The Meeting of Father and Son | The Beggar and the Faithful Dog |
[Telemachus arrives at Eumaeus' farm; Eumaeus is overjoyed to see Telemachus back from his voyage; Telemachus, Eumaeus, and Odysseus (in disguise) talk together; Telemachus sends Eumaeus off to tell Penelope of his safe return; Athena tells Odysseus to reveal himself to his son and transforms his appearance; Telemachus and Odysseus are reunited; Telemachus and Odysseus discuss strategies for dealing with the suitors; Odysseus gives Telemachus instructions about hiding weapons and behaving in front of the suitors; a herald from Telemachus' crew announces to Penelope and others the news of his return from Pylos; the suitors are upset and discuss what to do; Penelope appears before the suitors and upbraids Antinous for his behaviour; Antinous replies; Eumaeus returns to Odysseus and Telemachus in the hut; Athena transforms Odysseus into an old beggar once again; Odysseus, Eumaeus, and Telemachus eat a meal and go to sleep]
Meanwhile at dawn Odysseus and the loyal swineherd, once they'd sent the herdsmen out with droves of pigs, made a fire in the hut and prepared their breakfast. As Telemachus came closer, the yelping dogs stopped barking and fawned around him. Lord Odysseus noticed what the dogs were doing and heard his footsteps. At once he spoke out to Eumaeus—his words had wings: "Eumaeus, some comrade of yours is coming, or someone else you know. The dogs aren't barking and are acting friendly. I hear footsteps." 10 He'd hardly finished speaking when his own dear son stood in the doorway. The swineherd, amazed, jumped up-- the bowls he was using to mix the gleaming wine fell from his hands. He went up to greet his master, kissed his head, both his handsome eyes, his two hands, then burst into tears. Just as a loving father welcomes his dear son after a nine-year absence, when he comes from a foreign land, an only son, his favourite, for whom he's undergone much sorrow, that's how the loyal swineherd hugged Telemachus 20 [20] and kissed him often, as if he'd escaped his death. And through his tears he spoke winged words to him: "You've come, Telemachus, you sweet light. I thought I'd never see you any more, once you went off in that ship to Pylos. Come in now, dear boy, so that my heart can rejoice to see you here in my home, now you've just returned from distant places. You don't often visit farm and herdsmen-- your life is in the city. Your heart, I think, 30 must like to watch that hateful bunch of suitors." Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said: [30] "If you say so, old friend. I've come here now on your account, to see you face to face and to hear you talk about my mother. Is she still living in the palace halls, or has some other man now married her? Is no one sleeping in Odysseus' bed? Is it all covered in disgusting cobwebs?" The swineherd, that outstanding man, then answered him: 40 "Yes indeed, she still lives in your palace, with a faithful heart, but always grieving, wasting days and nights away with weeping." Once he'd said this, he took Telemachus' bronze spear, [40] and let him enter. He crossed the stone threshold. As he approached, Odysseus, his father, got up to offer him his seat, but from across the room Telemachus stopped him and said: "Stay put, stranger. We'll find a chair in the hut somewhere else. Here's a man who'll get one for us." 50 He spoke. Odysseus went back and sat down again. Eumaeus piled up green brushwood on the floor and spread a fleece on top. Odysseus' dear son sat down there. The swineherd then set out before them platters of roast meat, left over from the meal [50] they'd had the day before, and quickly heaped up baskets full of bread. In a wooden bowl he mixed wine sweet as honey, and then sat down himself, opposite godlike Odysseus. Their hands reached out to the fine meal prepared and spread before them. 60 When they'd had food and drink to their heart's content, Telemachus then said to the splendid swineherd: "Old friend, where does this stranger come from? How did sailors bring him to Ithaca? Who do they claim to be? For I don't think there's any way he could get here on foot." Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: [60] "My child, I'll tell you nothing but the truth. He claims that he was born in spacious Crete and says he has been roaming all around, 70 wandering through many human cities. That how some god has spun a fate for him. He's just fled from a ship of Thesprotians and come here to my farm. I give him to you. Do as you wish. He's a suppliant, he says." Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said: "Eumaeus, I'm really distressed at heart by what you've said. How can I welcome [70] this guest into my home? I myself am young-- I don't believe my hands are strong enough 80 to fight a man who acts with violence against me first. As for my mother, in her chest the heart is quite divided, whether to stay with me and tend the house, out of respect for what the people say and for her husband's bed, or to go now with the finest man of those Achaeans who've been courting her within the halls, the one who offers the most marriage gifts. But anyway, now this stranger's come here, 90 to your home, I'll dress him in fine clothing, cloak and tunic, and give a two-edged sword [80] and sandals for his feet. I'll send him off wherever his heart and spirit prompt him. If you wish, you can keep him at this farm and care for him. I'll send some clothing here and all the food he'll eat, so he won't ruin you and your comrades. But I won't permit him to go there and mingle with the suitors-- they are far too full of arrogant pride 100 and might make fun of him, which would bring me deadly sorrow. It's difficult for one man, even if he's powerful, to do much with so many more. They are far stronger." Then lord Odysseus, who had endured so much, [90] said to Telemachus: "Friend, surely it's all right for me to answer, and my heart is torn as I hear you talk—these suitors think up such presumptuous actions in your palace and flout your will, though you're a decent man. 110 Tell me, do you agree with this oppression? Do the people of the country hate you and follow what some god is telling them? Do you think the blame rests with your kinsmen, whom a man relies on when there's fighting, even if a major quarrel should arise? With my heart the way it is, how I wish I were either as young as you, the son [100] of brave Odysseus, or the man himself returning from his travels—there's still room 120 for us to hope for that—then, if I came to the halls of Laertes' son, Odysseus, and didn't bring destruction on them all, let a stranger slice this head off my neck. If I, acting all alone, was overwhelmed by their greater numbers, I'd rather die, killed in my own home, than continue watching such disgraceful acts—guests treated badly, women servants shamelessly being dragged through the fine palace, wine drawn and wasted, 130 [110] and all the time food eaten needlessly, acts which go on and on, without an end." Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said: "Well, stranger, I'll speak candidly to you. The people are not all angry with me, nor do they bear a grudge. And I don't blame my kinsmen, the ones a man relies on in a fight, even if a great quarrel comes. The son of Cronos has made our family follow a single line. It goes like this— 140 Arcisius fathered a single son, Laertes, and he, too, was the father of only a single son, Odysseus, and Odysseus fathered me, his only son, then left me by myself in his own hall. [120] He got no joy of me. And that's why now countless hostile men are in our home. All those lords with power in the islands-- Dulicium, Same, wooded Zycanthus-- and those who rule in rocky Ithaca, 150 all of them are trying to court my mother and destroy my home.