BOOK III

At Pylos

And now the sun, leaving the beauteous bay, rose in the brazen sky, to shine for the immortals and for mortal men upon the fruitful fields; and the two drew near to Pylos, the stately citadel of Neleus. The townsfolk here were offering sacrifice upon the shore, slaying black bulls to the dark-haired Earth-shaker.^h Nine groups there were, five hundred men in each, and nine bulls were presented for each group. The inward parts were tasted and the thighs were burning to the god, when the two ran swiftly in, hauled up and furled their trim ship’s sail, brought her to anchor, and came forth themselves. So from the ship came forth Telemachus, but Athene led the way, and thus began the goddess, clear-eyed Athene:

“Telemachus, no shyness now! For to accomplish this you crossed the sea, to make inquiry for your father and to learn where he lies buried and what fate he met. Go then straight forward to the horseman Nestor, and let us know what is the wisdom hidden in his breast. Beg him yourself to tell the very truth. Falsehood he will not speak, for just and wise is he.”

Then answered her discreet Telemachus: “Mentor, how can I go? How importune him? In subtleties of speech I am not practised. Shyness befits a youth when questioning his elders.”

Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: “Telemachus, some promptings you will find in your own breast, and Heaven will send still more; for, certainly, not unbefriended of the gods have you been born and bred.”

Saying this, Pallas Athene led the way in haste, he following in the footsteps of the goddess. So they approached the gathering of the men of Pylos and the group where Nestor sat among his sons. Round him his people, making the banquet ready, were roasting meats and putting pieces on the spits. But as they saw the strangers, all the men crowded near, gave hands in welcome, and asked them to sit down; and Nestor’s son Peisistratus,¹² approaching first, took each one by the hand and placed them at the feast on some soft fleeces laid upon the sands, beside his brother Thrasymedes and his father. He gave them portions of the inward parts, poured out some wine into a golden cup, and, offering welcome, said to Pallas Athene, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus:

“Here, stranger, make a prayer to lord Poseidon. It is his feast you find at this your coming. Then, after you have poured and prayed as is befitting, give this man too the cup of honeyed wine for him to pour; for I suppose he also prays to the immortals. All men have need of gods. But he is the younger, young as I myself; so I will give you first the golden cup.”

Saying this, he placed the cup of sweet wine in her hand. And Athene was pleased to find the man so wise and courteous, pleased that he gave her first the golden cup. Forthwith she prayed a fervent prayer to lord Poseidon:

“Listen, Poseidon, you who encompass the land, and count it not too much to give thy suppliants these blessings. First upon Nestor and his sons bestow all honor; then to the rest grant gracious recompense, to all the men of Pylos, for their splendid sacrifice; and grant still further that Telemachus and I may sail away having accomplished that for which we came upon our swift black ship.”

Thus did she pray, and was herself fulfilling all. To Telemachus she passed the goodly double cup, and in like manner also prayed the dear son of Odysseus. But when the rest had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off, they divided out the portions and held a glorious feast. And after they had stayed desire for drink and food, then thus began the Gerenianⁱ horseman Nestor:

“Now, then, it is more suitable to prove our guests and ask them who they are, now they are refreshed with food. Strangers, who are you? Where do you come from, sailing the watery ways? Are you upon some business? Or do you rove at random, as the pirates roam the seas, risking their lives and bringing ill to strangers?”¹³

Then answered him discreet Telemachus, plucking up courage; for Athene herself put courage in his heart to ask about his absent father and to win a good report among mankind:

“O Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, you ask me whence we are, and I will tell you. We are of Ithaca, under Mount Neäïon. Our business is our own, no public thing, as I will show. I come afar to seek some tidings of my father, royal hardy Odysseus, who once, they say, fought side by side with you and sacked the Trojan town. For as to all the others who were in the war at Troy we have already learned where each man met his sorry death; but this man’s death the son of Kronos left unknown. No one can surely say where he has died; whether borne down on land by foes, or on the sea among the waves of Amphitrite.^j Therefore I now come here to your knees to ask if you will tell me of my father’s sorry death, whether you saw it for yourself with your own eyes, or from some other learned that he was lost; for to exceeding grief his mother bore him. Use no mild word nor yield to pity out of regard for me, but tell me fully all you chanced to see. I do entreat you, if ever my father, good Odysseus, in word or deed kept faith with you there in the Trojan land where you Achaeans suffered, be mindful of it now; tell me the very truth.”

