{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16867/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16867","id":"gutenberg_16867","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16867","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Mythology, Greek -- Juvenile literature","Odysseus, King of Ithaca (Mythological character) -- Juvenile literature","Trojan War -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Susan Skinner and Distributed\nProofreaders Europe at http://dp.rastko.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE ADVENTURES\nOF ODYSSEUS AND\nTHE TALE OF TROY\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE ADVENTURES\nOF ODYSSEUS AND\nTHE TALE OF TROY\n\nBY PADRAIC COLUM\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nPRESENTED BY\n\nWILLY POGANY\n\nTHE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nCOPYRIGHT, 1918, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.\nSET UP AND ELECTROTYPED. PUBLISHED NOVEMBER, 1918.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nREPRINTED JUNE, OCTOBER, 1919; OCTOBER, 1920; AUGUST,\n1922; MARCH, 1923; MAY, 1924; JUNE, 1925; MARCH, 1926;\nDECEMBER, 1926; AUGUST, 1927.\n\nNorwood Press: J.S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.\nNorwood, Massachusetts, U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\n\nFOR HUGHIE AND PETER\n\nTHIS TELLING OF THE WORLD'S GREATEST STORY\n\nBECAUSE THEIR IMAGINATIONS\n\nRISE TO DEEDS AND WONDERS\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nPART I\n\nHOW TELEMACHUS THE SON OF ODYSSEUS WAS MOVED TO GO ON A VOYAGE\nIN SEARCH OF HIS FATHER AND HOW HE HEARD FROM MENELAUS AND HELEN\nTHE TALE OF TROY                                                       1\n\n\nPART II\n\nHOW ODYSSEUS LEFT CALYPSO'S ISLAND AND CAME TO THE LAND OF THE\nPHAEACIANS; HOW HE TOLD HE FARED WITH THE CYCL\u00d4PES AND WENT PAST\nTHE TERRIBLE SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS AND CAME TO THE ISLAND OF\nTHRINACIA WHERE HIS MEN SLAUGHTERED THE CATTLE OF THE SUN; HOW\nHE WAS GIVEN A SHIP BY THE PHAEACIANS AND CAME TO HIS OWN LAND;\nHOW HE OVERTHREW THE WOOERS WHO WASTED HIS SUBSTANCE AND CAME TO\nREIGN AGAIN AS KING OF ITHAKA.                                       125\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nCOLOUR PLATES\n\nThe Judgement of Paris                                     _Frontispiece_\n\n                                                              FACING PAGE\nThe Fair Helen                                                        30\n\nAchilles Victorious                                                  106\n\nThe Princess Threw the Ball                                          138\n\nThe Sorrowing Odysseus                                               148\n\nCirce                                                                170\n\nThe Sirens                                                           176\n\nPenelope Unravelling the Web                                         221\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\n\nHOW TELEMACHUS THE SON OF ODYSSEUS WAS MOVED TO GO ON A VOYAGE IN SEARCH\nOF HIS FATHER AND HOW HE HEARD FROM MENELAUS AND HELEN THE TALE OF TROY\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nThis is the story of Odysseus, the most renowned of all the heroes the\nGreek poets have told us of--of Odysseus, his wars and his wanderings.\nAnd this story of Odysseus begins with his son, the youth who was called\nTelemachus.\n\nIt was when Telemachus was a child of a month old that a messenger came\nfrom Agamemnon, the Great King, bidding Odysseus betake himself to the\nwar against Troy that the Kings and Princes of Greece were about to\nwage. The wise Odysseus, foreseeing the disasters that would befall all\nthat entered that war, was loth to go. And so when Agamemnon's messenger\ncame to the island of Ithaka where he was King, Odysseus pretended to be\nmad. And that the messenger, Palamedes, might believe he was mad indeed,\nhe did a thing that no man ever saw being done before--he took an ass\nand an ox and yoked them together to the same plough and began to plough\na field. And when he had ploughed a furrow he sowed it, not with seeds\nthat would grow, but with salt. When Palamedes saw him doing this he was\nnearly persuaded that Odysseus was mad. But to test him he took the\nchild Telemachus and laid him down in the field in the way of the\nplough. Odysseus, when he came near to where the child lay, turned the\nplough aside and thereby showed that he was not a mad man. Then had he\nto take King Agamemnon's summons. And Agamemnon's word was that Odysseus\nshould go to Aulis where the ships of the Kings and Princes of Greece\nwere being gathered. But first he was to go into another country to seek\nthe hero Achilles and persuade him also to enter the war against Troy.\n\nAnd so Odysseus bade good-bye to his infant son, Telemachus, and to his\nyoung wife Penelope, and to his father, old Laertes. And he bade\ngood-bye to his house and his lands and to the island of Ithaka where he\nwas King. He summoned a council of the chief men of Ithaka and commended\nto their care his wife and his child and all his household, and\nthereafter he took his sailors and his fighting men with him and he\nsailed away. The years went by and Odysseus did not return. After ten\nyears the City was taken by the Kings and Princes of Greece and the\nthread of war was wound up. But still Odysseus did not return. And now\nminstrels came to Ithaka with word of the deaths or the homecomings of\nthe heroes who had fought in the war against Troy. But no minstrel\nbrought any word of Odysseus, of his death or of his appearance in any\nland known to men. Ten years more went by. And now that infant son\nwhom he had left behind, Telemachus, had grown up and was a young man of\nstrength and purpose.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nOne day, as he sat sad and disconsolate in the house of his father, the\nyouth Telemachus saw a stranger come to the outer gate. There were many\nin the court outside, but no one went to receive the newcomer. Then,\nbecause he would never let a stranger stand at the gate without hurrying\nout to welcome him, and because, too, he had hopes that some day such a\none would bring him tidings of his father, Telemachus rose up from where\nhe was sitting and went down the hall and through the court and to the\ngate at which the stranger stood.\n\n'Welcome to the house of Odysseus,' said Telemachus giving him his hand.\nThe stranger clasped it with a friendly clasp. 'I thank you,\nTelemachus,' he said, 'for your welcome, and glad I am to enter the\nhouse of your father, the renowned Odysseus.'\n\nThe stranger looked like one who would be a captain amongst soldiers.\nHis eyes were grey and clear and shone wonderfully. In his hand he\ncarried a great bronze spear. He and Telemachus went together through\nthe court and into the hall. And when the stranger left his spear\nwithin the spearstand Telemachus took him to a high chair and put a\nfootstool under his feet.\n\nHe had brought him to a place in the hall where the crowd would not\ncome. There were many in the court outside and Telemachus would not have\nhis guest disturbed by questions or clamours. A handmaid brought water\nfor the washing of his hands, and poured it over them from a golden ewer\ninto a silver basin. A polished table was left at his side. Then the\nhouse-dame brought wheaten bread and many dainties. Other servants set\ndown dishes of meat with golden cups, and afterwards the maids came into\nthe hall and filled up the cups with wine.\n\nBut the servants who waited on Telemachus and his guest were disturbed\nby the crowd of men who now came into the hall. They seated themselves\nat tables and shouted out their orders. Great dishes of meat were\nbrought to them and bowls of wine, and the men ate and drank and talked\nloudly to each other and did not refrain even from staring at the\nstranger who sat with Telemachus.\n\n'Is there a wedding-feast in the house?' the stranger asked, 'or do the\nmen of your clan meet here to drink with each other?'\n\nA flush of shame came to the face of Telemachus. 