Ulysses Reveals His Identity to Telemachus

Meanwhile Ulysses and the swineherd had lit a fire in the hut and were were getting breakfast ready at daybreak, for they had sent the men out with the pigs. When Telemachus came up, the dogs did not bark but fawned upon him, so Ulysses, hearing the sound of feet and noticing that the dogs did not bark, said to Eumaeus:

Meanwhile, Ulysses and the swineherd had lit a fire in the hut and were preparing breakfast at daybreak. They had sent the men out with the pigs. When Telemachus arrived, the dogs did not bark but greeted him affectionately. Ulysses heard footsteps and noticed that the dogs did not bark, so he said to Eumaeus:

“Eumaeus, I hear footsteps; I suppose one of your men or some one of your acquaintance is coming here, for the dogs are fawning upon him and not barking.”

“Eumaeus, I hear footsteps. I suppose one of your men or someone you know is coming here. The dogs are greeting him affectionately instead of barking, so he must be someone familiar.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before his son stood at the door. Eumaeus sprang to his feet, and the bowls in which he was mixing wine fell from his hands, as he made towards his master. He kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes, and wept for joy. A father could not be more delighted at the return of an only son, the child of his old age, after ten years’ absence in a foreign country and after having gone through much hardship. He embraced him, kissed him all over as though he had come back from the dead, and spoke fondly to him saying:

The words were hardly out of his mouth when his son appeared at the door. Eumaeus jumped to his feet and dropped the bowls he was using to mix wine as he rushed toward his master. He kissed his master’s head and both his beautiful eyes, weeping for joy. No father could have been happier to welcome home an only son, born in his old age. Such a son might have spent ten years abroad and endured many hardships before returning. Eumaeus hugged him and kissed him all over as though he had come back from the dead. Then he spoke to him lovingly, saying:

“So you are come, Telemachus, light of my eyes that you are. When I heard you had gone to Pylos I made sure I was never going to see you any more. Come in, my dear child, and sit down, that I may have a good look at you now you are home again; it is not very often you come into the country to see us herdsmen; you stick pretty close to the town generally. I suppose you think it better to keep an eye on what the suitors are doing.”

“So you’re back, Telemachus, light of my eyes. When I heard you had gone to Pylos, I was sure I would never see you again. Come in, my dear child, and sit down so I can get a good look at you now you’re home. You don’t come out to the countryside very often to see us herdsmen. You usually stay close to town. I suppose you think it’s better to keep an eye on what the suitors are doing.”

“So be it, old friend,” answered Telemachus, “but I am come now because I want to see you, and to learn whether my mother is still at her old home or whether some one else has married her, so that the bed of Ulysses is without bedding and covered with cobwebs.”

“All right, old friend,” Telemachus replied, “but I’ve come now because I want to see you. I also want to know whether my mother is still in her old home. Or has someone else married her, leaving the bed of Ulysses bare and covered with cobwebs?”

“She is still at the house,” replied Eumaeus, “grieving and breaking her heart, and doing nothing but weep, both night and day continually.”

“She is still at the house,” Eumaeus replied, “grieving and heartbroken. She does nothing but cry, day and night without stopping.”

As he spoke he took Telemachus’ spear, whereon he crossed the stone threshold and came inside. Ulysses rose from his seat to give him place as he entered, but Telemachus checked him; “Sit down, stranger,” said he, “I can easily find another seat, and there is one here who will lay it for me.”

As he spoke, he took Telemachus’ spear. Then he crossed the stone threshold and came inside. Ulysses rose from his seat to make room for him as he entered, but Telemachus stopped him. “Sit down, stranger,” he said. “I can easily find another seat, and someone here will set one out for me.”

Ulysses went back to his own place, and Eumaeus strewed some green brushwood on the floor and threw a sheepskin on top of it for Telemachus to sit upon. Then the swineherd brought them platters of cold meat, the remains from what they had eaten the day before, and he filled the bread baskets with bread as fast as he could. He mixed wine also in bowls of ivy-wood, and took his seat facing Ulysses. Then they laid their hands on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they had had enough to eat and drink Telemachus said to Eumaeus, “Old friend, where does this stranger come from? How did his crew bring him to Ithaca, and who were they?—for assuredly he did not come here by land.”

Ulysses went back to his own place. Eumaeus spread some fresh brushwood on the floor and laid a sheepskin over it for Telemachus to sit on. Then the swineherd brought them platters of cold meat left over from their meal the day before. He filled the baskets with bread as quickly as he could. He also mixed wine in bowls made of ivy wood and sat down facing Ulysses. Then they began eating the good food before them. As soon as they had eaten and drunk enough, Telemachus said to Eumaeus, “Old friend, where does this stranger come from? How did his crew bring him to Ithaca, and who were they? He certainly did not come here by land.”

