BOOK XV
Telemachus and Eumaeus
Now to spacious Lacedaemon went Pallas Athene to seek the noble son of resolute Odysseus, wishing to call his home to mind and bid him hasten. She found Telemachus and the worthy son of Nestor lying within the porch of famous Menelaus. The son of Nestor was still wrapped in gentle sleep; but to Telemachus came no welcome sleep, for through the immortal night thoughts in his heart about his father kept him waking. So clear-eyed Athene, drawing near, addressed him thus:
“Telemachus, it is not well to wander longer far from home, leaving your wealth behind and persons in your house so insolent as these; for they may swallow all your wealth, sharing with one another, while you are gone a fruitless journey. Nay, with all haste urge Menelaus, good at the war-cry, to send you forth, that you may find your blameless mother still at home. Already her father and her brothers press her to wed Eurymachus; for he excels all suitors in his gifts and overtops their dowry. But let her not against your will take treasure from your home. You know a woman’s way: she strives to enrich his house who marries her, while of her former children and the husband of her youth when he is dead she thinks not, and she talks of him no more. Go then and put your household in the charge of her among the maids who seems the best, until the gods grant you an honored wife. And let me tell you more; lay it to heart; by a deliberate plan the leaders of the suitors now guard the strait between Ithaca and rugged Samos, and seek to cut you off before you gain your native land. Yet this I think shall never be; rather the earth shall cover some of the suitors who devour your living. Still, keep your staunch ship off the islands and sail both night and day; and one of the immortals who guards and keeps you safe shall send a favoring breeze. When then you reach the nearest shore of Ithaca, send forward to the city your ship and all her crew, and go yourself before all else straight to the swineherd, who is the keeper of your swine and ever loyal. There rest a night, but send the swineherd to the city to bear the news to heedful Penelope how you are safe and how you have returned from Pylos.”
So saying, Athene passed away to high Olympus. But from sweet sleep Telemachus waked Nestor’s son, touching him with his heel, and thus addressed him: “Wake, Nestor’s son, Peisistratus! Bring out the strong-hoofed horses and yoke them to the car, that we may make our journey.”
Then Nestor’s son, Peisistratus, made answer: “Telemachus, we cannot, eager for the journey though we are, drive in the dusky night. It will be morning soon. Wait then awhile until the royal son of Atreus, the spearman Menelaus, brings his gifts, places them in the chariot, and sends us forth with cheering words upon our way. For a guest remembers all his days the hospitable man who showed him kindness.”
He spoke, and soon the gold-throned morning came; and Menelaus, good at the war-cry, now drew near, just risen from bed by fair-haired Helen. When the son of Odysseus spied him, in haste he girt his glossy tunic round his body, and threw a great cloak round his sturdy shoulders. So forth he went and drawing near thus spoke Telemachus, the son of princely Odysseus:
“O son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, now at last let me go to my own native land; for my heart longs for home.”
Then answered Menelaus, good at the war-cry: “Telemachus, I will not keep you longer if you desire to go. I blame a host if over-kind, or over-rude. Better, good sense in all things. It is an equal fault to thrust away the guest who does not care to go, and to detain the impatient. Best make the stranger welcome while he stays, and speed him when he wishes. But wait until I bring you gifts and place them in your chariot, beautiful gifts, as you yourself shall see. And let me bid the maids prepare a meal here in the hall from our abundant stores. It brings dignity and honor and benefit besides to feast before you travel along the boundless earth. Then if you choose to make a tour through Hellas and mid-Argos, so far I will attend you; for I will yoke my horses and guide you through the towns. No one will send us empty off, but each will give some single thing to bear away, a brazen tripod, caldron, pair of mules or golden goblet.”
Then again answered him discreet Telemachus: “O son of Atreus, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts, at present I had rather go to my own home, for I left behind at starting no guardian of my goods; so while I seek my godlike father, I may myself be lost, or else may lose out of my house some valued treasure.”