* She does not turn down the hateful marriage, but cannot decide to bring these matters to an end. And so, with their feasting they consume my household, and they'll soon be the ruin of me, too. But all this lies in the lap of the gods. Old friend, you must go quickly and report [130] to wise Penelope that I've returned, I'm safely home from Pylos. I'll stay here, 160 until you've given the news to her alone and come back here. No other Achaean must learn about it, for many of them are planning nasty things against me." Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: "I know what you're saying—I understand. You're speaking to a man who thinks things through. But come, tell me this, and be frank with me. On this trip should I go to Laertes with the news? The poor man's in misery. 170 For a while, though suffering great distress about Odysseus, he'd supervise the fields [140] and in his home eat and drink with servants, as the heart inside his chest would urge him. But now, since the time you left for Pylos, people say he no longer eats and drinks the way he used to or inspects the fields, but sits there groaning and wailing, in tears, with his flesh shriveling around his bones." Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said: 180 "That's more distressing, but nevertheless, though it makes us sad, we'll leave him alone. If mortal men could somehow get all things simply by wishing, we would first of all select the day my father gets back home. But after you've delivered your message, [150] then come back here. Don't go wandering around the fields looking for Laertes. Instead, tell my mother to send her maid, the housekeeper, quickly and in secret. 190 She can report the news to the old man." His words spurred on the swineherd. He took his sandals, tied them on his feet, and set off for the city. Now, it did not escape the notice of Athena that swineherd Eumaeus was going from the farm. She approached the hut, appearing like a woman, beautiful, tall, and skilled in making lovely things. She stood just outside the entrance to the farm and was visible to no one but Odysseus. Telemachus did not see her face to face 200 [160] or notice she was there. For when gods appear, there's no way their form is perceptible to all. But Odysseus saw her. So did the dogs, as well. But they didn't bark. Instead, they crept away, whimpering in fear, to the far side of the hut. She signaled with her eyebrows. Lord Odysseus noticed and went out of the hut, past the large wall around the yard, and stood in front of her. Then Athena spoke to him: "Son of Laertes, resourceful Odysseus, sprung from Zeus, 210 Now is the time to speak to your own son-- make yourself known and don't conceal the facts, so you two can plan the suitors' lethal fate, then go together to the famous city. [170] I won't be absent from you very long-- I'm eager for the battle." As she said this, Athena touched Odysseus with her golden wand. To start with, she placed a well-washed cloak around his body, then made him taller and restored his youthful looks. His skin grew dark once more, his countenance filled out, 220 and the beard around his chin turned black again. Once she'd done this, Athena left. But Odysseus returned into the hut. His dear son was amazed. He turned his eyes away, afraid it was a god, and spoke to him—his words had wings: [180] "Stranger, you look different to me than you did before-- you're wearing different clothes, your skin has changed. You're one of the gods who hold wide heaven. If so, be gracious, so we can give you pleasing offerings, well-crafted gifts of gold. 230 But spare us." Long-suffering lord Odysseus then answered him and said: "I'm not one of the gods. Why do you compare me to immortals? But I am your father, on whose account you grieve and suffer so much trouble, having to endure men's acts of violence." He spoke, then kissed his son. A tear ran down his cheek [190] onto the ground—till then he'd held himself in check. But Telemachus, who could not yet believe it was his father, spoke to him again, saying: 240 "You cannot be Odysseus, my father. No. Some spirit has cast a spell on me, to make me lament and grieve even more. There's no way a mortal man could plan this with his own wits, unless some god himself came by, who could, if he so desired, make him young or old quite easily. Not long ago you wore filthy clothing and were an old man. But now you're like the gods who hold wide heaven." 250 [200] Then resourceful Odysseus answered him and said: "Telemachus, it's not appropriate for you to be overly surprised your father is back home or to be too astonished. You can rest assured—no other Odysseus will ever be arriving. I am here. I've endured a lot in many wanderings, and now, in the twentieth year, I've come back to my native land. This present business, you should know, is forager Athena's work. 260 She's made me look like this—it's what she wants, and she has power—in one moment, like a beggar, and in another one, a young man with fine clothes around his body. [210] It's easy for the gods who hold wide heaven to glorify or else debase a man." Once he'd said this, he sat down, and Telemachus embraced his noble father, cried out, and shed tears. A desire to lament arose in both of them-- they wailed aloud, as insistently as birds, 270 like sea eagles or hawks with curving talons whose young have been carried off by country folk before they're fully fledged. That's how both men then let tears of pity fall from underneath their eyelids. And now light from the sun would've gone down on them, [220] as they wept, if Telemachus had not spoken. He suddenly addressed his father: "In what kind of ship, dear father, did sailors bring you here, to Ithaca? Who did they say they were? For I don't think you made it here on foot." 280 Noble long-suffering Odysseus answered him: "All right, my child, I'll tell you the truth. Phaeacians, those famous sailors, brought me. They escort other men, as well, all those who visit them. And I remained asleep as they transported me across the sea in their swift ship and set me on Ithaca. They gave me splendid gifts of bronze and gold [230] and woven clothing. Now, thanks to the gods, these things are stored away in caves. I've come here 290 at Athena's bidding, so we may plan destruction for our enemies. But come now, tell me about the number of the suitors, so I know how many men there are and what they're like. Then, once my noble heart has thought it over, I'll make up my mind, whether we two are powerful enough to take them on alone, without assistance, or whether we should seek out other men." Shrewd Telemachus answered him and said: 300 [240] "Father, I've always heard about your great renown, a mighty warrior—your hands are very strong, your plans intelligent. But what you say is far too big a task. I'm astonished. Two men cannot fight against so many-- and they are powerful. In an exact count, there are not just ten suitors or twice ten, but many more. Here, you can soon add up their numbers—from Dulichium there are fifty-two hand-picked young men, six servants 310 in their retinue, from Same twenty-four, from Zacynthus twenty young Achaeans, [250] and from Ithaca itself twelve young men, all nobility. Medon, the herald, is with them, as is the godlike minstrel, and two attendants skilled in carving meat. If we move against all these men inside, I fear revenge may bring a bitter fate, now you've come home. So you should consider whether you can think of anyone who'll help, 320 someone prepared to stand by both of us and fight with all his heart." Then lord Odysseus, who had endured so much, answered him and said: "All right, I'll tell you. Pay attention now, and listen. Do you believe Athena, [260] along with Father Zeus, will be enough for the two of us, or should I think about someone else to help us?" Shrewd Telemachus then said in reply: "Those two allies you mention are excellent. They sit high in the clouds, 330 ruling others, men and immortal gods." Long-suffering lord Odysseus answered him and said: "The two of them won't stand apart for long from the great fight—we can be sure of that-- when Ares' warlike spirit in my halls is put to the test between these suitors and ourselves. But for now, when Dawn arrives, [270] go to the house, join