To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “My son, I will tell you the real truth. He says he is a Cretan, and that he has been a great traveller. At this moment he is running away from a Thesprotian ship, and has taken refuge at my station, so I will put him into your hands. Do whatever you like with him, only remember that he is your suppliant.”

You answered him, swineherd Eumaeus, “My son, I will tell you the whole truth. He says he is a Cretan and has traveled widely. He is now fleeing a Thesprotian ship and has taken shelter at my hut. So I will put him in your care. Do whatever you like with him, but remember that he is asking for your protection.”

“I am very much distressed,” said Telemachus, “by what you have just told me. How can I take this stranger into my house? I am as yet young, and am not strong enough to hold my own if any man attacks me. My mother cannot make up her mind whether to stay where she is and look after the house out of respect for public opinion and the memory of her husband, or whether the time is now come for her to take the best man of those who are wooing her, and the one who will make her the most advantageous offer; still, as the stranger has come to your station I will find him a cloak and shirt of good wear, with a sword and sandals, and will send him wherever he wants to go. Or if you like you can keep him here at the station, and I will send him clothes and food that he may be no burden on you and on your men; but I will not have him go near the suitors, for they are very insolent, and are sure to ill treat him in a way that would greatly grieve me; no matter how valiant a man may be he can do nothing against numbers, for they will be too strong for him.”

“What you have just told me deeply troubles me,” said Telemachus. “How can I welcome this stranger into my house? I am still young and not strong enough to defend myself if anyone attacks me. My mother cannot decide whether to stay and look after the house out of respect for public opinion and her husband’s memory. Or perhaps the time has come to marry the best of her suitors, the one offering her the greatest advantages. Still, since the stranger has come to your farm, I will provide him with a durable cloak and shirt. I will also give him a sword and sandals, and send him wherever he wants to go. “Or, if you like, you can keep him here at the farm. I will send him clothes and food so he will not burden you or your men. But I will not let him go near the suitors. They are very disrespectful and are sure to mistreat him, which would deeply upset me. No matter how brave a man may be, he can do nothing against so many opponents. They will be too strong for him.”

Then Ulysses said, “Sir, it is right that I should say something myself. I am much shocked about what you have said about the insolent way in which the suitors are behaving in despite of such a man as you are. Tell me, do you submit to such treatment tamely, or has some god set your people against you? May you not complain of your brothers—for it is to these that a man may look for support, however great his quarrel may be? I wish I were as young as you are and in my present mind; if I were son to Ulysses, or, indeed, Ulysses himself, I would rather some one came and cut my head off, but I would go to the house and be the bane of every one of these men.¹³⁹ If they were too many for me—I being single-handed—I would rather die fighting in my own house than see such disgraceful sights day after day, strangers grossly maltreated, and men dragging the women servants about the house in an unseemly way, wine drawn recklessly, and bread wasted all to no purpose for an end that shall never be accomplished.”

Then Ulysses said, “Sir, I should speak for myself. I am deeply shocked by your account of the suitors’ arrogance toward a man like you. Tell me, do you accept such treatment without protest, or has some god turned your people against you? Can you not blame your brothers? A man should be able to count on his brothers for support, however serious his quarrel may be. I wish I were as young as you, but knew what I know now. If I were Ulysses’ son, or Ulysses himself, I would go to the house and destroy every one of those men. I would rather have someone cut off my head than fail to do so.¹³⁹ If there were too many for me to fight alone, I would rather die fighting in my own house. I would rather die than witness such disgrace day after day. Strangers are treated with brutal disrespect, and men drag the women servants around the house shamefully. Wine is poured out recklessly, and bread is wasted, all for a goal that will never be achieved.”

And Telemachus answered, “I will tell you truly everything. There is no enmity between me and my people, nor can I complain of brothers, to whom a man may look for support however great his quarrel may be. Jove has made us a race of only sons. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius, and Ulysses only son of Laertes. I am myself the only son of Ulysses who left me behind him when he went away, so that I have never been of any use to him. Hence it comes that my house is in the hands of numberless marauders; for the chiefs from all the neighbouring islands, Dulichium, Same, Zacynthus, as also all the principal men of Ithaca itself, are eating up my house under the pretext of paying court to my mother, who will neither say point blank that she will not marry, nor yet bring matters to an end, so they are making havoc of my estate, and before long will do so with myself into the bargain. The issue, however, rests with heaven. But do you, old friend Eumaeus, go at once and tell Penelope that I am safe and have returned from Pylos. Tell it to herself alone, and then come back here without letting any one else know, for there are many who are plotting mischief against me.”

