Ithaca’s Assembly. Telemachus and the Suitors Speak. Telemachus Prepares and Leaves for Pylos with Minerva Disguised as Mentor

Now when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared Telemachus rose and dressed himself. He bound his sandals on to his comely feet, girded his sword about his shoulder, and left his room looking like an immortal god. He at once sent the criers round to call the people in assembly, so they called them and the people gathered thereon; then, when they were got together, he went to the place of assembly spear in hand—not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Minerva endowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by, and when he took his place in his father’s seat even the oldest councillors made way for him.

When rosy-fingered Dawn, the child of morning, appeared, Telemachus got up and dressed. He fastened his sandals onto his handsome feet and slung his sword over his shoulder. Then he left his room looking like an immortal god. He immediately sent heralds out to call the people to an assembly. The heralds called, and the people gathered. Once everyone had gathered, Telemachus went to the assembly with his spear in hand. He was not alone, for his two hounds went with him. Minerva gave him such a striking, godlike presence that everyone gazed at him in wonder as he passed. When he took his place in his father’s seat, even the oldest councillors made way for him.

Aegyptius, a man bent double with age, and of infinite experience, was the first to speak. His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius, land of noble steeds, but the savage Cyclops had killed him when they were all shut up in the cave, and had cooked his last dinner for him.¹⁷ He had three sons left, of whom two still worked on their father’s land, while the third, Eurynomus, was one of the suitors; nevertheless their father could not get over the loss of Antiphus, and was still weeping for him when he began his speech.

Aegyptius was the first to speak. He was bent double with age and had boundless experience. His son Antiphus had gone with Ulysses to Ilius, the land of noble horses. But the savage Cyclops had killed Antiphus while Ulysses and his men were all shut inside the cave. The Cyclops had cooked his last dinner for him.¹⁷ Aegyptius had three sons left. Two still worked on their father’s land, while the third, Eurynomus, was one of the suitors. Even so, their father could not get over losing Antiphus. He was still weeping for Antiphus when he began to speak.

“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “hear my words. From the day Ulysses left us there has been no meeting of our councillors until now; who then can it be, whether old or young, that finds it so necessary to convene us? Has he got wind of some host approaching, and does he wish to warn us, or would he speak upon some other matter of public moment? I am sure he is an excellent person, and I hope Jove will grant him his heart’s desire.”

“Men of Ithaca,” he said, “listen to me. Our councillors have not met since Ulysses left us, until now. Who, young or old, feels such a need to call us together? Has he heard that an army is approaching, and does he want to warn us? Or does he want to discuss some other matter of public importance? I am sure he is an excellent man, and I hope Jove will grant him his heart’s desire.”

Telemachus took this speech as of good omen and rose at once, for he was bursting with what he had to say. He stood in the middle of the assembly and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then, turning to Aegyptius, “Sir,” said he, “it is I, as you will shortly learn, who have convened you, for it is I who am the most aggrieved. I have not got wind of any host approaching about which I would warn you, nor is there any matter of public moment on which I would speak. My grievance is purely personal, and turns on two great misfortunes which have fallen upon my house. The first of these is the loss of my excellent father, who was chief among all you here present, and was like a father to every one of you; the second is much more serious, and ere long will be the utter ruin of my estate. The sons of all the chief men among you are pestering my mother to marry them against her will. They are afraid to go to her father Icarius, asking him to choose the one he likes best, and to provide marriage gifts for his daughter, but day by day they keep hanging about my father’s house, sacrificing our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their banquets, and never giving so much as a thought to the quantity of wine they drink. No estate can stand such recklessness; we have now no Ulysses to ward off harm from our doors, and I cannot hold my own against them. I shall never all my days be as good a man as he was, still I would indeed defend myself if I had power to do so, for I cannot stand such treatment any longer; my house is being disgraced and ruined. Have respect, therefore, to your own consciences and to public opinion. Fear, too, the wrath of heaven, lest the gods should be displeased and turn upon you. I pray you by Jove and Themis, who is the beginning and the end of councils, [do not] hold back, my friends, and leave me singlehanded¹⁸—unless it be that my brave father Ulysses did some wrong to the Achaeans which you would now avenge on me, by aiding and abetting these suitors. Moreover, if I am to be eaten out of house and home at all, I had rather you did the eating yourselves, for I could then take action against you to some purpose, and serve you with notices from house to house till I got paid in full, whereas now I have no remedy.”¹⁹

