BOOK XIV

The Stay with Eumaeus

But from the harbor, up the rocky path, along the woody country on the hills, Odysseus went to where Athene bade him seek the noble swineherd, who guarded his estate more carefully than any man royal Odysseus owned.

He found him sitting in his porch, by which was built a high-walled yard upon commanding ground, a handsome yard and large, with space around. With his own hands the swineherd built it for the swine after his lord was gone, without assistance from the queen or old Laeärtes, constructing it with blocks of stone and coping it with thorn. Outside the yard he drove down stakes the whole way round, stout and close-set, of split black oak. Inside the yard he made twelve sties alongside one another, as bedding places for the swine; and fifty swine that wallow in the mire were penned in each, all of them sows for breeding; the boars, much fewer, lay outside. On these the gallant suitors feasted and kept their number small; for daily the swineherd sent away the best fat hog he had. Three hundred and sixty they were now. Hard by, four dogs, like wild beasts, always lay, dogs which the swineherd bred, the overseer. He was himself now fitting sandals to his feet, cutting for them a well-tanned hide. The other men were gone their several ways: three with the swine to pasture; a fourth sent to the town to take to the audacious suitors, as was ordered, a hog to slay and satisfy their souls with meat.

But now the ever-barking dogs suddenly spied Odysseus, and baying rushed upon him; at which Odysseus calmly sat down and from his hand let fall his staff. Yet here at his own farm he would have come to cruel grief, had not the swineherd, springing swiftly after, dashed from the door and from his hand let fall the leather. Scolding the dogs, he drove them off this way and that with showers of stones, and thus addressed his master:

“Old man, my dogs had nearly torn you to pieces here, all of a sudden, and so you would have brought reproach on me. Ah well! The gods have given me other griefs and sorrows; for over my matchless master I sit and sigh and groan, and tend fat hogs for other men to eat; while he, perhaps longing for food, wanders about the lands and towns of men of alien speech,—if he still lives and sees the sunshine. But follow me, old man, into the lodge; so that you too, when satisfied with food and drink, may tell where you are come from and what troubles you have borne.”

So saying, to the lodge the noble swineherd led the way, and bringing Odysseus in made him a seat. Beneath, he laid thick brushwood, and on the top he spread a shaggy wild goat’s great soft skin, his usual bed. Odysseus was pleased that he received him so, and spoke and thus addressed him:

“Stranger, may Zeus and the other deathless gods grant all you most desire for treating me so kindly!”

And, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: “Stranger, it is not right for me to slight a stranger, not even one in poorer plight than you; for in the charge of Zeus all strangers and beggars stand, and our small gift is welcome. But so it is with servants, continually afraid when new men are their masters! Surely the gods kept him from coming who would have loved me well and given me for my own the things a generous master always allows his man—a house, a plot of ground, and a fair wife—at least when one has labored long, and God has made his work to prosper, as he makes prosper all the work I undertake. So would my master have well rewarded me, had he but grown old here. But he is gone! Would all the tribe of Helen had gone too, down on their knees! for she has made the knees of many men grow weak. Yes, he too went for Agamemnon’s honor to Ilios, famed for horses, to fight the Trojans there.”

So saying, he hurriedly girt his tunic with his belt, and went to the sties where droves of pigs were penned. Selecting two, he brought them in and killed them both, singed them and sliced them and stuck them upon spits, and roasting all the meat offered it to Odysseus, hot on the spits themselves. He sprinkled it with white barley. Then in an ivy bowl he mixed some honeyed wine, and taking a seat over against Odysseus thus cheerily began:

“Now, stranger, eat what servants have, this young pig’s flesh. The fatted hogs are eaten by the suitors, who have no reverence in their hearts nor any pity. Yet reckless deeds the blessed gods love not; they honor justice and men’s upright deeds. Why, evil-minded cruel men who land on a foreign shore, and Zeus allows them plunder so that they sail back home with well-filled ships,—even on the hearts of such falls a great fear of heavenly wrath. But these men know of something, having heard the utterance of some god about his mournful end, and therefore they are minded to court his wife so lawlessly, never departing to their homes, but at their ease wasting this wealth with recklessness and sparing nothing. For every day and night sent us by Zeus, they slay their victims, no mere one or two; and wine they also waste with reckless draughts. My master’s means were vast. No noble has so much on the dark mainland or in Ithaca itself. No twenty men together have such revenues as he. I will reckon up the sum. Twelve herds upon the mainland; as many flocks of sheep; as many droves of swine; as many roving bands of goats; all shepherded by foreigners and herdsmen of his own. Then here in Ithaca graze roving bands of goats, eleven in all, along the farther shore, and trusty herdsmen watch them. Of these the herdsman every day drives up the fatted goat that seems the best. My task it is to guard and keep these swine, and picking carefully the best to send it to the suitors.”