And Telemachus answered, “I will tell you the whole truth. There is no hostility between me and my people. Nor can I complain about brothers, whom a man can turn to for support, however serious his quarrel. Jove has made ours a family of only sons. Laertes was the only son of Arceisius, and Ulysses was the only son of Laertes. I am the only son of Ulysses. He left me behind when he went away, so I have never been of any use to him. That is why my house is in the hands of countless plunderers. The chiefs from all the neighboring islands, Dulichium, Same, and Zacynthus, are consuming everything in my house. So are all the leading men of Ithaca itself. They do so under the pretext of courting my mother. She will neither say outright that she will not marry nor bring the matter to a conclusion. So these men are ruining my estate, and before long they will destroy me too. The outcome, however, rests with heaven. But you, my old friend Eumaeus, must go at once and tell Penelope I am safe and back from Pylos. Tell her alone, then come back here without letting anyone else know. There are many people plotting harm against me.”

“I understand and heed you,” replied Eumaeus; “you need instruct me no further, only as I am going that way say whether I had not better let poor Laertes know that you are returned. He used to superintend the work on his farm in spite of his bitter sorrow about Ulysses, and he would eat and drink at will along with his servants; but they tell me that from the day on which you set out for Pylos he has neither eaten nor drunk as he ought to do, nor does he look after his farm, but sits weeping and wasting the flesh from off his bones.”

“I understand and will do as you say,” Eumaeus replied. “You need not tell me more. But since I’m going that way, should I let poor Laertes know you’ve returned? He used to oversee the work on his farm despite his deep sorrow over Ulysses. He would eat and drink as he pleased with his servants. But I’m told that since you left for Pylos, he has not been eating or drinking properly. He no longer looks after his farm, but sits weeping and wasting away to skin and bones.”

“More’s the pity,” answered Telemachus, “I am sorry for him, but we must leave him to himself just now. If people could have everything their own way, the first thing I should choose would be the return of my father; but go, and give your message; then make haste back again, and do not turn out of your way to tell Laertes. Tell my mother to send one of her women secretly with the news at once, and let him hear it from her.”

“That’s a pity,” Telemachus replied. “I feel sorry for him, but we must leave him alone for now. If people could have everything their own way, my first choice would be to have my father back. But go and deliver your message. Then hurry back, and don’t go out of your way to tell Laertes. Tell my mother to send one of her women secretly with the news right away. Let Laertes hear the news from her.”

Thus did he urge the swineherd; Eumaeus, therefore, took his sandals, bound them to his feet, and started for the town. Minerva watched him well off the station, and then came up to it in the form of a woman—fair, stately, and wise. She stood against the side of the entry, and revealed herself to Ulysses, but Telemachus could not see her, and knew not that she was there, for the gods do not let themselves be seen by everybody. Ulysses saw her, and so did the dogs, for they did not bark, but went scared and whining off to the other side of the yards. She nodded her head and motioned to Ulysses with her eyebrows; whereon he left the hut and stood before her outside the main wall of the yards. Then she said to him:

So he urged the swineherd. Eumaeus then took his sandals, strapped them to his feet, and set off for town. Minerva watched until he was well away from the farm. Then she approached in the form of a beautiful, dignified, and wise woman. She stood beside the entrance and revealed herself to Ulysses. But Telemachus could not see her and did not know she was there, because the gods do not appear to everyone. Ulysses saw her, and so did the dogs. The dogs did not bark but retreated to the other side of the yards, frightened and whining. She nodded and signaled to Ulysses with her eyebrows. So he left the hut and stood before her outside the main wall around the yards. Then she said to him:

“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, it is now time for you to tell your son: do not keep him in the dark any longer, but lay your plans for the destruction of the suitors, and then make for the town. I will not be long in joining you, for I too am eager for the fray.”

“Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, now is the time to tell your son. Do not keep him in the dark any longer. Instead, plan how to destroy the suitors, and then head for town. I will join you soon, for I too am eager to fight.”

As she spoke she touched him with her golden wand. First she threw a fair clean shirt and cloak about his shoulders; then she made him younger and of more imposing presence; she gave him back his colour, filled out his cheeks, and let his beard become dark again. Then she went away and Ulysses came back inside the hut. His son was astounded when he saw him, and turned his eyes away for fear he might be looking upon a god.