those arrogant suitors. The swineherd will bring me to the city later on. I'll be looking like a beggar, 340 old and wretched. If they're abusive to me, let that dear heart in your chest endure it, while I'm being badly treated, even if they drag me by my feet throughout the house and out the door or throw things and hit me. Keep looking on, and hold yourself in check. You can tell them to stop their foolishness, but seek to win them over with nice words, even though you'll surely not convince them, because the day they meet their fate has come. 350 [280] I'll tell you something else—keep it in mind. When wise Athena puts it in my mind, I'll nod my head to you. When you see that, take all the weapons of war lying there, in the hall, and put them in a secret place, all of them, in the lofty storage room. When the suitors notice they've gone missing and ask about them, you must deceive them with reassuring words: 'I've placed them well beyond the smoke, since they're no longer 360 like the weapons Odysseus left behind when he went off to Troy. They're all tarnished-- the fire has breathed on them too many times. [290] Beyond that, the son of Cronos has put a greater worry in my heart that you, after too much wine, may start up a fight amongst yourselves and then hurt each other, dishonouring your courtship and the feast. For iron attracts a man all on its own.' "But leave behind a pair of swords, two spears, 370 and two ox-hide shields, for the two of us to grab up when we make a rush at them, while Pallas Athena and Counselor Zeus will keep the suitors' minds preoccupied. I'll tell you something else—keep it in mind. If you are my son and truly of our blood, [300] let no one hear Odysseus is back home. Don't let Laertes know or the swineherd, or any servants, or Penelope herself. You and I alone will investigate 380 how the women feel, and we'll check out some of the serving men, to discover if any of them fears and honours us in his heart—and the ones with no respect, who discredit you for being the man you are." Then his splendid son answered him and said: "Father, I think you'll later come to recognize my spirit, for no timidity of mind [310] possesses me. But still, I do not think your plan will benefit the two of us. 390 I'd ask you to consider this—you'll spend a long time simply testing every man, as you visit the farms, while those others, in their proud way, relax inside your halls and consume your goods without restraint. But I'd suggest you learn about the women, those disgracing you and the guiltless ones. As for men on the estates, I'd prefer we didn't test them. We can deal with that at a later time, if you truly recognize 400 some sign from Zeus, who bears the aegis." [320] So the two men talked about these things together. Meanwhile, the well-built ship which brought Telemachus from Pylos with all his comrades had reached Ithaca. Once they'd come inside the deep water harbour, they hauled the black ship up on shore. Eager servants carried off their weapons and without delay took the splendid gifts to Clytius' home. They also sent a herald to Odysseus' house, to report to wise Penelope, telling her 410 Telemachus had gone to visit the estates [330] and had told the ship to sail off for the city, in case the noble queen might get sick at heart and shed some tears. This herald and the swineherd met because they'd both been sent off with the same report to tell the queen. When they reached the royal palace, the herald spoke out in front of female servants: "My queen, your dear son has just returned." But the swineherd came up close to Penelope and gave her all the details her dear son 420 had ordered him to say. Once he'd told her [340] every detail he'd been asked to mention to her, he went off, leaving the courtyard and the hall, back to his pigs. The suitors were unhappy, their hearts dismayed, and they departed from the hall, past the large courtyard wall. There, before the gates, they sat down. The first one of them to say something was Eurymachus, son of Polybus: "O my friends, to tell the truth, in his great arrogance Telemachus has carried out his trip, 430 a great achievement. We never thought he would complete it. So come on now, let's launch a black ship, the best one we have, collect some sailors, a crew of rowers, so they can quickly carry a report to those other men to go home at once."* [350] No sooner had he said all this, than Amphinomus, turning in his place, saw a ship in the deep harbour. Men were bringing down the sail, others holding oars. With a hearty laugh, he then addressed his comrades: 440 "Don't bother with a message any more. Here they are back home. Either some god gave them news, or they saw his ship themselves, as it sailed past, but couldn't catch it." He spoke. They all got up and went to the sea shore, then quickly dragged the black ship up onto dry ground, while eager attendants carried off their weapons. [360] They themselves went to the meeting place together. No one else was allowed to sit there with them, no old or younger men. Then Antinous addressed them, 450 son of Eupeithes: "Well, this is bad news-- the gods have delivered the man from harm. Our lookouts sat each day on windy heights, always in successive shifts. At sunset, we never spent the night on shore, but sailed over the sea in our swift ship, waiting for sacred Dawn, as we set our ambush for Telemachus, so we could capture and then kill him. Meanwhile, some god [370] has brought him home. But let's think about 460 a sad end for Telemachus right here and ensure he doesn't get away from us. For as long as he's alive, I don't think we'll be successful in what we're doing. He himself is clever, shrewd in counsel, and now people don't regard us well at all. So come now, before he calls Achaeans to assembly. I don't think he will give up. He'll get angry and stand up to proclaim to everyone how we planned to kill him 470 and how we didn't get him. The people will resent us, once they learn about [380] our nasty acts. Take care they do not harm us and force us out, away from our own land, until we reach a foreign country. And so, let's move first—capture him out in the fields, far from the city, or else on the road. We ourselves will keep the property he owns, his wealth, too, and share it appropriately among us. As for possession of the house, 480 that's something we should give his mother and the man who marries her. However, if what I've been saying displeases you, and you'd prefer he should remain alive, retaining all the riches of his fathers, then let's not keep on gathering in this place, consuming his supply of pleasant things. Instead, let each man carry on his courtship [390] from his own home, seeking to prevail with gifts. Then she can marry the one who offers most 490 and comes to her as her destined husband." He finished. They all sat quiet, not saying a thing. Then Amphinomus spoke out and addressed them, splendid son of lord Nisus, Areteias' son-- leader of the suitors from Dulichium, land rich in grass and wheat. Penelope found him especially pleasant because of how he talked, for he understood things well. With good intentions, he spoke to them and said: "My friends, [400] I wouldn't want to slay Telemachus. 