'There is no\nwedding-feast here,' he said, 'nor do the men of our clan meet here to\ndrink with each other. Listen to me, my guest. Because you look so wise\nand because you seem so friendly to my father's name I will tell you who\nthese men are and why they trouble this house.'\n\nThereupon, Telemachus told the stranger how his father had not returned\nfrom the war of Troy although it was now ten years since the City was\ntaken by those with whom he went. 'Alas,' Telemachus said, 'he must have\ndied on his way back to us, and I must think that his bones lie under\nsome nameless strait or channel of the ocean. Would he had died in the\nfight at Troy! Then the Kings and Princes would have made him a\nburial-mound worthy of his name and his deeds. His memory would have\nbeen reverenced amongst men, and I, his son, would have a name, and\nwould not be imposed upon by such men as you see here--men who are\nfeasting and giving orders in my father's house and wasting the\nsubstance that he gathered.'\n\n'How come they to be here?' asked the stranger. Telemachus told him\nabout this also. When seven years had gone by from the fall of Troy and\nstill Odysseus did not return there were those who thought he was dead\nand would never be seen more in the land of Ithaka. Then many of the\nyoung lords of the land wanted Penelope, Telemachus' mother, to marry\none of them. They came to the house to woo her for marriage. But she,\nmourning for the absence of Odysseus and ever hoping that he would\nreturn, would give no answer to them. For three years now they were\ncoming to the house of Odysseus to woo the wife whom he had left behind\nhim. 'They want to put my lady-mother between two dread difficulties,'\nsaid Telemachus, 'either to promise to wed one of them or to see the\nsubstance of our house wasted by them. Here they come and eat the bread\nof our fields, and slay the beasts of our flocks and herds, and drink\nthe wine that in the old days my father laid up, and weary our servants\nwith their orders.'\n\nWhen he had told him all this Telemachus raised his head and looked at\nthe stranger: 'O my guest,' he said, 'wisdom and power shine out of your\neyes. Speak now to me and tell me what I should do to save the house of\nOdysseus from ruin. And tell me too if you think it possible that my\nfather should still be in life.'\n\nThe stranger looked at him with his grey, clear, wonderfully-shining\neyes. 'Art thou verily the son of Odysseus?' said he.\n\n'Verily, I am the son of Odysseus,' said Telemachus.\n\n'As I look at you,' said the stranger, 'I mark your head and eyes, and I\nknow they are such a head and such eyes as Odysseus had. Well, being the\nson of such a man, and of such a woman as the lady Penelope, your spirit\nsurely shall find a way of destroying those wooers who would destroy\nyour house.'\n\n'Already,' said Telemachus, 'your gaze and your speech make me feel\nequal to the task of dealing with them.'\n\n'I think,' said the stranger, 'that Odysseus, your father, has not\nperished from the earth. He may yet win home through labors and perils.\nBut you should seek for tidings of him. Harken to me now and I shall\ntell you what to do.\n\n'To-morrow summon a council of all the chief men of the land of Ithaka,\nand stand up in that council and declare that the time has come for the\nwooers who waste your substance to scatter, each man to his own home.\nAnd after the council has been held I would have you voyage to find out\ntidings of your father, whether he still lives and where he might be. Go\nto Pylos first, to the home of Nestor, that old King who was with your\nfather in the war of Troy. Beg Nestor to give you whatever tidings he\nhas of Odysseus. And from Pylos go to Sparta, to the home of Menelaus\nand Helen, and beg tidings of your father from them too. And if you get\nnews of his being alive, return: It will be easy for you then to endure\nfor another year the wasting of your substance by those wooers. But if\nyou learn that your father, the renowned Odysseus, is indeed dead and\ngone, then come back, and in your own country raise a great funeral\nmound to his memory, and over it pay all funeral rites. Then let your\nmother choose a good man to be her husband and let her marry him,\nknowing for a certainty that Odysseus will never come back to his own\nhouse. After that something will remain for you to do: You will have to\npunish those wooers who destroy the goods your father gathered and who\ninsult his house by their presence. And when all these things have been\ndone, you, Telemachus, will be free to seek out your own fortune: you\nwill rise to fame, for I mark that you are handsome and strong and most\nlikely to be a wise and valiant man. But now I must fare on my journey.'\n\nThe stranger rose up from where he sat and went with Telemachus from the\nhall and through the court and to the outer gate. Telemachus said: 'What\nyou have told me I shall not forget. I know you have spoken out of a\nwise and a friendly heart, and as a father to his son.'\n\nThe stranger clasped his hands and went through the gate. And then, as\nhe looked after him Telemachus saw the stranger change in his form. He\nbecame first as a woman, tall, with fair hair and a spear of bronze in\nher hand. And then the form of a woman changed too. It changed into a\ngreat sea-eagle that on wide wings rose up and flew high through the\nair. Telemachus knew then that his visitor was an immortal and no other\nthan the goddess Athene who had been his father's friend.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nWhen Telemachus went back to the hall those who were feasting there had\nput the wine-cups from them and were calling out for Phemius, the\nminstrel, to come and sing some tale to delight them. And as he went\namongst them one of the wooers said to another, 'The guest who was with\nhim has told Telemachus something that has changed his bearing. Never\nbefore did I see him hold himself so proudly. Mayhap he has spoken to\nhim of the return of his father, the renowned Odysseus.'\n\nPhemius came and the wooers called upon him to sing them a tale. And the\nminstrel, in flowing verse, began the tale of the return of the Kings\nand Princes from Troy, and of how some god or goddess put a trouble upon\nthem as they left the City they had taken. And as the minstrel began the\ntale, Penelope, Telemachus' lady-mother, was coming down the stairs with\ntwo hand-maids beside her. She heard the words he sang, and she stood\nstill in her grief and drew her veil across her face. 'O Phemius,' she\ncried, 'cease from that story that ever wastes my heart--the story that\nhas brought me sorrow and that leaves me comfortless all my days! O\nPhemius, do you not know other tales of men and gods that you might sing\nin this hall for the delight of my noble wooers?'\n\nThe minstrel would have ceased when Penelope spoke thus to him, but\nTelemachus went to the stairway where his lady-mother stood, and\naddressed her.\n\n'My lady-mother,' said he, 'why should you not let the minstrel delight\nthe company with such songs as the spirit moves him to give us? It is no\nblame to him if he sings of that which is sorrowful to us. As for you,\nmy mother, you must learn to endure that story, for long will it be sung\nand far and wide. And you are not the only one who is bereaved--many\nanother man besides Odysseus lost the happy day of his homecoming in\nthe war of Troy.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPenelope, his lady-mother, looked in surprise at the youth who spoke to\nher so wisely. Was this indeed Telemachus who before had hardly lifted\nhis head? And as she looked at him again she saw that he carried his\nhead--that head of his that was so like Odysseus'--high and proudly. She\nsaw that her son was now indeed a man. Penelope spoke no word to him,\nfor a new thought had come into her mind. She turned round on the stairs\nand went back with her hand-maids to the chamber where her loom and her\ndistaff were. And as she went up the stairway and away from them her\nwooers muttered one to the other that she would soon have to choose one\nof them for her husband.