As she spoke, she touched him with her golden wand. First she draped a fine, clean shirt and cloak over his shoulders. Then she made him look younger and more impressive. She restored his color, filled out his cheeks, and made his beard dark again. Then she left, and Ulysses went back inside the hut. His son was amazed when he saw him. He looked away, afraid he might be looking at a god.

“Stranger,” said he, “how suddenly you have changed from what you were a moment or two ago. You are dressed differently and your colour is not the same. Are you some one or other of the gods that live in heaven? If so, be propitious to me till I can make you due sacrifice and offerings of wrought gold. Have mercy upon me.”

“Stranger,” he said, “you have changed so suddenly from how you were just a moment or two ago. Your clothes are different, and so is your complexion. Are you one of the gods who live in heaven? If so, show me favor until I can offer you a proper sacrifice and gifts of crafted gold. Have mercy on me.”

And Ulysses said, “I am no god, why should you take me for one? I am your father, on whose account you grieve and suffer so much at the hands of lawless men.”

And Ulysses said, “I am not a god. Why do you think I am one? I am your father. Because of me, you grieve and suffer so much at the hands of lawless men.”

As he spoke he kissed his son, and a tear fell from his cheek on to the ground, for he had restrained all tears till now. But Telemachus could not yet believe that it was his father, and said:

As he spoke, he kissed his son. A tear fell from his cheek to the ground, for he had held back all tears until now. But Telemachus still could not believe the man was his father, and said:

“You are not my father, but some god is flattering me with vain hopes that I may grieve the more hereafter; no mortal man could of himself contrive to do as you have been doing, and make yourself old and young at a moment’s notice, unless a god were with him. A second ago you were old and all in rags, and now you are like some god come down from heaven.”

“You are not my father. Some god is giving me false hope so that I may grieve even more later. No mortal could do what you have been doing on his own. He could not make himself old and young in an instant unless a god were with him. A second ago you were old and dressed in rags. Now you look like some god who has come down from heaven.”

Ulysses answered, “Telemachus, you ought not to be so immeasurably astonished at my being really here. There is no other Ulysses who will come hereafter. Such as I am, it is I, who after long wandering and much hardship have got home in the twentieth year to my own country. What you wonder at is the work of the redoubtable goddess Minerva, who does with me whatever she will, for she can do what she pleases. At one moment she makes me like a beggar, and the next I am a young man with good clothes on my back; it is an easy matter for the gods who live in heaven to make any man look either rich or poor.”

Ulysses answered, “Telemachus, you should not be so amazed that I am really here. No other Ulysses will come after me. I am Ulysses, just as you see me. After years of wandering and hardship, I have returned to my own country in the twentieth year. The powerful goddess Minerva is responsible for the change that amazes you. She does whatever she wants with me, because she can do as she pleases. One moment she makes me look like a beggar. The next, she makes me a young man dressed in fine clothes. The gods who live in heaven can easily make any man look rich or poor.”

As he spoke he sat down, and Telemachus threw his arms about his father and wept. They were both so much moved that they cried aloud like eagles or vultures with crooked talons that have been robbed of their half fledged young by peasants. Thus piteously did they weep, and the sun would have gone down upon their mourning if Telemachus had not suddenly said, “In what ship, my dear father, did your crew bring you to Ithaca? Of what nation did they declare themselves to be—for you cannot have come by land?”

As he spoke, he sat down. Telemachus threw his arms around his father and wept. Both were so overcome with emotion that they cried out like eagles or vultures with curved talons. Peasants had stolen the birds’ young before they had fully grown their feathers. Father and son wept just as pitifully. The sun would have set while they mourned if Telemachus had not suddenly spoken. “My dear father, what ship did your crew bring you to Ithaca in? What country did they say they came from? You cannot have come by land.”

“I will tell you the truth, my son,” replied Ulysses. “It was the Phaeacians who brought me here. They are great sailors, and are in the habit of giving escorts to any one who reaches their coasts. They took me over the sea while I was fast asleep, and landed me in Ithaca, after giving me many presents in bronze, gold, and raiment. These things by heaven’s mercy are lying concealed in a cave, and I am now come here on the suggestion of Minerva that we may consult about killing our enemies. First, therefore, give me a list of the suitors, with their number, that I may learn who, and how many, they are. I can then turn the matter over in my mind, and see whether we two can fight the whole body of them ourselves, or whether we must find others to help us.”