500 It's reprehensible to kill someone of royal blood. But first let's ask the gods for their advice. If great Zeus' oracles approve the act, I myself will kill him and tell all other men to do so, too. But if the gods decline, I say we stop." Amphinomus finished. They agreed with what he'd said. So they immediately got up and went away to Odysseus' house. Once they reached the palace, they sat down on the polished chairs. By that point, 510 wise Penelope had thought of something else-- to put in an appearance before the suitors, [410] despite their arrogance, because she'd heard about the destruction of her son there in the hall. The herald Medon, who'd heard their plans, had told her. So she set off on her way toward the hall, accompanied by her attendant women. As soon as the noble lady reached the suitors, she stood beside the door post of the well-built room and, holding a bright veil across her countenance, 520 addressed Antinous, reprimanding him: "Antinous, though you're an arrogant man and come up with devious schemes, people say you are the best among those men your age at offering advice and making speeches. But you don't seem to be a man like that. [420] You madman, why devise a fatal plan to kill Telemachus and disregard the things involved with being a suppliant, who has Zeus as witness? It's impiety 530 to plan evil things for one another. Do you not know your father came here a fugitive, afraid of his own people? They were extremely angry with him, because he'd joined with Taphian pirates to cause trouble for the Thesprotians, who were allied with us. Those men wished to kill him, rip out his heart, and devour his huge and pleasant livelihood. But then, Odysseus restrained them, kept them in check, 540 [430] for all their eagerness. Now you eat up that man's home without paying anything, court his wife, attempt to kill his son, and cause me much distress. So stop all this, I tell you, and order other suitors to do the same." Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered her: "Wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius, cheer up. Don't let these things concern your heart. No man living and no man born and no one yet to be 550 will lay hands on your son Telemachus, not while I'm alive, gazing on the earth. I tell you this—and it will truly happen— [440] that man's black blood will quickly saturate my spear, for Odysseus, sacker of cities, also set me on his knees many times and put roast meat into my hands and held red wine up for me. Thus, Telemachus is far the dearest of all men to me. I say to him—don't be afraid of death, 560 not from the suitors, but there's no way out when death comes from the gods." He said these words to ease her mood, while he himself was planning her son's death. But Penelope went to her bright room upstairs and wept there [450] for Odysseus, her dear husband, until sweet sleep, cast by bright-eyed Athena, spread across her eyelids. At evening the fine swineherd came to Odysseus and to his son, busy getting dinner ready. They'd killed a boar, one year old. Then Athena 570 approached Odysseus, Laertes' son, and touched him with her wand to make him an old man once again. She put shabby clothes around his body, just in case the swineherd, by looking up, would recognize him and then go off to tell faithful Penelope, and thus fail to keep the secret in his heart. Telemachus addressed the swineherd first and said: [460] "Good Eumaeus, you've come. What news is there in the city? Are those arrogant suitors back in the house already from their ambush, 580 or are they still out there watching for me as I travel on my journey homeward?" Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: "I didn't bother to make enquiries or ask about such things on my travels through the town. Once I'd given my report, my heart told me to get myself back here as fast as possible. A swift messenger, who came from your companions, met me, a herald. Your mother first got the report 590 from him. But I found out something else, [470] which I saw with my own eyes. As I walked above the city, by the hill of Hermes, I saw a fast ship coming in our harbour, with lots of men aboard and loaded down with shields and two-edged spears. I thought it could be them, but I'm not certain." Eumaeus finished. Telemachus with a smile, full of confidence and strength, allowed his eyes to glance over to his father, avoiding contact 600 with the swineherd. Then, once they'd finished working and dinner was prepared, they dined. Their hearts did not lack a thing—they shared the meal as equals. When they'd had food and drink to their heart's content, [480] they thought of rest, and so they took the gift of sleep. | [Telemachus leaves Eumaeus and Odysseus at the farm, telling the swineherd that the beggar (Odysseus) must go to the city; Telemachus is welcomed in the palace by Eurycleia and his mother; Telemachus joins the suitors; Peiraeus leads in Theoclymenus; Theoclymenus and Telemachus dine with Penelope; Telemachus tells Penelope about his journey; Theoclymenus makes a prophecy of Odysseus' return; Eumaeus and Odysseus leave the farm for the city; they meet Melanthius, the goat herder, on the way, who insults them; Eumaeus and Odysseus arrive at the palace, meet Odysseus' old dog, Argus, who recognizes him and dies; Eumaeus enters the palace and joins Telemachus at dinner; Odysseus sits by the entrance way; Telemachus offers food to the disguised Odysseus, who then starts begging from the suitors; Melanthius and Antinous insult Eumaeus and Odysseus; Odysseus tells Antinous his story, they trade insults, and Antinous throws a foot stool at Odysseus and hits him; Penelope summons Eumaeus to her, asks him to call the disguised beggar to her; Odysseus tell Eumaeus that he'll meet Penelope in the evening, not now; Eumaeus tells Penelope, talks to Telemachus, and returns to the farm, leaving the feast still in progress.]
As soon as rose-fingered early Dawn appeared, Telemachus, dear son of god-like Odysseus, tied some fine sandals on his feet, took a strong spear, well suited to his grip, and, as he headed off towards the city, spoke out to the swineherd: "Old friend, I'm leaving for the city, so my mother can observe me. I don't think her dreadful grieving and her sorry tears will stop until she sees me for herself. So I'm telling you to do as follows— 10 take this wretched stranger to the city. [10] Once there, he can beg food from anyone who'll offer him some bread and cups of water. I can't take on the weight of everyone, not when I have these sorrows in my heart. As for the stranger, if he's very angry, things will be worse for him. Those are the facts, and I do like to speak the truth." Odysseus, that resourceful man, then answered him and said: "Friend, I myself am not all that eager 20 to be held back here. For a beggar man it's better to ask people for a meal in the city instead of in the fields. Whoever's willing will give me something. At my age it's not appropriate for me [20] to stay any longer in the farmyard, obeying everything a master orders. No. So be on your way. This man here, who you give orders to, will take me there, as soon as I've warmed up beside the fire 30 and the sun get hot. These clothes I'm wearing are miserably bad, and I'm afraid the morning frost may be too much for me-- you say the city is a long way off." Odysseus finished. Telemachus walked away, across the farmyard, moving with rapid strides. He was sowing seeds of trouble for the suitors. As he entered the beautifully furnished house, he carried in his spear and set it in its place, against a looming pillar. Then he moved inside, 40 [30] across the stone threshold. His nurse Eurycleia saw him well before the others, while spreading fleeces on the finely crafted chairs. She burst out crying, rushed straight up to him, while there gathered round them other female servants of stout-hearted Odysseus. They kissed his head and shoulders in loving welcome. Then from her chamber wise Penelope emerged, looking like Artemis or golden Aphrodite. She embraced the son she loved, while shedding tears, and kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes. 50 Through her tears, she spoke to him—her words had wings: [40] "You've come, Telemachus, you sweet light. I thought I'd never see you any more, when you secretly went off to Pylos in your ship, against my wishes, seeking some report of your dear father. So come, describe for me how you ran into him." Shrewd Telemachus then answered her and said: "Mother, don't encourage me to grieve, or get the heart inside my chest stirred up. 60 I've just escaped being utterly destroyed. But have a bath, and pick fresh clothing for your body. Then, with your attendants go to the room upstairs, and promise all the gods you'll offer perfect sacrifices, [50] if Zeus will somehow bring to fulfillment actions which will give us retribution. I'll go to the place where we assemble, so I can call upon a stranger, a man who came with me on my trip from Pylos. 