\n\nTelemachus turned to those who were standing at the tables and addressed\nthem. 'Wooers of my mother,' he said, 'I have a word to say to you.'\n\n'By the gods, youth,' said one of the wooers, 'you must tell us first\nwho he is who has made you so high and proud of speech.'\n\n'Surely,' said another, 'he who has done that is the stranger who was\nwith him. Who is he? Why did he come here, and of what land has he\ndeclared himself to be?'\n\n'Why did he not stay so that we might look at him and speak to him?'\nsaid another of the wooers.\n\n'These are the words I would say to you. Let us feast now in peace,\nwithout any brawling amongst us, and listen to the tale that the\nminstrel sings to us,' said Telemachus. 'But to-morrow let us have a\ncouncil made up of the chief men of this land of Ithaka. I shall go to\nthe council and speak there. I shall ask that you leave this house of\nmine and feast on goods that you yourselves have gathered. Let the chief\nmen judge whether I speak in fairness to you or not. If you do not heed\nwhat I will say openly at the council, before all the chief men of our\nland, then let it be on your own heads what will befall you.'\n\nAll the wooers marvelled that Telemachus spoke so boldly. And one said,\n'Because his father, Odysseus, was king, this youth thinks he should be\nking by inheritance. But may Zeus, the god, never grant that he be\nking.'\n\nThen said Telemachus, 'If the god Zeus should grant that I be King, I am\nready to take up the Kingship of the land of Ithaka with all its toils\nand all its dangers.' And when Telemachus said that he looked like a\nyoung king indeed.\n\nBut they sat in peace and listened to what the minstrel sang. And when\nevening came the wooers left the hall and went each to his own house.\nTelemachus rose and went to his chamber. Before him there went an\nancient woman who had nursed him as a child--Eurycleia was her name. She\ncarried burning torches to light his way. And when they were in his\nchamber Telemachus took off his soft doublet and put it in Eurycleia's\nhands, and she smoothed it out and hung it on the pin at his bed-side.\nThen she went out and she closed the door behind with its handle of\nsilver and she pulled the thong that bolted the door on the other side.\nAnd all night long Telemachus lay wrapped in his fleece of wool and\nthought on what he would say at the council next day, and on the goddess\nAthene and what she had put into his heart to do, and on the journey\nthat was before him to Nestor in Pylos and to Menelaus and Helen in\nSparta.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nAs soon as it was dawn Telemachus rose from his bed. He put on his\nraiment, bound his sandals on his feet, hung his sharp sword across his\nshoulder, and took in his hand a spear of bronze. Then he went forth to\nwhere the Council was being held in the open air, and two swift hounds\nwent beside him.\n\nThe chief men of the land of Ithaka had been gathered already for the\ncouncil. When it was plain that all were there, the man who was oldest\namongst them, the lord \u00c6gyptus, rose up and spoke. He had sons, and two\nof them were with him yet, tending his fields. But one, Eurynomous by\nname, kept company with the wooers of Telemachus' mother. And \u00c6gyptus\nhad had another son; he had gone in Odysseus' ship to the war of Troy,\nand \u00c6gyptus knew he had perished on his way back. He constantly mourned\nfor this son, and thinking upon him as he spoke, \u00c6gyptus had tears in\nhis eyes.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Never since Odysseus summoned us together before he took ship for the\nwar of Troy have we met in council,' said he. 'Why have we been brought\ntogether now? Has someone heard tidings of the return of Odysseus? If it\nbe so, may the god Zeus give luck to him who tells us of such good\nfortune.'\n\nTelemachus was glad because of the kindly speech of the old man. He rose\nup to speak and the herald put a staff into his hands as a sign that he\nwas to be listened to with reverence. Telemachus then spoke, addressing\nthe old lord \u00c6gyptus.\n\n'I will tell you who it is,' he said, 'who has called the men of Ithaka\ntogether in council, and for what purpose. Revered lord \u00c6gyptus, I have\ncalled you together, but not because I have had tidings of the return of\nmy father, the renowned Odysseus, nor because I would speak to you about\nsome affair of our country. No. I would speak to you all because I\nsuffer and because I am at a loss--I, whose father was King over you,\npraised by you all. Odysseus is long away from Ithaka, and I deem that\nhe will never return. You have lost your King. But you can put another\nKing to rule over you. I have lost my father, and I can have no other\nfather in all my days. And that is not all my loss, as I will show you\nnow, men of Ithaka.\n\n'For three years now my mother has been beset by men who come to woo her\nto be wife for one of them. Day after day they come to our house and\nkill and devour our beasts and waste the wine that was laid up against\nmy father's return. They waste our goods and our wealth. If I were\nnearer manhood I would defend my house against them. But as yet I am\nnot able to do it, and so I have to stand by and see our house and\nsubstance being destroyed.'\n\nSo Telemachus spoke, and when his speech was ended Antinous, who was one\nof the wooers, rose up.\n\n'Telemachus,' said he, 'why do you try to put us to shame in this way? I\ntell all here that it is not we but your mother who is to blame. We,\nknowing her husband Odysseus is no longer in life, have asked her to\nbecome the wife of one of us. She gives us no honest answer. Instead she\nhas given her mind to a device to keep us still waiting.\n\n'I will tell you of the council what this device is. The lady Penelope\nset up a great loom in her house and began to weave a wide web of cloth.\nTo each of us she sent a message saying that when the web she was\nworking at was woven, she would choose a husband from amongst us.\n\"Laertes, the father of Odysseus, is alone with none to care for him\nliving or dead,\" said she to us. \"I must weave a shroud for him against\nthe time which cannot now be far off when old Laertes dies. Trouble me\nnot while I do this. For if he should die and there be no winding-sheet\nto wrap him round all the women of the land would blame me greatly.\"\n\n'We were not oppressive and we left the lady Penelope to weave the web,\nand the months have gone by and still the web is not woven. But even now\nwe have heard from one of her maids how Penelope tries to finish her\ntask. What she weaves in the daytime she unravels at night. Never, then,\ncan the web be finished and so does she try to cheat us.\n\n'She has gained praise from the people for doing this. \"How wise is\nPenelope,\" they say, \"with her devices.\" Let her be satisfied with their\npraise then, and leave us alone. We too have our devices. We will live\nat her house and eat and drink there and give orders to her servants and\nwe shall see which will satisfy her best--to give an answer or to let\nthe wealth of her house be wasted.\n\n'As for you, Telemachus, I have these words to say to you. Lead your\nmother from your father's house and to the house of her father, Icarius.\nTell Icarius to give her in marriage to the one she chooses from amongst\nus. Do this and no more goods will be wasted in the house that will be\nyours,'\n\nThen Telemachus rose and said, 'Never will I lead my mother out of a\nhouse that my father brought her into. Quit my father's house, or, as I\ntell you now, the day may come when a doom will fall upon you there for\nyour insolence in it.'\n\nAnd even as Telemachus spoke, two eagles from a mountain crest flew over\nthe place where the council was being held. They wheeled above and\nflapped their wings and looked down upon the crowd with destruction in\ntheir gaze. They tore each other with their talons, and then flew away\nacross the City.\n\nAn old man who was there, Halitherses by name, a man skilled in the\nsigns made by birds, told those who were around what was foreshown by\nthe combat of the eagles in the air. 