Telemachus’ Reunion, Ulysses’ Ordeal, and Penelope’s Request

When the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, Telemachus bound on his sandals and took a strong spear that suited his hands, for he wanted to go into the city. “Old friend,” said he to the swineherd, “I will now go to the town and show myself to my mother, for she will never leave off grieving till she has seen me. As for this unfortunate stranger, take him to the town and let him beg there of any one who will give him a drink and a piece of bread. I have trouble enough of my own, and cannot be burdened with other people. If this makes him angry so much the worse for him, but I like to say what I mean.”

When rosy-fingered Dawn, the child of morning, appeared, Telemachus strapped on his sandals. He picked up a sturdy spear that fit his hands, because he wanted to go into town. “Old friend,” he said to the swineherd, “I’ll go into town now so my mother can see me. She won’t stop grieving until she has seen me. As for this unfortunate stranger, take him into town. Let him beg there from anyone willing to give him a drink and a piece of bread. I have enough troubles of my own and can’t take on other people’s burdens. If my words make him angry, that’s his problem, but I like to say what I mean.”

Then Ulysses said, “Sir, I do not want to stay here; a beggar can always do better in town than country, for any one who likes can give him something. I am too old to care about remaining here at the beck and call of a master. Therefore let this man do as you have just told him, and take me to the town as soon as I have had a warm by the fire, and the day has got a little heat in it. My clothes are wretchedly thin, and this frosty morning I shall be perished with cold, for you say the city is some way off.”

Then Ulysses said, “Sir, I do not want to stay here. A beggar can always do better in town than in the country, because anyone who wants to can give him something. I am too old to want to stay here, always ready to obey a master’s orders. So let this man do as you have just told him and take me to town. We can leave once I have warmed myself by the fire and the day has grown a little warmer. My clothes are terribly thin, and I will freeze on this frosty morning, since you say the city is far away.”

On this Telemachus strode off through the yards, brooding his revenge upon the suitors. When he reached home he stood his spear against a bearing-post of the cloister, crossed the stone floor of the cloister itself, and went inside.

At this, Telemachus strode off through the courtyards, brooding over his revenge on the suitors. When he reached home, he leaned his spear against a supporting post in the covered walkway. He crossed the walkway’s stone floor and went inside.

Nurse Euryclea saw him long before any one else did. She was putting the fleeces on to the seats, and she burst out crying as she ran up to him; all the other maids came up too, and covered his head and shoulders with their kisses. Penelope came out of her room looking like Diana or Venus, and wept as she flung her arms about her son. She kissed his forehead and both his beautiful eyes, “Light of my eyes,” she cried as she spoke fondly to him, “so you are come home again; I made sure I was never going to see you any more. To think of your having gone off to Pylos without saying anything about it or obtaining my consent. But come, tell me what you saw.”

Nurse Euryclea saw him long before anyone else did. She was laying fleeces on the seats and burst into tears as she ran up to him. All the other maids came up too and covered his head and shoulders with kisses. Penelope came out of her room looking like Diana or Venus. She wept as she threw her arms around her son. She kissed his forehead and both his beautiful eyes. “Light of my eyes,” she cried tenderly, “you’ve come home again! I was sure I would never see you again. To think you went off to Pylos without telling me or asking my permission! But come, tell me what you saw.”

“Do not scold me, mother,” answered Telemachus, “nor vex me, seeing what a narrow escape I have had, but wash your face, change your dress, go upstairs with your maids, and promise full and sufficient hecatombs to all the gods if Jove will only grant us our revenge upon the suitors. I must now go to the place of assembly to invite a stranger who has come back with me from Pylos. I sent him on with my crew, and told Piraeus to take him home and look after him till I could come for him myself.”

“Do not scold me, mother,” Telemachus answered, “or upset me, considering how narrowly I escaped. But wash your face, change your clothes, and go upstairs with your maids. Promise full and generous sacrifices to all the gods if Jove will only let us take revenge on the suitors. I must now go to the assembly place to invite a stranger who came back with me from Pylos. I sent him ahead with my crew. I told Piraeus to take him home and look after him until I could come for him myself.”

She heeded her son’s words, washed her face, changed her dress, and vowed full and sufficient hecatombs to all the gods if they would only vouchsafe her revenge upon the suitors.

She listened to her son, washed her face, and changed her clothes. She promised ample sacrifices to all the gods if only the gods would grant her revenge against the suitors.

Telemachus went through, and out of, the cloisters spear in hand—not alone, for his two fleet dogs went with him. Minerva endowed him with a presence of such divine comeliness that all marvelled at him as he went by, and the suitors gathered round him with fair words in their mouths and malice in their hearts; but he avoided them, and went to sit with Mentor, Antiphus, and Halitherses, old friends of his father’s house, and they made him tell them all that had happened to him. Then Piraeus came up with Theoclymenus, whom he had escorted through the town to the place of assembly, whereon Telemachus at once joined them. Piraeus was first to speak: “Telemachus,” said he, “I wish you would send some of your women to my house to take away the presents Menelaus gave you.”

Telemachus walked through the cloisters and out, spear in hand. He was not alone, for his two swift dogs went with him. Minerva gave him such divine beauty and presence that everyone marveled at him as he passed. The suitors gathered around him with kind words on their lips and malice in their hearts. But he avoided them and sat with Mentor, Antiphus, and Halitherses, old friends of his father’s household. These friends made him tell them everything that had happened to him. Then Piraeus arrived with Theoclymenus, whom he had escorted through town to the meeting place. Telemachus immediately went over to them. Piraeus spoke first: “Telemachus,” he said, “I wish you would send some of your women to my house. They could collect the presents Menelaus gave you.”

“We do not know, Piraeus,” answered Telemachus, “what may happen. If the suitors kill me in my own house and divide my property among them, I would rather you had the presents than that any of those people should get hold of them. If on the other hand I managed to kill them, I shall be much obliged if you will kindly bring me my presents.”

“We don’t know what might happen, Piraeus,” Telemachus replied. “If the suitors kill me in my own house and divide my property among themselves, I’d rather you kept the gifts. I wouldn’t want any of the suitors to get them. But if I manage to kill the suitors, I’d be grateful if you would bring me my gifts.”