Telemachus took the speech as a good omen and stood up at once, bursting with what he wanted to say. He stood in the middle of the assembly, and the good herald Pisenor brought him his staff. Then he turned to Aegyptius. “Sir,” he said, “I called you here, as you will soon learn, because I have the greatest cause for complaint. I have heard no news of an approaching army that I need to warn you about. Nor do I have any public business to discuss. My complaint is entirely personal. Two great misfortunes have struck my household. The first is the loss of my excellent father. He was the foremost man among all of you here, and he was like a father to every one of you. The second is much more serious and will soon destroy my estate completely. “The sons of all your leading men are pressuring my mother to marry them against her will. They are afraid to go to her father Icarius and ask him to choose the man he likes best. They are also afraid to ask him to provide marriage gifts for his daughter. Instead, day after day, they hang around my father’s house, slaughtering our oxen, sheep, and fat goats for their feasts. They never give a thought to how much wine they drink. No estate can survive such recklessness. We no longer have Ulysses to protect our home from harm, and I cannot stand up to these men. I will never, as long as I live, be as good a man as my father was. Still, I would defend myself if I had the power. I cannot bear this treatment any longer. My household is being disgraced and ruined. “So listen to your consciences and think about what others will say. Fear heaven’s anger too, or the gods may be displeased and turn against you. I beg you by Jove and Themis, who presides over councils from beginning to end. [Do not] stand back, my friends, and leave me to face these men alone¹⁸. Unless, of course, my brave father Ulysses wronged the Achaeans somehow. Perhaps you now want revenge on me by helping and supporting these suitors. Besides, if I must be eaten out of house and home, I would rather you did the eating yourselves. Then I could take effective action against you. I could go from house to house demanding repayment until I had been paid in full. But as things stand, I have no way to put this right.”¹⁹

With this Telemachus dashed his staff to the ground and burst into tears. Every one was very sorry for him, but they all sat still and no one ventured to make him an angry answer, save only Antinous, who spoke thus:

With that, Telemachus threw his staff to the ground and burst into tears. Everyone felt very sorry for him, but they all sat still. No one dared to answer him angrily except Antinous, who said:

“Telemachus, insolent braggart that you are, how dare you try to throw the blame upon us suitors? It is your mother’s fault not ours, for she is a very artful woman. This three years past, and close on four, she had been driving us out of our minds, by encouraging each one of us, and sending him messages without meaning one word of what she says. And then there was that other trick she played us. She set up a great tambour frame in her room, and began to work on an enormous piece of fine needlework. ‘Sweet hearts,’ said she, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead, still do not press me to marry again immediately, wait—for I would not have skill in needlework perish unrecorded—till I have completed a pall for the hero Laertes, to be in readiness against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich, and the women of the place will talk if he is laid out without a pall.’

“Telemachus, you arrogant loudmouth, how dare you try to blame us suitors? Your mother is to blame, not us, because she is a very cunning woman. For three years now, nearly four, she has been driving us out of our minds. She encourages each of us and sends us messages, but she means none of what she says. Then there was the other trick she played on us. She set up a large embroidery frame in her room and began an enormous piece of fine needlework. ‘My sweethearts,’ she said, ‘Ulysses is indeed dead, but do not press me to marry again right away. Wait until I have finished a burial shroud for the hero Laertes. I would not want my skill at needlework to go unrecognized. The shroud must be ready for the day death takes him. He is very rich, and the local women will gossip if his body is laid out without a shroud.’

“This was what she said, and we assented; whereon we could see her working on her great web all day long, but at night she would unpick the stitches again by torchlight. She fooled us in this way for three years and we never found her out, but as time wore on and she was now in her fourth year, one of her maids who knew what she was doing told us, and we caught her in the act of undoing her work, so she had to finish it whether she would or no. The suitors, therefore, make you this answer, that both you and the Achaeans may understand—‘Send your mother away, and bid her marry the man of her own and of her father’s choice’; for I do not know what will happen if she goes on plaguing us much longer with the airs she gives herself on the score of the accomplishments Minerva has taught her, and because she is so clever. We never yet heard of such a woman; we know all about Tyro, Alcmena, Mycene, and the famous women of old, but they were nothing to your mother any one of them. It was not fair of her to treat us in that way, and as long as she continues in the mind with which heaven has now endowed her, so long shall we go on eating up your estate; and I do not see why she should change, for she gets all the honour and glory, and it is you who pay for it, not she. Understand, then, that we will not go back to our lands, neither here nor elsewhere, till she has made her choice and married some one or other of us.”