So spoke the swineherd, while his companion hungrily ate his meat and drank with eagerness his wine in silence, sowing seeds of evil for the suitors. But after he had dined and stayed his heart with food, Eumaeus, filling for his guest the cup from which he drank, gave it brimful of wine. Odysseus took it and was glad at heart, and speaking in winged words he said:

“My friend, who was the man that bought you with his wealth and was so very rich and powerful as you say? You said he died for Agamemnon’s honor. Tell me. I may have known some such as he. Zeus and the other deathless gods must know if I have seen him and can give you news. For I have traveled far.”

Then said to him the swineherd, the overseer: “Old man, no traveler coming here to tell of him could win his wife or son to trust the story. Lightly do vagrants seeking hospitality tell lies, and never care to speak the truth. So when a vagabond reaches the land of Ithaca, he comes and chatters cheating stories to my queen. And she receives him well and, giving entertainment, questions him closely, while from her weeping eyelids trickle tears; for that is the way with wives when husbands die afar. You too, old man, would soon be patching up a tale if somebody would give you clothes, a coat and tunic. But probably already dogs and swift birds have plucked the flesh from off his bones and life has left him; or fishes devoured him in the deep, and on the land his bones are lying, wrapped in a heap of sand. So he died, far away, and for his friends sorrow is left behind—for all of them, and most of all for me; for never another such kind master shall I find, go where I may, not even if I return to my father’s and mother’s house, where I was born and where my parents reared me. Yet nowadays for them I do not greatly grieve, much as I wish to see them and to be in my own land; but longing possesses me for lost Odysseus. Why, stranger, though he is not here I speak his name with awe; for he was very kind and loved me from his heart, and worshipful I call him even when far away.”

Then long-tried royal Odysseus answered thus: “Friend, though you stoutly contradict and say he will not come, and ever unbelieving is your heart, yet I declare, not with mere words but with an oath, Odysseus will return. Give me the fee for welcome news when he arrives at home. Then clothe me in a coat and tunic, goodly garments. Before that time, however great my need, I will take nothing; for hateful as the gates of hell is he who pressed by poverty tells cheating tales. First then of all the gods be witness Zeus, and let this hospitable table and the hearth of good Odysseus whereto I come be witness: all this shall be accomplished exactly as I say. This very year Odysseus comes. As this moon wanes and as the next appears, he shall return and punish all who wrong his wife and gallant son.”

And, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: “Old man, I never then shall give that fee for welcome news, nor will Odysseus reach his home. Nay, drink in peace. Let us turn to other thoughts, and do not bring such matters to remembrance. Ah, my heart aches within when one recalls my honored master! As for the oath, why let it be; yet may Odysseus come, as I desire!—I and Penelope, Laeärtes the old man, and prince Telemachus. But now I have unceasing grief about Odysseus’ child, Telemachus; whom when the gods had made to grow like a young sapling, and I would often say that he would stand in men’s esteem not an inch behind his father, glorious in form and beauty, some god or man upset the balanced mind within, and off he went for tidings of his father to hallowed Pylos. And now the lordly suitors watch for his coming home, hoping to have the race of prince Arceisius^ao blotted from Ithaca and left without a name. However, let us leave him too, whether he falls or flies, or whether the son of Kronos holds over him his arm. But come, old man, relate to me your troubles; and tell me truly this, that I may know full well: Who are you? Of what people? Where is your town and kindred? On what ship did you come? And how did sailors bring you to Ithaca? Whom did they call themselves? For I am sure you did not come on foot.”

Then wise Odysseus answered him and said: “Well, I will very plainly tell you this. But had we in the lodge food and sweet wine for long, and should we feast in quiet, letting others do our work, then might I easily not finish in a year the tale of all the toils I bore by the gods’ bidding.

