So saying, the good swineherd rose and fetched what meat and wine he had, and set it before Ulysses, grieving that he had nothing better for him because the shameless suitors plundered everything.

But Ulysses ate and drank eagerly, and when his strength had come again he asked Eumaeus, "My friend, who is this master of yours you tell me of? Did you not say he was lost for Agamemnon's sake? Perhaps I may have seen him, for I have traveled far."

But the swineherd answered, "Old man, his wife and son will believe no traveler's tale. They have heard too many such. Every wandering beggar who comes to Ithaca goes to my mistress with some empty story to get a meal for himself, and she welcomes him and treats him kindly and asks him about it all, with the tears running down her cheeks in a woman's way. Yes, even you, old man, might learn to weave such tales if you thought they would get you a cloak or a vest. No, he is dead, and dogs and birds have eaten him, or else he has fed the fishes and his bones lie somewhere on the seash.o.r.e, buried in the sand. And he has left us all to grieve for him, but no one more than me, who can never have so kind a master again, not though I had my heart's desire and went back to my native land and saw my father and mother, and the dear home where I was born. It is Ulysses above all whom I long to see once more. There, stranger, I have called him by his name, and that I should not do; for he is still my dear master though he is far away."

Then Ulysses said, "My friend, your hope has gone and you will never believe me. But I tell you this and seal it with an oath: Ulysses will return! Poor as I am, I will take no reward for my news till he comes to his own again, but you shall give me a new vest and cloak that day, and I will wear them."

But the swineherd answered, "Ah, my friend, I shall never need to pay you that reward. He will never come back again. But now drink your wine in peace, and let us talk of something else, and do not call to mind the sorrow that almost breaks my heart. Tell me of yourself and your own troubles and who you are, and what ship brought you here, for you will not say you came afoot."

Then Ulysses pretended he was a Cretan and had fought at Troy, and told Eumaeus a long tale of adventures and how he had been wrecked at last on the coast of Epirus. The king of the country, he said, had rescued him, and he had learned that Ulysses had been there a little while before, and was already on his way to Ithaca.

The swineherd listened eagerly to it all, but when Ulysses had finished he said, "Poor friend, my heart aches to hear of all your sufferings. But there is one thing you should not have said, one thing I can never believe, and that is that Ulysses will return. And why need you lie to please me? I can see for myself that you are old and unhappy, a wanderer whom the G.o.ds have sent to me. It is not for such a tale I will show you the kindness that you need, but because I pity you myself and reverence the law of Zeus."

"If I lie," Ulysses answered, "you may have me thrown from the cliff as a warning to other cheats. I swear it, and call the G.o.ds to witness."

But the true-hearted swineherd only said, "I should get a good name by that, my friend, if I took you into nay house and had you for my guest, and then murdered you brutally! Do you think I could pray to Zeus after that without a fear? But now it is supper-time, and my men will be coming home." While they spoke, the herdsmen came up with the swine, and the sows were driven into the pens, grunting and squealing noisily as they settled in for the night. Then Eumaeus called out, "Bring in the fattest boar, and let us make a sacrifice in honor of our guest, and get some reward ourselves for all the trouble we have spent upon the drove,--trouble lost, since strangers take the fruit of it all."

So they brought in a big fat white-tusked boar, while Eumaeus split the wood for the fire. And he did not forget the Immortals, for he had a pious heart: he made the due offerings first and prayed for his master's return, and then he stood up at the board to carve, and gave each man his share and a special slice for his guest from the whole length of the chine.

Ulysses took it and thanked him with all his heart:--

"May Father Zeus be your friend, Eumaeus, and give you what I would give you for your kindness to a poor old man like me."

But the swineherd said, "Take it, my good friend, take it and enjoy it.

Zeus will give or withhold as it may please him, for he can do all things."

So they sat down to the feast, and after they had had their fill the swineherd's servant cleared everything away, and then they made ready for sleep. The evening closed in black and stormy, and a west wind sprang up bringing the rain with it, and blew hard all the night; so Eumaeus made up a bed of fleeces for Ulysses by the fire and gave him a great thick cloak as well, that he kept for the roughest weather. But he could not bring himself to stay there too, away from his herd of pigs, and he wrapped himself up warmly and went out to sleep beside them in the open. Ulysses saw, and smiled to see, what care he took of everything, while he thought his master was far away.

[On the following morning] Ulysses and the swineherd were already preparing their breakfast when Telemachus came up. The dogs knew him and played round him lovingly. "Eumaeus," said Ulysses, "some friend of yours is coming, for I hear footsteps, and the dogs are pleased and do not bark."