Then answered him the Gerenian horseman Nestor: “Ah, friend, you make me call to mind the pains we bore in that far land, untamed in spirit as we sons of the Achaeans were—all we endured on shipboard on the misty sea, coasting for plunder where Achilles led; and all our fightings round the stronghold of King Priam, where so many of our bravest perished. There warlike Ajax lies, and there Achilles. There too Patroclus, the peer of gods in wisdom. There my own son, so strong and gallant, Antilochus, exceeding swift of foot, a famous fighter. And many other woes we had, added to these. What mortal man could count them? No, should you tarry five or six years here to ask what woes the great Achaeans suffered, you would return to your own land, wearied before I could tell.

“For nine years long we plotted their destruction, busy with craft of every kind; yet still the son of Kronos hardly brought us through. With one man there none sought to vie in wisdom; for far beyond us all in craft of every kind was royal Odysseus, your father,—if you are indeed his child. I am amazed to see. And yet, how fitting are your words! One would not say a youth could speak so fitly. Well, all that while, royal Odysseus and I never once differed in the assembly or the council; but with one heart, with will and steadfast purpose, we planned how all might best be ordered for the Argives.

“Yet after we overthrew the lofty town of Priam, when we went away in ships and God dispersed the Achaeans, ah, then Zeus purposed in his mind a sad voyage for the Argives! For in no way prudent and upright were all. So, many a one came to an evil end, through the fell wrath of the dread father’s clear-eyed child, who caused a strife between the two sons of Atreus. For these two summoned to an assembly all the Achaeans, in haste, not in due order, at the setting sun; and heavy with wine the young Achaeans came. Then each declared the reason why he called the host together. Now Menelaus exhorted all the Achaeans to turn their thoughts toward going home on the broad ocean-ridges; but this pleased Agamemnon not at all. He wished to stay the host and offer sacred hecatombs, that so he might appease the dread wrath of Athene,—ah, fool! who did not know she might not be persuaded; for a purpose is not lightly changed in gods who live forever. Thus stood the brothers exchanging bitter words, while up sprang other armed Achaeans in wild din, and both the plans found favor. That night we rested, nursing in our breasts hard thoughts of one another. Zeus was preparing us the ill that comes from wrong. At dawn we dragged our ships into the sacred sea, and put therein our goods and the low-girdled women. Half of the host held back, remaining with the son of Atreus, Agamemnon, the shepherd of the people; while we, the other half, embarked and sailed. Swiftly our ships ran on; God smoothed the billowy deep. Arrived at Tenedos,^k we offered sacrifices to the gods, as homeward bound; but Zeus had not yet willed our coming home,—cruel! to waken bitter strife a second time. Part turned their curved ships back and sailed with Odysseus, keen and crafty, again to proffer aid to Agamemnon, son of Atreus. I, with the company of ships which followed me, pressed onward, for I knew some power intended ill. On pressed the warlike son of Tydeus, too, inspiriting his men. Later upon our track came light-haired Menelaus, who overtook us while at Lesbos we debated on the long sea voyage, doubtful if we should sail above steep Chios, by way of the island Psyria, with Chios on our left, or under Chios and past windy Mimas. We therefore begged the god to show some sign; and he made plain our way, bidding us cut the centre of the sea straight for Euboea,^l if we would soonest flee from harm. The whistling wind began to blow, and swiftly along the swarming water sped our ships, and touched at night Geraestus, where on Poseidon’s altar we laid many thighs of bulls, thankful that we had compassed the wide sea. It was the fourth day when the crews of Diomed the horseman, son of Tydeus, moored their trim ships at Argos. I still held on toward Pylos, nor did the breeze once fall after the god first sent it forth to blow.

“And thus it was I came, dear child, bringing no tidings; nothing I know about the rest of the Achaeans, which were saved and which were lost. But all that I have learned while sitting here at home, this, as is proper, you shall know; I will hide nothing from you. Safely, they say, returned the spearmen of the Myrmidons, whom the proud son of fierce Achilles led; safely, too, Philoctetes, the gallant son of Poias;¹⁴ and back to Crete Idomeneus brought all his men,—all who escaped the war, the sea took not a man. About the son of Atreus you yourselves have heard, though you live far away; how he returned, and how Aegisthus plotted his sorry death. And yet a fearful reckoning Aegisthus paid! When a man dies, how good it is to leave a son! That son took vengeance on the slayer, wily Aegisthus, who had slain his famous father. You too, my friend,—for certainly I find you fair and tall,—be strong, that men hereafter born may speak your praise.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “O Nestor, son of Neleus, great glory of the Achaeans, stoutly that son took vengeance, and the Achaeans shall spread his fame afar, that future times may know. Oh, that to me, as well, the gods would give the power to pay the suitors for their grievous wrongs, for they with insult work me outrage! But no such gift the gods bestowed on me and on my father. Now, therefore, all must simply be endured.”

