A slight stir was now heard at the back of the hall, and a low murmur went round among the guests, who whispered to each other: "The Queen!

The Queen!" And in she came softly, with slow and stately step, Helen, the daughter of Tyndareus, and wife of Menelaus, fairest among all the high-born dames of Greece. Her wondrous beauty was now ripened into matronly perfection, but now and then a shadow seemed to pa.s.s over her face, like the ghost of an old sin, long repented and forgiven. A handmaid set a chair for her, throwing over it a soft rug, and brought a footstool for her feet, while another bare a silver basket, with rims of gold, and placed it ready, filled with purple yarn. When Helen was seated, she gazed long and earnestly at Telemachus, and then, turning to her husband, she said; "Menelaus, shall I utter the thought which is in my heart? Nay, speak I must. Ne'er saw I such a likeness, either in man or woman, as is the likeness of this fair youth to Odysseus. Surely this is Telemachus, whom he left an infant in Ithaca when the host was summoned to Troy to fight in a worthless woman's cause."

"I have marked it too," answered Menelaus. "Such were his very hands and feet, and the carriage of his head, and the glance of his eye.

Moreover, when I made mention of Odysseus he covered his face, and wept full sore."

Telemachus was still too much distressed to speak, and Pisistratus had to answer for him: "Thou sayest truly, my lord; it is Telemachus himself. Nestor sent me with him to inquire of thee, and crave counsel of thy wisdom. He is left like an orphan in his home, with none to aid him, and take his father's place."

Then Menelaus drew near to Telemachus, and taking his hand kindly said: "Welcome again, and thrice welcome to these halls, thou son of my trustiest friend and helper! It was the dream of my life to bring Odysseus and all his household from Ithaca, and give him a home and a city in this land, that we might grow old together in friendship and loving-kindness, never to be parted until death. But envious heaven has blighted my hopes and hindered his return."

At these sad words every eye was moist, and all sat silent, absorbed in sorrowful memories. Pisistratus was the first to speak, and his words roused the rest from their melancholy mood. "Son of Atreus," he said, "my father has often spoken of thy wisdom, and perchance it has taught thee that sorrow is an ill guest at a banquet. The dead, indeed, claim their due, and he would be hard-hearted who would grudge them the poor tribute of a tear. But we cannot mourn for ever, even for such a one as my brother Antilochus, whom I never saw, but thou knewest him well, stout in battle, and swift in the pursuit."

"'Tis well said," replied Menelaus. "Thou art wise beyond thy years, and a true son of Nestor. Happy is he, beyond the common lot of men, and smooth and fair runs the thread of his Destiny. He dwells in a green old age in his father's house, and sees his sons growing up around him, true heirs of his valour and prudence. Now let us banish care, and get to our supper, for the day is far spent, and we have matter for talk which will last us all the morrow."

When they had finished eating, and the cups were about to be replenished, Helen rose from her seat, and, whispering a few words to the cupbearer, left the hall. In a few minutes she returned, carrying in her hand a small phial, whose contents she poured into the great mixing-bowl from which the cups were filled. "Now, drink," she said, "and fear not that black care will pay us a second visit to-night. I have poured into the wine a drug of wondrous potency and virtue, which was given me in Egypt by Polyd.a.m.na, the wife of Thon. Many such drugs the soil of Egypt bears, some baneful and some good. And the Egyptians are skilled in such craft beyond all mankind. He who drinks of this drug will be armed for that day against all the a.s.saults of sorrow, and will not shed one tear, though his father and mother were to die, no, not though he saw his brother or his son slain before his eyes. So mighty is the virtue of this drug." And when they had drunk of the magic potion Helen began again: "'Tis now the witching hour, when all hearts are opened, and the burden of life presses lightest on men's shoulders. Come, let me tell you a story, one among many, of the deeds and the hardihood of Odysseus. It was in the days of the siege, and the Trojans were kept close prisoners in their city by the leaguer of the Greeks. Then he disguised himself as a beggar, clothed himself in filthy rags, and marred his goodly person with cruel stripes. In such fashion he entered the foemen's walls, as if he were a slave flying from a hard master.[1] And I alone in all the city knew who he was. So I brought him to my house, and began to question him; but he made as if he understood not. But when I entertained him as an honoured guest, and swore a solemn oath not to betray him, he trusted me, and declared all the purpose of the Greeks. At dead of night he stole out into the town, and, having slain many of the Trojans with the edge of the sword, he went back to the camp, and brought much information to his friends.