“Of a family in lowland Crete I boast that I was born, a rich man’s son. There were many sons besides, born and brought up within that hall, sons of a lawful wife. Me a slave-mother bore, a concubine; yet he gave me equal honor with his true-begotten sons, this Castor, son of Hylax, whose child I say I am. Among the Cretans he was honored through the land as if he were a god, because of his prosperity, his wealth, and famous sons; but death’s doom bore him to the house of Hades, and his disdainful sons divided up his living, casting lots. Me they assigned a very meager share, besides my dwelling. Nevertheless, I took to wife the daughter of a wealthy house, winning her by my merit; because I was no weakling and not afraid of war. Now all is gone. Yet still, when you see stubble I think you know the grain; hardships innumerable have pressed me sore. In those days Ares and Athene gave me courage, and strength to break the line; and when I picked our bravest for an ambush, sowing the seeds of evil for our foes, my swelling heart cast not a look on death; but charging ever foremost, I would catch upon my spear whatever foeman showed less speed than I. Such was I once in war; labor I never liked, nor household duty, which breeds good children. But ships equipped with oars were ever my delight, battles and polished javelins and arrows—appalling things, which are to others hateful. Whatever God put in my heart I liked; for different men delight in different deeds. Before the young Achaeans went to Troy, nine times I led forth men and sea-bound ships to plunder foreign tribes; and much I gained. Out of the spoil I picked what pleased me and then obtained much afterwards by lot. Thus rapidly my household grew, and I became a man of weight and honor with the Cretans. But when far-seeing Zeus ordained the unhappy voyage which made the knees of many men grow weak, they called on me and famed Idomeneus to lead the ships to Ilios. We could not tell them no; the people’s voice was stern. There for nine years we young Achaeans battled, and in the tenth, destroying the town of Priam, turned homewards with our ships. But God dispersed the Achaeans; especially for hapless me wise Zeus intended ill. Only a month I stayed at home, glad in my children, in my wedded wife and in my goods; and then my heart impelled me to make a voyage to Egypt with gallant comrades and with ships well fitted. Nine ships I fitted, and my force was gathered soon.

“For six days afterwards my trusty comrades feasted, and I provided many victims to offer to the gods and make my men their feast. Embarking on the seventh, we sailed from lowland Crete, the north wind fresh and fair, and moved off easily as if down stream. No ship met harm; but safe and sound we sat, while wind and helmsmen kept us steady. In five days we arrived at Egypt’s flowing stream, and in the Egyptian river I anchored my curved ships. Then to my trusty men I gave command to stay there by the ships and guard the ships, while I sent scouts to points of observation; but giving way to lawlessness and following their own bent, they presently began to pillage the fair fields of the Egyptians, carrying off wives and infant children and slaughtering the men. Soon the din reached the city. The people there, hearing the shouts, came forth at early dawn, and all the plain was filled with footmen and with horsemen and with the gleam of bronze. Then Zeus, the thunderer, brought on my men a cruel panic, and none dared stand and face the foe. Danger encountered us on every side. So the Egyptians slew many of our men with the sharp sword, and carried others off alive to work for them in bondage. But Zeus himself put in my heart this plan. Would I had rather died, and met my doom there by the stream of Egypt! For since that day sorrow has held me fast. At once I took the well-made helmet from my head and shield from off my shoulders, and flinging away my spear, I ran to meet the horses of the king. I clasped and kissed his knees; he spared and pitied me, and seating me in his chariot bore me weeping home. A multitude with spears rushed after, intent on killing me, for they were much enraged. He held them back, dreading the wrath of Zeus, the stranger’s friend, who ever visits evil deeds with his displeasure. Here I stayed seven years, and I amassed much wealth among the Egyptians; for they all gave me gifts. But when the eighth revolving year was come, a certain Phoenician came, full of deceiving arts, a greedy sailor, one who had wrought much harm to men already. He now prevailed upon me by his lies, and took me with him till we reached Phoenicia, where was his home and wealth. Here at his house I stayed throughout the year. But after days and months were spent, as the year rolled and other seasons came, he set me on a sea-bound ship sailing for Libya, falsely professing I should share his gains; but purposing to sell me there and reap a large reward. I followed him on board, suspecting him, but helpless. And now the ship sped on, with north wind fresh and fair, through the mid sea past Crete, Zeus purposing our ruin.

“For when we had left Crete and no other land appeared, but only sky and sea, the son of Kronos set a dark cloud over the hollow ship, and the deep gloomed below. Zeus at the same time thundered, hurling his bolt against the ship. She quivered in every part, struck by the bolt of Zeus, and filled with sulphur smoke. Out of the ship my comrades fell, and then like sea-fowl were borne by the side of the black ship along the waves; God cut them off from coming home. But helping me, whose heart was filled with anguish, Zeus put the long mast of the dark-bowed ship into my hands, so that I might once more escape from death. To this I clung and drifted before deadly winds. Nine days I drifted; on the tenth, in the dark night, the vast and rolling waters cast me on the coast of the Thesprotians. ^ap Here the king of the Thesprotians, lord Pheidon, entertained me, and freely too; it was his son who found me, overcome with cold and toil, and took me home, with his own hand supporting me until we reached his father’s palace. He gave me also a coat and tunic for my clothing.