Then answered him the Gerenian horseman Nestor: “Friend,—since you turn my thoughts to this by your own words,—they say that many suitors of your mother, heedless of you, work evil in your halls. Pray tell me, do you willingly submit, or are the people of your land adverse to you, led by some voice of the gods? Who knows but yet Odysseus may return and recompense their crimes, either alone, or all the Achaeans with him? Ah, might clear-eyed Athene be pleased to be your friend as formerly she aided great Odysseus, there in the Trojan land where we Achaeans suffered! For I never knew the gods to show such open friendship as Pallas Athene showed in standing by Odysseus. If now to you she would be such a friend and heartily give aid, perhaps some of these men would cease to think of marriage.”

Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “No sir, not soon, I think, will words like these come true. Too great is what you say; I am astonished. Hope what I might, such things could never be, not if the gods should will them.”

Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: “Telemachus, what word has passed the barrier of your teeth? Easily may a god, who will, bring a man safe from far. Yes, I myself would gladly meet a multitude of woes, if so I might go home and see my day of coming, and not return and fall beside my hearth as Agamemnon fell, under the plottings of his own wife and Aegisthus. Yet death, it is true, the common lot, gods have no power to turn even from one they love, when the hard doom of death that lays men low once overtakes him.”

Then answered her discreet Telemachus: “Mentor, let us talk of this no more. It makes us sad. For him no real return can ever be; long time ago the immortals fixed his death and his dark doom. At present I would trace a different story and question Nestor, since beyond all men else he knows the right and wise. Three generations of mankind they say that he has ruled, and as I now behold him he seems like an immortal. O Nestor, son of Neleus, tell me the story true! How did the son of Atreus die, wide-ruling Agamemnon? And where was Menelaus? What was the deadly plot wily Aegisthus laid to kill a man much braver than himself? Was Menelaus absent from Achaean Argos, traveling to men afar, that so Aegisthus, taking courage, did the murder?”

Then answered him the Gerenian horseman Nestor: “Well, I will tell you all the truth, my child. Indeed, you yourself guess how it had fallen out if the son of Atreus, light-haired Menelaus, had found Aegisthus living in the palace when he returned from Troy. Then over dead Aegisthus, men had heaped no mound of earth, but dogs and birds had feasted on him lying on the plain outside the town, and no Achaean woman had made lament for him; for monstrous was the deed he wrought. At Troy we tarried, bringing to fulfillment many toils, while he, at ease, hidden in grazing Argos, strove hard to win the wife of Agamemnon by his words. At first, indeed, she scorned ill-doing, this royal Clytaemnestra, being of upright mind. Moreover, a bard was with her whom the son of Atreus strictly charged, on setting forth for Troy, to guard his wife. But when at last the doom of gods constrained her to her ruin, then did Aegisthus take the bard to a lone island and leave him there, the prey and prize of birds, while her, as willing as himself, he led to his own home. And many a thigh-piece did he burn upon the sacred altars of the gods, and many an offering render, woven stuffs and gold, at having achieved a deed so great as never in his heart he thought to see.

“Now as we came from Troy, the son of Atreus and myself set sail together full of loving thoughts; but when we were approaching sacred Sunion, a cape of Athens, Phoebus Apollo smote the helmsman of Menelaus and slew him with his gentle arrows while he held the rudder of the running ship within his hands.¹⁵ Phrontis it was, Onetor’s son, one who surpassed all humankind in piloting a ship when winds are wild. So Menelaus tarried, though eager for his journey, to bury his companion and to pay the funeral rites. But when he also, sailing in his hollow ships over the wine-dark sea, reached in his course the steep height of Maleia, from that point on far-seeing Zeus gave him a grievous way. He poured forth blasts of whistling winds and swollen waves as huge as mountains. Dividing the ships, he brought a part to Crete, where the Cydonians dwelt around the streams of Iardanus. Here is a cliff, smooth and steep toward the water, at the border land of Gortyn, on the misty sea, where the south wind drives heavy waves against the western point toward Phaestus, and this small rock holds back the heavy waves. Some came in here, the men themselves hardly escaping death; their ships the waves crushed on the ledges. But the five other dark-bowed ships wind and wave bore to Egypt.¹⁶ So Menelaus gathered there much substance and much gold, coasting about on ship-board to men of alien speech; and all this time at home Aegisthus foully plotted. Slaying the son of Atreus, he reigned seven years in rich Mycenae. The people were held down. But in the eighth ill came; for royal Orestes came from Athens and slew the slayer, wily Aegisthus, who had slain his famous father. The slaughter done, he held a funeral banquet for the Argives, over his hateful mother and spiritless Aegisthus, and on that self-same day came Menelaus, good at the war-cry, bringing a store of treasure, all the freight his ships could bear.