With these words he took Theoclymenus to his own house. When they got there they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats, went into the baths, and washed themselves. When the maids had washed and anointed them, and had given them cloaks and shirts, they took their seats at table. A maid servant then brought them water in a beautiful golden ewer, and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands; and she drew a clean table beside them. An upper servant brought them bread and offered them many good things of what there was in the house. Opposite them sat Penelope, reclining on a couch by one of the bearing-posts of the cloister, and spinning. 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 Penelope said:

With these words, he took Theoclymenus to his own house. When they arrived, they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats, then went into the baths and washed. After the maids had washed them, rubbed them with oil, and given them cloaks and shirts, they sat at the table. A maid brought water in a beautiful gold pitcher and poured it into a silver basin for them to wash their hands. She then pulled a clean table up beside them. A senior servant brought bread and offered them many good things from the food in the house. Penelope sat opposite them, reclining on a couch beside one of the covered walkway’s supporting posts and spinning thread. Then they helped themselves to the good food before them. As soon as they had eaten and drunk enough, Penelope said:

“Telemachus, I shall go upstairs and lie down on that sad couch, which I have not ceased to water with my tears, from the day Ulysses set out for Troy with the sons of Atreus. You failed, however, to make it clear to me before the suitors came back to the house, whether or no you had been able to hear anything about the return of your father.”

“Telemachus, I’ll go upstairs and lie down on that sorrowful couch. I’ve soaked it with my tears ever since Ulysses left for Troy with the sons of Atreus. But before the suitors returned to the house, you didn’t make one thing clear to me. Had you managed to hear anything about your father’s return?”

“I will tell you then truth,” replied her son. “We went to Pylos and saw Nestor, who took me to his house and treated me as hospitably as though I were a son of his own who had just returned after a long absence; so also did his sons; but he said he had not heard a word from any human being about Ulysses, whether he was alive or dead. He sent me, therefore, with a chariot and horses to Menelaus. There I saw Helen, for whose sake so many, both Argives and Trojans, were in heaven’s wisdom doomed to suffer. Menelaus asked me what it was that had brought me to Lacedaemon, and I told him the whole truth, whereon he said, ‘So, then, these cowards would usurp a brave man’s bed? A hind might as well lay her new-born young in the lair of a lion, and then go off to feed in the forest or in some grassy dell. The lion, when he comes back to his lair, will make short work with the pair of them, and so will Ulysses with these suitors. By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, if Ulysses is still the man that he was when he wrestled with Philomeleides in Lesbos, and threw him so heavily that all the Greeks cheered him—if he is still such, and were to come near these suitors, they would have a short shrift and a sorry wedding. As regards your question, however, I will not prevaricate nor deceive you, but what the old man of the sea told me, so much will I tell you in full. He said he could see Ulysses on an island sorrowing bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso, who was keeping him prisoner, and he could not reach his home, for he had no ships nor sailors to take him over the sea.’ This was what Menelaus told me, and when I had heard his story I came away; the gods then gave me a fair wind and soon brought me safe home again.”

“I will tell you the truth, then,” her son replied. “We went to Pylos and saw Nestor, who welcomed me into his house. He treated me as warmly as if I were his own son, returning after a long absence. His sons welcomed me just as warmly. But Nestor said he had heard nothing from anyone about Ulysses, whether he was alive or dead. So he sent me with a chariot and horses to Menelaus. There I saw Helen, for whose sake heaven, in its wisdom, had doomed so many Argives and Trojans to suffer. Menelaus asked what had brought me to Lacedaemon, and I told him the whole truth. Then he said, ‘So these cowards want to take a brave man’s place in his own bed? A doe might as well leave her newborn young in a lion’s den. She might then go off to feed in the forest or some grassy valley. When the lion returns to his den, he will quickly kill the pair of them. Ulysses will do the same to these suitors. By father Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, if only Ulysses were still the man who wrestled with Philomeleides in Lesbos! He threw Philomeleides down so hard that all the Greeks cheered him. If Ulysses is still that strong and came near these suitors, their lives would be short and their wedding miserable. But as for your question, I will not dodge it or deceive you. I will tell you everything the old man of the sea told me. He said he could see Ulysses on an island, grieving bitterly in the house of the nymph Calypso. She was keeping him prisoner. He could not get home because he had no ships or sailors to take him across the sea.’ That was what Menelaus told me, and after hearing his story, I left. The gods then gave me a favorable wind and soon brought me safely home again.”

With these words he moved the heart of Penelope. Then Theoclymenus said to her:

His words touched Penelope’s heart. Then Theoclymenus said to her:

“Madam, wife of Ulysses, Telemachus does not understand these things; listen therefore to me, for I can divine them surely, and will hide nothing from you. May Jove the king of heaven be my witness, and the rites of hospitality, with that hearth of Ulysses to which I now come, that Ulysses himself is even now in Ithaca, and, either going about the country or staying in one place, is enquiring into all these evil deeds and preparing a day of reckoning for the suitors. I saw an omen when I was on the ship which meant this, and I told Telemachus about it.”

“Madam, wife of Ulysses, Telemachus does not understand these things. So listen to me, because I can interpret them with certainty, and I will hide nothing from you. May Jove, the king of heaven, be my witness, along with the sacred duties of hospitality. May the hearth of Ulysses, where I have now come, also be my witness. Ulysses himself is in Ithaca even now. He is either traveling around the countryside or staying in one place, investigating all these evil deeds. He is preparing a day of reckoning for the suitors. While I was on the ship, I saw an omen that foretold all of this. I told Telemachus about the omen.”

“May it be even so,” answered Penelope; “if your words come true, you shall have such gifts and such good will from me that all who see you shall congratulate you.”

“I hope so,” Penelope replied. “If your words come true, I will give you such gifts and kindness that all who see you will congratulate you.”