70 I sent him ahead with my noble comrades, telling Peiraeus to take him to his home, to treat him kindly, and to honour him, until the time I got there." Telemachus finished. Penelope was quiet—no winged words flew from her. She bathed herself and took fresh clothing for her body. Then she promised she'd offer perfect sacrifice to all the gods, if Zeus would somehow bring about those actions which would give them retribution. [60] Telemachus walked through the hall, gripping his spear. 80 Two swift dogs went with him. Athena poured on him such marvelous grace that, as he moved along all people gazed at him. The arrogant suitors thronged around him, making gentle conversation, but deep in their hearts they were planning trouble. He avoided the main crowd of them and took a seat where Mentor and Antiphus and Halitherses sat, companions of his father's from many years ago. [70] They asked him all kinds of questions. Then Peiraeus, the well-known spearman, approached, leading the stranger 90 through the city to the place where they assembled.* Telemachus did not turn his back for very long upon the stranger, but went up to him. Peiraeus was the first to speak: "Telemachus, send some women quickly to my home, so I may have those gifts sent here to you which Menelaus gave you." Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said: "Peiraeus, we don't know how these matters will turn out. If these overbearing suitors kill me 100 in my own halls in secret and divide [80] all my father's goods amongst themselves, I'd prefer you keep those gifts yourself-- enjoy them—rather than any of those men. But if I sow a lethal fate for them, then bring them to the house, and be happy with me, for I will be rejoicing." As he said this, he led the long-suffering stranger towards the house. When they reached the stately palace, they put their cloaks down on the seats and armchairs, 110 then went into the polished tubs to have a bath. After the attending women had washed both men, rubbed them down with oil, and wrapped around them woolen cloaks and tunics, they came out from the bath [90] and sat down on the chairs. A servant brought in water in a lovely golden pitcher and poured it out in a silver basin, so they could wash their hands. Beside them she then set up a polished table. The worthy housekeeper brought bread and set it out, then added lots of meat, giving freely from her stores. 120 Telemachus' mother sat across from him, by the door post of the hall, leaning from her seat to spin fine threads of yarn. They stretched out their hands to take the fine food prepared and set before them. When they'd had food and drink to their heart's content, the first to speak to them was wise Penelope: [100] "Telemachus, once I've gone up to my room, I'll lie down in bed, which has become for me a place where I lament, always wet with tears, ever since Odysseus went to Troy 130 with Atreus' sons. Yet you don't dare to tell me clearly of your father's trip, even before the haughty suitors come into the house, no word of what you learned." Shrewd Telemachus then answered her and said: "All right then, mother, I'll tell you the truth. We went to Pylos and reached Nestor, shepherd of his people. He welcomed us [110] in his lofty home with hospitality and kindness, as a father for a son 140 who's just returned from far-off places after many years—that's how Nestor and his splendid sons looked after me with loving care. But of brave Odysseus, alive or dead, he told me he'd heard nothing from any man on earth. He sent me off with horses and a well-built chariot to that famous spearman Menelaus, son of Atreus. There I saw Argive Helen, for whom many Trojans and Achaeans 150 struggled hard, because that's what gods had willed. Menelaus, skilled at war shouts, at once [120] asked me why I'd come to lovely Sparta, what I was looking for. I told him the truth, all the details. He answered me and said: 'That's disgraceful! They want to lie down in the bed of a courageous warrior, when they themselves are cowards—just as if a doe has put two new-born suckling fawns in a mighty lion's thicket, so they can sleep, 160 and roams mountain slopes and grassy valleys seeking pasture, and then the lion comes back to that lair and brings a dismal fate [130] for both of them—that's how Odysseus will bring those men to their disastrous end. By Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo, how I wish he could be as he was once in well-built Lesbos, in a wrestling match, when he stood and fought Philomeleides, threw him decisively, and all Achaeans 170 felt great joy—if he were that sort of man, Odysseus might well mingle with the suitors, and they'd all meet death, a bitter courtship. But as for these things you're asking me about, begging me to speak, I'll not evade them or lead you astray. No. I won't conceal or bury a single word that I was told by that infallible Old Man of the Sea. [140] He said that he had seen Odysseus on an island, suffering great distress 180 in nymph Calypso's home—she keeps him there by force. He can't get to his native land because he has no ship available, no oars, and no companions, men who might transport him on the broad back of the sea.' "That's what famous spearman Menelaus said, the son of Atreus. When I was finished, I came home, and the immortals gave me favourable winds which quickly carried me back to my native land." Telemachus' words 190 [150] stirred the heart within her chest. Then among the group Theoclymenus, a godlike man, spoke out: "Noble wife of Laertes' son, Odysseus, Menelaus has no certain knowledge. You should attend to what I have to say, for I will make a truthful prophecy and not conceal a thing. Now, let Zeus, first among the gods, act as my witness, and this table welcoming your guests, and the hearth of excellent Odysseus, 200 which I've reached, that Odysseus is, in fact, already in his native land, sitting still or moving, learning of these wicked acts. He's sowing trouble for every suitor. [160] That's how I interpret that bird omen I saw, while sitting on the well-decked ship-- that's what I said then to Telemachus." Wise Penelope then answered him and said: "Ah stranger, I wish what you've just said might come about. Then you'd quickly learn 210 how kind we are, how many gifts I'd give-- anyone you met would call you blessed." Thus they talked to one another of these things. Meanwhile, outside in front of Odysseus' palace, the suitors were enjoying themselves, throwing discus and tossing javelins on a level piece of ground, as was their custom, displaying their arrogance. But when it was time for dinner and the sheep arrived, [170] coming from the fields in all directions, with those who used to lead them there, Medon spoke to them. 220 He was the herald they liked more than all the rest, and he was present with them when they feasted: "Young men, now you've entertained your hearts with tests of skill, so come inside the house, and we'll prepare a meal. There's nothing wrong with eating when it's time to have some food." Medon spoke. Agreeing with what he'd said, they stood up and moved away. When they reached the stately home, they set their cloaks down on the seats and armchairs. Men sacrificed huge sheep and goats with lots of fat. 230 [180] They killed a heifer from the herd, plump hogs as well, as they prepared the meal. Meanwhile Odysseus and the loyal swineherd were hastening to leave, moving from the fields into the city. Eumaeus, that outstanding man, was the first to speak. He said: "Stranger, since you're keen to reach the city, as my master ordered, and get there today-- myself, I'd rather leave you at the farm to guard the place, but I respect and fear him, for he may reprimand me afterwards, 240 and a master's punishment can be severe-- so come now, let's be off. Most of the day [190] has already passed, and as evening comes you'll quickly sense it's getting colder." Resourceful Odysseus then answered him and said: "I see that. I know. You're talking to a man who understands. So let's be setting out. You yourself can lead me the whole way. But if you've got a pole somewhere that's cut for you to lean on, then give it to me. 250 For you did say the road is slippery." Odysseus finished, then threw around his shoulders his ragged bag full of holes, with a twisted strap. Eumaeus gave him a staff he liked, and then the two of them set off. The dogs and herdsmen [200] stayed behind to guard the farmyard. The swineherd led his master to the city, like a beggar, leaning on a stick, an old and miserable man, with his body wrapped in wretched clothing. But as they walked along the rugged pathway, 260 getting near the city, they reached a well-made spring, with a steady flow, where townsfolk drew their water, built by Ithacus, Neritus, and Polyctor.