He had hardly finished speaking when his own dear son stood in the doorway. The swineherd started up and dropped the vessels in which he was mixing the wine. He went to meet his young master and fell on his neck and kissed him as a father would kiss an only son escaped from death. "Light of my eyes, dear son, have you come home at last? When you sailed away to Pylos, I never thought to see you again. But come in and let me feast my eyes upon you; for you do not often visit us, but are kept at home in the town, watching that crowd of ruinous suitors."

And Telemachus answered, "Gladly, good father; I have come to see you, and to hear tidings of my mother."

Then the swineherd told him that his mother still waited patiently at home, and spent her days and nights in weeping.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "DEAR SON, HAVE YOU COME HOME AT LAST? WHEN YOU SAILED AWAY TO PYLOS, I NEVER THOUGHT TO SEE YOU AGAIN. BUT COME IN AND LET ME FEAST MY EYES UPON YOU; FOR YOU DO NOT OFTEN VISIT US, BUT ARE KEPT AT HOME IN THE TOWN, WATCHING THAT CROWD OF RUINOUS SUITORS." AND TELEMACHUS ANSWERED, "GLADLY, GOOD FATHER; I HAVE COME TO SEE YOU, AND TO HEAR TIDINGS OF MY MOTHER." THEN THE SWINEHERD TOLD HIM THAT HIS MOTHER STILL WAITED PATIENTLY AT HOME.]

Then Telemachus went into the house, and as he came up Ulysses rose to give him his seat, but he would not take it, and said, "Keep your seat, stranger, this man shall make up another for me." So Ulysses sat down again, and the swineherd made a seat for Telemachus of the green brushwood and put a fleece upon it. Then he set food before them, and when they had eaten, Telemachus asked who the stranger was, and how he had come to Ithaca. And Eumaeus told him Ulysses's own story and begged him to protect the wanderer. But Telemachus thought of the suitors and did not wish to take him to the palace.

"I will give him a coat and a vest," he said, "and shoes for his feet, and a two-edged sword, and I will send him on his way. But I cannot take him into the house, where the suitors would mock at him and use him ill. One man cannot restrain them, and he so young as I."

Then Ulysses said, "Sir, if I may speak, I would say foul wrong is done you in your house, and my heart burns at the thought. Do your people hate you, or will your brothers give you no support? Would that I were as young as you are, and were Ulysses's son or Ulysses himself. I would go to the palace and fall upon all the throng, and die there, one man against a hundred, sooner than see the shameful deeds that are done in that glorious house."

And Telemachus answered, "Hear me, stranger, and I will tell you all. My people do not hate me, and I have no quarrel with them. But I have no brothers to stand by me, for Zeus has never given more than one son to each generation of our line. And there are many foemen in the house, all the princes of the islands, and they too woo my mother and threaten my life, and I cannot see how it will end."

Then he said to Eumaeus, "Go up to the house, old father, as quickly as you can, and tell my mother that I am come back safe from Pylos, and I will wait for you here."

And Eumaeus answered, "I hear, master, and understand. But shall I not go to Laertes on my way and tell him too? For since you set sail for Pylos, they say he has not eaten or drunk or gone about his work, but sits in his house sorrowing and wasting away with grief."

But Telemachus bade him go straight to the palace and return at once, and let the queen send word to Laertes by one of the maids. So Eumaeus went forth, and when Athene saw him go, she drew near, and came and stood by the gateway and showed herself to Ulysses, a tall and beautiful woman, with wisdom in her look. The dogs saw her too and were afraid, and shrank away whining into the corner of the yard, but Telemachus could not see her. Then the G.o.ddess nodded to Ulysses, and he went out and stood before her, and she said, "n.o.ble Ulysses, now is the time to reveal yourself to your son, and go forth with him to the town, with death and doom for the suitors. I shall be near you in the battle and eager to fight."

Then she touched him with her golden wand and gave him his beauty and stature once more, and his old bronzed color came back and his beard grew thick and his garments shone bright again: and so she sent him to the hut.

And when Telemachus saw him, he marveled and turned away his eyes, for he thought it must be a G.o.d.

"Stranger," he said, "you are changed since a moment ago; your color is not the same, nor your garments. If you are one of the Immortals, be gracious to us, and let us offer you gifts and sacrifice."

Then Ulysses cried out, "I am no G.o.d, but your own dear father, for whose sake you are suffering cruel wrongs and the spite of men." And then he kissed his son and let his tears take their way at last.

But Telemachus could not believe it, and said, "You cannot be my father, but a G.o.d come down to deceive me and make me grieve still more. No mortal could do what you have done, for a moment since you were old and wretched, and poorly clad, and now you seem like one of the heavenly G.o.ds."