“I will tell you the truth, my son,” Ulysses replied. “The Phaeacians brought me here. They are great sailors and regularly escort anyone who reaches their shores. They carried me across the sea while I was fast asleep. They gave me many gifts of bronze, gold, and clothing, then landed me in Ithaca. By heaven’s mercy, those gifts are hidden in a cave. I have now come here at Minerva’s suggestion so we can plan how to kill our enemies. First, give me a list of the suitors and their number, so I know who and how many they are. Then I can think it over and decide whether the two of us can fight them all ourselves. Or we may need to find others to help us.”

To this Telemachus answered, “Father, I have always heard of your renown both in the field and in council, but the task you talk of is a very great one: I am awed at the mere thought of it; two men cannot stand against many and brave ones. There are not ten suitors only, nor twice ten, but ten many times over; you shall learn their number at once. There are fifty-two chosen youths from Dulichium, and they have six servants; from Same there are twenty-four; twenty young Achaeans from Zacynthus, and twelve from Ithaca itself, all of them well born. They have with them a servant Medon, a bard, and two men who can carve at table. If we face such numbers as this, you may have bitter cause to rue your coming, and your revenge. See whether you cannot think of some one who would be willing to come and help us.”

Telemachus answered, “Father, I have always heard of your fame in battle and in council. But the task you describe is enormous. The very thought of it overwhelms me. Two men cannot stand against so many brave men. There are not just ten suitors, or even twenty, but many times ten. I will tell you their numbers now. There are fifty-two specially chosen young men from Dulichium, with six servants. There are twenty-four from Same, twenty young Achaeans from Zacynthus, and twelve from Ithaca itself. All are well born. With the suitors are a servant named Medon, a bard, and two men who carve meat at the table. If we face so many men, you may bitterly regret coming home and seeking revenge. See whether you can think of someone willing to come and help us.”

“Listen to me,” replied Ulysses, “and think whether Minerva and her father Jove may seem sufficient, or whether I am to try and find some one else as well.”

“Listen to me,” Ulysses replied. “Consider whether Minerva and her father Jove might be enough. Or should I try to find someone else as well?”

“Those whom you have named,” answered Telemachus, “are a couple of good allies, for though they dwell high up among the clouds they have power over both gods and men.”

“The two you named are good allies,” Telemachus replied, “because although they live high among the clouds, they have power over both gods and men.”

“These two,” continued Ulysses, “will not keep long out of the fray, when the suitors and we join fight in my house. Now, therefore, return home early to-morrow morning, and go about among the suitors as before. Later on the swineherd will bring me to the city disguised as a miserable old beggar. If you see them ill treating me, steel your heart against my sufferings; even though they drag me feet foremost out of the house, or throw things at me, look on and do nothing beyond gently trying to make them behave more reasonably; but they will not listen to you, for the day of their reckoning is at hand. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your heart; when Minerva shall put it in my mind, I will nod my head to you, and on seeing me do this you must collect all the armour that is in the house and hide it in the strong store room. Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you are removing it; say that you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke, inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Ulysses went away, but has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more particularly that you are afraid Jove may set them on to quarrel over their wine, and that they may do each other some harm which may disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of arms sometimes tempts people to use them. But leave a sword and a spear apiece for yourself and me, and a couple of oxhide shields so that we can snatch them up at any moment; Jove and Minerva will then soon quiet these people. There is also another matter; if you are indeed my son and my blood runs in your veins, let no one know that Ulysses is within the house—neither Laertes, nor yet the swineherd, nor any of the servants, nor even Penelope herself. Let you and me exploit the women alone, and let us also make trial of some other of the men servants, to see who is on our side and whose hand is against us.”

“These two,” Ulysses continued, “will not stay out of the fight for long when we battle the suitors in my house. So return home early tomorrow morning and spend time among the suitors as before. Later, the swineherd will bring me to the city disguised as a wretched old beggar. If you see the suitors mistreating me, harden your heart against my suffering. Even if they drag me feet first out of the house or throw things at me, watch without interfering. Do no more than gently urge them to behave more reasonably. But they will not listen to you, for their day of reckoning is near. “Here is something else you must take to heart. When Minerva puts the thought into my mind, I will nod to you. When you see my nod, gather all the armor in the house and hide it in the secure storeroom. When the suitors ask why you are removing the armor, give them an excuse. Say you have moved it away from the smoke. Explain that the armor is no longer as it was when Ulysses left, but has become dirty and soot-covered. Above all, add that you fear Jove may make them quarrel over their wine. They may then hurt one another and bring disgrace on both their feasting and their courtship. The sight of weapons sometimes tempts people to use them. But leave a sword and a spear each for you and me, along with two oxhide shields. Then we can grab our weapons and shields at any moment. Jove and Minerva will soon silence these people. “There is one more thing. If you are truly my son and my blood runs in your veins, tell no one Ulysses is in the house. Do not tell Laertes, the swineherd, any of the servants, or even Penelope herself. Let us test the women ourselves, with no one else involved. Let us also test some of the male servants, to see who supports us and who opposes us.”