* Around it was a poplar grove, fed by its waters. They grew on all sides of the spring. Cold water flowed down from a rock above, and on the top of that [210] an altar had been dedicated to the nymphs, where all the people passing by made offerings. Here Melanthius, son of Dolius, met them-- he was driving on some goats, the finest ones 270 in all the herds, to serve as dinner for the suitors. Two herdsmen followed with him. When he saw them, Melanthius started yelling insults. What he said was shameful and abusive—it stirred Odysseus' heart. "Now here we have a truly filthy man leading on another filthy scoundrel. As always, god matches like with like. You miserable swineherd, where are you going with this disgusting pig, this beggar man, a tedious bore who'll interrupt our feasts? He'll scratch his shoulders on many doorposts, begging scraps—no need for sword or cauldron.* If you'd let me have him guard my farmyard, clean out the pens, and carry tender shoots to my young goats, then he could drink down whey and put some muscle on those thighs of his. But since he's picked up his thieving habits, he won't want to get too close to real work. No. He'd rather creep around the country and beg food to fill his bottomless gut. 290 I'll tell you something—and this will happen-- if he reaches godlike Odysseus' home, [230] many a footstool hurled by real men will hit his ribs and all parts of his head, as he's tossed around throughout the house." Melanthius finished, and as he moved on past them, in his stupidity he kicked Odysseus on the hip. But that didn't push Odysseus off the pathway. He stood there without budging. He was wondering whether he should charge and kill him with his staff, 300 or grab him by the waist, lift him up, and smash his head down on the ground. But he hung on, controlling what was in his heart. Eumaeus looked at the man, scolded him, then, lifting up his hands in prayer, he cried aloud: "Fountain nymphs, daughters of Zeus, [240] if for your sake Odysseus ever burned pieces of thigh from lambs or from young goats, richly wrapped in fat, grant this prayer for me-- let my master come, guided by some god. Then he would scatter this presumption, 310 which you now, in your arrogance, display, always roaming down into the city, while wicked herdsmen are destroying the flock." Then Melanthius the goatherd answered him: "Dear me, the things this crafty mongrel says! I'll take him someday on a trim black ship far from Ithaca—he can make me very rich. [250] How I wish Apollo with his silver bow would strike Telemachus in his own house this very day, or that he'd be overwhelmed 320 by those suitors, since the day Odysseus will be returning home has been wiped out in some land far away." Melanthius said this and left them there, as they walked slowly onward. He strode ahead and quickly reached the royal palace. He went in at once and sat among the suitors, opposite Eurymachus, who was fond of him more than the others were. Those serving at the meal laid down a portion of the meat in front of him. The respected housekeeper brought in the bread 330 and placed it there for him to eat. Meanwhile Odysseus [260] and the loyal swineherd paused as they came closer. Around them rang the music of the hollow lyre, for Phemius was striking up a song to sing before the suitors. Odysseus grabbed the swineherd by the hand and said to him: "Eumaeus, this place surely is the splendid palace belonging to Odysseus. It's easy to recognize, even when one sees it among many others, for here there is 340 building after building, and this courtyard-- it's finished off with walls and coping stones, and there's a double gateway well fenced in. No man could criticize a house like this. I notice many men are feasting here-- smoke from cooked meat is rising from the house, [270] and a lyre is playing. A god made that as our companion at a banquet." Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: "You recognized it easily enough— 350 for in other things you're quite perceptive. But come, let's consider how this business will be carried out. Either you go first and move inside the finely furnished house to join the suitors, while I stay outside, or, if you wish, stay here. I'll go ahead. But don't hang around for long, just in case someone sees you here outside and hits you or throws something. You should consider that, I tell you." Long-suffering lord Odysseus 360 [280] then said to Eumaeus: "I know. I see that. You're talking to a man who understands. But you go on ahead. I'll stay out here. Having objects thrown at me or being hit is nothing new. My heart can bear all that, since I've put up with many hardships in war and on the waves. So let all this be added in with those. There is no way someone can hide a ravenous stomach-- that torment which brings men so many troubles. 370 Because of it, they launch their well-built ships and transport evil to their enemies across the restless sea." And so these two men [290] talked to each other about these things. Then a dog lying there raised its head and pricked up its ears. It was Argus, brave Odysseus' hunting dog, whom he himself had brought up many years ago. But before he could enjoy being with his dog, he left for sacred Troy. In earlier days, young men would take the dog to hunt wild goats, deer, and rabbits, 380 but now, with his master gone, he lay neglected in the piles of dung left there by mules and cattle, heaped up before the doors until Odysseus' servants took it as manure for some large field. Argus lay there, [300] covered in fleas. Then, when he saw Odysseus, who was coming closer, Argus wagged his tail and dropped his ears. But he no longer had the strength to approach his master. Odysseus looked away and brushed aside a tear—he did so casually to hide it from Eumaeus. Then he questioned him: 390 "Eumaeus, it's strange this dog is lying here, in the dung. He has a handsome body. I'm not sure if his speed once matched his looks or if he's like those table dogs men have, ones their masters raise and keep for show." [310] Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: "Yes, this dog belongs to a man who died somewhere far away. If he had the form and acted as he did when Odysseus left him and went to Troy, you'd quickly see 400 his speed and strength, and then you'd be amazed. No wild animal he chased escaped him in deep thick woods, for he could track a scent. He's in a bad way now. His master's dead in some foreign land, and careless women don't look after him. For when their masters [320] no longer exercise their power, slaves have no desire to do their proper work. Far-seeing Zeus steals half the value of a man the day he's taken and becomes a slave." 