Then his father answered, "My son, no other Ulysses will ever come back to you. Athene has done this wonder, for she is a G.o.ddess and can make men what she will, now poor, now rich, now old, now young; such power have the lords of heaven to exalt us or bring us low."

Then Telemachus fell on his neck, and they wept aloud together. And they would have wept out their hearts till evening, had not Telemachus asked his father how he had come to Ithaca at last; and Ulysses told him that the sea-kings had brought him and put him on sh.o.r.e asleep, and that Athene had sent him to the swineherd's hut. "But now tell me of the suitors. How many are they and what manner of men? Can the two of us make head against the throng?"

"Father," he answered, "I know well your fame, mighty and wise in war. But this we could never dare, two men against a host. They are a hundred and twenty in all, the best fighting men from Ithaca and the islands round.

Think, if you can, of some champion who would befriend us and give us help."

And Ulysses made answer, "What think you, if Father Zeus and the G.o.ddess Athene stood by our side? Should we still need other help?"

"Truly they are the best of champions," said Telemachus, "though they sit on high among the clouds; and they rule both men and G.o.ds." "And they will be with us," said his father, "when we come to the trial of war. Now at daybreak you must go home and mix with the suitors, and later on the swineherd will bring me to the town, disguised again as the old beggar-man; and if they ill-treat me or even strike me or drag me out of the house, you must look on and bear it. You may check them by speaking, but they will not listen, for the day of their doom is at hand. And tell no one that Ulysses has come home, not even Laertes nor the swineherd nor Penelope herself; we must keep the secret until we are sure of our friends."

Then Telemachus said that his father might trust him, and so they talked on together. Meanwhile Eumaeus had reached the palace with the tidings that Telemachus had returned; and the suitors who were in the hall heard it and were dismayed, for they saw that their plot had failed. They went out of the palace and sat down before the gates, and were talking of sending word to their ship that was lying in wait for Telemachus, when the ship itself came into the harbor, with the other princes on board. So they all went up together to the public square and debated what to do, and they resolved to murder Telemachus as soon as they found another chance. Then they went back and sat down again on the polished seats in the hall.

Now Medon the herald had heard them plotting together in the square, and went and told Penelope all they had said, and how they had purposed putting her son to death. She went down at once to the hall with her women, and stood in the doorway with her bright veil before her face and spoke to Antinous and said, "Wicked and insolent man, can it be that they call you in Ithaca one of their wisest men? No, it is a fool's work you are doing, plotting to kill my son. He is helpless before you now, but Zeus is the friend of the helpless and avenges their wrongs. Impious and ungrateful too! Did not Ulysses once shield your father from his enemies and save his life? Yet you waste his substance and would murder his son?"

Then Eurymachus spoke and tried to soothe her. No one, he said, should injure Telemachus while he was alive, for he loved him more than any man on earth. Eurymachus's words were fair, and Penelope could say no more; yet all the while he was planning the death of her son.

In the evening the swineherd reached his hut again, and found Ulysses changed to the old beggar-man once more, preparing supper with Telemachus.

"What news, good Eumaeus?" said the young man. "Have the proud lords come home from their ambush, or are they still waiting out yonder to take me as I return?" And Eumaeus replied, "I did not stay, master, to go through the town and find out the news, for when I had given my message I wanted to be at home. But one thing I saw from the brow of the hill as I came along. A swift ship was entering the harbor, full of armor and armed men. They may have been the princes, but I cannot say."

As he heard this, Telemachus looked at his father and smiled, but he took good care that the swineherd should not see.

THE VENGEANCE OF ULYSSES

A. HIS RECEPTION AT THE PALACE.

By F. S. Marvin, R. J. C. Mayor, and F. M. Stowell

Early next morning, when the rosy-fingered dawn was in the sky, Telemachus bound on his sandals and took his stout spear in his hand, and said to the swineherd, "Old friend, I must now be off to the city and let my mother see me, for I know she will weep and sigh until I am there myself. And as for this poor stranger, I would have you take him to the town and let him beg for bite and sup from door to door, and those who choose can give. For I cannot be host to every wanderer with all the trouble I have to bear.

And if that makes him angry--well! it is only the worse for him; I am a man that speaks his mind."

Then Ulysses answered readily, "Sir, I do not ask to stay here myself; a beggar should not beg in the fields. Nor am I young enough to work on a farm at a master's beck and call. So go your ways, and your man shall take me with him to the town. But I will wait till the sun is high, for I am afraid of the morning frost with these threadbare rags of mine."