odysseus of the nimble wits, to let Telemachus into your secret, so that the pair of you may plot the downfall and death of the Suitors and then make your way to the famous city. I will not leave you two alone for long: I am eager for the fight.”
As she spoke, Athene touched him with her golden wand, and behold, a clean mantle and tunic hung from his shoulders; his stature was increased and his youthful, vigour restored; his bronze tan returned; his jaws were filled out; and the beard grew black on his chin. Her work done, Athene disappeared; and Odysseus went back into the hut. His son gave him one look of amazement, then withdrew his eyes for fear that he might be a god, and in an awestruck tone said: “Stranger, you are not the same now as the man who Just went out. Your clothes are different; your complexion is changed. I can only think that you are one of the gods who live in the broad sky. Be gracious to us, and we will make you pleasing sacrifices and offerings of wrought gold. Have mercy upon us.”
“Why do you take me for an immortal?” said the noble and patient Odysseus. “Believe me, I am no god. But I am your father, on whose account you have endured so much sorrow and trouble and suffered persecution at men’s hands.”
With that he kissed his son and let a tear roll down his cheek to the ground, though hitherto he had kept himself under strict control. But Telemachus could not yet accept the fact that it was his father, and once more put his feelings into words. “You are not my father,” he said: “you are not Odysseus; but to make my grief all the more bitter some power is playing me a trick. No mortal man unaided by a god has wizardry like this at his command, though I know that any god who wished could easily bring about these alternations between youth and age. Why, only a moment ago you were an old man in shabby clothes, and now you look like one of the gods who live in the wide heavens.”
“Telemachus,” replied Odysseus, never at a loss, there is no reason why you should feel any excessive surprise at your father’s home-coming, or be so taken aback. Be quite certain of this, that you will see no second Odysseus return. No, I am the man, just as you see me here, back in my own country after nineteen years of misfortune and wandering. As for these changes in me, they are the work of the warrior goddess Athene, who can do anything, and makes me look as she wishes, at one moment like a beggar and at the next like a young man finely dressed. It is easy for the gods in heaven to make or mar a man’s appearance.”
Odysseus sat down, but Telemachus, softened at last, flung his arms round his noble father’s neck and burst into tears. And now they both broke down and sobbed aloud without a pause like birds bereaved, like the sea-eagle or the taloned vulture when villagers have robbed the nest of their unfledged young. So did these two let the piteous tears run streaming from their eyes. And sunset would have found them still in tender mood, if Telemachus had not suddenly thought of asking his father a question. “But, father dear,” he said, “what ship can have brought you just now to Ithaca, and who were the men on board? It is obvious that you didn’t come on foot.”
“My boy,” said Odysseus, “you shall have the whole story. The Phaeacians brought me here. You know their name for seamanship and how they provide any stranger who lands on their coasts with his passage home. Well, they brought me across the sea on one of their fast ships and landed me in Ithaca-I was asleep the whole time. They gave me splendid presents too, copper and gold in plenty and woven stuffs, all of which, I thank heaven, lie hidden in a cave. Finally, I came up here at Athene’s suggestion so that we could discuss the destruction of our enemies. And now I want you to run through their names for me one by one, so that I may know exactly who and how many they are. Then I will face the problem boldly and decide whether we two could deal with them by ourselves or whether we should seek assistance.”
“Father,” Telemachus replied with his usual prudence, “I have always heard of your great reputation as a soldier who could use his brains as well as his hands. But this time you have overreached yourself. You appall me! Two men couldn’t possibly take on so many, and such good fighters into the bargain. There are not a mere dozen Suitors, nor a couple of dozen, but many times more than that I can tell you their strength here and now. Dulichium has sent fifty-two, the pick of her young men, with six valets in tow. From same there are twenty-four, and from Zacynthus twenty noblemen; while Ithaca itself has contributed a dozen of its best, and with them Medon the herald, and an excellent minstrel, besides two servants used to carving. If we meet them at the house in full force, I am afraid it may be you who pay a cruel and a ghastly price for the crimes you have come to avenge. So if you can think of any possible allies, consider the people most likely to fight heart and soul on our side.”
“I will indeed,” said the all-daring Odysseus. “Hear what I think; and ask yourself whether Athene with Father Zeus will serve our purpose, or whether I need cudgel my brains for any further allies.”
“Your champions are an excellent couple, I’m sure,” said Telemachus. “They may sit up there in the clouds, but they rule the whole world of men and gods.”