When Menelaus, good at the war-cry, heard his words, he at once bade his wife and maids prepare a meal there in the hall from his abundant stores. And now the son of Boeäthouäs, Eteoneus, entered, just risen from his bed; for he lived not far away. Menelaus, good at the war-cry, told him to light the fire and roast the meat; and when he heard, he did not disobey. Menelaus himself, meanwhile, went down to a fragrant chamber; yet not alone, for Helen went and Megapenthes. And when they came where lay his treasure, the son of Atreus took a double cup and ordered Megapenthes to bring a silver bowl, while Helen lingered by the chests where were the embroidered robes which she herself had wrought. Out of these robes the royal lady, Helen, drew forth one to bear away, one hand somest in work and largest, which sparkled like a star; it lay beneath the others. Then forth they hastened through the palace till they found Telemachus, whom light-haired Menelaus thus addressed:
“Telemachus, as your heart hopes, may Zeus, the thunderer, husband of Here, grant you a safe return! And out of all the gifts stored in my house as treasures, I will give you that which is most beautiful and precious: I will give a well-wrought bowl. It is of solid silver, its rim finished with gold, the work of Hephaestus. Lord Phaedimus, the king of the Sidonians, gave it, when his house sheltered me on my way homeward. And now to you I gladly give it.”
So saying, the lordly son of Atreus put in his hands the double cup. Then the bright silver bowl strong Megapenthes brought and set before him, while at his side stood fair-cheeked Helen, holding the robe, and thus she spoke and said:
“I too, dear child, will give a gift, this keepsake from the hands of Helen against the wished-for wedding time, for your wife then to wear. Meanwhile, in your good mother’s charge lay it away at home: and may you with rejoicing reach your stately house and native land.”
So saying, she laid it in his hands; he took it and was glad. Then lord Peisistratus put in the chariot-box the gifts as he received them, viewing them all with wonder. Light-haired Menelaus led them to the house, where they took seats on benches and on chairs. Now water for the hands a servant brought in a beautiful pitcher, made of gold, and poured it out over a silver basin for their washing, and spread a polished table by their side. And the grave house-keeper brought bread and placed before them, setting out food of many a kind, freely giving of her store. The son of Boeäthouäs, too, carved meat and passed them portions, and the son of famous Menelaus poured their wine: and on the food spread out before them they laid hands. Then after they had stayed desire for drink and food, Telemachus and Nestor’s gallant son harnessed the horses, mounted the gay chariot, and off they drove from porch and echoing portico. After them came the son of Atreus, light-haired Menelaus, in his right hand a golden cup of bracing wine, for them to pour at starting. He stopped before the horses and pledging them he said:
“A health to you, young men! And say the same to Nestor, the shepherd of the people; for he was kind to me as any father those days we young Achaeans were in the war at Troy.”
Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “Even as you say, O heaven-descended prince, when we arrive we will report all these your words. And would that coming home to Ithaca, I there might find Odysseus in my home, and so might say how after meeting every kindness here with you I went my way and carried many precious treasures with me!”
On his right, as he was speaking, flew an eagle, bearing within his claws a large white goose, a tame fowl from the yard. People ran shouting after, men and women. But as the bird drew near, he darted to the right before the horses. All saw it and were glad, and in their breasts their hearts grew warm. And thus began Peisistratus, the son of Nestor:
“Think, heaven-descended Menelaus, leader of hosts! Is it we to whom a god shows this sign, or is it you?”
He spoke and valiant Menelaus pondered, doubting what he should think and rightly answer. But long-robed Helen, taking up the word, spoke thus: “Hearken and I will prophesy such things as the immortals bring to mind, things which I think will happen. As the eagle caught the goose,—she, fattened in the house; he, coming from the hills where he was born and bred,—so shall Odysseus, through many woes and wanderings, come home and take revenge. Even now, perhaps, he is at home, sowing the seeds of ill for all the suitors.”
Then answered her discreet Telemachus: “Zeus grant it so, he the loud thunderer, husband of Here! Then would I there too, as to any god, give thanks to you.”