Thus did they converse. Meanwhile the suitors were throwing discs, or aiming with spears at a mark on the levelled ground in front of the house, and behaving with all their old insolence. But when it was now time for dinner, and the flock of sheep and goats had come into the town from all the country round, ¹⁴⁰ with their shepherds as usual, then Medon, who was their favourite servant, and who waited upon them at table, said, “Now then, my young masters, you have had enough sport, so come inside that we may get dinner ready. Dinner is not a bad thing, at dinner time.”

So they talked. Meanwhile, the suitors were throwing discs or aiming spears at a target on the level ground in front of the house. They were behaving with all their usual arrogance. But now it was time for dinner. The flocks of sheep and goats had come into town from all the surrounding countryside, ¹⁴⁰ with their shepherds as usual. Then Medon, their favorite servant, who served them at table, said, “Now then, my young masters, you have had enough games. Come inside so we can get dinner ready. Dinner is not a bad thing when it’s time to eat.”

They left their sports as he told them, and when they were within the house, they laid their cloaks on the benches and seats inside, and then sacrificed some sheep, goats, pigs, and a heifer, all of them fat and well grown.¹⁴¹ Thus they made ready for their meal. In the meantime Ulysses and the swineherd were about starting for the town, and the swineherd said, “Stranger, I suppose you still want to go to town to-day, as my master said you were to do; for my own part I should have liked you to stay here as a station hand, but I must do as my master tells me, or he will scold me later on, and a scolding from one’s master is a very serious thing. Let us then be off, for it is now broad day; it will be night again directly and then you will find it colder.”¹⁴²

They stopped their games as he told them to and went inside the house. They laid their cloaks on the benches and seats, then sacrificed some sheep, goats, pigs, and a heifer. All the animals were fat and fully grown.¹⁴¹ This was how they prepared their meal. Meanwhile, Ulysses and the swineherd were about to leave for town. The swineherd said, “Stranger, I suppose you still want to go to town today, as my master told you to. I would have liked you to stay here as a farmhand. But I must do as my master tells me, or he will scold me later. Being scolded by your master is a very serious matter. So let us get going, for it is already broad daylight. Night will come again before long, and then you will feel colder.”¹⁴²

“I know, and understand you,” replied Ulysses; “you need say no more. Let us be going, but if you have a stick ready cut, let me have it to walk with, for you say the road is a very rough one.”

“I know, and I understand you,” Ulysses replied. “You don’t need to say any more. Let’s go. But if you have a stick already cut, let me use it to walk with. You say the road is very rough, so I’ll need the stick.”

As he spoke he threw his shabby old tattered wallet over his shoulders, by the cord from which it hung, and Eumaeus gave him a stick to his liking. The two then started, leaving the station in charge of the dogs and herdsmen who remained behind; the swineherd led the way and his master followed after, looking like some broken down old tramp as he leaned upon his staff, and his clothes were all in rags. When they had got over the rough steep ground and were nearing the city, they reached the fountain from which the citizens drew their water. This had been made by Ithacus, Neritus, and Polyctor. There was a grove of water-loving poplars planted in a circle all round it, and the clear cold water came down to it from a rock high up,¹⁴³ while above the fountain there was an altar to the nymphs, at which all wayfarers used to sacrifice. Here Melanthius son of Dolius overtook them as he was driving down some goats, the best in his flock, for the suitors’ dinner, and there were two shepherds with him. When he saw Eumaeus and Ulysses he reviled them with outrageous and unseemly language, which made Ulysses very angry.

As he spoke, he slung his shabby, tattered old bag over his shoulders by its cord. Eumaeus gave him a walking stick that suited him. The two then set off, leaving the dogs and the remaining herdsmen in charge of the farm. The swineherd led the way, and his master followed, looking like a worn-out old tramp. He leaned on his staff, and his clothes were all in rags. After crossing the rough, steep ground, they approached the city and reached the fountain where the citizens drew their water. Ithacus, Neritus, and Polyctor had built the fountain. A grove of water-loving poplars had been planted in a circle around it. Clear, cold water flowed down to the fountain from a rock high above.¹⁴³ Above the fountain stood an altar to the nymphs, where all travelers used to offer sacrifices. Here Melanthius, son of Dolius, caught up with them while driving down some goats for the suitors’ dinner. The goats were the best in his flock, and two shepherds were with him. When he saw Eumaeus and Ulysses, he hurled outrageous, offensive insults at them. His insults made Ulysses very angry.

“There you go,” cried he, “and a precious pair you are. See how heaven brings birds of the same feather to one another. Where, pray, master swineherd, are you taking this poor miserable object? It would make any one sick to see such a creature at table. A fellow like this never won a prize for anything in his life, but will go about rubbing his shoulders against every man’s door post, and begging, not for swords and cauldrons¹⁴⁴ like a man, but only for a few scraps not worth begging for. If you would give him to me for a hand on my station, he might do to clean out the folds, or bring a bit of sweet feed to the kids, and he could fatten his thighs as much as he pleased on whey; but he has taken to bad ways and will not go about any kind of work; he will do nothing but beg victuals all the town over, to feed his insatiable belly. I say, therefore—and it shall surely be—if he goes near Ulysses’ house he will get his head broken by the stools they will fling at him, till they turn him out.”

“There you go,” he cried, “and what a fine pair you are. See how heaven brings birds of a feather together. Where, may I ask, master swineherd, are you taking this miserable wretch? Seeing such a creature at the table would make anyone sick. A fellow like him has never won a prize for anything in his life. Instead, he goes around rubbing his shoulders against every man’s doorpost and begging. He doesn’t ask for swords and cauldrons¹⁴⁴ like a man, just a few scraps not worth begging for. If you gave him to me as a farmhand, he might be useful for cleaning out the animal pens. Or he could bring some sweet feed to the young goats. He could fatten his thighs as much as he liked on whey. But he has fallen into bad habits and refuses to do any kind of work. He does nothing but beg for food all over town to fill his insatiable belly. So I tell you, if he goes near Ulysses’ house, he will get his head broken. They will throw stools at him until they drive him out. You can be sure of that.”