[Footnote 1: Compare the stratagem of Zopyrus, in "Stories from Greek History."]

"When morning came, the voice of wailing rose high in the streets of Troy; but my heart rejoiced, for I was filled with longing for my home, and my eyes were opened to the folly which I had wrought by the beguilement of Aphrodite, when I left my fatherland and broke faith with my lord."

"Tis a good story, and thou hast told it well, fair wife," said Menelaus. "Now hear my tale. It was the time when I and the other champions were shut up in the wooden horse; and Odysseus was with us.

Then thou camest thither, led, I suppose, by some G.o.d, hostile to Greece, who wished to work our ruin; and Deiphobus followed thee.

Three times thou didst pace around our hollow ambush, feeling it with thy hands, and calling aloud to the princes of Greece by name; and thy voice was like the voice of all their wives. There we sat, I, and Diomede, and the rest, and heard thee calling. Now I and Diomede were minded to answer thee, or to go forth and confer with thee; but Odysseus suffered it not, and when one of our number was about to lift up his voice he pressed his hands on that foolish mouth, and restrained him by force until thou hadst left the place. And so he saved all our lives."

"Yes," said Telemachus, "he had a heart of iron. But what has it availed him? It could not save him from ruin. Howbeit, no more of this; 'tis time to go to rest and forget our cares in sleep."

II

Early next morning Telemachus found his host sitting by his bedside; and as soon as he was dressed Menelaus led him to a quiet place, and inquired the reason of his coming. He listened with attention while Telemachus explained the purpose of his visit; but when he heard of the suitors, and their riot and waste, he was filled with indignation.

"What!" he cried, "would these dastards fill the seat and wed the wife of that mighty man? Their lot shall be the lot of a pair of fawns, left by the mother hind in a lion's lair. The hind goes forth to pasture, and in her absence the lion returns, and devours them where they lie. Even so shall Odysseus return, and bring swift destruction on the whole crew.

"But thou hast asked me what I know of the fortunes of Odysseus, since he departed from Troy; and verily I will tell thee all that I have heard, without turning aside in my tale. I must go back to the time when I lay wind-bound with my ships in a little island off the mouth of the Nile. The island is called Pharos, and it is distant a day's voyage from the river's mouth. I had lain there twenty days, and still not a breath of air ruffled the gla.s.sy surface of the sea. All our stores were consumed, and we had nothing to eat but the fish which my men caught with rudely fashioned hooks and lines. One day I left my men busy with their angling, and wandered away along the sh.o.r.e, full of sad thoughts, and wondering how all this would end. Suddenly I heard a light footstep on the pebbles, and there stepped forth from behind a tall rock a young maiden in white, flowing robes. Full of dread I saw her coming towards me; for I knew that she was no mortal woman. But her look was gracious, and her voice was sweet; so I took courage as she said: 'Who art thou, stranger, and why lingerest thou with thy company in this desert place? I am Eidothea, daughter of Proteus, the ancient one of the sea; and I am ready to help thee, if thou wilt tell me thy need.'

"Then I told her how I had been kept an unwilling captive on the island, and begged her to let me know what power I had offended, that he might be appeased by sacrifice, and suffer the wind to blow. 'There is one who can tell thee all that thou desirest to know,' answered she. 'Yea, Proteus, my father, will show thee how to win thy path across the watery waste. No secrets are hidden from him, neither on earth nor in the sea; and he can tell thee all that hath befallen in thy house in the long years of thine absence. Now hearken, and I will tell thee how thou mayest wring from him all his secrets. Every day at noon he comes forth from the sea, and lays him down to sleep in a rocky cave; and about him are couched his herd of seals. I will bring thee to the place in the early morning, and set thee in ambush to await his coming. Choose three of the stoutest of thy men to aid thee in the adventure, and as soon as thou seest him asleep rush upon him and hold him fast. He will struggle hard, and take a hundred different shapes; but loose him not until he return to his own form, and then will he reveal to thee all that he has to tell.'