He spoke and laid the lash upon the horses, and very quickly they started toward the plain, hastening through the city; 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. Telemachus cracked the whip to start, and not unwillingly the pair flew off, and by and by they came to the steep citadel of Pylos. Then said Telemachus to Nestor’s son:
“O son of Nestor, could you give and carry out a promise I shall ask? Friends of old we call ourselves, through parents’ friendship. Besides, we are alike in years, and this our journey makes the tie more close. Do not then, heaven-descended prince, take me beyond my ship, but leave me there; for fear old Nestor, meaning kindness, detain me at his house against my will, when I should hasten on.”
So he spoke, and the son of Nestor doubted within his heart if he could rightly give and carry out that promise. Yet on reflecting thus, it seemed the better way. He turned his horses toward the swift ship and the shore, took out and set by the ship’s stern the goodly gifts,—the clothing and the gold which Menelaus gave,—and hastening Telemachus, spoke thus in winged words:
“Quickly embark and summon all your crew before I reach my home and tell old Nestor ; for in my mind and heart full well I know how stern his temper is. He will not let you go; he will himself come here and call you. I tell you, too, go back he will not empty-handed; for he will be very angry, notwithstanding what you say.”
So saying, he drove his full-maned horses to the town of Pylos, and quickly reached the palace. But Telemachus, inspiring his crew, called to them thus: “Put all the gear in order, friends, on the black ship; and come aboard yourselves and let us make our journey.”
So he spoke, and willingly they heeded and obeyed; quickly they came on board and took their places at the pins.
With these things he was busied, and now by the ship’s stern was making prayers and offerings to Athene, when up there came a wanderer, exiled from Argos through having killed a man. He was a seer, and of the lineage of Melampus.
34 In former times Melampus lived at Pylos, the mother-land of flocks, and had a very wealthy home among the Pylians. Then he went to a land of strangers and departed from his country, flying from high-souled Neleus, lordliest of living men, who for a full year held by force his great possessions. He meanwhile in the halls of Phylacus was kept in bitter bondage and suffered great distress, because of the daughter of Neleus and the delusion deep which the divine sharp-scourging fury brought his mind. But he escaped his doom and drove the bellowing oxen from Phylace to Pylos; and punishing matchless Neleus for his disgraceful deed, he brought the maiden home to be his brother’s wife. So he came to a land of strangers, grazing Argos, where afterwards he was to live, sovereign of many Argives. And here he took a wife and built a high-roofed house, and he begot two sturdy sons, Antiphates and Mantius. Antiphates again begot brave Oicles, and Oicles Amphiarauäs, the summoner of hosts, whom Zeus the aegis-bearer and Apollo tenderly loved, and showed him every favor; and yet he did not reach the threshold of old age, but died at Thebes, destroyed by woman’s bribes. To him were born two sons, Alcmaeon and Amphilochus. Now Mantius begot Cleitus and Polypheides; but gold-throned dawn took Cleitus, by reason of his beauty, to dwell with the immortals. Of eager Polypheides Apollo made a seer, the best among mankind when Amphiarauäs died. Quarrelling with his father, he withdrew to Hyperesia; and there he dwelt and prophesied for all men.
It was his son drew near, named Theoclymenus, and stood before Telemachus. He found him making offerings and prayers beside the swift black ship: and speaking in winged words he said:
“Friend, since I find you offering burnt-offerings here, by these offerings and the god I will entreat you, and by your own life too, and that of those who follow: tell truly all I ask. Hold nothing back. Who are you? Of what people? Where is your town and kindred?”
Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “Well, stranger, I will plainly tell you all. By birth I am of Ithaca. My father is Odysseus—if ever such there were! But long ago he died, a mournful death; so I, with men and a black ship, am come to gather news of my long-absent father.”
Then answered godlike Theoclymenus: “Like you, I too am far from home, because I killed a kinsman. He has many relatives and friends in grazing Argos, and with the Achaeans their influence is large. To shun the death and the dark doom which they would deal, I flee; for I must be a wanderer now from tribe to tribe. Set me upon your ship, a fugitive and suppliant. Let them not kill me; for I know they will pursue.”
Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “I shall not thrust you forth from the trim ship against your will. Then follow! In our land you shall receive what we can give.”
So saying he took the bronze spear from Theoclymenus and laid it on the deck of the curved ship. Telemachus himself came on the sea-bound ship and sat him in the stern, while by his side sat Theoclymenus. The others loosed the cables. And now Telemachus, inspiring his men, bade them lay hold upon the tackling, and they busily obeyed. Raising the pine-wood mast, they set it in the hollow socket, binding it firm with forestays, and tightened the white sail with twisted ox-hide thongs. And a favorable wind clear-eyed Athene sent, which swept with violence along the sky, so that the scudding ship might swiftly make her way through the salt ocean water. Thus on they ran, past Crouni and the pleasant streams of Chalcis. The sun was setting and the ways were growing dark as the ship drew near to Pherae, driven by the breeze of Zeus; then on past sacred Elis where the Epeians rule. From here Telemachus steered for the Pointed Isles, uncertain if he should escape from death or fall a prey.
Meanwhile at the lodge Odysseus and the noble swineherd were eating supper, and with them supped the others. And after they had stayed desire for drink and food, thus spoke Odysseus,—making trial of the swineherd, to see if he would longer give a hearty welcome and urge his staying at the farm, or if he would send him straightway to the town:
“Listen, Eumaeus and all you other men! I want to go tomorrow to beg about the town, for fear I burden you and these your men. Only direct me well, and give me a trusty guide to show the way. Once in the city, I must wander by myself, and hope some man will give a cup and crust. And if I come to the house of princely Odysseus, there I will tell my tale to heedful Penelope and join the audacious suitors, who might perhaps give me a meal, since they have plenty. Soon I could serve them well in all they want. For let me tell you this, and do you mark and listen: by favor of the Guide-god, Hermes, who lends the grace and dignity to all the deeds of men, in servants’ work I have no equal,—in laying a fire well, splitting dry wood, carving and roasting meat, and pouring wine,—indeed, in all the ways that poor men serve their betters.”
Then deeply moved said you, swineherd Eumaeus: “Why, stranger, how came such notions in your mind? You certainly must long to die that very instant when you consent to plunge into the throng of suitors, whose arrogance and outrage reach to the iron heavens. Their servants are not such as you; but younger men, well dressed in coats and tunics, ever with glossy heads and handsome faces, are they who do them service. Their polished tables are laden with bread and meat and wine. No, stay with us! Nobody is disturbed that you are here, not I myself, nor any one of these my men. And when Odysseus’ son returns, he will give a coat and tunic for your clothing and send you where your heart and soul may bid you go.
Then answered him long-tried royal Odysseus: “May you, Eumaeus, be as dear to father Zeus as now to me, for having stopped my wandering and saved me bitter woe. Nothing is harder for a man than restless roaming. It’s for the cursed belly’s sake that men meet cruel ills when wandering, misfortune, and distresses come. Yet while you keep me here, bidding me wait your master, pray tell me of the mother of princely Odysseus, and of his father, whom when he went away he left behind on the threshold of old age. Are they still living in the sunshine, or are they now already dead and in the house of Hades?”
Then said to him the swineherd, the overseer: “Well, stranger, I will plainly tell you all. Laeärtes is still living, but ever prays to Zeus to let life leave his limbs here at his home; for he mourns exceedingly his absent son and the early-wedded trusty wife whose death distressed him sorely and brought him into premature old age. In sorrow for her famous son, she pined away—a piteous death! May none die so who dwells with me, who is my friend and does me kindness. While she still lived, much as she suffered, pleasant it was to ask for her and make inquiries; for it was she who brought me up with long-robed Ctimene, her stately daughter, the youngest child she bore. With her I was brought up and I was honored little less. Then when we reached together the longed-for days of youth, they sent Ctimene to Same and obtained large wedding gifts, while me my lady dressed in coat and tunic, goodly garments, and giving sandals for my feet she sent me to the farm; yet in her heart she loved me more and more. Now all that love I lack, though the good gods bless all I undertake. By work I get my meat and drink, and give to the deserving, but from the queen I cannot win one cheering word or deed; trouble has fallen on the house through overbearing men. Yet servants long to speak with their mistress face to face, from her to learn of all, with her to eat and drink, and then take something also to the fields. Such things warm servants’ hearts.”