On this, as he passed, he gave Ulysses a kick on the hip out of pure wantonness, but Ulysses stood firm, and did not budge from the path. For a moment he doubted whether or no to fly at Melanthius and kill him with his staff, or fling him to the ground and beat his brains out; he resolved, however, to endure it and keep himself in check, but the swineherd looked straight at Melanthius and rebuked him, lifting up his hands and praying to heaven as he did so.

At this, as he passed, Melanthius kicked Ulysses on the hip out of sheer malice. But Ulysses stood firm and did not move from the path. For a moment, he considered attacking Melanthius and killing him with his staff. Or he could throw Melanthius to the ground and beat his brains out. But Ulysses decided to endure the kick and control himself. The swineherd, however, looked straight at Melanthius and scolded him, raising his hands and praying to heaven as he spoke.

“Fountain nymphs,” he cried, “children of Jove, if ever Ulysses burned you thigh bones covered with fat whether of lambs or kids, grant my prayer that heaven may send him home. He would soon put an end to the swaggering threats with which such men as you go about insulting people—gadding all over the town while your flocks are going to ruin through bad shepherding.”

“Nymphs of the springs,” he cried, “children of Jove, if Ulysses ever burned fat-covered thigh bones of lambs or kids as offerings to you, grant my prayer. May heaven send him home. He would soon stop the arrogant threats that men like you use to insult people. You wander all over town while your flocks go to ruin because you neglect them.”

Then Melanthius the goatherd answered, “You ill conditioned cur, what are you talking about? Some day or other I will put you on board ship and take you to a foreign country, where I can sell you and pocket the money you will fetch. I wish I were as sure that Apollo would strike Telemachus dead this very day, or that the suitors would kill him, as I am that Ulysses will never come home again.”

Then Melanthius the goatherd answered, “You nasty dog, what are you talking about? One day I’ll put you on a ship and take you to a foreign country. There I’ll sell you and pocket the money you bring in. I wish I could be sure Apollo would strike Telemachus dead today, or the suitors would kill him. I wish I could be as sure of his death as I am that Ulysses will never come home again.”

With this he left them to come on at their leisure, while he went quickly forward and soon reached the house of his master. When he got there he went in and took his seat among the suitors opposite Eurymachus, who liked him better than any of the others. The servants brought him a portion of meat, and an upper woman servant set bread before him that he might eat. Presently Ulysses and the swineherd came up to the house and stood by it, amid a sound of music, for Phemius was just beginning to sing to the suitors. Then Ulysses took hold of the swineherd’s hand, and said:

With that, he left them to follow at their own pace and hurried ahead to his master’s house. He soon arrived, went inside, and sat among the suitors, opposite Eurymachus. Eurymachus liked him better than any of the other suitors did. The servants brought him a portion of meat. A senior female servant set bread before him so he could eat. Soon Ulysses and the swineherd reached the house and stood outside, surrounded by the sound of music. Phemius was just beginning to sing to the suitors. Then Ulysses took the swineherd’s hand and said:

“Eumaeus, this house of Ulysses is a very fine place. No matter how far you go, you will find few like it. One building keeps following on after another. The outer court has a wall with battlements all round it; the doors are double folding, and of good workmanship; it would be a hard matter to take it by force of arms. I perceive, too, that there are many people banqueting within it, for there is a smell of roast meat, and I hear a sound of music, which the gods have made to go along with feasting.”

“Eumaeus, this house of Ulysses is a very fine place. No matter how far you travel, you will find few houses like it. One building follows another. A wall with battlements surrounds the entire outer courtyard. The double doors are well made. It would be hard to capture the house by force. I can also tell that many people are feasting inside, because I smell roasting meat and hear music. The gods made music to go with feasting.”

Then Eumaeus said, “You have perceived aright, as indeed you generally do; but let us think what will be our best course. Will you go inside first and join the suitors, leaving me here behind you, or will you wait here and let me go in first? But do not wait long, or some one may see you loitering about outside, and throw something at you. Consider this matter I pray you.”

Then Eumaeus said, “You’ve understood correctly, as you usually do. But let’s think about our best course. Will you go inside first and join the suitors, leaving me here behind you? Or will you wait here and let me go in first? But don’t wait long, or someone may see you lingering outside and throw something at you. Please think about what to do.”

And Ulysses answered, “I understand and heed. Go in first and leave me here where I am. I am quite used to being beaten and having things thrown at me. I have been so much buffeted about in war and by sea that I am case-hardened, and this too may go with the rest. But a man cannot hide away the cravings of a hungry belly; this is an enemy which gives much trouble to all men; it is because of this that ships are fitted out to sail the seas, and to make war upon other people.”

And Ulysses answered, “I understand and will do as you say. Go in first and leave me here where I am. I am quite used to being beaten and having things thrown at me. I have suffered so much in war and at sea that I have grown tough. This beating, too, may join the rest. But a man cannot hide the demands of an empty stomach. Hunger is an enemy that causes all men great trouble. Because of hunger, men prepare ships to sail the seas and make war on other people.”

As they were thus talking, a dog that had been lying asleep raised his head and pricked up his ears. This was Argos, whom Ulysses had bred before setting out for Troy, but he had never had any work out of him. In the old days he used to be taken out by the young men when they went hunting wild goats, or deer, or hares, but now that his master was gone he was lying neglected on the heaps of mule and cow dung that lay in front of the stable doors till the men should come and draw it away to manure the great close; and he was full of fleas. As soon as he saw Ulysses standing there, he dropped his ears and wagged his tail, but he could not get close up to his master. When Ulysses saw the dog on the other side of the yard, he dashed a tear from his eyes without Eumaeus seeing it, and said:

As they talked, a dog lying asleep raised his head and pricked up his ears. The dog was Argos, whom Ulysses had bred before leaving for Troy, but had never put to work. In the old days, the young men took Argos with them to hunt wild goats, deer, or hares. But now that his master was gone, the dog lay neglected on heaps of mule and cow dung. The dung lay outside the stable doors until the men came to cart it away to fertilize the large field. Argos was covered in fleas. As soon as he saw Ulysses standing there, he lowered his ears and wagged his tail. But he could not get close to his master. When Ulysses saw the dog across the yard, he wiped away a tear without Eumaeus noticing, and said:

“Eumaeus, what a noble hound that is over yonder on the manure heap: his build is splendid; is he as fine a fellow as he looks, or is he only one of those dogs that come begging about a table, and are kept merely for show?”