"So saying, the G.o.ddess disappeared beneath the waves. Next morning I went with three picked men to the appointed place, and soon Eidothea arrived, bearing four hides of seals, freshly flayed. Then she hollowed out four pits in the sand for us to lie in, and clothed us in the skins, and couched us together. Now that bed had like to have been our last, for we were stifled by the dreadful stench of the seabred seals. But the G.o.ddess saw our distress, and found a remedy; for she brought ambrosia and set it beneath our nostrils, and that heavenly perfume overpowered the noisome stench.

"So all the morning we lay and wafted patiently, and at noon the seals came up out of the sea and lay down in order on the sand. Last of all came Proteus, and counted his herd, reckoning us among their number, with no suspicion of guile. We waited until he was fast asleep, and then we rushed from our ambush and seized him hand and foot. Long and hard was the struggle, and many the shapes which he took. First he became a bearded lion, then a snake, then a leopard, then a huge boar; after these he turned into running water and a tall, leafy tree. But we only held him the more firmly, and at last he grew weary and spake to me in his own shape: 'What wouldst thou have, son of Atreus, and who has taught thee to outwit me and take me captive by craft?'

"'Thou knowest my need,' I answered; 'why dost thou waste thy words?

Tell me rather how I may find release from my present strait'

"'Hear, then,' said he: 'thou hast forgotten thy duty to Zeus and the other G.o.ds. Not a victim bled, not a prayer was offered, when thou didst embark on this voyage. Go back to Egypt, to the holy waters of Nile, and there pay thy vows, and offer a great sacrifice to their offended deity; thus, and thus only, canst thou win thy return to thine own country and thy stately home.'

"When I heard this my heart was broken within me, to think of that long and perilous path across the misty deep. Nevertheless I consented to take that journey, for I saw no other way of escape. And after I had promised to obey him, I began to inquire further of the fate of Nestor and the rest, whom I left behind me on my way home.

"''Tis a grievous story that thou requirest of me,' said Proteus, 'and thou shalt have little joy in the hearing. Many have been taken and many left. Two only perished in returning, and one is still living, a prisoner of the sea. Ajax has paid his debt to Athene, whose shrine he polluted; and this was the manner of his death: when his vessel was shattered by that great tempest, he himself escaped to a rock, for Poseidon came to his aid. But even the peril which he had just escaped could not subdue his haughtiness and his pride, and he uttered an impious vaunt, boasting that in despite of heaven he had escaped a watery grave. Then Poseidon was wroth, and smote the rock with his trident, and that half of the rock on which Ajax was sitting fell into the sea, bearing him with it. So he died, when he had drunk the brine.

"'Now harden thy heart, and learn how thy brother Agamemnon fell.

After a long and stormy voyage he at length brought his shattered vessels safe into harbour, and set foot on his native soil at Argos.

With tears of joy and thankfulness he fell on his knees and kissed the sod, trusting that now his sorrows were pa.s.sed. Now there was a watchman whom aegisthus had posted on a high place commanding the sea to look out for Agamemnon's return. A whole year he watched, for he had been promised a great reward. And when he saw the king's face he went with all speed to tell his master. Forthwith aegisthus prepared an ambush of twenty armed men; these he kept in hiding at the back of the hall, while he ordered his servants to prepare a great banquet. Then he went to meet Agamemnon with horses and with chariots, and brought him to his house, and made good cheer. And when he had feasted him he smote and slew him, as a man slaughters an ox in his stall.'