“You too, my friend, wander not long and far from home, leaving your wealth behind and persons in your house so insolent as these; for they may swallow all that wealth, sharing with one another, while you are gone a fruitless journey. And yet, I say, go visit Menelaus. Indeed, I bid you go; for he is lately come from foreign lands and from those nations whence one could not really hope to come, when once the storms had swept him off into so vast a sea,—a sea from which birds do not travel in a year, so vast and terrible it is. Go then at once with your own ship and crew, or if you like by land; chariot and horses are ready for you, and ready too my sons to be your guides to sacred Lacedaemon, where lives light-haired Menelaus. Beg him yourself to tell the very truth. Falsehood he will not speak, for just and wise is he.”

As he thus spoke the sun went down and darkness came, and the goddess, clear-eyed Athene, said to them:

“Sir, certainly these words of yours are fitly spoken. But come, cut up the tongues and mix the wine, that after we have poured libations to Poseidon and the rest of the immortals we may seek our rest, since it is time for rest. For now the day has turned to dusk, and surely it is not well to stay long at the gods’ feast; rather to rise and go.”

So spoke the daughter of Zeus; and they listened to her saying. Pages poured water on their hands; young men brimmed bowls with drink and served to all, with a first pious portion for the cup; they themselves threw the tongues into the flame and, rising, poured libations. So after they had poured and drunk as their hearts would, then would Athene and princely Telemachus set off together for their hollow ship. But Nestor checked them and rebuked them, saying:

“Zeus and the other immortal gods forbid that you should leave my house and turn to a swift ship! As if I were a man quite without clothes and poor, a man who had not robes and rugs enough at home for himself and friends to sleep in comfort! But in my house are goodly robes and rugs. And never, surely, shall the loving son of our Odysseus lie on ship’s deck while I am living, or while within my halls children remain to entertain such guests as visit house of mine.”

Then said to him the goddess, clear-eyed Athene: “Well have you said in this, kind sir, and good it were Telemachus should obey, for it is far more fitting so. Yes, he shall now attend you and sleep within your halls. But as for me, I go to the black ship to cheer my men and tell their duties, for I am the only man of years among them all; the others, younger men, follow me out of friendship, and all are of the age of bold Telemachus. There would I lie down by the black hollow ship tonight; but in the morning I will go to the bold Cauconians where there are debts now due me, not recent ones nor small. As for Telemachus who stays with you, send him upon his way by chariot with your son, and give him horses that have swiftest speed and best endurance.”

Saying this, clear-eyed Athene passed away, in likeness of an osprey. Awe fell on all who saw. The old man marveled as he gazed, grasped by the hand Telemachus, and said as he addressed him:

“Dear friend, you will not prove, I trust, a base man, lacking spirit, if when so young the gods become your guides. This is none else of those who have their dwelling on Olympus than the daughter of Zeus, Tritogeneia,^m who honored your good father too amongst the Argives. Ah, queen, be gracious and vouchsafe me fair renown,—me and my children and my honored wife,—and I will give to thee a glossy heifer, broad of brow, unbroken, one no man ever brought beneath the yoke. Her I will give, tipping her horns with gold.”

So spoke he in his prayer, and Pallas Athene heard. Then the Gerenian horseman Nestor led sons and sons-in-law to his fair palace. And they on reaching the far-famed palace of the king, took seats in order on couches and on chairs; and the old man mixed for all his comers a vessel of sweet wine, which, now eleven years old, the housewife opened, unfastening the lid. A bowl of this the old man mixed, and fervently he prayed, pouring libation to Athene, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus.ⁿ

Then after they had poured and drunk as their hearts would, desiring rest, they each departed homeward; but in the house itself the Gerenian horseman Nestor prepared the bed of Telemachus, the son of princely Odysseus, upon a well-bored bedstead beneath the echoing portico. By him he placed Peisistratus, that sturdy spearman, one ever foremost, he who was still the bachelor among the sons at home. But Nestor slept in the recess of the high hall; his wife, the Queen, making her bed beside him.