“Eumaeus, what a fine dog that is over there on the manure heap. He has a splendid build. Is he as good a dog as he looks? Or is he just one of those dogs that beg around the table and are kept only for show?”

“This hound,” answered Eumaeus, “belonged to him who has died in a far country. If he were what he was when Ulysses left for Troy, he would soon show you what he could do. There was not a wild beast in the forest that could get away from him when he was once on its tracks. But now he has fallen on evil times, for his master is dead and gone, and the women take no care of him. Servants never do their work when their master’s hand is no longer over them, for Jove takes half the goodness out of a man when he makes a slave of him.”

“This hound,” Eumaeus answered, “belonged to a man who died in a distant country. If he were still the dog he was when Ulysses left for Troy, he would soon show you his abilities. No wild beast in the forest could escape him once he was on its trail. But now he has fallen on hard times. His master is dead and gone, and the women do not care for him. Servants never do their work when their master is no longer there to oversee them. For Jove takes half the goodness out of a man when he makes him a slave.”

As he spoke he went inside the buildings to the cloister where the suitors were, but Argos died as soon as he had recognised his master.

As he spoke, he went inside the buildings to the covered walkway where the suitors were. But Argos died as soon as he recognized his master.

Telemachus saw Eumaeus long before any one else did, and beckoned him to come and sit beside him; so he looked about and saw a seat lying near where the carver sat serving out their portions to the suitors; he picked it up, brought it to Telemachus’s table, and sat down opposite him. Then the servant brought him his portion, and gave him bread from the bread-basket.

Telemachus saw Eumaeus long before anyone else did and motioned for him to come and sit beside him. So Eumaeus looked around and saw a seat near the carver, who was serving portions to the suitors. Eumaeus picked up the seat, brought it to Telemachus’s table, and sat down opposite him. Then the servant brought Eumaeus his portion and gave him bread from the breadbasket.

Immediately afterwards Ulysses came inside, looking like a poor miserable old beggar, leaning on his staff and with his clothes all in rags. He sat down upon the threshold of ash-wood just inside the doors leading from the outer to the inner court, and against a bearing-post of cypress-wood which the carpenter had skilfully planed, and had made to join truly with rule and line. Telemachus took a whole loaf from the bread-basket, with as much meat as he could hold in his two hands, and said to Eumaeus, “Take this to the stranger, and tell him to go the round of the suitors, and beg from them; a beggar must not be shamefaced.”

Immediately afterward, Ulysses came inside, looking like a poor, miserable old beggar. He leaned on his staff, and his clothes were all in rags. He sat on the ash-wood threshold just inside the doors leading from the outer court to the inner court. He rested against a cypress support post. The carpenter had skillfully planed the post and fitted it precisely using a ruler and measuring line. Telemachus took a whole loaf from the breadbasket and as much meat as he could hold in both hands. He said to Eumaeus, “Take this food to the stranger. Tell him to go around to the suitors and beg from them. A beggar must not be shy.”

So Eumaeus went up to him and said, “Stranger, Telemachus sends you this, and says you are to go the round of the suitors begging, for beggars must not be shamefaced.”

So Eumaeus went up to him and said, “Stranger, Telemachus sends you this. He says you should go from one suitor to another, begging, because beggars must not be ashamed to ask.”

Ulysses answered, “May King Jove grant all happiness to Telemachus, and fulfil the desire of his heart.”

Ulysses replied, “May King Jove give Telemachus all happiness and grant him his heart’s desire.”

Then with both hands he took what Telemachus had sent him, and laid it on the dirty old wallet at his feet. He went on eating it while the bard was singing, and had just finished his dinner as he left off. The suitors applauded the bard, whereon Minerva went up to Ulysses and prompted him to beg pieces of bread from each one of the suitors, that he might see what kind of people they were, and tell the good from the bad; but come what might she was not going to save a single one of them. Ulysses, therefore, went on his round, going from left to right, and stretched out his hands to beg as though he were a real beggar. Some of them pitied him, and were curious about him, asking one another who he was and where he came from; whereon the goatherd Melanthius said, “Suitors of my noble mistress, I can tell you something about him, for I have seen him before. The swineherd brought him here, but I know nothing about the man himself, nor where he comes from.”

Then he took the food Telemachus had sent him with both hands. He laid the food on the dirty old bag at his feet. He kept eating while the bard sang and finished his dinner just as the song ended. The suitors applauded the bard. Then Minerva went up to Ulysses and urged him to beg for pieces of bread from each suitor. This would let him see what kind of people the suitors were and tell the good from the bad. But whatever happened, she would not save a single one of them. So Ulysses made his rounds from left to right, holding out his hands as though he were a real beggar. Some of the suitors pitied him and were curious about him. They asked one another who he was and where he came from. Then the goatherd Melanthius said, “Suitors of my noble mistress, I can tell you something about him. I have seen him before. The swineherd brought him here, but I know nothing about the man himself or where he comes from.”

On this Antinous began to abuse the swineherd. “You precious idiot,” he cried, “what have you brought this man to town for? Have we not tramps and beggars enough already to pester us as we sit at meat? Do you think it a small thing that such people gather here to waste your master’s property—and must you needs bring this man as well?”

At this, Antinous began insulting the swineherd. “You complete idiot,” he shouted, “why have you brought this man to town? Don’t we already have enough tramps and beggars bothering us while we eat? Do you think it’s no big deal that these people gather here to waste your master’s property? And now you have to bring this man too?”

And Eumaeus answered, “Antinous, your birth is good but your words evil. It was no doing of mine that he came here. Who is likely to invite a stranger from a foreign country, unless it be one of those who can do public service as a seer, a healer of hurts, a carpenter, or a bard who can charm us with his singing? Such men are welcome all the world over, but no one is likely to ask a beggar who will only worry him. You are always harder on Ulysses’ servants than any of the other suitors are, and above all on me, but I do not care so long as Telemachus and Penelope are alive and here.”