“She said this, and we agreed. Then we watched her work on her great weaving all day long. But at night she would undo the stitches by torchlight. She fooled us this way for three years, and we never caught on. But in the fourth year, one of her maids who knew her secret told us. We caught her undoing her work, so she had to finish it, whether she wanted to or not. “So we suitors give you this answer, so that both you and the Achaeans may understand: ‘Send your mother away. Tell her to marry a man whom both she and her father choose.’ I do not know what will happen if she keeps tormenting us much longer. She acts so superior because of the skills Minerva has taught her and because she is so clever. We have never heard of a woman like her. We know all about Tyro, Alcmena, Mycene, and the famous women of old. But not one of them could compare with your mother. It was not fair of her to treat us that way. As long as she keeps the attitude heaven has now given her, we will keep eating through your wealth. And I see no reason why she should change. She gets all the honor and glory, while you pay the price, not her. Understand this, then: we will not return to our lands, here or anywhere else, until she chooses and marries one of us.”

Telemachus answered, “Antinous, how can I drive the mother who bore me from my father’s house? My father is abroad and we do not know whether he is alive or dead. It will be hard on me if I have to pay Icarius the large sum which I must give him if I insist on sending his daughter back to him. Not only will he deal rigorously with me, but heaven will also punish me; for my mother when she leaves the house will call on the Erinyes to avenge her; besides, it would not be a creditable thing to do, and I will have nothing to say to it. If you choose to take offence at this, leave the house and feast elsewhere at one another’s houses at your own cost turn and turn about. If, on the other hand, you elect to persist in spunging upon one man, heaven help me, but Jove shall reckon with you in full, and when you fall in my father’s house there shall be no man to avenge you.”

Telemachus answered, “Antinous, how can I drive the mother who gave birth to me out of my father’s house? My father is away, and we do not know whether he is alive or dead. If I insist on sending my mother back to Icarius, I must pay him a large sum. Paying so much would be hard on me. Not only will Icarius treat me harshly, but heaven will also punish me. For when my mother leaves the house, she will call on the Erinyes to avenge her. Besides, driving her out would be shameful, and I will have no part in it. If you choose to take offense at my refusal, leave the house and feast elsewhere. Take turns hosting feasts in one another’s houses, at your own expense. But if you choose to keep living off one man, heaven help me, Jove will make you pay in full. And when you fall in my father’s house, no one will avenge you.”

As he spoke Jove sent two eagles from the top of the mountain, and they flew on and on with the wind, sailing side by side in their own lordly flight. When they were right over the middle of the assembly they wheeled and circled about, beating the air with their wings and glaring death into the eyes of them that were below; then, fighting fiercely and tearing at one another, they flew off towards the right over the town. The people wondered as they saw them, and asked each other what all this might be; whereon Halitherses, who was the best prophet and reader of omens among them, spoke to them plainly and in all honesty, saying:

As he spoke, Jove sent two eagles from the mountaintop. The eagles flew on and on with the wind, soaring side by side in majestic flight. When they were directly above the center of the assembly, they wheeled and circled, beating the air with their wings. They glared down at the people below with death in their eyes. Then, fighting fiercely and tearing at each other, the eagles flew off to the right over the town. The people watched in wonder and asked each other what all this might mean. Then Halitherses, the best prophet and interpreter of omens among them, spoke plainly and with complete honesty, saying:

“Hear me, men of Ithaca, and I speak more particularly to the suitors, for I see mischief brewing for them. Ulysses is not going to be away much longer; indeed he is close at hand to deal out death and destruction, not on them alone, but on many another of us who live in Ithaca. Let us then be wise in time, and put a stop to this wickedness before he comes. Let the suitors do so of their own accord; it will be better for them, for I am not prophesying without due knowledge; everything has happened to Ulysses as I foretold when the Argives set out for Troy, and he with them. I said that after going through much hardship and losing all his men he should come home again in the twentieth year and that no one would know him; and now all this is coming true.”

