The Odyssey
and be the bane of every one of these men.139 If they were too many for
me—I being single-handed—I would rather die fighting in my own house
than see such disgraceful sights day after day, strangers grossly
maltreated, and men dragging the women servants about the house in an
unseemly way, wine drawn recklessly, and bread wasted all to no purpose
for an end that shall never be accomplished.”
And Telemachus answered, “I will tell you truly everything. There is no
enmity between me and my people, nor can I complain of brothers, to
whom a man may look for support however great his quarrel may be. Jove
has made us a race of only sons. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius,
and Ulysses only son of Laertes. I am myself the only son of Ulysses
who left me behind him when he went away, so that I have never been of
any use to him. Hence it comes that my house is in the hands of
numberless marauders; for the chiefs from all the neighbouring islands,
Dulichium, Same, Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca
itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying court to my
mother, who will neither say point blank that she will not marry, nor
yet bring matters to an end, so they are making havoc of my estate, and
before long will do so with myself into the bargain. The issue,
however, rests with heaven. But do you, old friend Eumaeus, go at once
and tell Penelope that I am safe and have returned from Pylos. Tell it
to herself alone, and then come back here without letting any one else
know, for there are many who are plotting mischief against me.”
“I understand and heed you,” replied Eumaeus; “you need instruct me no
further, only as I am going that way say whether I had not better let
poor Laertes know that you are returned. He used to superintend the
work on his farm in spite of his bitter sorrow about Ulysses, and he
would eat and drink at will along with his servants; but they tell me
that from the day on which you set out for Pylos he has neither eaten
nor drunk as he ought to do, nor does he look after his farm, but sits
weeping and wasting the flesh from off his bones.”
“More’s the pity,” answered Telemachus, “I am sorry for him, but we
must leave him to himself just now. If people could have everything
their own way, the first thing I should choose would be the return of
my father; but go, and give your message; then make haste back again,
and do not turn out of your way to tell Laertes. Tell my mother to send
one of her women secretly with the news at once, and let him hear it
from her.”
Thus did he urge the swineherd; Eumaeus, therefore, took his sandals,
bound them to his feet, and started for the town. Minerva watched him
well off the station, and then came up to it in the form of a
woman—fair, stately, and wise. She stood against the side of the entry,
and revealed herself to Ulysses, but Telemachus could not see her, and
knew not that she was there, for the gods do not let themselves be seen
by everybody. Ulysses saw her, and so did the dogs, for they did not
bark, but went scared and whining off to the other side of the yards.
She nodded her head and motioned to Ulysses with her eyebrows; whereon
he left the hut and stood before her outside the main wall of the
yards. Then she said to him:
“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, it is now time for you to tell your
son: do not keep him in the dark any longer, but lay your plans for the
destruction of the suitors, and then make for the town. I will not be
long in joining you, for I too am eager for the fray.”
As she spoke she touched him with her golden wand. First she threw a
fair clean shirt and cloak about his shoulders; then she made him
younger and of more imposing presence; she gave him back his colour,
filled out his cheeks, and let his beard become dark again. Then she
went away and Ulysses came back inside the hut. His son was astounded
when he saw him, and turned his eyes away for fear he might be looking
upon a god.
“Stranger,” said he, “how suddenly you have changed from what you were
a moment or two ago. You are dressed differently and your colour is not
the same. Are you some one or other of the gods that live in heaven? If
so, be propitious to me till I can make you due sacrifice and offerings
of wrought gold. Have mercy upon me.”
And Ulysses said, “I am no god, why should you take me for one? I am
your father, on whose account you grieve and suffer so much at the
hands of lawless men.”
As he spoke he kissed his son, and a tear fell from his cheek on to the
ground, for he had restrained all tears till now. But Telemachus could
not yet believe that it was his father, and said:
“You are not my father, but some god is flattering me with vain hopes
that I may grieve the more hereafter; no mortal man could of himself
contrive to do as you have been doing, and make yourself old and young
at a moment’s notice, unless a god were with him. A second ago you were
old and all in rags, and now you are like some god come down from
heaven.”
Ulysses answered, “Telemachus, you ought not to be so immeasurably
astonished at my being really here. There is no other Ulysses who will
come hereafter. Such as I am, it is I, who after long wandering and
much hardship have got home in the twentieth year to my own country.
What you wonder at is the work of the redoubtable goddess Minerva, who
does with me whatever she will, for she can do what she pleases. At one
moment she makes me like a beggar, and the next I am a young man with
good clothes on my back; it is an easy matter for the gods who live in
heaven to make any man look either rich or poor.”
