The Odyssey
his horses on and they flew forward nothing loath; ere long they came
to Pylos, and then Telemachus said:
“Pisistratus, I hope you will promise to do what I am going to ask you.
You know our fathers were old friends before us; moreover, we are both
of an age, and this journey has brought us together still more closely;
do not, therefore, take me past my ship, but leave me there, for if I
go to your father’s house he will try to keep me in the warmth of his
good will towards me, and I must go home at once.”
Pisistratus thought how he should do as he was asked, and in the end he
deemed it best to turn his horses towards the ship, and put Menelaus’s
beautiful presents of gold and raiment in the stern of the vessel. Then
he said, “Go on board at once and tell your men to do so also before I
can reach home to tell my father. I know how obstinate he is, and am
sure he will not let you go; he will come down here to fetch you, and
he will not go back without you. But he will be very angry.”
With this he drove his goodly steeds back to the city of the Pylians
and soon reached his home, but Telemachus called the men together and
gave his orders. “Now, my men,” said he, “get everything in order on
board the ship, and let us set out home.”
Thus did he speak, and they went on board even as he had said. But as
Telemachus was thus busied, praying also and sacrificing to Minerva in
the ship’s stern, there came to him a man from a distant country, a
seer, who was flying from Argos because he had killed a man. He was
descended from Melampus, who used to live in Pylos, the land of sheep;
he was rich and owned a great house, but he was driven into exile by
the great and powerful king Neleus. Neleus seized his goods and held
them for a whole year, during which he was a close prisoner in the
house of king Phylacus, and in much distress of mind both on account of
the daughter of Neleus and because he was haunted by a great sorrow
that dread Erinys had laid upon him. In the end, however, he escaped
with his life, drove the cattle from Phylace to Pylos, avenged the
wrong that had been done him, and gave the daughter of Neleus to his
brother. Then he left the country and went to Argos, where it was
ordained that he should reign over much people. There he married,
established himself, and had two famous sons Antiphates and Mantius.
Antiphates became father of Oicleus, and Oicleus of Amphiaraus, who was
dearly loved both by Jove and by Apollo, but he did not live to old
age, for he was killed in Thebes by reason of a woman’s gifts. His sons
were Alcmaeon and Amphilochus. Mantius, the other son of Melampus, was
father to Polypheides and Cleitus. Aurora, throned in gold, carried off
Cleitus for his beauty’s sake, that he might dwell among the immortals,
but Apollo made Polypheides the greatest seer in the whole world now
that Amphiaraus was dead. He quarrelled with his father and went to
live in Hyperesia, where he remained and prophesied for all men.
His son, Theoclymenus, it was who now came up to Telemachus as he was
making drink-offerings and praying in his ship. “Friend,” said he, “now
that I find you sacrificing in this place, I beseech you by your
sacrifices themselves, and by the god to whom you make them, I pray you
also by your own head and by those of your followers tell me the truth
and nothing but the truth. Who and whence are you? Tell me also of your
town and parents.”
Telemachus said, “I will answer you quite truly. I am from Ithaca, and
my father is Ulysses, as surely as that he ever lived. But he has come
to some miserable end. Therefore I have taken this ship and got my crew
together to see if I can hear any news of him, for he has been away a
long time.”
“I too,” answered Theoclymenus, “am an exile, for I have killed a man
of my own race. He has many brothers and kinsmen in Argos, and they
have great power among the Argives. I am flying to escape death at
their hands, and am thus doomed to be a wanderer on the face of the
earth. I am your suppliant; take me, therefore, on board your ship that
they may not kill me, for I know they are in pursuit.”
“I will not refuse you,” replied Telemachus, “if you wish to join us.
Come, therefore, and in Ithaca we will treat you hospitably according
to what we have.”
On this he received Theoclymenus’ spear and laid it down on the deck of
the ship. He went on board and sat in the stern, bidding Theoclymenus
sit beside him; then the men let go the hawsers. Telemachus told them
to catch hold of the ropes, and they made all haste to do so. They set
the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it and made it fast
with the forestays, and they hoisted their white sails with sheets of
twisted ox hide. Minerva sent them a fair wind that blew fresh and
strong to take the ship on her course as fast as possible. Thus then
they passed by Crouni and Chalcis.
Presently the sun set and darkness was over all the land. The vessel
made a quick passage to Pheae and thence on to Elis, where the Epeans
rule. Telemachus then headed her for the flying islands,132 wondering
within himself whether he should escape death or should be taken
prisoner.