“Father,” replied Telemachus, “you will come to know me by and by, and when you do you will find that I can keep your counsel. I do not think, however, the plan you propose will turn out well for either of us. Think it over. It will take us a long time to go the round of the farms and exploit the men, and all the time the suitors will be wasting your estate with impunity and without compunction. Prove the women by all means, to see who are disloyal and who guiltless, but I am not in favour of going round and trying the men. We can attend to that later on, if you really have some sign from Jove that he will support you.”

“Father,” Telemachus replied, “you will get to know me in time. When you do, you will find you can trust me to keep your secrets. But I don’t think your plan will work out well for either of us. Think it over. Visiting all the farms and testing the men will take us a long time. Meanwhile, the suitors will be wasting your wealth without punishment or remorse. By all means, test the women to see who is disloyal and who is innocent. But I’m against going around to test the men. We can deal with the men later, if you really have some sign from Jove that he will support you.”

Thus did they converse, and meanwhile the ship which had brought Telemachus and his crew from Pylos had reached the town of Ithaca. When they had come inside the harbour they drew the ship on to the land; their servants came and took their armour from them, and they left all the presents at the house of Clytius. Then they sent a servant to tell Penelope that Telemachus had gone into the country, but had sent the ship to the town to prevent her from being alarmed and made unhappy. This servant and Eumaeus happened to meet when they were both on the same errand of going to tell Penelope. When they reached the House, the servant stood up and said to the queen in the presence of the waiting women, “Your son, Madam, is now returned from Pylos”; but Eumaeus went close up to Penelope, and said privately all that her son had bidden him tell her. When he had given his message he left the house with its outbuildings and went back to his pigs again.

As they talked, the ship that had brought Telemachus and his crew from Pylos reached the town of Ithaca. Once inside the harbour, the crew pulled the ship ashore. Their servants came and took their armour, and the crew left all the gifts at the house of Clytius. Then they sent a servant to tell Penelope that Telemachus had gone to the countryside. He had sent the ship to town so she would not be worried or upset. The servant and Eumaeus happened to meet while both were on their way to give Penelope the news. When they reached the house, the servant stood up and spoke to the queen in front of her waiting women. “Your son, Madam, has now returned from Pylos.” But Eumaeus went up to Penelope and privately told her everything her son had asked him to say. After delivering his message, Eumaeus left the house and its outbuildings and returned to his pigs.

The suitors were surprised and angry at what had happened, so they went outside the great wall that ran round the outer court, and held a council near the main entrance. Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the first to speak.

The suitors were surprised and angry at what had happened. So they went outside the high wall surrounding the outer courtyard and met near the main entrance to discuss matters. Eurymachus, son of Polybus, was the first to speak.

“My friends,” said he, “this voyage of Telemachus’s is a very serious matter; we had made sure that it would come to nothing. Now, however, let us draw a ship into the water, and get a crew together to send after the others and tell them to come back as fast as they can.”

“My friends,” he said, “Telemachus’s voyage is a very serious matter. We were sure the voyage would come to nothing. But now, let’s launch a ship and gather a crew to send after the others. The crew can tell them to return as fast as they can.”

He had hardly done speaking when Amphinomus turned in his place and saw the ship inside the harbour, with the crew lowering her sails, and putting by their oars; so he laughed, and said to the others, “We need not send them any message, for they are here. Some god must have told them, or else they saw the ship go by, and could not overtake her.”

He had hardly finished speaking when Amphinomus turned and saw the ship inside the harbour. The crew were lowering the sails and putting away their oars. So he laughed and said to the others, “We don’t need to send them a message, because they’re here. Some god must have told them. Or else they saw the ship go by and couldn’t catch up with her.”

On this they rose and went to the water side. The crew then drew the ship on shore; their servants took their armour from them, and they went up in a body to the place of assembly, but they would not let any one old or young sit along with them, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke first.

Then they got up and went to the water’s edge. The crew pulled the ship ashore, and their servants took their armor from them. They went together to the assembly place, but would not let anyone, young or old, sit with them. Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spoke first.