'Odysseus,' he said, 'is not far\nfrom his friends. He will return, and his return will mean affliction\nfor those who insult his house. Now let them make an end of their\nmischief.' But the wooers only laughed at the old man, telling him he\nshould go home and prophesy to his children.\n\nThen arose another old man whose name was Mentor, and he was one who had\nbeen a friend and companion of Odysseus. He spoke to the council saying:\n\n'Never again need a King be gentle in his heart. For kind and gentle to\nyou all was your King, Odysseus. And now his son asks you for help and\nyou do not hurry to give it him. It is not so much an affliction to me\nthat these wooers waste his goods as that you do not rise up to forbid\nit. But let them persist in doing it on the hazard of their own heads.\nFor a doom will come on them, I say. And I say again to you of the\ncouncil: you are many and the wooers are few: Why then do you not put\nthem away from the house of Odysseus?'\n\nBut no one in the council took the side of Telemachus and Halitherses\nand Mentor--so powerful were the wooers and so fearful of them were the\nmen of the council. The wooers looked at Telemachus and his friends with\nmockery. Then for the last time Telemachus rose up and spoke to the\ncouncil.\n\n'I have spoken in the council, and the men of Ithaka know, and the gods\nknow, the rights and wrongs of my case. All I ask of you now is that you\ngive me a swift ship with twenty youths to be my crew so that I may go\nto Pylos and to Sparta to seek tidings of my father. If I find he is\nalive and that he is returning, then I can endure to wait another year\nin the house and submit to what you do there.'\n\nEven at this speech they mocked. Said one of them, Leocritus by name,\n'Though Odysseus be alive and should one day come into his own hall,\nthat would not affright us. He is one, and we are many, and if he should\nstrive with those who outnumber him, why then, let his doom be on his\nown head. And now, men of the council, scatter yourselves and go each to\nhis own home, and let Mentor and Halitherses help Telemachus to get a\nship and a crew.'\n\nLeocritus said that knowing that Mentor and Halitherses were old and had\nfew friends, and that they could do nothing to help Telemachus to get a\nship. The council broke up and those who were in it scattered. But the\nwooers went together back to the house of Odysseus.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nTelemachus went apart, and, going by himself, came to the shore of the\nsea. He dipped his hands into the sea-water and prayed, saying, 'O\nGoddess Athene, you who did come to my father's hall yesterday, I have\ntried to do as you bade me. But still the wooers of my mother hinder me\nfrom taking ship to seek tidings of my father.'\n\nHe spoke in prayer and then he saw one who had the likeness of the old\nman Mentor coming towards him. But by the grey, clear,\nwonderfully-shining eyes he knew that the figure was none other than the\ngoddess Athene.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Telemachus,' said she, 'if you have indeed one drop of your father's\nblood in you or one portion of his spirit, if you are as he was--one\nready to fulfil both word and work, your voyage shall not be in vain. If\nyou are different from what he was, I have no hope that you will\naccomplish your desire. But I have seen in you something of the wisdom\nand the courage of Odysseus. Hear my counsel then, and do as I direct\nyou. Go back to your father's house and be with the wooers for a time.\nAnd get together corn and barley-flour and wine in jars. And while you\nare doing all this I will gather together a crew for your ship. There\nare many ships in sea-girt Ithaka and I shall choose the best for you\nand we will rig her quickly and launch her on the wide deep.'\n\nWhen Telemachus heard her counsel he tarried no more but went back to\nthe house and stood amongst the wooers, and when he had spoken with them\nhe went down into the treasure-vault. It was a spacious room filled with\ngold and bronze and chests of raiment and casks of wine. The doors of\nthat vault were closed night and day and Eurycleia, the dame who had\nbeen the nurse of Telemachus when he was little, guarded the place. She\ncame to him, and he spoke to her:\n\n'My nurse,' said he, 'none but yourself must know what I would do now,\nand you must swear not to speak of it to my lady-mother until twelve\ndays from this. Fill twelve jars with wine for me now, and pour twelve\nmeasures of barley-meal into well-sewn skins. Leave them all together\nfor me, and when my mother goes into the upper chamber, I shall have\nthem carried away. Lo, nurse, I go to Pylos and to Sparta to seek\ntidings from Nestor and Menelaus of Odysseus, my father.'\n\nWhen she heard him say this, the nurse Eurycleia lamented. 'Ah,\nwherefore, dear child,' she cried, 'has such a thought risen in your\nmind? How could you fare over wide seas and through strange lands, you\nwho were never from your home? Stay here where you are well beloved. As\nfor your father, he has long since perished amongst strangers why should\nyou put yourself in danger to find out that he is no more? Nay, do not\ngo, Telemachus, my fosterling, but stay in your own house and in your\nown well-beloved country.'\n\nTelemachus said: 'Dear nurse, it has been shown to me that I should go\nby a goddess. Is not that enough for you and for me? Now make all ready\nfor me as I have asked you, and swear to me that you will say nothing of\nit to my mother until twelve days from this, or until she shall miss me\nherself.'\n\nHaving sworn as he asked her, the nurse Eurycleia drew the wine into\njars and put the barley-meal into the well-sewn skins. Telemachus left\nthe vault and went back again into the hall. He sat with the wooers and\nlistened to the minstrel Phemius sing about the going forth of Odysseus\nto the wars of Troy.\n\nAnd while these things were happening the goddess Athene went through\nthe town in the likeness of Telemachus. She went to this youth and that\nyouth and told them of the voyage and asked them to make ready and go\ndown to the beach where the boat would be. And then she went to a man\ncalled No\u00ebmon, and begged him for a swift ship, and No\u00ebmon gave it her.\n\nWhen the sun sank and when the ways were darkened Athene dragged the\nship to where it should be launched and brought the tackling to it. The\nyouths whom Athene had summoned--they were all of the age of\nTelemachus--came, and Athene aroused them with talk of the voyage. And\nwhen the ship was ready she went to the house of Odysseus. Upon the\nwooers who were still in the hall she caused sleep to fall. They laid\ntheir heads upon the tables and slumbered beside the wine cups. But\nAthene sent a whisper through the hall and Telemachus heard and he rose\nup and came to where she stood. Now she had on the likeness of old\nMentor, the friend of his father Odysseus.\n\n'Come,' said she, 'your friends are already at the oars. We must not\ndelay them.'\n\nBut some of the youths had come with the one whom they thought was old\nMentor. They carried with Telemachus the skins of corn and the casks of\nwine. They came to the ship, and Telemachus with a cheer climbed into\nit. Then the youths loosed the ropes and sat down at the benches to pull\nthe oars. And Athene, in the likeness of old Mentor, sat at the helm.\n\nAnd now they set up the mast of pine and they made it fast with\nforestays, and they hauled up the sails with ropes of twisted oxhide.\nAnd a wind came and filled out the sails, and the youths pulled at the\noars, and the ship dashed away. All night long Telemachus and his\nfriends sat at the oars and under the sails, and felt the ship bearing\nthem swiftly onward through the dark water. Phemius, the minstrel, was\nwith them, and, as the night went by, he sang to them of Troy and of the\nheroes who had waged war against it.