Then answering said wise Odysseus: “Swineherd Eumaeus, certainly when you were small you must have wandered far from home and kindred. Tell me about it; tell me plainly too. Was the wide-wayed city of your people sacked, the city where your father and honored mother dwelt? Or when you were alone among your sheep and cattle, did enemies take you on their ships and bring you over seas to the palace of a man who paid a proper price?”
Then said to him the swineherd, the overseer: “Stranger, since now you ask of this and question me, quietly listen; take your ease, and sit and drink your wine. These nights are vastly long. There is time enough to sleep, and time to cheer ourselves with hearing stories. You must not go to bed till bed-time; too much sleeping harms. As for the others here, if anybody’s heart and liking bids, let him go off and sleep; then early in the morning after eating, let him attend his master’s swine. But let us drink and feast within the lodge and please ourselves with telling one another tales of piteous ill; for afterwards a man finds pleasure in his pains, when he has suffered long and wandered long. So I will tell you what you ask and seek to know.
“There is an island, Syria it is called,—you may have heard its name,—above Ortygia,
as where the sun’s course turns; not very thickly settled, good however, with excellent flocks and herds and full of corn and wine. Into this land dearth never comes, nor any foul disease attacks unhappy men; but when the families throughout the town grow old, Apollo and Artemis come with silver bow and slay them with their gentle arrows. Here are two towns and all the land is shared between them. Over them both my father ruled, Ctesius, son of Ormenus, a man like the immortals.
“There Phoenicians came, notable men at sea, but greedy rogues, with countless trinkets in their black-hulled ship. Now in my father’s house lived a Phoenician woman, handsome and tall and skilled in fine work; and her the wily Phoenicians led astray. In the first days, when she was washing clothes beside the hollow ship, a man seduced her by love and kindness; for these things turn the heads of womankind, even the upright too. Then he asked her who she was and whence she came; whereat she pointed straightway to my father’s high-roofed house.
“ ‘I boast of being born in Sidon,
at rich in bronze, and am the daughter of Arybas, a man of abounding wealth. But Taphian pirates seized me as I wandered through the fields, and brought me here across the sea to the palace of a man who paid a proper price.’
“Then said the man who secretly seduced her: ‘Return then home again with us, to see your father’s and your mother’s high-roofed house, and see them too; for they are living still and still accounted rich.’
“Then answered him the woman thus and said: ‘It may be, if you sailors pledge yourselves by oath to take me home unharmed.’
“So she spoke, and they all took the oath which she required. Then after they had sworn and ended all their oath, once more the woman answered them and said: ‘Be quiet for the present! Let none among your crew utter a word to me, in meetings on the street or at the well, or some one coming to the old king’s house may tell; and he, if he understands, will bind me in bitter bonds and plot your ruin. So bear in mind my words, and press the purchase of your cargo; then when the ship is filled with freight, let a messenger come quickly to the palace, and I will bring whatever gold I find at hand. Another kind of passage-money I would gladly give. At home I tend a child,—so bright a boy!—who runs beside me out of doors. Him I might bring on board, and he would fetch a mighty sum from any foreign folk you visit.’