“Listen to me, men of Ithaca. I am speaking especially to the suitors, because I see trouble coming for them. Ulysses will not be away much longer. In fact, he is close by, ready to bring death and destruction. He will strike not only the suitors, but also many others among us who live in Ithaca. So let us act wisely while there is still time and stop this wickedness before he comes. Let the suitors stop it willingly. They will be better off, because I know what I am talking about when I make this prophecy. Everything has happened to Ulysses just as I predicted when the Argives left for Troy and he went with them. I said he would suffer many hardships and lose all his men. Then he would return home in the twentieth year, and no one would recognize him. Now all of this is coming true.”

Eurymachus son of Polybus then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy to your own children, or it may be worse for them. I can read these omens myself much better than you can; birds are always flying about in the sunshine somewhere or other, but they seldom mean anything. Ulysses has died in a far country, and it is a pity you are not dead along with him, instead of prating here about omens and adding fuel to the anger of Telemachus which is fierce enough as it is. I suppose you think he will give you something for your family, but I tell you—and it shall surely be—when an old man like you, who should know better, talks a young one over till he becomes troublesome, in the first place his young friend will only fare so much the worse—he will take nothing by it, for the suitors will prevent this—and in the next, we will lay a heavier fine, sir, upon yourself than you will at all like paying, for it will bear hardly upon you. As for Telemachus, I warn him in the presence of you all to send his mother back to her father, who will find her a husband and provide her with all the marriage gifts so dear a daughter may expect. Till then we shall go on harassing him with our suit; for we fear no man, and care neither for him, with all his fine speeches, nor for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much as you please, but we shall only hate you the more. We shall go back and continue to eat up Telemachus’s estate without paying him, till such time as his mother leaves off tormenting us by keeping us day after day on the tiptoe of expectation, each vying with the other in his suit for a prize of such rare perfection. Besides we cannot go after the other women whom we should marry in due course, but for the way in which she treats us.”

Eurymachus son of Polybus then said, “Go home, old man, and prophesy to your own children, or things may go worse for them. I can read these omens much better than you can. Birds are always flying somewhere in the sunshine, but they seldom mean anything. Ulysses has died in a distant land, and it is a pity you are not dead along with him. Instead, you stand here babbling about omens and making Telemachus even angrier, though he is angry enough already. I suppose you think he will give you something for your family. But I tell you what will happen, and it certainly will. When an old man like you, who should know better, talks a young man into causing trouble, both will suffer. First, your young friend will only be worse off. He will gain nothing, because the suitors will prevent him. Next, we will impose a heavier fine on you, sir, than you will care to pay. The fine will be a heavy burden on you. “As for Telemachus, I warn him before all of you to send his mother back to her father. Her father will find her a husband. He will also provide all the wedding gifts that a daughter so dear to him may expect. Until then, we will keep harassing Telemachus as we pursue his mother. We fear no man. We care nothing for him and all his fine speeches, or for any fortune-telling of yours. You may preach as much as you please, but we will only hate you more. We will go back and keep consuming Telemachus’s wealth without paying him. We will continue until his mother stops tormenting us by keeping us waiting eagerly, day after day. Each of us competes with the others to win a woman of such rare perfection. Besides, her treatment of us keeps us from pursuing other women whom we would otherwise marry in due course.”

Then Telemachus said, “Eurymachus, and you other suitors, I shall say no more, and entreat you no further, for the gods and the people of Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty men to take me hither and thither, and I will go to Sparta and to Pylos in quest of my father who has so long been missing. Some one may tell me something, or (and people often hear things in this way) some heaven-sent message may direct me. If I can hear of him as alive and on his way home I will put up with the waste you suitors will make for yet another twelve months. If on the other hand I hear of his death, I will return at once, celebrate his funeral rites with all due pomp, build a barrow to his memory, and make my mother marry again.”