410 This said, Eumaeus went inside the stately palace, straight into the hall to join the noble suitors. But once he'd seen Odysseus after nineteen years, the dark finality of death at once seized Argus. As the swineherd Eumaeus came inside the house, godlike Telemachus was the first to see him, well before the others. He quickly summoned him by nodding. Eumaeus looked around, then picked up [330] a stool lying where a servant usually sat to carve large amounts of meat to serve the suitors, 420 when they feasted in the house. He took this stool, placed it by Telemachus' table, facing him, and then sat down. Meanwhile, a herald brought him a portion of the meat, set it in front of him, and lifted some bread for him out of the basket. Odysseus came into the house behind Eumaeus, looking like an old and miserable beggar, leaning on his staff, his body dressed in rags. He sat on the ash wood threshold in the doorway, propping his back against a post of cypress wood, 430 which a craftsman had once planed with skill [340] and set in true alignment. Then Telemachus called the swineherd to him and, taking a whole loaf from the fine basket and as much meat as he could hold in both his hands, he spoke to him, saying: "Take this food, and give it to the stranger. Tell him he can move among the suitors and beg from each of them in person. When a man's in need, they say that shame is not a good companion." Telemachus spoke. 440 Once he'd heard these words, Eumaeus went and stood beside Odysseus, then spoke—his words had wings: "Stranger, Telemachus gives you this food [350] and invites you to move around and beg among the suitors, each in turn. He says, when one's in need, it's no good being ashamed." Resourceful Odysseus then answered him and said: "May lord Zeus, I pray, grant Telemachus be blessed among all men, get everything he may desire in his heart." Once he'd said this, 450 he took the food in his two hands and set it down right there at his feet, on his tattered bag, and ate, while the minstrel sang his song throughout the hall. When he'd eaten and the godlike singer finished, the suitors were making an uproar in the room. But Athena approached Odysseus, Laertes' son, [360] and urged him to collect bread from the suitors, so he might find out those who did respect the law and those who flouted their traditions. Even so, she wouldn't let any man escape destruction. 460 Odysseus then moved off to beg for scraps of bread, holding out his hand to each of them on every side, starting on the right, as if he'd been a beggar for years and years. They pitied him, gave him bread, and wondered about him, asking one another who he was and where he came from. Then the goatherd, Melanthius, spoke out to them: "Listen to me, [370] those of you courting the glorious queen, about this stranger. I've seen him before. The swineherd was the one who brought him here. 470 I don't know his identity for sure or the family he claims to come from." Once he'd said this, Antinous turned on Eumaeus, to reprimand him: "You really are a man who cares for pigs—why bring this fellow here into the city? As far as vagrants go, don't we have enough apart from him, greedy beggars who disrupt our banquets? Do you think too few of them come here and waste away your master's livelihood, 480 so you invite this man to come as well?" Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: [380] "Antinous, you may be a noble man, but what you've said is not a worthy speech. Who looks for strangers from another land and then in person asks them to come in, unless they're workers in a public space-- prophets, healers of disease, house builders, or inspired minstrels, who sing for our delight? Such men are summoned to where people live 490 all around the boundless earth. But no one invites a beggar to consume his goods. You are abusive to Odysseus' slaves, more so than any of the other suitors, especially to me. But I don't care, not while faithful Penelope lives here, [390] in these halls, and godlike Telemachus." Then prudent Telemachus replied and said: "Be quiet. For my sake don't reply to him with a long speech. It's Antinous' habit 500 always to offer nasty provocation, to start a quarrel with abusive words. He urges other men to do the same." That said, he spoke to Antinous—his words had wings: "Antinous, you really do care for me, like a father for his son, when you tell me with your forceful words to drive this stranger from the house. May god forbid such action. Take some food and give it him yourself-- I don't mind. In fact, I'm asking you to do it. 510 [400] You need not worry about my mother or any of the servants in this house belonging to godlike Odysseus. But still, no thought like this could be inside your chest-- you'd much prefer to stuff yourself with food than give it to another man." Antinous then answered him and said: "Telemachus, you're a braggart and won't control your rage. What are you saying? If every suitor offered him as much as I will, this house 520 would make him keep his distance for three months." As he said this, he picked up a stool standing there, where he used to rest his shining feet while feasting, [410] raised it from below the table, and brandished it. But all the other suitors offered something, and so the beggar's bag was filled with meat and bread. Odysseus was soon going to retrace his steps back to the doorway and sound out the Achaeans with impunity, but he stopped by Antinous, and spoke to him, saying: "My friend, give something. 530 You don't seem to me the worst Achaean, but the very best. You look like a king. So you should give a bigger piece of bread than these others. I'd publicize your fame across the boundless earth. For once I, too, lived among men in my home, a rich man with a happy life. There were many times [420] I'd give presents to some sort of vagabond, no matter who he was or what he needed when he came. I had countless servants, too, 540 and many other things that people have when they live well and are considered wealthy. But Zeus, son of Cronos, destroyed all that. That's what he wanted, I suppose. He sent me with some wandering pirates off to Egypt, a lengthy voyage, to do away with me. I moored my curving ships in Egypt's river, and told my loyal comrades to stay there with the ships and guard them. I sent out scouts [430] to go up to the lookouts. But the crew, 550 giving way to impulse and counting on their strength, quickly began to destroy the attractive farms of the Egyptians, carrying off the women and young children, while slaughtering the men. The cry went up, and soon it reached the city. Hearing noise, the people came as soon as dawn appeared-- the entire plain was filled with men on foot and in their chariots and with gleaming bronze. Then Zeus, who hurls the thunderbolt, threw down 560 a dreadful panic on my comrades. None of them dared stand and face up to the enemy. Disaster loomed for us from every side. With their sharp bronze they killed a lot of us, [440] but others they led off while still alive so they could be compelled to work for them. They gave me to a stranger they had met, bound for Cyprus, Dmetor, son of Iasus, a powerful man who was king of Cyprus. From there I reached this place in great distress." 570 Then Antinous answered him and said: "What god sent this nuisance to interrupt our feast? Get away from my table—over there, in the middle, or you'll soon find yourself in a harsher place than Cyprus or in Egypt. You're an insolent and shameless beggar-- you come up to every man, one by one, and they give you things without holding back, [450] for there's no check or scruple when one gives from someone else's goods, and each of them 580 has plenty of supplies in front of him." Resourceful Odysseus then moved back and replied: "Well now, it seems as if that mind of yours doesn't match your looks—you'd refuse to give even a grain of salt from your own house to a follower of yours, and now you sit in someone else's house and do not dare to take some bread and offer it to me. And yet there's plenty right in front of you." Odysseus finished. Antinous in his heart 590 was even angrier than before. He glared at him, then, with a scowl, replied—his words had wings: "I no longer think you'll leave this hall unharmed, [460] now that you've begun to babble insults." As he said this, he grabbed the stool and threw it. It hit the bottom of Odysseus' right shoulder, where it joins the back. But he stood firm, like a rock-- what Antinous had thrown didn't make him stagger. He shook his head in silence, making cruel plans deep in his heart. He went back to the door, sat there, 600 set down his well-filled bag, and addressed the suitors: "Listen to me, you suitors of the splendid queen, so I can say what the heart in my chest prompts. There's no pain in a man's heart, no grieving, [470] when he's hit fighting for his own possessions, for cattle or white sheep. But Antinous struck me because of my wretched belly, that curse which gives men all kinds of trouble. So if beggars have their gods and Furies, may Antinous come to a fatal end, 610 before his wedding day." Then Antinous, Eupeithes' son, gave him this reply: "Sit still and eat, stranger, or go somewhere else, just in case young men drag you by your hands and feet all through the house for what you say, scraping your whole body." [480] He finished. But all those proud men were furious, and one of the arrogant young men spoke out: "Antinous, it was wrong of you to hit a wretched vagrant. And you may be doomed, if somehow he's a god come down from heaven. 