“And so,” said Odysseus, “when the scene is set in the palace for ordeal by battle between us and the Suitors, it will not be long before those two are in the thick of the fight. However, at the first sign of dawn, I wish you to go home and show yourself to these rascally Suitors. Later, the swineherd will bring me down to the city disguised as a wretched old beggar. If I meet with insolence in the house, you must steel your heart to my maltreatment, and even if they haul me out of the place by the feet or let fly at me with their weapons, you will have to look on and bear it. You can, of course, take them politely to task and try to make them behave more sensibly; but they simply won’t listen to you: their day of judgment is at hand. And here is another part of my plan that I must impress on your mind. When that great strategist, Athene, tells me that the time has come, I shall give you a nod. Directly you see the signal, gather up the warlike weapons that are lying about in the hall and stow them away in a corner of the strong-room. See that you take them all, and when the Suitors miss them and ask you what has happened, you must lull their suspicions with some plausible tale. You can say: ‘I rescued them from the smoke, having noticed how different they looked from when Odysseus left them and sailed for Troy. The fire had got at them and damaged them badly. It also occurred to me – and this was more serious – that, since the very presence of a weapon provokes a man to use it, you might start quarrelling in your cups and wound each other, thus spoiling your festivities and disgracing yourselves as suitors.’ ”
“Just for us two, leave a couple of swords and spears and two leather shields ready to hand, where we can make a dash and pick them up. Pallas Athene and Zeus will distract the Suitors’ attention when the time comes.”
“One more word; and this is most important. If you really are my son and have our blood in your veins, see that not a soul hears that Odysseus is back. Tell neither Laertes, nor the swineherd, nor any of the household staff, nor Penelope herself. You and I alone will discover which way the women are heading. And we might also sound one or two of the men-servants, to find out which are loyal and respect us, and which have forgotten their duty to the fine prince they have in you.”
But his noble son had an objection to raise. “Father,” said he, “my own mettle, I am sure, you will come to know in due course: I am not in the habit of behaving like a light headed fool. But I do feel that we should gain nothing by acting as you propose, and I urge you to think once more. You would waste a lot of time going round the various farms and sounding the servants one by one, while the Suitor are enjoying themselves in our house and eating up our stores in their disgusting way, without sparing a thing. I certainly think you ought to find out which of the women-servants are guilty or innocent of disloyalty towards you; but as far as the men are concerned, I, personally, vote that we do not go round the farms to sound them, but postpone that till later, if it is really true that you have had some intimation of the will of Zeus.”
While father and son were thus discussing the situation, the good ship that had, brought Telemachus and his men from Pylos was making the port. They sailed the black craft into the deep water of the harbour and then dragged her up on the beach. Their eager squires carried off their gear and removed the valuable gifts to Clytius’ house. They then despatched a, messenger to Odysseus’ palace to tell the wise Penelope that Telemachus had gone up-country and ordered them to sail round to the city, so that the good queen might not take alarm and let the tear-drops fall. As it happened, this messenger and the worthy swineherd, conveying the same news to the lady, met on the way. But when they reached the royal palace, the messenger no sooner found himself surrounded by the women-servants than he blurted out his news: “A message for the Queen! Her son is back!” Whereas the swineherd sought Penelope’s own ear and told her everything her son had instructed him to say. His message faithfully delivered, he turned his back on the palace and its precincts and returned to his pigs.
To the Suitors the news came as a shock which cast a gloom over their spirits. They streamed out of the hall along the great wall of the courtyard, and there in front of the gates they held a meeting, which was opened by Eurymachus, son of Polybus.
“My friends,” he said, “Telemachus, in his impudence, has certainly scored a success by safely bringing off this expedition that we swore should come to nothing. I can only suggest that we should now launch the best available ship, collect a crew of able seamen, and quickly send word to our friends out there that they must come home at once.”
He was still speaking when Amphinomus, happening to turn round, caught sight of their ship from where he sat. She was riding in the harbour and he could see them furling sail and handling the oars. He gave a merry laugh and called out to the rest: “No need to send a message now! Our friends are back. Some god must have sent the word, or they themselves saw Telemachus’ boat slip by and couldn’t catch her.”
Hereupon the whole company rose and went down to the beach, where they made haste to drag the black ship up onto the shore, while eager squires relieved the crew of their gear.
The Suitors then repaired in a body to the place of assembly, where they allowed no one else, young or old, to join them. And there Antinous, Eupeithes’ son, made his report. “Damnation take the man,” he said, “but by god’s help he saved his skin. All day long we had scouts posted along the windy heights and kept reinforcing them. We never slept ashore at night, but as soon as the sun set we went on board and kept afloat till dawn in the hope of catching Telemachus and finishing him off. Meanwhile some spirit brought him home. Telemachus, I say, must not escape us, but here and now we must think out some way of destroying him. For I contend that while he lives we shall never bring this business of ours to a satisfactory end. The man is clever and he knows how to use his brains, while the people no longer look on us with any favour at all. I suggest action, therefore, before he can call a general Assembly. For mark my words, he won’t be slow to do so, and it will be an angry man who rises up to denounce, us and tell them all how we plotted his murder and then missed him. They certainly won’t applaud this recital of our misdeeds. In fact they may take a strong line and sent us into banishment among the foreigners abroad. We must forestall such a move and catch him either in the country well away from town or on the road. We should then have his income and estates, which we would divide fairly between us, while we might let his mother and her new husband keep the house. But if you disapprove of my proposal and would rather see him alive and in possession of all his inheritance, I suggest that we no longer, foregather here to eat his excellent dinners, but that each of us court the Queen and make his bridal offers from his own: house. She could then marry the man who bid highest and was picked out by fate to be her husband.”