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nTroy, the minstrel sang, was the greatest of the Cities of men; it had\nbeen built when the demi-gods walked the earth; its walls were so strong\nand so high that enemies could not break nor scale them; Troy had high\ntowers and great gates; in its citadels there were strong men well\narmed, and in its treasuries there were stores of gold and silver. And\nthe King of Troy was Priam. He was old now, but he had sons that were\ngood Captains. The chief of them all was Hector.\n\nHector, the minstrel sang, was a match for any warrior the nations could\nsend against Troy. Because he was noble and generous as well as brave,\nthe people were devoted to him. And Hector, Priam's son, was commander\nin the City.\n\nBut Priam had another son who was not counted amongst the Captains.\nParis was his name. Now when Paris was in his infancy, a soothsayer told\nKing Priam that he would bring trouble upon Troy. Then King Priam had\nthe child sent away from the City. Paris was reared amongst country\npeople, and when he was a youth he herded sheep.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThen the minstrel sang of Peleus, the King of Phthia, and of his\nmarriage to the river nymph, Thetis. All the gods and goddesses came to\ntheir wedding feast, Only one of the immortals was not invited--Eris,\nwho is Discord. She came, however. At the games that followed the\nwedding feast she threw a golden apple amongst the guests, and on the\napple was written \"For the fairest.\"\n\nEach of the three goddesses who was there wished to be known as the\nfairest and each claimed the golden apple--Aphrodite who inspired love;\nAthene who gave wisdom; and Hera who was the wife of Zeus, the greatest\nof the gods. But no one at the wedding would judge between the goddesses\nand say which was the fairest. And then the shepherd Paris came by, and\nhim the guests asked to give judgment.\n\nSaid Hera to Paris, 'Award the apple to me and I will give you a great\nkingship.' Said Athene, 'Award the golden apple to me and I will make\nyou the wisest of men.' And Aphrodite came to him and whispered, 'Paris,\ndear Paris, let me be called the fairest and I will make you beautiful,\nand the fairest woman in the world will be your wife.' Paris looked on\nAphrodite and in his eyes she was the fairest. To her he gave the golden\napple and ever afterwards she was his friend. But Hera and Athene\ndeparted from the company in wrath.\n\nThe minstrel sang how Paris went back to his father's City and was made\na prince of Troy. Through the favor of Aphrodite he was the most\nbeautiful of youths. Then Paris went out of the City again. Sent by his\nfather he went to Tyre. And coming back to Troy from Tyre he went\nthrough Greece.\n\nNow the fairest woman in the world was in Greece; she was Helen, and she\nwas married to King Menelaus. Paris saw her and loved her for her\nbeauty. And Aphrodite inspired Helen to fall in love with Paris. He\nstole her from the house of Menelaus and brought her into Troy.\n\nKing Menelaus sent to Troy and demanded that his wife be given back to\nhim. But the people of Troy, thinking no King in the world could shake\nthem, and wanting to boast that the fairest woman in the world was in\ntheir city, were not willing that Menelaus be given back his wife. Priam\nand his son, Hector, knew that a wrong had been done, and knew that\nHelen and all that she had brought with her should be given back. But in\nthe council there were vain men who went against the word of Priam and\nHector, declaring that for no little King of Greece would they give up\nHelen, the fairest woman in all the world.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen the minstrel sang of Agamemnon. He was King of rich Mycen\u00e6, and his\nname was so high and his deeds were so renowned that all the Kings of\nGreece looked to him. Now Agamemnon, seeing Menelaus, his brother,\nflouted by the Trojans, vowed to injure Troy. And he spoke to the\nKings and Princes of Greece, saying that if they all united their\nstrength they would be able to take the great city of Troy and avenge\nthe slight put upon Menelaus and win great glory and riches for\nthemselves.\n\nAnd when they had come together and had taken note of their strength,\nthe Kings and Princes of Greece thought well of the word of Agamemnon\nand were eager to make war upon Troy. They bound themselves by a vow to\ntake the City. Then Agamemnon sent messages to the heroes whose lands\nwere far away, to Odysseus, and to Achilles, who was the son of Peleus\nand Thetis, bidding them also enter the war.\n\nIn two years the ships of all the Kings and Princes were gathered into\nAulis and the Greeks, with their leaders, Agamemnon, Aias, Diomedes,\nNestor, Idomeneus, Achilles and Odysseus, sailed for the coast of Troy.\nOne hero after another subdued the cities and nations that were the\nallies of the Trojans, but Troy they did not take. And the minstrel sang\nto Telemachus and his fellow-voyagers how year after year went by, and\nhow the host of Greeks still remained between their ships and the walls\nof the City, and how in the ninth year there came a plague that smote\nwith death more men than the Trojans killed.\n\nSo the ship went on through the dark water, very swiftly, with the\ngoddess Athene, in the likeness of old Mentor, guiding it, and with the\nyouths listening to the song that Phemius the minstrel sang.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nThe sun rose and Telemachus and his fellow-voyagers drew near to the\nshore of Pylos and to the steep citadel built by Neleus, the father of\nNestor, the famous King. They saw on the shore men in companies making\nsacrifice to Poseidon, the dark-haired god of the sea. There were nine\ncompanies there and each company had nine black oxen for the sacrifice,\nand the number of men in each company was five hundred. They slew the\noxen and they laid parts to burn on the altars of the god, and the men\nsat down to feast.\n\nThe voyagers brought their ship to the shore and Telemachus sprang from\nit. But before him went the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, in the likeness\nof the old man, Mentor. And the goddess told Telemachus that Nestor, the\nKing whom he had come to seek, was on the shore. She bade him now go\nforward with a good heart and ask Nestor for tidings of his father,\nOdysseus.\n\nBut Telemachus said to her, 'Mentor, how can I bring myself to speak to\none who is so reverenced? How should I greet him? And how can I, a young\nman, question such a one as Nestor, the old King?'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe goddess, grey-eyed Athene, encouraged him; the right words, she\nsaid, would come. So Telemachus went forward with his divine\ncompanion. Nestor was seated on the shore with his sons around him. And\nwhen they saw the two strangers approach, the sons of Nestor rose up to\ngreet them. One, Peisistratus, took the hand of Telemachus and the hand\nof the goddess and led them both to where Nestor was.\n\nA golden cup was put into the hand of each and wine was poured into the\ncups, and Nestor's son, Peisistratus, asked Telemachus and the goddess\nto pray that the sacrifice they were making to Poseidon, the god of the\nsea, would bring good to them and to their people. Then the goddess\nAthene in the likeness of old Mentor held the cup in her hand and\nprayed:\n\n'Hear me, Poseidon, shaker of the earth: First to Nestor and his sons\ngrant renown. Then grant to the people of Pylos recompense for the\nsacrifice of oxen they have made. Grant, too, that Telemachus and I may\nreturn safely when what we have come in our swift ship to seek has been\nwon.'\n\nTelemachus prayed in the words of the goddess and then the sons of\nNestor made them both sit on the fleeces that were spread on the shore.\nAnd dishes of meat were brought to them and cups of wine, and when they\nhad eaten and drunk, the old King, Nestor, spoke to them.\n\n'Until they have partaken of food and drink, it is not courteous,' he\nsaid, 'to ask of strangers who they are and whither they go. But now, my\nguests, I will ask of you what your land is, and what your quest, and\nwhat names you bear.'