620 For, in fact, gods make themselves appear like foreign strangers, assuming many shapes and haunting cities, to investigate men's pride and their obedience to the laws." That's what the suitors said. However, Antinous paid no attention to their words. Telemachus, having seen the blow, felt pain growing in his heart. But his eyelids shed no tears upon the ground. [490] No. He shook his head in silence and kept planning dark schemes in his heart. But when wise Penelope 630 heard about the stranger being hit inside the hall, she spoke to her attendant women, saying: "How I wish that he, too, might be struck by Apollo, that celebrated archer." Then housekeeper Eurynome said to her: "Oh, if only our prayers could be fulfilled, not one of them would see Dawn's lovely throne." Wise Penelope then answered her: "Good nurse, they're all enemies hatching evil plans, but Antinous, more than any of them, 640 [500] is like black fate. Some unhappy stranger roams through the house, begging from the men. His own need drives him to it. The others, all of them, gave him gifts and filled his bag, but Antinous threw a footstool at him and struck him under his right shoulder." So Penelope talked with her serving women, sitting in her room, while lord Odysseus ate. Then she called out to the loyal swineherd, saying: "Good Eumaeus, go and ask the stranger 650 to come here, so I can greet him warmly and ask if he perhaps has heard about [510] my brave Odysseus, or caught sight of him with his own eyes. He looks like a man who's spent a long time wandering around." Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered her and said: "I wish the Achaeans would keep quiet, my queen, for he tells the kind of stories which enchant one's heart. I had him with me for three nights, and for three days I kept him 660 in my hut. He came to me first of all, while he was fleeing in secret from a ship. But he never finished what he had to say of his misfortunes. Just as any man looks at a minstrel who sings enticing songs to mortal men, ones the gods have taught him, and there's no end to their desire to hear, [520] whenever he may sing, that's how this man enchanted me, as he sat in my home. He claims he's a friend of Odysseus' father, 670 from Crete, where the race of Minos lives, He's come here from there, enduring troubles, as he keeps wandering from place to place. He insists he's heard about Odysseus-- he's close by, still alive in the rich land of Thesprotians—with many treasures which he's going to bring back home." Wise Penelope then answered him: "Go and call him here-- he can tell me for himself. And let the men [530] keep sitting in the hall or at the door 680 enjoying themselves—their hearts are cheerful. Their own possessions lie untouched at home, sweet wine and bread, which their servants eat. But they fill up our house day after day, butchering our cattle, fat sheep, and goats, carousing and drinking our gleaming wine, without restraint. So much is wasted. There's no one like Odysseus here who'll guard our house from ruin. If Odysseus came, got back to his native land, he and his son 690 would quickly take their vengeance on these men [540] for their violent ways." As Penelope said this, Telemachus gave a mighty sneeze—it echoed through the house. Penelope laughed and quickly spoke these winged words to Eumaeus: "Go call the stranger. Bring him here in front of me. Did you not see my son sneezing at everything I said? So the complete destruction of the suitors will not go unfulfilled—for all of them-- not one will escape his fatal destiny.* 700 I'll tell you something else. Lay it to heart. If I see he tells me the entire truth, I'll dress him in fine clothes, cloak and tunic." [550] Penelope finished. Once Eumaeus heard her, he went off and, standing beside Odysseus, spoke to him—his words had wings: "Honoured stranger, wise Penelope is summoning you, Telemachus' mother. For her heart, in spite of bearing much anxiety, is telling her to ask about her husband. 710 If she knows that everything you say is true, she'll give you a cloak and tunic, things you really need. And as for food, you can beg for it throughout the country and fill your stomach. Whoever wants to will give it to you." Long-suffering lord Odysseus [560] then answered him: "Eumaeus, I'll tell the truth, all the details, to wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius, and quickly, too. For I know Odysseus well—both of us 720 have had the same misfortunes. But I fear this abusive crowd of suitors, whose pride and violence reach up to iron heaven. Just now, as I was moving through the house, doing nothing wrong, this man struck me and caused me pain. Meanwhile Telemachus couldn't do a thing to stop him, nor could any other man. So tell Penelope, for all her eagerness, to wait right now, there in the hall, until the sun goes down. 730 [570] Let her ask me then about her husband and the day of his return. And let me sit close to the fire, for the clothes I have are pitiful, as you know for yourself, since I came to you first of all for help." Odysseus finished. Once he'd listened to him, the swineherd went away. As he crossed the threshold, Penelope addressed him: "You haven't brought him, Eumaeus. What does the vagrant mean by this? Is he somehow too afraid of something, 740 or is there some other reason he's ashamed? He's a bad beggar if he feels disgraced." Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered her and said: "What he said made sense—what any other man [580] would think if he was planning to avoid the insolence of those presumptuous men. He says you should wait around till sunset. And, my queen, it would be far more fitting for you to talk in person to the stranger, to hear for yourself what he has to say." 750 Wise Penelope then answered him and said: "The stranger is not stupid. For he thinks about those things that well may happen. I don't believe there are any mortal men who are as high handed as these suitors are, the way they plan their wicked foolishness." Penelope spoke. Once he'd told her everything, the loyal swineherd joined the crowd of suitors. [590] He quickly spoke winged words to Telemachus, holding his head close to him, so others couldn't hear: 760 "Friend, I'm going to leave and guard the swine and other things, your livelihood and mine. You take charge of all the problems here. First and foremost, protect yourself. Your heart must stay alert, so you don't suffer harm. Many Achaeans are hatching evil plans-- may Zeus destroy them before they harm us." Shrewd Telemachus then answered him and said: "It will happen, old friend. Now, you should eat before you leave. Come here in the morning, 770 and bring fine animals for sacrifice. [600] Everything going on here is my concern, mine and the immortals." Telemachus spoke. The swineherd sat down on the polished chair again. Once he'd filled his heart with food and drink, he left, returning to his pigs, through the courtyard and the hall full of banqueters, who were enjoying themselves with dance and song, for evening had already come. |