Then Telemachus said, “Eurymachus, and you other suitors, I will say no more and plead with you no further. The gods and the people of Ithaca now know my story. Give me, then, a ship and a crew of twenty men to take me wherever I need to go. I will go to Sparta and Pylos to search for my father, who has been missing so long. Someone may tell me something, or a message from the gods may guide me. People often hear news through such messages. If I hear that my father is alive and on his way home, I will tolerate your wasteful spending. I will put up with it for another twelve months. If, on the other hand, I hear that he is dead, I will return at once. I will hold his funeral rites with all the proper ceremony and build a burial mound in his memory. Then I will make my mother marry again.”

With these words he sat down, and Mentor²⁰ who had been a friend of Ulysses, and had been left in charge of everything with full authority over the servants, rose to speak. He, then, plainly and in all honesty addressed them thus:

After saying this, he sat down. Mentor²⁰ had been a friend of Ulysses. He had been left in charge of everything, with full authority over the servants. Mentor rose to speak and addressed them plainly and honestly:

“Hear me, men of Ithaca, I hope that you may never have a kind and well-disposed ruler any more, nor one who will govern you equitably; I hope that all your chiefs henceforward may be cruel and unjust, for there is not one of you but has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled you as though he were your father. I am not half so angry with the suitors, for if they choose to do violence in the naughtiness of their hearts, and wager their heads that Ulysses will not return, they can take the high hand and eat up his estate, but as for you others I am shocked at the way in which you all sit still without even trying to stop such scandalous goings on—which you could do if you chose, for you are many and they are few.”

“Listen to me, men of Ithaca. I hope you never again have a kind, caring ruler, or one who governs you fairly. I hope all your chiefs from now on are cruel and unjust. For every one of you has forgotten Ulysses, who ruled you as though he were your father. I am not half as angry with the suitors as I am with you. If the suitors choose violence out of the wickedness of their hearts, they are betting their lives Ulysses will not return. They can throw their weight around and consume his wealth. But as for the rest of you, I am shocked that you all sit by without even trying to stop such disgraceful behavior. You could stop it if you chose, for you are many and the suitors are few.”

Leiocritus, son of Evenor, answered him saying, “Mentor, what folly is all this, that you should set the people to stay us? It is a hard thing for one man to fight with many about his victuals. Even though Ulysses himself were to set upon us while we are feasting in his house, and do his best to oust us, his wife, who wants him back so very badly, would have small cause for rejoicing, and his blood would be upon his own head if he fought against such great odds. There is no sense in what you have been saying. Now, therefore, do you people go about your business, and let his father’s old friends, Mentor and Halitherses, speed this boy on his journey, if he goes at all—which I do not think he will, for he is more likely to stay where he is till some one comes and tells him something.”

Leiocritus, son of Evenor, answered him, “Mentor, what is all this foolishness, trying to get the people to stop us? One man would have a hard time fighting many over his food. Even if Ulysses himself attacked us while we feasted in his house and tried his hardest to drive us out, his wife would have little reason to rejoice. She wants him back so badly. But if he fought against such great odds, he would have only himself to blame for his death. What you have been saying makes no sense. So now, you people, go about your business. Let his father’s old friends, Mentor and Halitherses, help this boy on his journey, if he goes at all. I do not think he will. He is more likely to stay where he is until someone comes and tells him something.”

On this he broke up the assembly, and every man went back to his own abode, while the suitors returned to the house of Ulysses.

With that, he ended the assembly. Every man went back to his own home, while the suitors returned to Ulysses’ house.

Then Telemachus went all alone by the sea side, washed his hands in the grey waves, and prayed to Minerva.

Then Telemachus went to the seashore all alone. He washed his hands in the grey waves and prayed to Minerva.

“Hear me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday, and bade me sail the seas in search of my father who has so long been missing. I would obey you, but the Achaeans, and more particularly the wicked suitors, are hindering me that I cannot do so.”

“Listen to me,” he cried, “you god who visited me yesterday. You told me to sail the seas to search for my father, who has been missing for so long. I want to obey you, but the Achaeans, especially the wicked suitors, are stopping me from going.”