As he spoke he sat down, and Telemachus threw his arms about his father
and wept. They were both so much moved that they cried aloud like
eagles or vultures with crooked talons that have been robbed of their
half fledged young by peasants. Thus piteously did they weep, and the
sun would have gone down upon their mourning if Telemachus had not
suddenly said, “In what ship, my dear father, did your crew bring you
to Ithaca? Of what nation did they declare themselves to be—for you
cannot have come by land?”
“I will tell you the truth, my son,” replied Ulysses. “It was the
Phaeacians who brought me here. They are great sailors, and are in the
habit of giving escorts to any one who reaches their coasts. They took
me over the sea while I was fast asleep, and landed me in Ithaca, after
giving me many presents in bronze, gold, and raiment. These things by
heaven’s mercy are lying concealed in a cave, and I am now come here on
the suggestion of Minerva that we may consult about killing our
enemies. First, therefore, give me a list of the suitors, with their
number, that I may learn who, and how many, they are. I can then turn
the matter over in my mind, and see whether we two can fight the whole
body of them ourselves, or whether we must find others to help us.”
To this Telemachus answered, “Father, I have always heard of your
renown both in the field and in council, but the task you talk of is a
very great one: I am awed at the mere thought of it; two men cannot
stand against many and brave ones. There are not ten suitors only, nor
twice ten, but ten many times over; you shall learn their number at
once. There are fifty-two chosen youths from Dulichium, and they have
six servants; from Same there are twenty-four; twenty young Achaeans
from Zacynthus, and twelve from Ithaca itself, all of them well born.
They have with them a servant Medon, a bard, and two men who can carve
at table. If we face such numbers as this, you may have bitter cause to
rue your coming, and your revenge. See whether you cannot think of some
one who would be willing to come and help us.”
“Listen to me,” replied Ulysses, “and think whether Minerva and her
father Jove may seem sufficient, or whether I am to try and find some
one else as well.”
“Those whom you have named,” answered Telemachus, “are a couple of good
allies, for though they dwell high up among the clouds they have power
over both gods and men.”
“These two,” continued Ulysses, “will not keep long out of the fray,
when the suitors and we join fight in my house. Now, therefore, return
home early to-morrow morning, and go about among the suitors as before.
Later on the swineherd will bring me to the city disguised as a
miserable old beggar. If you see them ill treating me, steel your heart
against my sufferings; even though they drag me feet foremost out of
the house, or throw things at me, look on and do nothing beyond gently
trying to make them behave more reasonably; but they will not listen to
you, for the day of their reckoning is at hand. Furthermore I say, and
lay my saying to your heart; when Minerva shall put it in my mind, I
will nod my head to you, and on seeing me do this you must collect all
the armour that is in the house and hide it in the strong store room.
Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you are removing it; say
that you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke, inasmuch as
it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went away, but has become
soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more particularly that you
are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel over their wine, and that
they may do each other some harm which may disgrace both banquet and
wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes tempts people to use them. But
leave a sword and a spear apiece for yourself and me, and a couple of
oxhide shields so that we can snatch them up at any moment; Jove and
Minerva will then soon quiet these people. There is also another
matter; if you are indeed my son and my blood runs in your veins, let
no one know that Ulysses is within the house—neither Laertes, nor yet
the swineherd, nor any of the servants, nor even Penelope herself. Let
you and me exploit the women alone, and let us also make trial of some
other of the men servants, to see who is on our side and whose hand is
against us.”
“Father,” replied Telemachus, “you will come to know me by and by, and
when you do you will find that I can keep your counsel. I do not think,
however, the plan you propose will turn out well for either of us.
Think it over. It will take us a long time to go the round of the farms
and exploit the men, and all the time the suitors will be wasting your
estate with impunity and without compunction. Prove the women by all
means, to see who are disloyal and who guiltless, but I am not in
favour of going round and trying the men. We can attend to that later
on, if you really have some sign from Jove that he will support you.”
Thus did they converse, and meanwhile the ship which had brought
Telemachus and his crew from Pylos had reached the town of Ithaca. When
they had come inside the harbour they drew the ship on to the land;
their servants came and took their armour from them, and they left all
the presents at the house of Clytius. Then they sent a servant to tell
Penelope that Telemachus had gone into the country, but had sent the
ship to the town to prevent her from being alarmed and made unhappy.
This servant and Eumaeus happened to meet when they were both on the
same errand of going to tell Penelope. When they reached the House, the
servant stood up and said to the queen in the presence of the waiting
women, “Your son, Madam, is now returned from Pylos”; but Eumaeus went
close up to Penelope, and said privately all that her son had bidden
him tell her. When he had given his message he left the house with its
outbuildings and went back to his pigs again.
The suitors were surprised and angry at what had happened, so they went
outside the great wall that ran round the outer court, and held a
council near the main entrance. Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the
first to speak.