CHAPTER x.x.xVII TELEMACHOS RETURNS TO ITHACA

Having encouraged Penelope, the G.o.ddess Athena sped to Sparta, where she found Telemachos, with Nestor's son, asleep upon the porch. She stood beside his bed, and warned him that he ought to return home, since Penelope's father had given her counsel to wed the richest of the suitors, and had promised a generous dower. "Do not delay," the G.o.ddess said to him; "no one can tell what a woman will do to help the man she is to marry.

"And also beware of the suitors, whom thou hast offended. They lie in wait in the narrow pa.s.sage between Samos and Ithaca. They hope to catch thee on thy way home and slay thee. Do not go that way. Sail only when it is dark. A G.o.d will watch over thee. When thou dost come to the first harbor in Ithaca, disembark, and let thy crew go on in the ship and take it back to the town. But thou shalt make thy way to the hut of thy loyal swineherd, and he will take tidings of thy safe return to thy mother."

Athena said this and vanished. Telemachos turned to Peisistratos and said: "Let us arise and set forth on our journey with all haste, oh son of Nestor." But Peisistratos begged him to wait until it was fairly light. Menelaos had slept lightly, he was so agitated with the great event of seeing his beloved comrade's son, and he rose as soon as it was light. Telemachos heard him approaching, and hastily threw on his tunic and cloak and went to meet him.

Telemachos urged a hasty departure and Menelaos did not think it proper to try to detain him. He said: "A host is hateful who is too affectionate. It is as wrong to keep a guest who is in a hurry to go as it is to thrust a stranger out when he wants to stay. Let me bring thee costly gifts, and when thou hast had thy morning meal I will hasten thee on thy way." The car was heaped with gifts, a golden goblet, a silver beaker, a robe that glistened with hand-wrought embroidery, the work of Helen, a goblet of silver with golden lips.

Peisistratos gazed with wonder at their beauty as he placed them in the car.

They washed their hands in a silver bowl and ate and drank from the bounty which had been placed before them. Then they mounted the car which had been brought to the palace gates. Nestor's son took the reins, Menelaos poured wine on the ground, an offering to the G.o.ds for their safety and prosperity, and off they sped over the plain.

Two birds flew on before them, an eagle that had clutched a goose and bore it off in its talons, a sign that Odysseus would come and put an end to the suitors, and this omen cheered Telemachos.

All day the horses bounded on shaking their splendid harness. The son of Nestor plied the lash. At night they rested in a friendly lodge and the second day they reached Pylos. They drove directly to the ship, lest Nestor, in his great love for his guest, should detain him. With an offering and a prayer to Athena he set sail. A prospering breeze swept over the sea and bore them rapidly along. At night Telemachos landed at the nearest port and sent the crew on to take the ship to the town.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII TELEMACHOS AND THE SWINEHERD

When daylight appeared Odysseus and Eumaios rose from their beds and sent the serving men out into the fields with their swine, but they themselves remained at home and prepared breakfast. In a little while they heard footsteps outside. The dogs p.r.i.c.ked up their ears and wagged their tails without barking.

Odysseus, perceiving this, said to the swineherd: "There must be some friend of thine coming, since the dogs do not bark." The words had hardly pa.s.sed his lips when Telemachos entered the hut. Eumaios started to his feet and hastened to welcome his young master. He took him in his arms as a father would a son who had been away a long time, and kissed his face and hands.

Tears dropped from his eyes and he said: "My dear Telemachos, I did not dare to hope ever to behold thee again. Come in that I may rejoice with all my heart at seeing thee once more enter my cabin after thy return from a strange country. Seldom dost thou come to see thy servants, for thou dost live in town, where thou must watch the suitor train consume thy wealth day by day."

To this Telemachos made answer: "This is quite true, my father; but I come here to learn of thee how matters are at the palace. Is my mother there, or has some wooer won her for a bride?"

"Thy mother is still at home," replied the st.u.r.dy swineherd. "She has a loyal heart, but she wastes her life in weeping." Saying this he took the lance from the young prince, who had come farther into the cabin. Odysseus arose to give him his seat, but Telemachos said to him: "Keep thy seat, stranger, I will sit elsewhere."

Odysseus sat down again. The swineherd took an armful of twigs and covered it with fleeces, and Telemachos seated himself upon it. Next he brought bread and meat and set them before his young master, who, when he had eaten, asked his faithful servant who the stranger was and whence he came.

"The stranger says that he came from Crete," answered Eumaios. "Lately he has run away from a ship where he was robbed, and has come here.