"At that tale of horror I fell upon the sand, weeping bitterly, for I had no desire to live any longer or look on the light of the sun. Long I lay mourning, as one who had lost all hope, but at last Proteus checked the torrent of my pa.s.sion, and bade me take thought of my own homecoming. 'This is no time,' he said, 'to melt away in womanish grief. Haste thee to take vengeance, if so be that Orestes hath not forestalled thee, and slain his father's murderer.'

"Somewhat comforted by these words, I took courage to ask who was the man of whom he had spoken as a prisoner of the sea. 'It is the son of Laertes,' answered Proteus, 'Odysseus, whose home is in Ithaca. I myself saw him on an island, in the house of the nymph Calypso; and sore he wept because he could not leave the G.o.ddess, who holds him in thrall, and will not suffer him to return to his country.'

"Lastly, he told me concerning my own fate. 'Thou, Menelaus,' he said, 'art exempt from the common lot of men, because thou art the husband of Helen, and she is a daughter of Zeus. Therefore it is not appointed for thee to die, but when thine hour is come the G.o.ds shall convey thee to the Elysian fields, where dwell the elect spirits in everlasting blessedness. There falls not snow nor rain, there blows no rude blast, but the fresh cool breath of the west comes softly from Ocean to refresh them that dwell in that happy clime.'"

Thus happily ended the story of the Spartan prince's wanderings. And when he had finished, he pressed Telemachus to prolong his visit; but that prudent youth declined the invitation, pleading the necessity of a speedy return to Ithaca, that he might keep an eye on the doings of the suitors. Menelaus was compelled to allow the justice of his plea, and accordingly all things were made ready for a speedy departure.

III

We must now return to Ithaca, and see what reception was preparing for Telemachus when he came back from his adventurous journey. Two or three days after he left Ithaca the suitors were gathered before the doors of Odysseus, playing at quoits, or hurling their javelins at a mark. Presently a young n.o.ble came up to the group, and addressing Antinous, who was watching the sport, asked him if he had heard aught of Telemachus. "I would fain know how long he is like to be absent from Ithaca," he said; "for he has borrowed my ship, and I have need of her. Know ye when he is to return from Pylos?"

Antinous heard him with amazement; for neither he nor any other of the suitors knew that Telemachus had sailed from Ithaca, supposing him to be absent on his farm. So he questioned the youth closely as to the time and manner of that voyage, how the crew was composed, and whether the vessel was lent willingly, or taken by force. "Of my own free will I lent her," answered the lad, "why should I not help him in his need?

As to the crew, they were all picked men, and well born; and the captain was Mentor, or some G.o.d in his likeness; for I saw Mentor yesterday in the town, and not a ship has touched at Ithaca since they sailed."

When he who had lent the ship was departed the suitors left their sports, and drawing close together began to converse in low tones.

They were full of anger against Telemachus because of this journey, which gave the lie to their malicious prophecies, and was not without prospect of danger to themselves. Accordingly Antinous found ready hearers when he stood up and spoke as follows:--"This forward boy must be put down, or he will mar our wooing. It is a great deed which he has done, and he will not stop here, unless we find means to cut short his adventures. Now hear what I advise: let us man a ship and moor her in the narrow sea between Ithaca and Samos, and lie in wait for him there. This cruise of his is like to cost him dear."

The plan was highly approved, and the whole body rose and entered the house together, resolved to act at once on the advice of Antinous.

Before long news of their wicked designs came to the ears of Penelope, who was still ignorant of her son's departure; for Eurycleia had kept her counsel well. The evil tidings were brought by Medon, a servant in the house of Odysseus, who had overheard the suitors plotting together, while he stood concealed behind a b.u.t.tress of the courtyard fence. Without delay he went in search of Penelope, whom he found sitting with her handmaids in her chamber. As soon as he appeared on the threshold Penelope looked at him reproachfully, and said: "What message bringest thou from thy fair masters? Is it their pleasure that my maidens should leave their tasks and spread the board for them? Out on your feasting and your wooing! May this be the last morsel that ye ever taste! Ungrateful men, have ye forgotten all the good deeds that were wrought here by the hands of Odysseus, and all the kindness that ye received from him? Yes, all is forgotten; ye have no thought in your hearts but to grow fat at his cost, and devour his living."