“So saying, she departed to the stately palace. And they continued with us all the year, and by their trading gathered in their hollow ship large stores. But when the hollow ship was freighted to set sail, they sent a messenger to tell the woman. This crafty man came to my father’s house, bringing a golden necklace strung with amber beads. The maids about the house and my good mother kept fingering the chain, and eyeing it, and offering a price. The man meanwhile signed to the woman silently, and having given his sign departed to the hollow ship. The woman, then, taking me by the hand, led me off out of doors. In the fore part of the house she found some cups and tables, where people had been feasting who waited on my father. They were now gone to a public gathering and debate. Quickly she hid three goblets in her breast and bore them off. I innocently followed. The sun was setting and the roads were growing dark; but we walked swiftly on and came to the well-known harbor where the Phoenicians’ sea-bound ship was lying. Embarking there, the men set sail upon their watery way, making us too embark. Zeus sent us wind. Six days we sailed, as well by night as day; but when Zeus, the son of Kronos, brought the seventh day round, the huntress Artemis struck down the woman, and, like a sea-bird, in the hold she dropped. They threw her overboard, a prey to seals and fishes, and I was left behind with aching heart. But wind and water bore us thence and brought us here to Ithaca, and here Laeärtes bought me with his wealth. This is the way I came to see this land.”
Then thus replied high-born Odysseus: “Eumaeus, you have deeply stirred the heart within my breast, telling these tales of all the troubles you have borne. Yet side by side with evil Zeus surely gave you good, since at the end of all your toils you reached the house of a kind man who furnishes you food and drink in plenty. A comfortable life you lead; but I come here a wanderer through many cities.”
So they conversed together, then lay and slept a little while, not long; for soon came bright-throned dawn.
Meantime, approaching shore, the comrades of Telemachus slackened their sail, hastily lowered the mast, and with their oars rowed the vessel to her moorings. Here they cast anchor and made fast the cables; and going forth themselves upon the shore, prepared their dinner and mixed the sparkling wine. Then after they had stayed desire for food and drink, discreet Telemachus was first to speak:
“Sail the black-hulled ship, my men, straight to the town; I go to the fields and herdsmen. At evening, after looking at the farm, I too will come to town. Tomorrow I will make you payment for your voyage by a bounteous feast of meat and pleasant wine.”
Then up spoke godlike Theoclymenus: “Where shall I go, my child? To whose house come, of all the men who rule in rocky Ithaca? Or shall I go directly to your mother’s house and yours?”
Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “At any other time I would bid you come to us, because we have no lack of means of welcome. But for yourself it would be somewhat dreary now. I shall be gone, and my mother will not see you; for she is not often in the same room with the suitors, but in an upper chamber far away she tends her loom. But I will name another man to whom you well might go: Eurymachus, the illustrious son of skillful Polybus, whom nowadays the men of Ithaca look upon as a god; for he is certainly the chief man here. He much desires to wed my mother and obtain the honors of Odysseus. Nevertheless, Olympian Zeus, who dwells in the clear sky, knows whether before the wedding he will meet a day of ill.”
Even as he spoke, upon his right there flew a bird, a hawk, Apollo’s speedy messenger. With his claws he tore the dove he held and scattered down its feathers to the ground, midway between the ship and Telemachus himself. Then Theoclymenus, calling Telemachus aside from his companions, held fast his hand and spoke and thus addressed him:
“Telemachus, not without God’s warrant flew this bird upon our right. I knew him at a glance to be a bird of omen. There is no house in Ithaca more kingly than your own; and you shall always be the rulers here.”
Then answered him discreet Telemachus: “Ah stranger, would these words of yours might be fulfilled! Soon should you know my kindness and many a gift from me, and every man you met would call you blessed.”
Then turning to Peiraeus, his good comrade: “Peiraeus, son of Clytius, you always do my bidding best of all the men who followed me to Pylos; so take this stranger to your home and treat him kindly, and show him honor till the time that I shall come.”
Then answered him Peiraeus, the famous spearman: “Telemachus, though you stay long, I still will entertain him; no lack of welcome shall there be.”
So saying, Peiraeus went aboard the ship and called the crew to come on board and loose the cables. Quickly they came and took their places at the pins. Telemachus, however, bound to his feet his beautiful sandals and took his heavy spear, tipped with sharp bronze, from the ship’s deck. The sailors loosed the cables and thrusting off the ship sailed to the town, as they were ordered by Telemachus, son of princely Odysseus. But him, meanwhile, his feet bore swiftly onward until he reached the yard where were the countless swine with whom the trusty swineherd lodged, still faithful to his master.