I leave him to thee, however; do with him as thou dost like." "Thy words do not please me, Eumaios," said Telemachos. "How can I receive a stranger in my house, since I cannot protect him there if any of the G.o.dless wooers insult him. It would be better for him to stay here; and lest he be a burden to you I will send out food and clothes for him, and I will help him to go wherever he wishes."

To him the sagacious Odysseus replied: "My friend, I hear with grief the story of thy wrongs. Art thou willing to let this go on? If I were as young as thou art I would lose my life before I would suffer such things--thy guests insulted, thy servants beaten, thy riches thrown away, thy food consumed by gluttons."

"Thy words are sharp, dear stranger, and I shall answer them with the truth," said Telemachos. "Thou dost not yet understand that there is a great crowd of suitors; not simply five or ten. What can I do single-handed against such a mult.i.tude? But you, Eumaios, hasten to the city, secretly, and tell my mother that I have returned and am staying here. Then come back at once and let no one know where I am, for the lovers are plotting a b.l.o.o.d.y death for me." The swineherd hastily bound his sandals on to his feet, took his staff, and hurried off.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX TELEMACHOS RECOGNIZES ODYSSEUS

It was not long after Eumaios had left the cabin when Athena, in the guise of a beautiful woman, appeared to Odysseus and beckoned him to come outside. Telemachos was opposite to her, but he did not see her, for the G.o.ds are not visible to all. Only Odysseus and the dogs were conscious of her presence. The dogs did not bark but ran into a corner of the cabin, crouching and whining. Odysseus left the room and stood before the G.o.ddess, who spoke to him in these words: "Son of Laertes, of n.o.ble birth and great wisdom, make thyself known to thy son. Tell him all the truth. Advise with him how to put an end to that insolent crowd of suitors. I shall never be far from thee myself and will help thee. I long to see them attacked."

When she had finished speaking she touched Odysseus with her golden wand. That touch changed him instantly into a handsome, well-made man in the full vigor of robust manhood. His rags became seemly garments. His cheeks flushed with renewed health and the heavy beard on his chin grew dark again. After the G.o.ddess had done this she vanished and Odysseus went back into the lodge. His son glanced at him in amazement and then turned his eyes away from him lest he should irreverently look upon a G.o.d.

"Stranger," he said, "I think thou art an immortal whose home is in the heavens, for thou hast been transformed in looks and garb. Let me bring a sacrifice and offer it to thee, together with beautiful gifts, and perhaps thou wilt be gracious to us and keep us from harm."

Odysseus replied: "Nay, I am not a G.o.d, nor like the G.o.ds. I am thy father, he for whom thou hast mourned and endured so many sufferings."

Saying this he kissed his son and wept.

"I pray thee do not deceive me," said Telemachos. "Thou surely art a deity and not my father. No mortal could change from a ragged old beggar to a young and stately man in a moment."

Odysseus answered him: "Telemachos, it is not like a son to gaze upon thy father with astonishment. No other Odysseus will ever come into this cabin. I am thy father. I have wandered twenty years in foreign lands, and now have come to my own home. Thou hast seen a miracle which Athena wrought, for she makes me look like a beggar or a king as she pleases. The G.o.ds have all power to put men in high places or to humble them."

Odysseus sat down and his dear son approached him and threw his arms around him in a loving embrace, and together they wept tears of joy.

At last Telemachos inquired: "Dear father, in what ship hast thou come, and what sailors brought thee hither? Thou couldst not have come on foot."

"The Phaeacians brought me across the sea and left me sleeping on the sh.o.r.e in Ithaca," replied Odysseus. "And they gave me rich presents of gold, and silver, and bra.s.s, and embroidered garments hand-woven from their own looms.

"These have I hidden, and Athena has sent me to advise with thee how best to destroy the arrogant crew of suitors that so long has robbed my house and vexed my wife. Tell me now how many there are and what kind of men, so that I can judge whether we two alone may attack them, or whether we need the help of others."

"My father," answered Telemachos, "thy sweet fame has resounded through our halls, my whole life long. How often have I heard of thy courage and the strength of thy powerful arm. But how is it possible for us two to fight against such a mult.i.tude? Fifty-two of the wooers come from one town with six servants. Twenty-four come from Samos, and twenty more from Zakynthos, and twelve from Ithaca. If we attack them all I fear that we shall come to grief. It is better for us to look around and find an ally."