A dead silence followed this speech. It was broken at last by Amphinomus, son of King Nisus and grandson of Aretias, the master-spirit among the Suitors from the corn and grasslands of Dulichium. He was man of intelligence, whose behaviour had singled him out for Penelope’s special approval; and the advice he now gave showed that he had their best interests at heart.
“My friends,” he said, “you must not regard me as ready to put Telemachus to death. It is a dreadful thing to spill the blood of princes. Before all else, let us learn the gods’ will. If the oracles of almighty Zeus approve the deed, I shall not only second you all, I will be his executioner myself. But if the gods say no to it I advise you to hold your hands.”
Amphinomus carried the day and the meeting adjourned without further debate. They all retired into the palace and sat down once more on their chairs of polished wood.
It was at this moment that Penelope gave way to a sudden impulse to confront these Suitors of hers, now that they had shown to what extremes they were prepared to go. She knew well enough that her son’s murder had been canvassed in the palace, for Medon the herald had overheard their debate and warned her. So now she gathered her ladies round her and went down to the hall. With queenly dignity she approached the young men, and drawing a fold of her bright head-dress across her cheeks, took her stand by a pillar of the massive roof, where she rounded on Antinous and called him bluntly to account:
“They say in Ithaca that there is no-one of your age so wise and eloquent as you, Antinous. You have proved them wrong; and I denounce you for the double-dealing ruffian that you are. Madman! How dare you plot against Telemachus’ life and dishonour the obligations that a past act of mercy imposes – bonds that are ratified by Zeus himself and make all enmity between you two a sacrilege? Or have you forgotten that your father once sought refuge here from the fury of the mob, when their blood was up because he had joined the Taphian pirates in a raid on the Thesprotians, who were at peace with us? They would have killed him and had his heart out, quite apart from the seizure of his handsome income, had not Odysseus intervened and controlled their, violence – Odysseus, at whose expense you are living free of charge, whose wife you are courting, and whose son you propose to kill, whatever torture you may cause to me. I command you now to put an end to this and make the rest obey you.”
It was Eurymachus son of Polybus who took it on himself to deal with the Queen. “Penelope,” he said, “wise daughter of Icarius, have no fear. Dismiss these terrors from your mind. The man is not born and never will be, who shall lay violent hands on Telemachus your son, so long as I live and am on earth to see the light of day. I am making no idle boast but telling you the solemn truth, when I say that his black blood would soon be pouring from my spear. Didn’t Odysseus, the sacker of cities, befriend me too and often take me on his knees to put a piece of roast meat in my fingers and lift the red wine to my mouth? That makes Telemachus my dearest friend on earth, and I assure him he need have no fears whatever for his life. We shall not kill him. If the gods decree his death, that is another matter and there’s no escape.”
So said Eurymachus to soothe the mother’s fears, while all the time he had murder for the son in his heart. But Penelope withdrew to her splendid apartment on the upper floor, and there she wept for Odysseus her beloved husband till bright-eyed Athene closed her eyes in grateful sleep.
That same evening the good swineherd returned to Odysseus and his son. They were engaged in the routine of preparing supper, having slaughtered a yearling pig, when Athene came up to Odysseus and touched him with her wand, changing him once more into an old man in filthy cloths. She was afraid that the swineherd would recognize him, if he saw him, undisguised, and being unable to keep the secret run down to tell Penelope the news.
It was Telemachus who greeted him: “So here you are, my good Eumaeus! What news in the town? Are my gallant lords back from their ambuscade? Or are they still watching for me in the same spot on my way home?”
“I didn’t care,” said Eumaeus, “to go own to the town and made enquiries about that. I was in too much of a hurry to deliver my message and get back here, and I had been joined on my way by a messenger whom your crew had sent running off to the palace. Actually he was the first to convey the news to your mother. But there’s something that I can tell you, for I saw it with my own eyes. I had climbed up above the town as far as Hermes’ Hill when I spied a ship coming into our harbour. She had a crowd of men on board and a whole armoury of shields and two-edged spears. I took it to be their party, but I cannot say for certain.”
When Prince Telemachus heard this he glanced at his father with a smile which he was careful to hide from Eumaeus.
Their work was finished now and the meal prepared. So they sat down with a good appetite and ate their supper together. When their thirst and hunger were satisfied they began to think kindly of their beds and were soon enjoying the boon of sleep.