\n\nThen Telemachus said: 'Nestor, renowned King, glory of the Greeks, we\nhave come out of Ithaka and we seek tidings of my father, of Odysseus,\nwho, long ago, fought by your side in the war of Troy. With you, men\nsay, he sacked the great City of the Trojans. But no further story about\nhim has been told. And I have come to your knees, O King, to beg you to\ngive me tidings of him--whether he died and you saw his death, or\nwhether you heard of his death from another. And if you should answer\nme, speak not, I pray you, in pity for me, but tell me all you know or\nhave heard. Ah, if ever my father helped you in the land of the Trojans,\nby the memory of what help he gave, I pray you speak in truth to me, his\nson.'\n\nThen said Nestor, the old King, 'Verily, my son, you bring sorrow to my\nmind. Ah, where are they who were with me in our war against the mighty\nCity of Troy? Where is Aias and Achilles and Patroklos and my own dear\nson, Antilochos, who was so noble and so strong? And where is Agamemnon\nnow? He returned to his own land, to be killed in his own hall by a most\ntreacherous foeman. And now you ask me of Odysseus, the man who was\ndearer to me than any of the others--Odysseus, who was always of the one\nmind with me! Never did we two speak diversely in the assembly nor in\nthe council.\n\n'You say to me that you are the son of Odysseus! Surely you are.\nAmazement comes over me as I look on you and listen to you, for you look\nas he looked and you speak as he spoke. But I would have you speak\nfurther to me and tell me of your homeland and of how things fare in\nIthaka.'\n\nThen he told the old King of the evil deeds I worked by the wooers of\nhis mother, and when he had told of them Telemachus cried out, 'Oh, that\nthe gods would give me such strength that I might take vengeance on them\nfor their many transgressions.'\n\nThen said old Nestor, 'Who knows but Odysseus will win home and requite\nthe violence of these suitors and the insults they have offered to your\nhouse. The goddess Athene might bring this to pass. Well was she\ninclined to your father, and never did the gods show such favour to a\nmortal as the grey-eyed goddess showed to Odysseus, your father.'\n\nBut Telemachus answered, 'In no wise can your word be accomplished,\nKing.'\n\nThen Athene, in the likeness of old Mentor, spoke to him and said, 'What\nword has crossed your lips, Telemachus? If it should please them, any\none of the gods could bring a man home from afar. Only this the gods may\nnot do--avert death from a man who has been doomed to it.'\n\nTelemachus answered her and said, 'Mentor, no longer let us talk of\nthese things. Nestor, the renowned King, has been very gracious to me,\nbut he has nothing to tell me of my father. I deem now that Odysseus\nwill never return.'\n\n'Go to Menelaus,' said Nestor. 'Go to Menelaus in Sparta. Lately he has\ncome from a far and a strange country and it may be that he has heard\nof Odysseus in his wanderings. You can go to Sparta in your ship. But if\nyou have a mind to fare by land then will I give you a chariot and\nhorses, and my son will go with you to be a guide for you into Sparta.'\n\nThen Telemachus, with Athene, the grey-eyed goddess in the likeness of\nold Mentor, would have gone back to their ship, but Nestor the King\nsaid, 'Zeus forbid that you two should go back to the ship to take your\nrest while there is guest-room in my hall. Come with me to a place where\nyou can lie softly. Never shall it be said that a son of Odysseus, my\ndear friend, lay on the hard deck of a ship while I am alive and while\nchildren of mine are left in my hall. Come with me now.'\n\nThen the goddess Athene in the likeness of old Mentor said, 'You have\nspoken as becomes you, renowned King. Telemachus should harken to your\nword and go with you. But it is meet that the young men who came for the\nlove of him should have an elder with them on the ship to-night. I shall\nabide with them.'\n\nSo speaking, the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, in the likeness of old\nMentor went from the shore, and Telemachus went with Nestor and his sons\nto the high citadel of Neleus. And there he was given a bath, and the\nmaiden Polycaste, the youngest daughter of King Nestor, attended him.\nShe gave him new raiment to wear, a goodly mantle and doublet. He slept\nin a room with Peisistratus, the youngest of Nestor's sons.\n\nIn the morning they feasted and did sacrifice, and when he had given\njudgments to the people, the old King Nestor spoke to his sons,--\n\n'Lo, now, my sons. Yoke for Telemachus the horses to the chariot that he\nmay go on his way to Sparta.'\n\nThe sons of Nestor gave heed and they yoked the swift horses to the\nchariot and the housedame came from the hall and placed within the\nchariot wine and dainties. Telemachus went into the chariot and\nPeisistratus sat before him. Then Peisistratus touched the horses with\nthe whip and they sprang forward, and the chariot went swiftly over the\nplain. Soon they left behind them the steep citadel of Neleus and the\nland of Pylos. And when the sun sank and the ways were darkened, they\ncame to Pher\u00e6 and to the house of Diocles and there they rested for the\nnight.\n\nIn the morning as soon as the sun rose they yoked the houses and they\nmounted the chariot, and for another day they journeyed across the\nplain. They had gone far and the ways were again darkened around them.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nThey came to Sparta, to a country lying low amongst the hills, and they\nstayed the chariot outside the gate of the King's dwelling. Now upon\nthat day Menelaus was sending his daughter into Phthia, with horses and\nchariots, as a bride for Achilles' son. And for Megapenthes, his own\nson, a bride was being brought into the house. Because of these two\nmarriages there was feasting in the palace and kinsmen and neighbours\nwere gathered there. A minstrel was singing to the guests and two\ntumblers were whirling round the high hall to divert them.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTo the King in his high hall came Eteoneus, the steward. 'Renowned\nMenelaus,' said Eteoneus, 'there are two strangers outside, men with the\nlooks of heroes. What would you have me do with them? Shall I have their\nhorses unyoked, bidding them enter the Palace, or shall I let them fare\non to another dwelling?'\n\n'Why do you ask such a question, Eteoneus?' said Menelaus in anger.\n'Have we not eaten the bread of other men on our wanderings, and have we\nnot rested ourselves in other men's houses? Knowing this you have no\nright to ask whether you should bid strangers enter or let them go past\nthe gate of my dwelling. Go now and bid them enter and feast with us.'\n\nThen Eteoneus went from the hall, and while he had servants unyoke the\nhorses from their chariot he led Telemachus and Peisistratus into the\npalace. First they were brought to the bath, and when they had come from\nthe bath refreshed, they were given new cloaks and mantles. When they\nhad dressed themselves they were led into the King's high hall. They\nseated themselves there, and a maid brought water in a golden ewer and\npoured it over their hands into a silver basin. Then a polished table\nwas put beside them, and the housedame placed bread and meat and wine\nupon it so that they might eat.\n\nMenelaus came to where they sat and said to Telemachus and Peisistratus,\n'By your looks I know you to be of the line of Kings. Eat now, and when\nyou have refreshed yourselves I will ask who you are and from what place\nyou come.'\n\nBut before they had finished their meal, and while yet Menelaus the king\nwas showing them the treasures that were near, the lady Helen came into\nthe high hall--Helen for whom the Kings and Princes of Greece had gone\nto war. Her maids were with her, and they set a chair for her near where\nMenelaus was and they put a rug of soft wool under her feet. Then one\nbrought to her a silver basket filled with colored yarn. And Helen sat\nin her high chair and took the distaff in her hands and worked the yarn.\nShe questioned Menelaus about the things that had happened during the\nday, and as she did she watched Telemachus.