And Eumaeus answered, “Antinous, you come from a noble family, but your words are wicked. I did not bring him here. Who would invite a stranger from another country unless he could serve the community? Such a man might be a seer, a healer, a carpenter, or a bard whose singing delights us. Such men are welcome all over the world. But no one would invite a beggar who would only be a nuisance. You are always harder on Ulysses’ servants than any of the other suitors are, especially on me. But I do not care as long as Telemachus and Penelope are alive and here.”

But Telemachus said, “Hush, do not answer him; Antinous has the bitterest tongue of all the suitors, and he makes the others worse.”

But Telemachus said, “Hush, don’t answer him. Antinous has the sharpest tongue of all the suitors, and he makes the others worse.”

Then turning to Antinous he said, “Antinous, you take as much care of my interests as though I were your son. Why should you want to see this stranger turned out of the house? Heaven forbid; take something and give it him yourself; I do not grudge it; I bid you take it. Never mind my mother, nor any of the other servants in the house; but I know you will not do what I say, for you are more fond of eating things yourself than of giving them to other people.”

Then he turned to Antinous and said, “Antinous, you look after my interests as if I were your son. Why do you want this stranger thrown out of the house? Heaven forbid. Take something and give it to him yourself. I don’t begrudge you anything you give him. I’m telling you to take something. Don’t worry about my mother or any of the other servants in the house. But I know you won’t do what I say, because you’d rather eat things yourself than give them to others.”

“What do you mean, Telemachus,” replied Antinous, “by this swaggering talk? If all the suitors were to give him as much as I will, he would not come here again for another three months.”

“What do you mean by talking so arrogantly, Telemachus?” Antinous replied. “If all the suitors gave him as much as I will, he wouldn’t come back for another three months.”

As he spoke he drew the stool on which he rested his dainty feet from under the table, and made as though he would throw it at Ulysses, but the other suitors all gave him something, and filled his wallet with bread and meat; he was about, therefore, to go back to the threshold and eat what the suitors had given him, but he first went up to Antinous and said:

As he spoke, he pulled out the stool on which he rested his dainty feet from under the table. He acted as though he would throw the stool at Ulysses. But all the other suitors gave Ulysses something, filling his bag with bread and meat. So Ulysses was about to return to the doorway and eat what the suitors had given him. But first he went up to Antinous and said:

“Sir, give me something; you are not, surely, the poorest man here; you seem to be a chief, foremost among them all; therefore you should be the better giver, and I will tell far and wide of your bounty. I too was a rich man once, and had a fine house of my own; in those days I gave to many a tramp such as I now am, no matter who he might be nor what he wanted. I had any number of servants, and all the other things which people have who live well and are accounted wealthy, but it pleased Jove to take all away from me. He sent me with a band of roving robbers to Egypt; it was a long voyage and I was undone by it. I stationed my ships in the river Aegyptus, and bade my men stay by them and keep guard over them, while I sent out scouts to reconnoitre from every point of vantage.

“Sir, give me something. Surely you are not the poorest man here. You seem to be a chief, the foremost of them all. So you should give more generously, and I will spread word of your generosity far and wide. I too was once rich and had a fine house of my own. In those days, I gave to many beggars like myself, no matter who they were or what they wanted. I had plenty of servants and everything else people have when they live well and are considered wealthy. But Jove chose to take everything away from me. He sent me to Egypt with a band of wandering robbers. The voyage was long and brought about my ruin. I anchored my ships in the river Aegyptus and told my men to stay beside the ships and guard them. Meanwhile, I sent out scouts to survey the area from every vantage point.

“But the men disobeyed my orders, took to their own devices, and ravaged the land of the Egyptians, killing the men, and taking their wives and children captives. The alarm was soon carried to the city, and when they heard the war-cry, the people came out at daybreak till the plain was filled with soldiers horse and foot, and with the gleam of armour. Then Jove spread panic among my men, and they would no longer face the enemy, for they found themselves surrounded. The Egyptians killed many of us, and took the rest alive to do forced labour for them; as for myself, they gave me to a friend who met them, to take to Cyprus, Dmetor by name, son of Iasus, who was a great man in Cyprus. Thence I am come hither in a state of great misery.”

“But the men disobeyed my orders, did as they pleased, and ravaged the land of the Egyptians. They killed the men and took their wives and children captive. News of the attack soon reached the city. When the people heard the war cry, they came out at daybreak. Soon the plain was filled with soldiers on horseback and on foot, and with the gleam of armour. Then Jove spread panic among my men. They would no longer face the enemy because they found themselves surrounded. The Egyptians killed many of us and captured the rest to use as forced labourers. As for me, the Egyptians gave me to a friend they met, who would take me to Cyprus. His name was Dmetor, son of Iasus, and he was an important man in Cyprus. From there I have come here in great misery.”

Then Antinous said, “What god can have sent such a pestilence to plague us during our dinner? Get out, into the open part of the court,¹⁴⁵ or I will give you Egypt and Cyprus over again for your insolence and importunity; you have begged of all the others, and they have given you lavishly, for they have abundance round them, and it is easy to be free with other people’s property when there is plenty of it.”

Then Antinous said, “What god could have sent such a plague to torment us during dinner? Get out into the open part of the court,¹⁴⁵ or I’ll give you Egypt and Cyprus all over again. That will teach you to be so rude and keep pestering us. You’ve begged from all the others, and they’ve given you plenty because they have so much around them. And it’s easy to be generous with other people’s property when there’s plenty of it.”

On this Ulysses began to move off, and said, “Your looks, my fine sir, are better than your breeding; if you were in your own house you would not spare a poor man so much as a pinch of salt, for though you are in another man’s, and surrounded with abundance, you cannot find it in you to give him even a piece of bread.”

At this, Ulysses began to walk away and said, “My fine sir, your looks are better than your manners. If you were in your own house, you wouldn’t give a poor man even a pinch of salt. For though you’re in another man’s house, surrounded by plenty, you can’t bring yourself to give him even a piece of bread.”

