"Take courage," said the G.o.ddess. "But to carry out our plans I must change thee to a miserable old man with a wrinkled face and clad in ragged garments, so that no one can recognize thee.

"Then must thou go to thy faithful swineherd, Eumaios, who loves thy wife and child and thy whole house.

"Thou wilt find him as he feeds the swine on acorns in a field near the mountain, Korax, and the spring, Arethusa. He will tell thee all the doings in thy house. Meantime I will take my way to Sparta.

Telemachos, thy son, is there. He went to visit Menelaos and try to find out if there were any news of thee. I will call him to return to Ithaca."

The G.o.ddess touched Odysseus with her magic wand. At once he shrank and withered into a wrinkled, shabby, old beggar. Then she gave him a staff and a tattered sack and sent him to his loyal swineherd while she took her way to Sparta.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ALPHEUS AND ARETHUSA]

CHAPTER XXVIII ODYSSEUS SEEKS THE SWINEHERD

Odysseus left the haven by a narrow stony path and took his way to the dwelling of his faithful swineherd, who thought more of the welfare of his master than did all the rest of the servants whom Odysseus had. He found him seated in the yard which he himself had made of stone for the swine of the absent King, and had enclosed with a thick hedge of thorns. He had driven strong posts of oak around it, also. Inside the yard he had made twelve sties, and in each sty there were fifty sows with their little ones. The males were kept outside and were fewer in number, for Eumaios was compelled to send a very fat one to the suitors every day, and therefore there were only eighteen score.

Near them were four large savage dogs as guards. They were more like wolves than dogs. Eumaios was busy making a pair of sandals from an ox-hide, for his own use. The other swineherds had gone on errands, three of them to drive pigs to pasture, while the fourth had taken a hog to the suitors in the city.

When the dogs saw Odysseus they barked and rushed upon him, and they would have torn him to pieces, but Eumaios drove them off with stones and said: "Thou poor old man, the dogs came very near tearing thee limb from limb, and that would have been a great shame and sorrow to me.

"The G.o.ds have already sent me trouble enough. Here I sit weeping and mourning for my beloved master, and take care of his swine in order that strangers may eat them. Who knows where he may be wandering as a beggar among people who speak another tongue? But come, old man, let us go into my lodge and eat, and then thou mayest tell me who thou art and what misfortunes thou hast suffered."

Odysseus followed the swineherd into the cabin. Eumaios threw an armful of rushes on the floor and covered it with a rug of goat-skin and bade his guest be seated.

Odysseus was gratified at this kind reception, and said to the swineherd: "May Zeus and all the other immortal G.o.ds give thee, my host, all the good of earth for thy hospitality."

The good swineherd answered him: "My guest, I should consider it a great sin not to receive a stranger hospitably, even if he looked more miserable than thou. Strangers and beggars are children of Zeus.

The hospitality I can extend to thee is slight but sincere, for servants have little to offer, especially when, like me, they have new masters. Odysseus loved me much. Would that the G.o.ds might send him back to us. He would have paid me for my toil. He would have given me a home, a little land, and a wife. But he is dead. May the whole race of Helen be destroyed, for it was she who brought n.o.ble men to destruction."

The swineherd drew his belt around him and hastened to the pen where the pigs were shut up. He seized two little pigs and slew them and roasted them on a spit over the fire. He sprinkled salt over the savory meat and brought it to Odysseus. And he brought delicate wine in a wooden cup, as well.

Then he said: "Eat, stranger, for this is the best I have to give.

The suitors, who fear neither G.o.d nor man, eat the fat hogs. They gorge themselves with the costliest food in the house, both wine and meat, and only these little lean porkers are left for us. Yet there is still an abundance, for my master was very rich. He had twelve herds of horned cattle and as many swine on the mainland, and twelve flocks of sheep and goats. Here, on the island, graze eleven flocks of goats, tended by as many trusty herdsmen, each of whom has to send a fattened goat for the table of the suitors every day. As for myself, I take care of these swine, and each day I choose the best to send to the city."

Odysseus ate the flesh and drank the wine while Eumaios was telling him these things, and could hardly keep from giving vent to his anger.