\n\nThen the lady Helen left the distaff down and said, 'Menelaus, I am\nminded to tell you who one of these strangers is. No one was ever more\nlike another than this youth is like great-hearted Odysseus. I know that\nhe is no other than Telemachus, whom Odysseus left as a child, when, for\nmy sake, the Greeks began their war against Troy.'\n\nThen said Menelaus, 'I too mark his likeness to Odysseus. The shape of\nhis head, the glance of his eye, remind me of Odysseus. But can it\nindeed be that Telemachus has come into my house?'\n\n'Renowned Menelaus,' said Peisistratus, 'this is indeed the son of\nOdysseus. And I avow myself to be the son of another comrade of yours,\nof Nestor, who was with you at the war of Troy. I have been sent with\nTelemachus to be his guide to your house.'\n\nMenelaus rose up and clasped the hand of Telemachus. 'Never did there\ncome to my house,' said he, 'a youth more welcome. For my sake did\nOdysseus endure much toil and many adventures. Had he come to my country\nI would have given him a city to rule over, and I think that nothing\nwould have parted us, one from the other. But Odysseus, I know, has not\nreturned to his own land of Ithaka.'\n\nThen Telemachus, thinking upon his father, dead, or wandering through\nthe world, wept. Helen, too, shed tears, remembering things that had\nhappened. And Menelaus, thinking upon Odysseus and on all his toils, was\nsilent and sad; and sad and silent too was Peisistratus, thinking upon\nAntilochos, his brother, who had perished in the war of Troy.\n\nBut Helen, wishing to turn their minds to other thoughts, cast into the\nwine a drug that lulled pain and brought forgetfulness--a drug which had\nbeen given to her in Egypt by Polydamna, the wife of King Theon. And\nwhen they had drunk the wine their sorrowful memories went from them,\nand they spoke to each other without regretfulness. Thereafter King\nMenelaus told of his adventure with the Ancient One of the Sea--the\nadventure that had brought to him the last tidings of Odysseus.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nSaid Menelaus, 'Over against the river that flows out of Egypt there is\nan Island that men call Pharos, and to that island I came with my ships\nwhen we, the heroes who had fought at Troy, were separated one from the\nother. There I was held, day after day, by the will of the gods. Our\nprovision of corn was spent and my men were in danger of perishing of\nhunger. Then one day while my companions were striving desperately to\nget fish out of the sea, I met on the shore one who had pity for our\nplight.\n\n'She was an immortal, Eidoth\u00ebe, a daughter of the Ancient One of the\nSea. I craved of her to tell me how we might get away from that place,\nand she counselled me to take by an ambush her father, the Ancient One\nof the Sea, who is also called Proteus, \"You can make him tell you,\"\nsaid she, \"for he knows all things, what you must do to get away from\nthis island of Pharos. Moreover, he can declare to you what happened to\nthe heroes you have been separated from, and what has taken place in\nyour own hall.\"\n\n'Then said I to that kind nymph Eidoth\u00ebe, \"Show me how I may take by an\nambush your immortal father, the Ancient One of the Sea.\"'\n\n'Said Eidoth\u00ebe, \"My father, Proteus, comes out of the sea when the sun\nis highest in the heavens. Then would he lie down to sleep in the caves\nthat are along the shore. But before he goes to sleep he counts, as a\nshepherd counts his flock, the seals that come up out of the ocean and\nlie round where he lies. If there be one too many, or one less than\nthere should be, he will not go to sleep in the cave. But I will show\nyou how you and certain of your companions may be near without the\nAncient One of the Sea being aware of your presence. Take three of your\nmen--the three you trust above all the others--and as soon as it is dawn\nto-morrow meet me by the edge of the sea.\"'\n\n'So saying the nymph Eidoth\u00ebe plunged into the sea and I went from that\nplace anxious, but with hope in my heart.\n\n'Now as soon as the dawn had come I walked by the sea-shore and with me\ncame the three that I trusted above all my companions. The daughter of\nthe Ancient One of the Sea, Eidoth\u00ebe, came to us. In her arms she had\nthe skins of seals newly-slain, one for each of us. And at the cave\nwhere the seals lay she scooped holes in the sand and bade us lie there,\ncovering ourselves with the skins. Then she spoke to me and said:\n\n'\"When my father, the Ancient One of the Sea, comes here to sleep, lay\nhands upon him and hold him with all the strength you have. He will\nchange himself into many shapes, but do not you let go your hold upon\nhim. When he changes back into the shape he had at first you may let go\nyour holds. Question him then as to how you may leave this place, or\nquestion him as to any other matter that may be on your mind, and he\nwill answer you, speaking the truth.\"'\n\n'We lay down in the holes she had scooped in the sand and she covered\neach of us with one of the skins she had brought. Then the seals came\nout of the sea and lay all around us. The smell that came from those\nbeasts of the sea afflicted us, and it was then that our adventure\nbecame terrible. We could not have endured it if Eidoth\u00ebe had not helped\nus in this also. She took ambrosia and set it beneath each man's\nnostril, so that what came to us was not the smell of the sea-beasts but\na divine savour. Then the nymph went back to the sea.\n\n'We lay there with steadfast hearts amongst the herd of seals until the\nsun was at its highest in the heavens. The Ancient One of the Sea came\nout of the ocean depths. He went amongst the seals and counted them, and\nus four men he reckoned amongst his herd. Then in great contentment he\nlaid himself down to sleep.\n\n'We rushed upon him with a cry and laid hold on him with all the\nstrength of our hands. But we had no sooner grasped him than his shape\nchanged. He became a lion and faced us. Yet we did not let go of our\ngrasp. He became a serpent, yet we still held him. He became a leopard\nand then a mighty boar; he became a stream of water and then a flowering\ntree. Yet still we held to him with all our might and our hearts were\nnot daunted by the shapes he changed to before our eyes. Then, seeing\nthat he could not make us loose our hold, the Ancient One of the Sea,\nwho was called Proteus, ceased in his changes and became as we had seen\nhim first.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'\"Son of Atreus,\" said he, speaking to me, \"who was it showed you how to\nlay this ambush for me?\"'\n\n'\"It is for you who know all things,\" said I, \"to make answer to us.\nTell me now why it is that I am held on this island? Which of the gods\nholds me here and for what reason?\"'\n\n'Then the Ancient One of the Sea answered me, speaking truth, \"Zeus, the\ngreatest of all the gods holds you here. You neglected to make sacrifice\nto the gods and for that reason you are held on this island.\"\n\n'\"Then,\" said I, \"what must I do to win back the favor of the gods?\"'\n\n'He told me, speaking truth, \"Before setting sail for your own land,\" he\nsaid, \"you must return to the river \u00c6gyptus that flows out of Africa,\nand offer sacrifice there to the gods.\"'\n\n'When he said this my spirit was broken with grief. A long and a\ngrievous way would I have to sail to make that sacrifice, turning back\nfrom my own land. Yet the will of the gods would have to be done. Again\nI was moved to question the Ancient One of the Sea, and to ask him for\ntidings of the men who were my companions in the wars of Troy.\n\n'Ah, son of Odysseus, more broken than ever was my spirit with grief\nwhen he told me of their fates. Then I heard how my brother, great\nAgamemnon, reached his own land and was glad in his heart. But his wife\nhad hatred for him, and in his own hall she and \u00c6gisthus had him slain.\nI sat and wept on the sands, but still I questioned the Ancient One of\nthe Sea. And he told me of strong Aias and how he was killed by the\nfalling rock after he had boasted that Poseidon, the god of the Sea,\ncould afflict him no more. And of your father, the renowned Odysseus,\nthe Ancient One had a tale to tell.