“Good heavens,” said he, “see how the gods have saved this man from destruction. We kept a succession of scouts upon the headlands all day long, and when the sun was down we never went on shore to sleep, but waited in the ship all night till morning in the hope of capturing and killing him; but some god has conveyed him home in spite of us. Let us consider how we can make an end of him. He must not escape us; our affair is never likely to come off while he is alive, for he is very shrewd, and public feeling is by no means all on our side. We must make haste before he can call the Achaeans in assembly; he will lose no time in doing so, for he will be furious with us, and will tell all the world how we plotted to kill him, but failed to take him. The people will not like this when they come to know of it; we must see that they do us no hurt, nor drive us from our own country into exile. Let us try and lay hold of him either on his farm away from the town, or on the road hither. Then we can divide up his property amongst us, and let his mother and the man who marries her have the house. If this does not please you, and you wish Telemachus to live on and hold his father’s property, then we must not gather here and eat up his goods in this way, but must make our offers to Penelope each from his own house, and she can marry the man who will give the most for her, and whose lot it is to win her.”

“Good heavens,” he said, “look how the gods have saved this man from death. We kept scouts on the headlands all day, taking turns on watch. After sunset, we never went ashore to sleep. Instead, we waited aboard the ship all night until morning, hoping to capture and kill him. But some god has brought him home despite our efforts. Let us consider how we can finish him off. He must not escape us. Our plan is unlikely to succeed while he is alive, because he is very shrewd. And public opinion is certainly not entirely on our side. We must hurry before he can call an assembly of the Achaeans. He will waste no time, because he will be furious with us. He will tell everyone how we plotted to kill him but failed to catch him. The people will not like our plot when they hear about it. We must make sure the people do not harm us or drive us from our own country into exile. Let us try to seize him either on his farm outside town or on the road here. Then we can divide his property among us. We can leave the house to his mother and the man who marries her. If this plan does not please you, and you want Telemachus to live and keep his father’s property, we must stop. We must no longer gather here and eat up his wealth like this. Instead, we must each make our marriage offer to Penelope from our own home. Then she can marry the man who offers the most for her and is destined to win her.”

They all held their peace until Amphinomus rose to speak. He was the son of Nisus, who was son to king Aretias, and he was foremost among all the suitors from the wheat-growing and well grassed island of Dulichium; his conversation, moreover, was more agreeable to Penelope than that of any of the other suitors, for he was a man of good natural disposition. “My friends,” said he, speaking to them plainly and in all honestly, “I am not in favour of killing Telemachus. It is a heinous thing to kill one who is of noble blood. Let us first take counsel of the gods, and if the oracles of Jove advise it, I will both help to kill him myself, and will urge everyone else to do so; but if they dissuade us, I would have you hold your hands.”

They all stayed silent until Amphinomus stood up to speak. He was the son of Nisus and grandson of king Aretias. He was the leading suitor from Dulichium, an island rich in wheat and grass. Penelope also enjoyed his conversation more than that of any other suitor, because he was naturally good-hearted. “My friends,” he said, speaking plainly and with complete honesty, “I am not in favor of killing Telemachus. Killing someone of noble birth is a terrible crime. Let us first seek advice from the gods. If the oracles of Jove advise us to kill him, I will help do it myself and urge everyone else to join in. But if the oracles advise against killing him, I ask you to leave him unharmed.”

Thus did he speak, and his words pleased them well, so they rose forthwith and went to the house of Ulysses, where they took their accustomed seats.

He finished speaking, and his words pleased them, so they immediately got up and went to Ulysses’ house. There they sat in their usual seats.

Then Penelope resolved that she would show herself to the suitors. She knew of the plot against Telemachus, for the servant Medon had overheard their counsels and had told her; she went down therefore to the court attended by her maidens, and when she reached the suitors she stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister holding a veil before her face, and rebuked Antinous saying:

Then Penelope decided to appear before the suitors. She knew about the plot against Telemachus because the servant Medon had overheard their plans and told her. So she went down to the courtyard with her maids. When she reached the suitors, she stood beside one of the posts supporting the covered walkway’s roof. Holding a veil in front of her face, she rebuked Antinous, saying:

“Antinous, insolent and wicked schemer, they say you are the best speaker and counsellor of any man your own age in Ithaca, but you are nothing of the kind. Madman, why should you try to compass the death of Telemachus, and take no heed of suppliants, whose witness is Jove himself? It is not right for you to plot thus against one another. Do you not remember how your father fled to this house in fear of the people, who were enraged against him for having gone with some Taphian pirates and plundered the Thesprotians who were at peace with us? They wanted to tear him in pieces and eat up everything he had, but Ulysses stayed their hands although they were infuriated, and now you devour his property without paying for it, and break my heart by wooing his wife and trying to kill his son. Leave off doing so, and stop the others also.”