Meanwhile Ulysses and the swineherd were eating their supper in the
hut, and the men supped with them. As soon as they had had to eat and
drink, Ulysses began trying to prove the swineherd and see whether he
would continue to treat him kindly, and ask him to stay on at the
station or pack him off to the city; so he said:
“Eumaeus, and all of you, to-morrow I want to go away and begin begging
about the town, so as to be no more trouble to you or to your men. Give
me your advice therefore, and let me have a good guide to go with me
and show me the way. I will go the round of the city begging as I needs
must, to see if any one will give me a drink and a piece of bread. I
should like also to go to the house of Ulysses and bring news of her
husband to Queen Penelope. I could then go about among the suitors and
see if out of all their abundance they will give me a dinner. I should
soon make them an excellent servant in all sorts of ways. Listen and
believe when I tell you that by the blessing of Mercury who gives grace
and good name to the works of all men, there is no one living who would
make a more handy servant than I should—to put fresh wood on the fire,
chop fuel, carve, cook, pour out wine, and do all those services that
poor men have to do for their betters.”
The swineherd was very much disturbed when he heard this. “Heaven help
me,” he exclaimed, “what ever can have put such a notion as that into
your head? If you go near the suitors you will be undone to a
certainty, for their pride and insolence reach the very heavens. They
would never think of taking a man like you for a servant. Their
servants are all young men, well dressed, wearing good cloaks and
shirts, with well looking faces and their hair always tidy, the tables
are kept quite clean and are loaded with bread, meat, and wine. Stay
where you are, then; you are not in anybody’s way; I do not mind your
being here, no more do any of the others, and when Telemachus comes
home he will give you a shirt and cloak and will send you wherever you
want to go.”
Ulysses answered, “I hope you may be as dear to the gods as you are to
me, for having saved me from going about and getting into trouble;
there is nothing worse than being always on the tramp; still, when men
have once got low down in the world they will go through a great deal
on behalf of their miserable bellies. Since, however, you press me to
stay here and await the return of Telemachus, tell me about Ulysses’
mother, and his father whom he left on the threshold of old age when he
set out for Troy. Are they still living or are they already dead and in
the house of Hades?”
“I will tell you all about them,” replied Eumaeus, “Laertes is still
living and prays heaven to let him depart peacefully in his own house,
for he is terribly distressed about the absence of his son, and also
about the death of his wife, which grieved him greatly and aged him
more than anything else did. She came to an unhappy end133 through
sorrow for her son: may no friend or neighbour who has dealt kindly by
me come to such an end as she did. As long as she was still living,
though she was always grieving, I used to like seeing her and asking
her how she did, for she brought me up along with her daughter Ctimene,
the youngest of her children; we were boy and girl together, and she
made little difference between us. When, however, we both grew up, they
sent Ctimene to Same and received a splendid dowry for her. As for me,
my mistress gave me a good shirt and cloak with a pair of sandals for
my feet, and sent me off into the country, but she was just as fond of
me as ever. This is all over now. Still it has pleased heaven to
prosper my work in the situation which I now hold. I have enough to eat
and drink, and can find something for any respectable stranger who
comes here; but there is no getting a kind word or deed out of my
mistress, for the house has fallen into the hands of wicked people.
Servants want sometimes to see their mistress and have a talk with her;
they like to have something to eat and drink at the house, and
something too to take back with them into the country. This is what
will keep servants in a good humour.”
Ulysses answered, “Then you must have been a very little fellow,
Eumaeus, when you were taken so far away from your home and parents.
Tell me, and tell me true, was the city in which your father and mother
lived sacked and pillaged, or did some enemies carry you off when you
were alone tending sheep or cattle, ship you off here, and sell you for
whatever your master gave them?”
“Stranger,” replied Eumaeus, “as regards your question: sit still, make
yourself comfortable, drink your wine, and listen to me. The nights are
now at their longest; there is plenty of time both for sleeping and
sitting up talking together; you ought not to go to bed till bed time,
too much sleep is as bad as too little; if any one of the others wishes
to go to bed let him leave us and do so; he can then take my master’s
pigs out when he has done breakfast in the morning. We too will sit
here eating and drinking in the hut, and telling one another stories
about our misfortunes; for when a man has suffered much, and been
buffeted about in the world, he takes pleasure in recalling the memory
of sorrows that have long gone by. As regards your question, then, my
tale is as follows:
“You may have heard of an island called Syra that lies over above
Ortygia,134 where the land begins to turn round and look in another
direction.135 It is not very thickly peopled, but the soil is good,
with much pasture fit for cattle and sheep, and it abounds with wine
and wheat. Dearth never comes there, nor are the people plagued by any
sickness, but when they grow old Apollo comes with Diana and kills them
with his painless shafts. It contains two communities, and the whole
country is divided between these two. My father Ctesius son of Ormenus,
a man comparable to the gods, reigned over both.
“Now to this place there came some cunning traders from Phoenicia (for
the Phoenicians are great mariners) in a ship which they had freighted
with gewgaws of all kinds. There happened to be a Phoenician woman in
my father’s house, very tall and comely, and an excellent servant;
these scoundrels got hold of her one day when she was washing near
their ship, seduced her, and cajoled her in ways that no woman can
resist, no matter how good she may be by nature. The man who had
seduced her asked her who she was and where she came from, and on this
she told him her father’s name. ‘I come from Sidon,’ said she, ‘and am