"Alas! lady," answered Medon, "would that this were the worst! But I am the bearer of heavier news than this. Telemachus has sailed to Pylos, to inquire concerning his father, and the suitors have plotted to slay him on his way home." Having delivered his message, Medon left the chamber, and the door was shut.

Long Penelope sat without a word, struck dumb by this cruel blow.

Then, as if seized by a sudden thought, she rose from her seat, and took two paces towards the door. But her strength failing her she tottered backward, and sank down upon the ground, leaning against the wall. Her handmaids gathered round her, and would have lifted her up, but she waved them off and at last gave utterance to her feelings in wailing and broken tones:

"Woeful beyond the lot of all women on earth is my portion! First, I lost my lion-hearted lord, rich in every excellent gift, a hero among heroes; and now the powers of the air[1] have carried off my child, my well-beloved, without one word of farewell. Hearts of stone, why did ye not tell me of his going? Had I known his purpose I would have prevailed on him to stay, or he must have left me dead in these halls.

Go, one of you, and call Dolius, the keeper of my garden and orchard, and send him to tell all to Laertes, if haply he may devise some way to turn the hearts of the people, and save his race from being utterly cut off."

[Footnote 1: Demons, to whom sudden disappearance was attributed.]

"Sweet lady," answered Eurycleia, who was sitting among the women, "I will tell thee all the truth, and then thou shalt slay me, if it be thy will. I was privy to this journey, and Telemachus made me swear a solemn oath not to reveal it to thee until twelve days were pa.s.sed, or thou hadst heard of it from others. For he feared that thou wouldst waste thy fair cheeks with weeping. But be not cast down; I am sure that the G.o.ds hate not so utterly the house of Odysseus, nor purpose to destroy it altogether. Vex not the old man Laertes in his sorrow, but go wash thyself, put on clean raiment, and go up and pray to Athene in thy upper chamber to guard and keep thy son from harm."

Then Penelope was comforted, and dried her tears, and went up with her handmaids to the upper chamber. There she made her offering before the shrine of Athene, and lifted up her voice in prayer: "Daughter of Zeus, stern warrior maiden, if ever my lord Odysseus offered acceptable sacrifice to thee, remember now his service, save my son, and let not the wooers work evil against him." When her prayer was ended the women joined their voices with hers, and called again and again on the awful name of Athene. After that they left her, and she sank down on a couch, exhausted by her emotions, and full of anxious thought. At length she ceased her weary tossing, and fell into a quiet and refreshing sleep.

Athene had heard her prayer, and being full of pity for the sorely tried lady she resolved to find means to soothe her troubled spirit.

So she made a phantom, like in form and in feature to Iphthime, a sister of Penelope, who lived with her husband in distant Pherae. And the phantom came to the house of Penelope, and entering her chamber by the keyhole, stood by her bedside and spake to her thus: "Sorrow not at all, nor vex thy soul for the sake of Telemachus. The G.o.ds love thy son, and will bring him safe home."

Then wise Penelope made answer, slumbering right sweetly at the gates of dreams: "Dear sister, what has brought thee hither from thy far distant home? Thou biddest me take comfort, but my heart is torn with fear and grief for my brave lord, and yet more for Telemachus, who is encompa.s.sed with perils by sea and by land." "Fear nothing," answered the dim phantom. "He has a mighty helper by his side, even Pallas Athene, who sent me hither to strengthen and console thee." With that the ghostly visitor vanished as it came, and left Penelope much cheered by the clear vision which had brought her words of healing at the blackest hour of the night.

Meanwhile Antinous had taken steps to carry out his villainous design.

At nightfall he went down to the sea with twenty picked men, boarded the vessel which had been prepared for their use, and sailed out to a little island which lies in the middle of the strait between Samos and Ithaca. There they anch.o.r.ed in a sheltered bay, and waited for the coming of Telemachus.