As he thus prayed, Minerva came close up to him in the likeness and with the voice of Mentor. “Telemachus,” said she, “if you are made of the same stuff as your father you will be neither fool nor coward henceforward, for Ulysses never broke his word nor left his work half done. If, then, you take after him, your voyage will not be fruitless, but unless you have the blood of Ulysses and of Penelope in your veins I see no likelihood of your succeeding. Sons are seldom as good men as their fathers; they are generally worse, not better; still, as you are not going to be either fool or coward henceforward, and are not entirely without some share of your father’s wise discernment, I look with hope upon your undertaking. But mind you never make common cause with any of those foolish suitors, for they have neither sense nor virtue, and give no thought to death and to the doom that will shortly fall on one and all of them, so that they shall perish on the same day. As for your voyage, it shall not be long delayed; your father was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship, and will come with you myself. Now, however, return home, and go about among the suitors; begin getting provisions ready for your voyage; see everything well stowed, the wine in jars, and the barley meal, which is the staff of life, in leathern bags, while I go round the town and beat up volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca both old and new; I will run my eye over them for you and will choose the best; we will get her ready and will put out to sea without delay.”

As he prayed, Minerva came close to him, looking and speaking like Mentor. “Telemachus,” she said, “if you are made of the same stuff as your father, you will be neither foolish nor cowardly from now on. For Ulysses never broke his word or left his work half done. So if you take after him, your voyage will achieve something. But unless you have the blood of Ulysses and Penelope in your veins, I see little chance of your success. Sons are seldom as good as their fathers. They are generally worse, not better. Still, you will be neither foolish nor cowardly from now on. And you do have some share of your father’s good judgment, so I have hope for your undertaking. But be sure never to join forces with any of those foolish suitors. They have neither sense nor virtue. They give no thought to death or to the doom that will soon fall on every one of them. They will all die on the same day. “As for your voyage, you will not have to wait long. Your father was such an old friend of mine that I will find you a ship and come with you myself. For now, though, return home and mingle with the suitors. Begin gathering supplies for your voyage and make sure everything is properly packed. Put the wine in jars and the barley meal, the staple that sustains life, in leather bags. Meanwhile, I will go around town and gather volunteers at once. There are many ships in Ithaca, both old and new. I will look them over for you and choose the best. We will get the ship ready and set sail without delay.”

Thus spoke Minerva daughter of Jove, and Telemachus lost no time in doing as the goddess told him. He went moodily home, and found the suitors flaying goats and singeing pigs in the outer court. Antinous came up to him at once and laughed as he took his hand in his own, saying, “Telemachus, my fine fire-eater, bear no more ill blood neither in word nor deed, but eat and drink with us as you used to do. The Achaeans will find you in everything—a ship and a picked crew to boot—so that you can set sail for Pylos at once and get news of your noble father.”

So spoke Minerva, daughter of Jove, and Telemachus immediately did as the goddess told him. He went home in a gloomy mood and found the suitors skinning goats and singeing pigs in the outer courtyard. Antinous came straight up to him and laughed as he took Telemachus’s hand. He said, “Telemachus, you fierce young fighter, stop showing your anger in words or actions. Instead, eat and drink with us as you used to. The Achaeans will provide everything you need, including a ship and a handpicked crew. Then you can sail for Pylos at once to get news of your noble father.”

“Antinous,” answered Telemachus, “I cannot eat in peace, nor take pleasure of any kind with such men as you are. Was it not enough that you should waste so much good property of mine while I was yet a boy? Now that I am older and know more about it, I am also stronger, and whether here among this people, or by going to Pylos, I will do you all the harm I can. I shall go, and my going will not be in vain—though, thanks to you suitors, I have neither ship nor crew of my own, and must be passenger not captain.”

“Antinous,” Telemachus replied, “I cannot eat in peace or enjoy anything with men like you. Wasn’t it enough for you to waste so much of my wealth while I was still a boy? Now I am older, understand more about my property, and am stronger too. Whether I stay here among these people or go to Pylos, I will do you all the harm I can. I will go, and my journey will not be in vain. Though, thanks to you suitors, I have neither a ship nor a crew of my own. I must travel as a passenger, not a captain.”

As he spoke he snatched his hand from that of Antinous. Meanwhile the others went on getting dinner ready about the buildings,²¹ jeering at him tauntingly as they did so.

As he spoke, he snatched his hand away from Antinous's. Meanwhile, the others kept preparing dinner around the buildings,²¹ mocking and taunting him as they worked.