This made Antinous very angry, and he scowled at him saying, “You shall pay for this before you get clear of the court.” With these words he threw a footstool at him, and hit him on the right shoulder blade near the top of his back. Ulysses stood firm as a rock and the blow did not even stagger him, but he shook his head in silence as he brooded on his revenge. Then he went back to the threshold and sat down there, laying his well filled wallet at his feet.

This made Antinous very angry. He scowled at Ulysses and said, “You’ll pay for this before you leave the courtyard.” Then he threw a footstool at Ulysses, hitting his right shoulder blade near the top of his back. Ulysses stood firm as a rock, and the blow did not even make him stagger. But he shook his head in silence as he brooded over his revenge. Then he went back to the threshold and sat down, placing his well-filled bag at his feet.

“Listen to me,” he cried, “you suitors of Queen Penelope, that I may speak even as I am minded. A man knows neither ache nor pain if he gets hit while fighting for his money, or for his sheep or his cattle; and even so Antinous has hit me while in the service of my miserable belly, which is always getting people into trouble. Still, if the poor have gods and avenging deities at all, I pray them that Antinous may come to a bad end before his marriage.”

“Listen to me,” he cried, “you suitors of Queen Penelope, so I can speak my mind. A man feels no ache or pain if he is hit while defending his money, sheep, or cattle. Yet Antinous has hit me while I was trying to feed my wretched belly. That belly is always getting people into trouble. Still, if the poor have any gods or avenging spirits, I pray to them. May Antinous come to a bad end before his marriage.”

“Sit where you are, and eat your victuals in silence, or be off elsewhere,” shouted Antinous. “If you say more I will have you dragged hand and foot through the courts, and the servants shall flay you alive.”

“Stay where you are and eat your food in silence, or go somewhere else,” Antinous shouted. “If you say anything more, I’ll have you dragged by your hands and feet through the courtyards. And the servants will skin you alive.”

The other suitors were much displeased at this, and one of the young men said, “Antinous, you did ill in striking that poor wretch of a tramp: it will be worse for you if he should turn out to be some god—and we know the gods go about disguised in all sorts of ways as people from foreign countries, and travel about the world to see who do amiss and who righteously.”¹⁴⁶

The other suitors were very upset by this, and one of the young men said, “Antinous, you were wrong to hit that poor, wretched beggar. Things will be worse for you if he turns out to be a god. We know the gods travel the world in all sorts of disguises as people from foreign lands. They do this to see who acts wrongly and who acts rightly.”¹⁴⁶

Thus said the suitors, but Antinous paid them no heed. Meanwhile Telemachus was furious about the blow that had been given to his father, and though no tear fell from him, he shook his head in silence and brooded on his revenge.

The suitors said this, but Antinous ignored them. Meanwhile, Telemachus was furious that his father had been struck. Though he shed no tears, he shook his head in silence and brooded over his revenge.

Now when Penelope heard that the beggar had been struck in the banqueting-cloister, she said before her maids, “Would that Apollo would so strike you, Antinous,” and her waiting woman Eurynome answered, “If our prayers were answered not one of the suitors would ever again see the sun rise.” Then Penelope said, “Nurse,¹⁴⁷ I hate every single one of them, for they mean nothing but mischief, but I hate Antinous like the darkness of death itself. A poor unfortunate tramp has come begging about the house for sheer want. Every one else has given him something to put in his wallet, but Antinous has hit him on the right shoulder-blade with a footstool.”

When Penelope heard that the beggar had been hit in the dining hall, she spoke in front of her maids. “I wish Apollo would strike you the same way, Antinous.” Her attendant Eurynome answered, “If our prayers were answered, not one of the suitors would ever see the sun rise again.” Then Penelope said, “Nurse,¹⁴⁷ I hate every single one of them, because they want nothing but trouble. But I hate Antinous like the darkness of death itself. A poor, unfortunate beggar has come begging around the house out of desperate need. Everyone else has given him something to put in his bag. But Antinous hit him on the right shoulder blade with a footstool.”

Thus did she talk with her maids as she sat in her own room, and in the meantime Ulysses was getting his dinner. Then she called for the swineherd and said, “Eumaeus, go and tell the stranger to come here, I want to see him and ask him some questions. He seems to have travelled much, and he may have seen or heard something of my unhappy husband.”

She spoke this way with her maids as she sat in her own room. Meanwhile, Ulysses was having dinner. Then she called for the swineherd and said, “Eumaeus, go and tell the stranger to come here. I want to see him and ask him some questions. He seems to have traveled a great deal. He may have seen or heard something about my unfortunate husband.”

To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “If these Achaeans, Madam, would only keep quiet, you would be charmed with the history of his adventures. I had him three days and three nights with me in my hut, which was the first place he reached after running away from his ship, and he has not yet completed the story of his misfortunes. If he had been the most heaven-taught minstrel in the whole world, on whose lips all hearers hang entranced, I could not have been more charmed as I sat in my hut and listened to him. He says there is an old friendship between his house and that of Ulysses, and that he comes from Crete where the descendants of Minos live, after having been driven hither and thither by every kind of misfortune; he also declares that he has heard of Ulysses as being alive and near at hand among the Thesprotians, and that he is bringing great wealth home with him.”

You answered, swineherd Eumaeus, “Madam, if these Achaeans would only be quiet, you would be captivated by his adventures. He stayed with me in my hut for three days and three nights. My hut was the first place he reached after escaping from his ship. He still has not finished telling me about his misfortunes. Even if he were the greatest divinely inspired singer in the world, holding all his listeners spellbound, I could not have been more captivated. That was how I felt as I sat in my hut and listened to him. He says his family and the family of Ulysses have been friends for a long time. He says he comes from Crete, where the descendants of Minos live. He reached here after being driven from place to place by every kind of misfortune. He also says he has heard that Ulysses is alive and nearby, among the Thesprotians. He says Ulysses is bringing great wealth home with him.”