But he kept silence and meditated vengeance on the suitors. When the meal was done he said: "Tell me, I pray thee, all about thy rich and kind master. Thou didst say that he went out with Agamemnon to fight the Trojans. Perhaps I know him and can give thee some information concerning him."

The n.o.ble swineherd answered: "Be silent, aged man, for we have ceased to believe the tales told us by wanderers. Every beggar who comes this way calls on my mistress and tells her falsehoods about seeing Odysseus, and tries to make her think that he will come home in a short time. Then she treats him kindly and loads him with gifts.

"How shall we know but thou dost make up just such a story in order to receive a tunic and a mantle? It is a fact that my master does not return. Who knows on what spot of the earth his bones are mouldering, or what dogs and birds have devoured him? I shall never cease to grieve for him. He loved me as he would have loved a son.

I shall never find such a kind master again. Even my father and mother were not so good to me. Although he will never be with us any more, I keep on doing his will."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE SWINEHERD TELLING HIS STORY TO ODYSSEUS]

Odysseus replied: "Thou dost see that I am half naked for want of clothing, but I will never take a reward, even though I am in rags, until Odysseus is really here. I hate the wretch who tells lies to enrich himself as I hate death. I call Zeus to witness, and this hospitable board and the hearth of Odysseus, that what I tell thee will come true. Odysseus will be here at the end of this month, and he will be avenged on those men who have robbed him and insulted his wife and son."

"And yet I will not give thee any reward for thy news, old man," said Eumaios, "for Odysseus is dead. He will never come again. Drink in peace and let us talk of other things. Do not take this great oath, as much as we wish--Laertes, Penelope, Telemachos, and I--that Odysseus might come. But now, as if we had not troubles enough, a new one has come upon us. I know not what evil demon put it into the mind of Telemachos to go to Sparta to inquire about his father. And the unG.o.dly suitors have sent out a ship to watch for him, and kill him on his return. We shall lose him, too, if Zeus does not hold a protecting hand over him.

"But tell me, dear old man, from what country dost thou come? Who are thy parents? Tell me of thy toils and sufferings."

The time had not yet come when Odysseus thought it best to reveal himself. He wanted to stay with the swineherd until his son should return, and he had had the opportunity of making the best plan for ridding his house of the suitors. So he told the swineherd a long string of stories. He said he was a son of the King of Crete; that he went to Troy, where he met Odysseus and fought by his side.

Returning, he wandered about, and, after many adventures, met Odysseus again getting ready to return to Ithaca. As for himself, he had been robbed even to his clothing and cast on this island.

He told the tale so well that the swineherd believed him, and even killed a fat hog in his honor. And he made him welcome to his lodge and prepared a good bed for him near the fire, and covered him with goat-skins. The night was cold and damp, and a cutting wind was blowing outside. The other servants lay down near Odysseus to sleep, but Eumaios took a sharp sword and thick mantle and went out near the pens to watch the swine all night. Odysseus saw with grat.i.tude how faithfully this servant attended to his duty.

PART III THE TRIUMPH OF ODYSSEUS

CHAPTER XXIX ATHENA ADVISES TELEMACHOS

At the time when Odysseus was wrecked, after his comrades had eaten of the cattle of Helios, and he was cast up on to the island of Calypso, Athena prayed to Zeus, her mighty sire, that he might be restored to Ithaca, his native land. She prayed that Hermes, the messenger of the G.o.ds, might be sent to Calypso with the express command that she should send Odysseus home. Zeus smiled and granted the request.

Then Athena tied golden sandals under her feet and taking a long, heavy spear, she rushed like a whirlwind down from the heights of Olympos and stood at the doorway of Odysseus' house, among the men of Ithaca. She found the haughty suitors a.s.sembled there eating and drinking.

Telemachos saw the G.o.ddess before anyone else. She was disguised to resemble Mentor, a wise chief who had led the Taphians in the Trojan war. Telemachos rose at once, like a gracious host, and took the right hand of the stranger and gave him a hearty welcome. Athena saw with anger how the unG.o.dly wooers ate and drank and rioted gluttonously, while the servants of Telemachos were obliged to administer to their wants. Some of them were kept mixing the wines and water in large craters; others had to clear and clean the tables, and others again prepared and carved the meats and carried them round to the suitors.