“Here, then, I heard about Odysseus; for Pheidon said he had him as his guest and friend upon his homeward voyage. He showed me all the treasure that Odysseus had obtained, the bronze and gold and well-wrought iron; and really it would support man after man ten generations long, so large a stock was stored in the king’s palace. Odysseus himself, he said, was gone at that time to Dodona,^aq to learn from the sacred lofty oak the will of Zeus, and how he might return, whether openly or by stealth, to the rich land of Ithaca, when now so long away. Moreover, in my presence, as he offered a libation in his house, he swore the ship was launched and sailors waiting to bring him home to his own native land. But he sent me off before, for a ship of the Thesprotians happened to be starting for the Doulichian ^ar grain-fields. He bade her men conduct me carefully to king Acastus; but in their hearts a wicked scheme found favor, to bring me yet once more into the depths of woe. For when the sea-bound ship was far from shore, they planned a life of slavery for me. They stripped me of my clothes, my coat and tunic, and gave instead the wretched frock and the tunic full of holes which you yourself now see. Toward night they reached the fields of far-seen Ithaca. Here with a twisted rope they bound me fast upon the well-benched ship, and disembarking they hastily took supper on the shore. Meanwhile the gods themselves lightly untied my cords; and I, wrapping my robe about my head and sliding down the slippery rudder, brought my breast into the sea, where swimming hard I oared my way with my two hands, and very soon was out of the water, clear of them. Climbing the bank where there were clumps of leafy trees, I lay down and hid. With loud cries ran the others here and there; but when there seemed no profit in any further search, they entered their hollow ship once more. So the gods with ease concealed me and brought me to this farm of a sagacious man. It was my lot to live still longer.”

Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: “Alas, poor stranger! You have deeply stirred my heart by telling me this tale of all your woes and wanderings. Yet here I think you err: you never can persuade me with talk about Odysseus. Why should a man like you tell lies for nothing? I understand about my master’s coming; he has been hated utterly by all the gods, who did not let him die among the Trojans nor in the arms of friends when the skein of war was wound. Then would the whole Achaean host have made his grave, and for his son in after days a great name had been gained. Now, silently the robber winds have swept him off. I, mean while, dwell aloof among the swine. To the town I never go, unless sometimes heedful Penelope commands my going, when any tidings come. Ah, then the people sit around and closely question, some grieving for their long-gone master, some glad to eat his substance and make him no amends. But as for me, I have no mind to search and question since an Aetolian fellow cheated me with his tale. He killed a man, and wandering far and wide came to my farmstead here, and I received him kindly. He told me how in Crete he saw Odysseus with Idomeneus, mending the ships which storms had shattered. He said he would be here by summer or by harvest, bringing a store of wealth and all his gallant crew. You too, old woe-worn man, now Heaven has brought you here, do not by lying tales attempt to please or win me; since out of no such cause I show respect and kindness, but out of reverence for Zeus the stranger’s friend, and pity too for you.”

Then wise Odysseus answered him and said: “Surely in you there is a heart so unbelieving that by an oath I did not move it nor win you to believe. But let us make a promise now, and for us both hereafter our witnesses shall be the gods who hold Olympus: if ever to this house your master comes, clothe me in coat and tunic and send me to Doulichion, where I desire to be. But if your master does not come, as I declare he will, send out your men and throw me down the lofty cliff, that other beggars may beware of telling lying tales.”

Then answering said the noble swineherd: “Stranger, fine fame and fortune would be mine among mankind, both now and evermore, if after I had brought you to the lodge and given you welcome I turned about and slew you and took away your life! With a clear heart thereafter I should pray to Zeus, the son of Kronos! Well, it is supper-time; and may my comrades soon be here to get at the lodge a savory supper!”

So they conversed together. Presently came the swine and those who kept them. They shut them up to sleep in their accustomed sties, and a prodigious noise arose from the penned swine. Then to his comrades called the noble swineherd:

“Fetch me the best hog hither, to slaughter for the stranger who comes from far away. We too will have some cheer, who for a long time now have plagued ourselves over the white-toothed swine. Others devour our labor and make us no amends.”

So saying, with the ruthless axe he cleft some wood. The others brought a boar, well fatted, five years old, and stood him on the hearth; and now the swineherd, being of upright heart, did not forget the immortal gods. At the beginning he cast into the fire hairs from the head of the white-toothed boar, and prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus might return to his own home. Next raising high a bludgeon of oak, saved when he split the wood, he dealt a blow and the boar’s life departed. The others cut the throat and singed the boar, and quickly laid him open. The swineherd then laid the raw meat, selected from each joint, into rich fat. Some parts of this, sprinkled with barley meal, they cast into the fire; the rest they sliced and stuck on spits, roasted with care, drew it all off, and tossed it all together on the plates. And now the swineherd rose to carve,—for well he knew his duties,—and as he carved divided all in seven portions. The first for the Nymphs and Hermes, Maia’s son, he set aside with prayer, passing the rest to each. Odysseus he honored with the whole length of the chine, cut from the white-toothed boar, and so rejoiced his master. Addressing him, said wise Odysseus:

“Eumaeus, may you be as dear to father Zeus as now to me, for honoring with kindness such as I.”

And, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: “Good stranger, eat; enjoy what lies before you! A god gives and withholds, as is his pleasure. His power is over all.”

He spoke and burned the consecrated pieces to the ever-living gods; then pouring sparkling wine, he put the cup into the hands of city-sacking Odysseus, and sat him down by his own portion. Mesaulius passed them bread, a man the swineherd had acquired after his lord was gone, without assistance from the queen or lord Laeärtes; with his own means he bought him of the Taphians. So on the food spread out before them they laid hands. Then after they had stayed desire for drink and food, Mesaulius took away the bread; and so to sleep, sated with bread and meat, they hastened.

And now the night came on, moonless and foul. Zeus rained all night; and strong the west wind blew, a wet wind always. To his companions spoke Odysseus, making trial of the swineherd to see if he would pull his own coat off and offer him, or order one of the men to give a coat, through love of him.

“Listen, Eumaeus, and all you other men, and I will boast a bit and tell a story; for intoxicating wine so bids, which sets a man, even if wise, to singing loud and laughing lightly, and makes him dance and brings out stories really better left untold. But since I have begun to chatter, I’ll not be silent. Would I were in my prime, my vigor firm, as in the days when we went under Troy and set an ambush. Odysseus was our captain, and Atreides Menelaus, and with them I was third; for so they ordered. Now when we reached the city and the lofty wall, in the thick bushes by the citadel, among some reeds and marsh-grass, curled up beneath our armor, we lay down to sleep. An ugly night came on, although the north wind fell, and bleak it was. From overhead came snow, like hoarfrost, cold; and ice formed on the edges of our shields. Then all the other men had coats and tunics, and slept in comfort with their shields snug round their shoulders. But I at starting foolishly left my coat with my companions, because I did not think I should be cold at all; so off I came with nothing but my shield and colored doublet. But when it was the third watch of the night and the stars crossed the zenith, I spoke to Odysseus who was near, nudging him with my elbow, and readily he listened:

“ ‘High-born son of Laeärtes, ready Odysseus, I shall not be among the living long. This cold is killing me, because I have no coat. Some god beguiled me into wearing nothing but my tunic. Now there is no escape.’

“So said I, and he at once had an idea in mind,—so ready was he both to plan and fight,—and speaking in an undertone he said: ‘Keep quiet for the present, lest some other Achaean hear.’

“Then raising his head and resting on his elbow, thus he spoke: ‘Hark, friends! A dream from heaven came to me in my sleep. Yes, we have come a long way from the ships. Would there were some one here to tell Atreides Agamemnon, the shepherd of the people, to send us more men hither from the fleet.’

“As he thus spoke, up Thoas sprung, Andraemon’s son, who, quickly casting off his purple coat, went running to the ships. I, in his garment, lay comfortably down till gold-throned morning dawned.

“So would I now were in my prime, my vigor firm; then one of the swineherds of the farm might give a coat, through kindness and respect for a deserving man. Now they despise me for the sorry clothes I wear.”

Then, swineherd Eumaeus, you answered him and said: “Old man, the boastings you have uttered are not ill. You have not spoken an improper or a silly word. Therefore you shall not lack for clothes nor anything besides which it is fit a hard-pressed suppliant should find,—at least for now; tomorrow you shall wrap yourself in your own rags. There are not many coats and extra tunics here to wear, but simply one apiece. But 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.”

So saying, he rose and placed a bed beside the fire, and threw upon it skins of sheep and goats. On this Odysseus lay down, and over him Eumaeus threw a great shaggy coat which lay at hand as extra clothing, to put on when there came a bitter storm.

So here Odysseus slept, and by his side the young men slept, but not the swineherd. A bed here pleased him not, thus parted from his swine, but he prepared to venture forth. Glad was Odysseus that Eumaeus took such care of his estate while he was gone. And first Eumaeus slung a sharp-edged sword about his sturdy shoulders, put on his storm-proof shaggy coat, picked up the fleece of a large full-grown goat, took a sharp spear to keep off dogs and men, and went away to rest where lay the white-toothed swine under a hollow rock, sheltered from Boreas.