Soon as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, the Gerenian horseman Nestor rose from bed, and coming forth sat down on the smooth stones which stood before his lofty gate, white, glistening as with oil. On them in former days Neleus had sat, the peer of gods in counsel; but long ago he met his doom and went to the house of Hades, and now Gerenian Nestor sat thereon, as guardian of the Achaeans, holding the sceptre. Round him his sons collected in a group, on coming from their chambers,—Echephron and Stratius, Perseus, Aretus, and gallant Thrasymedes, and sixth and last came lord Peisistratus. Then they led forward godlike Telemachus, and set him by their side, and thus began the Gerenian horseman Nestor:

“Hasten, dear children, and fulfill my vow; that first of all the gods I seek the favor of Athene, who came to me in open presence at the gods’ high feast. Go one among you to the field and have a heifer quickly brought, and let the cowherd drive her. One go to the black ship of bold Telemachus, and bring here all his crew. Leave only two behind. Let one again summon the smith Laerces hither, to tip with gold the heifer’s horns. The rest of you stay here together. But tell the maids within our famous palace to spread a feast, to fetch some seats, some logs of wood, and some fresh water.”

He spoke; away went all in breathless haste. And now there came the heifer from the field; there came from the swift balanced ship the crew of brave Telemachus; there came the smith, with his smith’s tools in hand, his implements of art, anvil and hammer and the shapely tongs, with which he works the gold; there came Athene, too, to meet the sacrifice. Then the old horseman Nestor furnished gold, and so that other welded it round the heifer’s horns, smoothing it till the goddess might be pleased to view the offering. Now by the horns Stratius and noble Echephron led up the heifer; Aretus brought purifying water in a flowered basin from the store-room, and in his other hand held barley in a basket; and dauntless Thrasymedes, a sharp axe in his hand, stood by to fell the heifer, while Perseus held the blood-bowl. Then the old horseman Nestor began the opening rites, of washing hands and sprinkling meal. And fervently he prayed Athene at beginning, casting the forelocks in the fire.

So after they had prayed and strewn the barley-meal, forthwith the son of Nestor, ardent Thrasymedes, drew near and dealt the blow. The axe cut through the sinews of the neck and broke the heifer’s power. A cry went up from the daughters of Nestor, the sons’ wives, and his own honored wife, Eurydice, the eldest of the daughters of Clymenus. The sons then raised the beast up from the trodden earth and held her so, the while Peisistratus, ever foremost, cut the throat. And after the black blood had flowed and life had left the carcass, they straightway laid it open, quickly cut out the thighs, all in due order, wrapped them in fat in double layers and placed raw flesh thereon. On billets of wood the old man burned them, and poured upon them sparkling wine, while young men by his side held five-pronged forks. So after the thighs were burned and the inward parts were tasted, they sliced the rest, and stuck it on their forks and roasted all, holding the pointed forks in hand.

Meanwhile to Telemachus fair Polycaste gave a bath, she who was youngest daughter of Nestor, son of Neleus. And after she had bathed him and anointed him with oil and put upon him a goodly robe and tunic, forth from the bath he came, in bearing like the immortals; and he went and sat by Nestor, the shepherd of the people.

The others, too, when they had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off, sat down and fell to feasting. Picked men attended them, pouring the wine into their golden cups. So after they had stayed desire for drink and food, then thus began the Gerenian horseman Nestor: “My sons, go fetch the full-maned horses for Telemachus and yoke them to the car, to bring him on his way.”

So he spoke, and willingly they heeded and obeyed. Quickly they harnessed the swift horses to the car. The housewife put in bread and wine and delicacies, such things as heaven-descended princes eat. And now Telemachus mounted the goodly chariot, and Nestor’s son Peisistratus, ever foremost, mounted the chariot too, and took the reins in hand. He cracked the whip to start, and not unwillingly the pair flew off into the plain, left the steep citadel of Pylos, and all day long they shook the yoke they bore between them.

Now the sun sank and all the ways grew dark, and the men arrived at Pherae, before the house of Diocles, the son of Orsilochus, whose father was Alpheius. There for the night they rested; he gave them entertainment.

Then as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, they harnessed the horses, mounted the gay chariot, and off they drove from porch and echoing portico. Peisistratus cracked the whip to start, and not unwillingly the pair flew off. So into the plain they came where wheat was growing; and through this, by and by, they reached their journey’s end. So fast their horses sped them. Then the sun sank and all the ways grew dark.