“Call him here, then,” said Penelope, “that I too may hear his story. As for the suitors, let them take their pleasure indoors or out as they will, for they have nothing to fret about. Their corn and wine remain unwasted in their houses with none but servants to consume them, while they keep hanging about our house day after day 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, for we have now no Ulysses to protect us. If he were to come again, he and his son would soon have their revenge.”

“Call him here, then,” said Penelope, “so I too can hear his story. As for the suitors, let them enjoy themselves indoors or out as they please. They have nothing to worry about. Their grain and wine sit untouched in their own houses, with only servants to consume them. Meanwhile, the suitors linger in our house day after day, 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, for we no longer have Ulysses to protect us. If he came back, he and his son would soon have their revenge.”

As she spoke Telemachus sneezed so loudly that the whole house resounded with it. Penelope laughed when she heard this, and said to Eumaeus, “Go and call the stranger; did you not hear how my son sneezed just as I was speaking? This can only mean that all the suitors are going to be killed, and that not one of them shall escape. Furthermore I say, and lay my saying to your heart: if I am satisfied that the stranger is speaking the truth I shall give him a shirt and cloak of good wear.”

As she spoke, Telemachus sneezed so loudly that the sound echoed through the whole house. Penelope laughed when she heard the sneeze and said to Eumaeus, “Go and call the stranger. Did you not hear how my son sneezed just as I was speaking? His sneeze can only mean that all the suitors will be killed, and not one will escape. I also tell you this, and take my words to heart. If I am satisfied that the stranger is telling the truth, I will give him a good, durable shirt and cloak.”

When Eumaeus heard this he went straight to Ulysses and said, “Father stranger, my mistress Penelope, mother of Telemachus, has sent for you; she is in great grief, but she wishes to hear anything you can tell her about her husband, and if she is satisfied that you are speaking the truth, she will give you a shirt and cloak, which are the very things that you are most in want of. As for bread, you can get enough of that to fill your belly, by begging about the town, and letting those give that will.”

When Eumaeus heard this, he went straight to Ulysses and said, “Old friend, my mistress Penelope, the mother of Telemachus, has sent for you. She is grieving deeply, but she wants to hear anything you can tell her about her husband. If she is satisfied that you are telling the truth, she will give you a shirt and cloak. Those are the things you need most. As for bread, you can get enough to fill your belly by begging around town. Let those who are willing give you some.”

“I will tell Penelope,” answered Ulysses, “nothing but what is strictly true. I know all about her husband, and have been partner with him in affliction, but I am afraid of passing through this crowd of cruel suitors, for their pride and insolence reach heaven. Just now, moreover, as I was going about the house without doing any harm, a man gave me a blow that hurt me very much, but neither Telemachus nor any one else defended me. Tell Penelope, therefore, to be patient and wait till sundown. Let her give me a seat close up to the fire, for my clothes are worn very thin—you know they are, for you have seen them ever since I first asked you to help me—she can then ask me about the return of her husband.”

“I will tell Penelope nothing but the truth,” Ulysses answered. “I know all about her husband and have shared in his suffering. But I am afraid to pass through this crowd of cruel suitors. Their pride and arrogance reach heaven. Just now, as I was walking around the house without harming anyone, a man hit me very hard. But neither Telemachus nor anyone else defended me. So tell Penelope to be patient and wait until sundown. Have her give me a seat close to the fire, because my clothes are worn very thin. You know how thin they are. You have seen them ever since I first asked you for help. Then she can ask me about her husband’s return.”

The swineherd went back when he heard this, and Penelope said as she saw him cross the threshold, “Why do you not bring him here, Eumaeus? Is he afraid that some one will ill-treat him, or is he shy of coming inside the house at all? Beggars should not be shamefaced.”

The swineherd went back when he heard this. As Penelope saw him come through the doorway, she said, “Why don’t you bring him here, Eumaeus? Is he afraid someone will mistreat him, or is he too shy to enter the house at all? Beggars shouldn’t be shy.”

To this you answered, O swineherd Eumaeus, “The stranger is quite reasonable. He is avoiding the suitors, and is only doing what any one else would do. He asks you to wait till sundown, and it will be much better, madam, that you should have him all to yourself, when you can hear him and talk to him as you will.”

You answered, swineherd Eumaeus, “The stranger is being quite reasonable. He is avoiding the suitors and only doing what anyone else would do. He asks you to wait until sundown. And it will be much better, madam, for you to have him all to yourself. Then you can listen to him and talk to him as you wish.”

“The man is no fool,” answered Penelope, “it would very likely be as he says, for there are no such abominable people in the whole world as these men are.”

“The man is no fool,” Penelope replied. “Things would very likely turn out as he says. That's because no one in the whole world is as vile as these men.”

When she had done speaking Eumaeus went back to the suitors, for he had explained everything. Then he went up to Telemachus and said in his ear so that none could overhear him, “My dear sir, I will now go back to the pigs, to see after your property and my own business. You will look to what is going on here, but above all be careful to keep out of danger, for there are many who bear you ill will. May Jove bring them to a bad end before they do us a mischief.”

When she finished speaking, Eumaeus went back to the suitors, since he had explained everything. Then he went up to Telemachus and whispered in his ear so that no one else could hear him. “My dear sir, I’ll go back to the pigs now to look after your property and my own work. You’ll keep an eye on things here, but above all, be careful to stay out of danger. Many people wish you harm. May Jove bring those people to a bad end before they can hurt us.”

“Very well,” replied Telemachus, “go home when you have had your dinner, and in the morning come here with the victims we are to sacrifice for the day. Leave the rest to heaven and me.”

“All right,” Telemachus replied, “go home after dinner. Come here in the morning with the animals we are to sacrifice for the day. Leave the rest to heaven and me.”

On this Eumaeus took his seat again, and when he had finished his dinner he left the courts and the cloister with the men at table, and went back to his pigs. As for the suitors, they presently began to amuse themselves with singing and dancing, for it was now getting on towards evening.

Then Eumaeus sat down again. After finishing dinner, he left the courtyard and covered walkway, leaving the men at the table. He went back to his pigs. The suitors soon began entertaining themselves with singing and dancing, for evening was approaching.