“Telemachus,” said one youngster, “means to be the death of us; I suppose he thinks he can bring friends to help him from Pylos, or again from Sparta, where he seems bent on going. Or will he go to Ephyra as well, for poison to put in our wine and kill us?”

“Telemachus,” said one young man, “plans to kill us. I suppose he thinks he can bring friends from Pylos to help him, or from Sparta. He seems determined to go to Sparta. Or will he go to Ephyra too, to get poison to put in our wine and kill us?”

Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus goes on board ship, he will be like his father and perish far from his friends. In this case we should have plenty to do, for we could then divide up his property amongst us: as for the house we can let his mother and the man who marries her have that.”

Another said, “Perhaps if Telemachus sets sail, he will end up like his father and die far from his friends. If he does, we would have plenty to do, since we could divide his property among us. As for the house, we can let his mother and the man who marries her have it.”

This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the lofty and spacious store-room where his father’s treasure of gold and bronze lay heaped up upon the floor, and where the linen and spare clothes were kept in open chests. Here, too, there was a store of fragrant olive oil, while casks of old, well-ripened wine, unblended and fit for a god to drink, were ranged against the wall in case Ulysses should come home again after all. The room was closed with well-made doors opening in the middle; moreover the faithful old house-keeper Euryclea, daughter of Ops the son of Pisenor, was in charge of everything both night and day. Telemachus called her to the store-room and said:

This was how they talked. But Telemachus went down into the large storeroom with its high ceiling. His father’s gold and bronze treasures lay piled on the floor, and open chests held linen and spare clothes. There was also a supply of fragrant olive oil. Casks of old, fully aged wine stood along the wall. The wine was unmixed and fit for a god to drink. It was kept in case Ulysses should come home again after all. Well-made double doors closed off the room. The faithful old housekeeper Euryclea, daughter of Ops and granddaughter of Pisenor, was in charge of everything day and night. Telemachus called her to the storeroom and said:

“Nurse, draw me off some of the best wine you have, after what you are keeping for my father’s own drinking, in case, poor man, he should escape death, and find his way home again after all. Let me have twelve jars, and see that they all have lids; also fill me some well-sewn leathern bags with barley meal—about twenty measures in all. Get these things put together at once, and say nothing about it. I will take everything away this evening as soon as my mother has gone upstairs for the night. I am going to Sparta and to Pylos to see if I can hear anything about the return of my dear father.”

“Nurse, draw me some of your best wine, apart from what you’re saving for my father to drink himself. Save his share in case the poor man escapes death and finds his way home after all. Let me have twelve jars, and make sure they all have lids. Also fill some well-sewn leather bags with barley meal, about twenty measures in all. Get these supplies together at once, and say nothing about them. I’ll take everything away this evening, as soon as my mother has gone upstairs for the night. I’m going to Sparta and Pylos to see if I can hear any news of my dear father’s return.”

When Euryclea heard this she began to cry, and spoke fondly to him, saying, “My dear child, what ever can have put such notion as that into your head? Where in the world do you want to go to—you, who are the one hope of the house? Your poor father is dead and gone in some foreign country nobody knows where, and as soon as your back is turned these wicked ones here will be scheming to get you put out of the way, and will share all your possessions among themselves; stay where you are among your own people, and do not go wandering and worrying your life out on the barren ocean.”

When Euryclea heard this, she began to cry and spoke lovingly to him. “My dear child, what could have put such an idea into your head? Where in the world do you want to go? You are this household’s only hope. Your poor father is dead and gone in some foreign country, and nobody knows where. As soon as you leave, these wicked people here will plot to have you killed. They will divide all your possessions among themselves. Stay here among your own people. Do not go wandering over the barren ocean and wearing yourself out with worry.”

“Fear not, nurse,” answered Telemachus, “my scheme is not without heaven’s sanction; but swear that you will say nothing about all this to my mother, till I have been away some ten or twelve days, unless she hears of my having gone, and asks you; for I do not want her to spoil her beauty by crying.”

“Don’t worry, nurse,” Telemachus answered. “Heaven approves of my plan. But swear you won’t tell my mother anything about it until I’ve been away for about ten or twelve days. You can tell her sooner only if she hears I’ve gone and asks you. I don’t want her to spoil her beauty by crying.”