“Antinous, you arrogant, wicked schemer. People say you are the best speaker and adviser among men your age in Ithaca. But you are nothing of the kind. Madman, why are you plotting to kill Telemachus? Why do you ignore those who plead for protection, with Jove himself as their witness? You have no right to plot against one another like this. Don’t you remember how your father fled to this house because he feared the people? They were furious because he had joined some Taphian pirates in plundering the Thesprotians, who were at peace with us. The people wanted to tear him apart and seize everything he owned. But Ulysses held them back, although they were furious. And now you consume his property without paying for it. You break my heart by courting his wife and trying to kill his son. Stop what you are doing, and stop the others too.”

To this Eurymachus son of Polybus answered, “Take heart, Queen Penelope daughter of Icarius, and do not trouble yourself about these matters. The man is not yet born, nor never will be, who shall lay hands upon your son Telemachus, while I yet live to look upon the face of the earth. I say—and it shall surely be—that my spear shall be reddened with his blood; for many a time has Ulysses taken me on his knees, held wine up to my lips to drink, and put pieces of meat into my hands. Therefore Telemachus is much the dearest friend I have, and has nothing to fear from the hands of us suitors. Of course, if death comes to him from the gods, he cannot escape it.” He said this to quiet her, but in reality he was plotting against Telemachus.

Eurymachus son of Polybus answered, “Take heart, Queen Penelope daughter of Icarius, and do not worry about these matters. No man alive or yet to be born will harm your son Telemachus as long as I live. I promise you, my spear will be red with the blood of anyone who tries. Many times Ulysses sat me on his knees, held wine to my lips, and put pieces of meat in my hands. Because of that, Telemachus is by far my dearest friend. He has nothing to fear from us suitors. Of course, if death comes to him from the gods, he cannot escape it.” Eurymachus said this to reassure her, but he was actually plotting against Telemachus.

Then Penelope went upstairs again and mourned her husband till Minerva shed sleep over her eyes. In the evening Eumaeus got back to Ulysses and his son, who had just sacrificed a young pig of a year old and were helping one another to get supper ready; Minerva therefore came up to Ulysses, turned him into an old man with a stroke of her wand, and clad him in his old clothes again, for fear that the swineherd might recognise him and not keep the secret, but go and tell Penelope.

Then Penelope went back upstairs and mourned her husband until Minerva made her fall asleep. In the evening, Eumaeus returned to Ulysses and his son. The two had just sacrificed a year-old pig and were helping each other prepare supper. So Minerva came up to Ulysses and turned him into an old man with a touch of her wand. She dressed him in his old clothes again, fearing the swineherd might recognize him and reveal the secret to Penelope.

Telemachus was the first to speak. “So you have got back, Eumaeus,” said he. “What is the news of the town? Have the suitors returned, or are they still waiting over yonder, to take me on my way home?”

Telemachus was the first to speak. “So you’re back, Eumaeus,” he said. “What’s the news from town? Have the suitors returned, or are they still waiting over there to catch me on my way home?”

“I did not think of asking about that,” replied Eumaeus, “when I was in the town. I thought I would give my message and come back as soon as I could. I met a man sent by those who had gone with you to Pylos, and he was the first to tell the news to your mother, but I can say what I saw with my own eyes; I had just got on to the crest of the hill of Mercury above the town when I saw a ship coming into harbour with a number of men in her. They had many shields and spears, and I thought it was the suitors, but I cannot be sure.”

“I didn’t think to ask about that when I was in town,” Eumaeus replied. “I thought I would deliver my message and come back as soon as I could. I met a man sent by the people who had gone with you to Pylos. He was the first to tell your mother the news. But I can tell you what I saw with my own eyes. I had just reached the top of the hill of Mercury above the town when I saw a ship. It was coming into the harbor with a number of men aboard. The men had many shields and spears. I thought they were the suitors, but I can’t be sure.”

On hearing this Telemachus smiled to his father, but so that Eumaeus could not see him.

Hearing this, Telemachus smiled at his father, but in a way that kept Eumaeus from seeing him smile.

Then, when they had finished their work and the meal was ready, they ate it, and every man had his full share so that all were satisfied. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, they laid down to rest and enjoyed the boon of sleep.

Then, when they had finished their work and the meal was ready, they ate. Every man had his full share, so all were satisfied. As soon as they had enough to eat and drink, they lay down to rest and enjoyed the comfort of sleep.