Again Odysseus made reply: "Dear son, take courage. Zeus and Athena, most powerful of the G.o.ds, are on our side. Early to-morrow thou must go to the city and mingle with the suitors. The swineherd shall lead me disguised as an old beggar to my palace. Keep down thy wrath if the wooers speak insultingly to me. Do not resent it except to administer a gentle reproof, though they strike me with their spears and abuse me with bad language. The day of their death is at hand.

When Athena gives me the sign, I will nod to thee and thou shalt remove my weapons from the great hall to an upper room. Tell the suspicious suitors that the arms gather too much dust where they now hang on the walls, and besides that, a G.o.d has warned thee that in their drunken brawls, the wooers may harm each other. Let no one know of my arrival, not even Laertes, Eumaios, or my wife, Penelope."

All day the ill.u.s.trious father and his son conversed and laid their plans. At noon they killed a yearling pig, and roasted it and made a hearty lunch. Once more Athena touched Odysseus with her wand and changed him into a poor old beggar, that Eumaios should not recognize him. At evening the swineherd returned. On entering his cabin he told his young master that the suitors had learned of his safe return to Ithaca. Then he prepared a supper for them, and they ate and drank to their hearts' content, when they retired to rest.

CHAPTER XL TELEMACHOS RETURNS TO THE PALACE

Early the next morning Telemachos rose, tied his shining sandals under his feet, took his spear and stood ready to go to the city. He called the swineherd to him, and said: "Eumaios, I am going back to the town to see my mother. I know that she will not cease to be anxious about me until she sees me in my own home. Take this stranger there, too, where he may beg, and thus supply his wants. I cannot receive every poor man into my own house; my trials are too great. It makes no difference to me whether he likes it or not. I am forced to tell the truth about it."

"My friend," said Odysseus, "I do not care to stay any longer. I think myself it is better for me to go to the city, where a beggar may have a fair chance. I am too old to be of service here. Go thy way, my son, and let thy servant lead me hence, as thou hast commanded. But let me first warm me at the fire, for I am cold and the way is long."

Then Telemachos went out of the lodge and sped toward the city. His old nurse, Eurycleia, was the first to see him, and she ran out to welcome him, and the other servants came around rejoicing. Next came Penelope, as beautiful as Artemis, and threw her arms about her son, and kissed him on his brow and eyes. "Hast thou indeed returned, Telemachos, my son? I never hoped to see thee again. Tell me about thy father. Hast thou any news of him? What has happened? What hast thou seen?" So did the queen greet her son.

"Dear mother, do not waken my grief again," Telemachos replied. "I have barely escaped a cruel death. But go to thy bath and put fresh garments on, and then pray to the G.o.ds and promise them great sacrifices if Zeus will avenge our wrongs." Penelope willingly did her son's bidding, but Telemachos betook himself to the market place to show himself to the people.

When Telemachos came into the public square the suitors thronged around him with smooth speeches, but in their hearts they kept on plotting his death. He wanted them to see that he was in Ithaca, but he did not care to be in their company, so he took his place among some friends of his father. One of the crew came up to ask where he might deposit the splendid gifts of Menelaos, and Telemachos told him to hide them until the suitors had been defeated or had won the victory.

Then Telemachos came back to the palace in company with a stranger who had joined his crew at Pylos, and they sat down near the queen, who was spinning. The servants brought them wine and food, and after they had eaten, Penelope begged that her son would recite to her the story of his journey. In the meantime Odysseus and Eumaios had started for the city. When they reached the spring where the citizens of the city went for water, they encountered Melanthios, a goatherd, driving goats into town. Two servants followed, helping him. As soon as he saw Eumaios and his guest, he said: "Look! There is one knave leading another. Verily, the G.o.ds bring like and like together. Thou miserable swineherd, whither dost thou take that worthless beggar, this vagabond who rubs his shoulders on every door-post, asking for crusts, eating gluttonously, and telling tales of woe?

"Just hand him over to me to guard my stables and clean my yard, and I will give him whey to drink, which will fatten his limbs. But work does not suit such a fellow. He would rather ramble idly about and beg for food to fill his empty stomach. Let him once come to the palace of Odysseus and the guests that woo the queen will fling footstools at him." With that Melanthios kicked him in the thigh. Odysseus hesitated a moment and considered whether it were better to slay the goatherd with a blow from his staff, or whether he should submit to the indignity in silence. The latter seemed the better course.

But Eumaios grew angry and said: "Melanthios, wait till Odysseus returns. He will give thee thy deserts, thou villain! All day long dost thou loaf in the city, leaving thy master's flocks to take care of themselves." Melanthios answered him: "Just hear what this cur has to say! I shall take him off and sell him for a slave some day.