The old woman swore most solemnly that she would not, and when she had completed her oath, she began drawing off the wine into jars, and getting the barley meal into the bags, while Telemachus went back to the suitors.

The old woman swore solemnly that she would not. After taking her oath, she began pouring wine into jars and putting barley meal into bags. Meanwhile, Telemachus went back to the suitors.

Then Minerva bethought her of another matter. She took his shape, and went round the town to each one of the crew, telling them to meet at the ship by sundown. She went also to Noemon son of Phronius, and asked him to let her have a ship—which he was very ready to do. When the sun had set and darkness was over all the land, she got the ship into the water, put all the tackle on board her that ships generally carry, and stationed her at the end of the harbour. Presently the crew came up, and the goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.

Then Minerva thought of something else. She took on his appearance and went around town to each member of the crew. She told them to meet at the ship by sundown. She also went to Noemon, son of Phronius, and asked him to lend her a ship. He was very willing to do so. When the sun had set and darkness covered all the land, she launched the ship. She loaded it with all the equipment ships usually carry and positioned it at the end of the harbour. Soon the crew arrived, and the goddess spoke encouragingly to each of them.

Furthermore she went to the house of Ulysses, and threw the suitors into a deep slumber. She caused their drink to fuddle them, and made them drop their cups from their hands, so that instead of sitting over their wine, they went back into the town to sleep, with their eyes heavy and full of drowsiness. Then she took the form and voice of Mentor, and called Telemachus to come outside.

She also went to the house of Ulysses and made the suitors deeply sleepy. She made their drink cloud their minds and caused them to drop their cups. So instead of lingering over their wine, the suitors went back into town to sleep, their eyes heavy with drowsiness. Then she took on Mentor’s appearance and voice and called Telemachus to come outside.

“Telemachus,” said she, “the men are on board and at their oars, waiting for you to give your orders, so make haste and let us be off.”

“Telemachus,” she said, “the men are on board and at their oars, waiting for your orders. So hurry, and let’s get going.”

On this she led the way, while Telemachus followed in her steps. When they got to the ship they found the crew waiting by the water side, and Telemachus said, “Now my men, help me to get the stores on board; they are all put together in the cloister, and my mother does not know anything about it, nor any of the maid servants except one.”

With that, she led the way, and Telemachus followed her. When they reached the ship, they found the crew waiting by the water. Telemachus said, “Now, men, help me get the supplies on board. They are all gathered in the covered walkway. My mother knows nothing about the supplies, and neither do any of the maids except one.”

With these words he led the way and the others followed after. When they had brought the things as he told them, Telemachus went on board, Minerva going before him and taking her seat in the stern of the vessel, while Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men loosed the hawsers and took their places on the benches. Minerva sent them a fair wind from the West,²² that whistled over the deep blue waves²³ whereon Telemachus told them to catch hold of the ropes and hoist sail, and they did as he told them. They set the mast in its socket in the cross plank, raised it, and made it fast with the forestays; then they hoisted their white sails aloft with ropes of twisted ox hide. As the sail bellied out with the wind, the ship flew through the deep blue water, and the foam hissed against her bows as she sped onward. Then they made all fast throughout the ship, filled the mixing bowls to the brim, and made drink offerings to the immortal gods that are from everlasting, but more particularly to the grey-eyed daughter of Jove.

With these words, he led the way, and the others followed. Once they had brought the supplies as he instructed, Telemachus went aboard. Minerva went ahead of him and sat at the back of the ship. Telemachus sat beside her. Then the men untied the mooring ropes and took their places on the benches. Minerva sent them a favorable wind from the West,²² which whistled over the deep blue waves.²³ Then Telemachus told the men to take hold of the ropes and raise the sail, and they obeyed. They fitted the mast into its socket in the cross plank, raised it, and secured it with the forward supports. Then they raised their white sails with ropes of twisted oxhide. As the wind filled the sail, the ship flew through the deep blue water. Foam hissed against the ship’s bows as it sped onward. Then the men secured everything aboard, filled the mixing bowls to the brim, and poured offerings to the immortal gods. These gods had existed forever, but the men honored the grey-eyed daughter of Jove above all.

Thus, then, the ship sped on her way through the watches of the night from dark till dawn.

So the ship sped on through the night, from darkness until dawn.