Telemachos led the stranger away from this noisy hall, that he might not be annoyed by their boisterous behavior. He bade him sit down on a throne, and placed a foot-stool under his feet. Then he drew his own chair from among the suitors and sat near the stranger, hoping to hear news of his absent father. A maid brought a silver pitcher and basin and let the stranger wash his hands. A table was placed before him, laden with the choicest viands, while a herald filled a goblet with wine for him. When they had enjoyed their meal, Telemachos asked the stranger his name and country.

"I am Mentor, son of the Taphian King," said Athena. "I came here in my ship with a crew of friends, on a journey to the Isle of Cyprus, in search of copper, and I brought iron to give in exchange. I am an old friend of Odysseus. I have left my ship in the bay, back of the forest. Laertes will tell thee who I am. It is said that he does not come to the palace any more, but lives alone in the country, mourning over the loss of his son day and night. It seems that the G.o.ds have long delayed Odysseus. Who knows where he is? I am sure that he is not dead. And now tell me, what feast is going on here, and who are these men? Are they invited guests? Is it a banquet I see, or is there to be a wedding? It is not a pleasant sight in any case, for the men are coa.r.s.e in their actions and unG.o.dly in their speech. Every friend of Odysseus must feel sad to see them in this place."

"As long as my father was here," answered Telemachos, "our house was respectable and rich. But the G.o.ds have forsaken us, and we are destined to destruction. No news of my father's death has ever reached us; nevertheless, all the young men of the first families of Ithaca and the surrounding isles flock to our house and seek my mother for a wife and squander my father's riches. My mother does not favor the idea of another marriage, and has not promised herself to any of the suitors. She fears them, and so she does not reject their suits, yet she will not end the trouble by marrying one of them. They will not go away, but make themselves at home here and eat up my inheritance.

They only want a favorable opportunity to kill me."

Athena grew angry at this, and said: "I would that Odysseus might come this very moment to chastise these atrocious fellows. Woe to them if he should appear at the door with his helmet and shield and two tough spears, just as he looked when I first beheld him in my own home. Then these suitors would find a bitter marriage-feast and a speedy end. Vengeance, however, rests with the G.o.ds.

"Now, let me consider the best way to get these suitors out of the house. As an old friend of thy father, let me advise thee. To-morrow call thy people together in council and tell the suitors to depart.

If thy mother has any inclination to wed again, send her to her father's house. He is rich and powerful, and can give her a splendid wedding, such as is suitable for the daughter of a king, and bestow an ample dower.

"Then launch thy finest ship. Man it with twenty good oarsmen and put out to sea in search of thy father. Sail to Pylos first and consult with Nestor, and go to Sparta next and see Menelaos, who has returned from Troy recently. Stay with him awhile if he can a.s.sure thee that thy father lives. But if he tells thee that thy father is surely dead, return as quickly as possible and build a mound to him, and cause the altar to be piled high with sacrifices and the funeral games to take place. Then let thy mother marry again.

"Thou art no longer a child, and it is not seemly to allow such indignities. Be brave and act without fear, that men may honor thee.

When thou hast performed these deeds, let thy care be to drive out the suitors. But now I must return to my ship, for my companions will be uneasy over my long absence."

"Thou hast spoken to me as a father speaks to a son," answered Telemachos. "I shall bear thy words in mind. And now I pray thee stay awhile to rest and bathe. I cannot let thee go to thy ship without some handsome gift, such as one always bestows upon an honored guest."

"Telemachos, do not detain me longer," replied Athena. "I must depart at once. Keep thy gift until I return, and then I will take it to my home." She vanished as she spoke, and all that Telemachos saw was a fleet-winged bird flying upward high in the air. Telemachos was astonished, and knew that he had been talking face to face with some deity. He thought over all that the G.o.ddess had told him, and resolved to do exactly as he had been instructed.

CHAPTER x.x.x TELEMACHOS ASTONISHES THE WOOERS