\n\n'Then, and even now it may be, Odysseus was on an island away from all\nmankind. \"There he abides in the hall of the nymph Calypso,\" the Ancient\nOne of the Sea told me. \"I saw him shed great tears because he could not\ngo from that place. But he has no ship and no companions and the nymph\nCalypso holds him there. And always he longs to return to his own\ncountry, to the land of Ithaka.\" And after he had spoken to me of\nOdysseus, he went from us and plunged into the sea.\n\n'Thereafter I went back to the river \u00c6gyptus and moored my ships and\nmade pious sacrifice to the gods. A fair wind came to us and we set out\nfor our own country. Swiftly we came to it, and now you see me the\nhappiest of all those who set out to wage war against Troy. And now,\ndear son of Odysseus, you know what an immortal told of your father--how\nhe is still in life, but how he is held from returning to his own home.'\n\nThus from Menelaus the youth Telemachus got tiding of his father. When\nthe King ceased to speak they went from the hall with torches in their\nhands and came to the vestibule where Helen's handmaids had prepared\nbeds for Telemachus and Peisistratus. And as he lay there under purple\nblankets and soft coverlets, the son of Odysseus thought upon his\nfather, still in life, but held in that unknown island by the nymph\nCalypso.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nHis ship and his fellow-voyagers waited at Pylos but for a while longer\nTelemachus bided in Sparta, for he would fain hear from Menelaus and\nfrom Helen the tale of Troy. Many days he stayed, and on the first day\nMenelaus told him of Achilles, the greatest of the heroes who had fought\nagainst Troy, and on another day the lady Helen told him of Hector, the\nnoblest of all the men who defended King Priam's City.\n\n'Achilles,' said King Menelaus, 'was sprung of a race that was favoured\nby the immortals. Peleus, the father of Achilles, had for his friend,\nCheiron, the wisest of the Centaurs--of those immortals who are half men\nand half horse. Cheiron it was who gave to Peleus his great spear. And\nwhen Peleus desired to wed an immortal, Zeus, the greatest of the gods,\nprevailed upon the nymph Thetis to marry him, although marriage with a\nmortal was against her will. To the wedding of Thetis and Peleus all the\ngods came. And for wedding gifts Zeus gave such armour as no mortal had\never worn before--armour wonderfully bright and wonderfully strong, and\nhe gave also two immortal horses.\n\n'Achilles was the child of Thetis and Peleus--of an immortal woman\nmarried to a mortal hero. He grew up most strong and fleet of foot. When\nhe was grown to be a youth he was sent to Cheiron, and his father's\nfriend instructed him in all the ways of war. He became the greatest of\nspearmen, and on the mountain with the Centaur he gained in strength and\nin fleetness of foot.\n\n'Now after he returned to his father's hall the war against Troy began\nto be prepared for. Agamemnon, the king, wanted Achilles to join the\nhost. But Thetis, knowing that great disasters would befall those who\nwent to that war, feared for Achilles. She resolved to hide him so that\nno word from King Agamemnon might reach him. And how did the nymph\nThetis hide her son? She sent him to King Lycomedes and prayed the King\nto hide Achilles amongst his daughters.\n\n'So the youth Achilles was dressed as a maiden and stayed with the\ndaughters of the King. The messengers of Agamemnon searched everywhere\nfor him. Many of them came to the court of King Lycomedes, but not\nfinding one like Achilles amongst the King's sons they went away.\n\n'Odysseus, by Agamemnon's order, came to seek Achilles. He knew that the\nyouth was not amongst the King's sons. He saw the King's daughters in\ntheir father's orchard, but could not tell if Achilles was amongst them,\nfor all were veiled and dressed alike.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Then Odysseus went away and returned as a peddler carrying in his pack\nsuch things as maidens admire--veils and ornaments and brazen mirrors.\nBut under the veils and ornaments and mirrors the wise Odysseus left a\ngleaming sword. When he came before the maidens in the King's orchard he\nlaid down his peddler's pack. The mirrors and veils and ornaments were\ntaken up and examined eagerly. But one of the company took up the\ngleaming sword and looked at it with flashing eyes. Odysseus knew that\nthis was Achilles, King Peleus' son.\n\n'He gave the youth the summons of King Agamemnon, bidding him join the\nwar that the Kings and Princes of Greece were about to wage against\nTroy. And Achilles was glad to get the summons and glad to go. He\nreturned to Phthia, to his father's citadel. There did he make ready to\ngo to Aulis where the ships were being gathered. He took with him his\nfather's famous warriors, the Myrmidons who were never beaten in battle.\nAnd his father bestowed on him the armour and the horses that had been\nthe gift of Zeus--the two immortal horses Xanthos and Balios.\n\n'But what rejoiced Achilles more than the gift of marvellous armour and\nimmortal steeds was that his dear comrade, Patroklos, was to be with him\nas his mate in war. Patroklos had come into Phthia and into the hall of\nPeleus when he was a young boy. In his own country he had killed another\nboy by mischance over a game of dice. His father, to save him from the\npenalty, fled with him to King Peleus. And Achilles' father gave them\nrefuge and took Patroklos into his house and reared him up with his own\nson. Later he made him squire to Achilles. These two grew up together\nand more than brothers they loved each other.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Achilles bade good-bye to Phthia, and to his hero-father and his\nimmortal mother, and he and Patroklos with the Myrmidons went over the\nsea to Aulis and joined the host of the Kings and Princes who had made a\nvow not to refrain from war until they had taken King Priam's famous\ncity.'\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nAchilles became the most renowned of all the heroes who strove against\nTroy in the years the fighting went on. Before the sight of him, clad in\nthe flashing armour that was the gift of Zeus and standing in the\nchariot drawn by the immortal horses, the Trojan ranks would break and\nthe Trojan men would flee back to the gate of their city. And many\nlesser cities and towns around Troy did the host with the help of\nAchilles take.\n\n'Now because of two maidens taken captive from some of these cities a\nquarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon grew up. One of the maidens was\ncalled Chryseis and the other Briseis. Chryseis was given to Agamemnon\nand Briseis to Achilles.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'The father of Chryseis was a priest of Apollo, and when the maiden, his\ndaughter, was not given back to him, he went and prayed the god to\navenge him on the host. Apollo listened to his prayer, and straightway\nthe god left his mountain peak with his bow of silver in his hands. He\nstood behind the ships and shot his arrows into the host. Terrible was\nthe clanging of his silver bow. He smote the beasts of the camp first,\nthe dogs and the mules and the horses, and then he smote the men, and\nthose whom his arrows smote were stricken by the plague.\n\n'The warriors began to die, and every day more perished by the plague\nthan were killed by the spears and swords and arrows of the Trojans. Now\na council was summoned and the chiefs debated what was to be done to\nsave the host. At the council there was a soothsayer named Kalchas; he\nstood up and declared that he knew the cause of the plague, and he knew\ntoo how the remainder of the host might be saved from it.\n\n'It was because of the anger of Apollo, Kalchas said; and that anger\ncould only be averted by Agamemnon sending back to his father, the\npriest of Apollo, the maiden Chryseis.\n\n'Then was Agamemnon wroth exceedingly. \"Thou seer of things evil,\" said\nhe to Kalchas, \"never didst thou see aught of good for me or mine. The\nmaiden given to me, Chryseis, I greatly prize. Yet rather than my folk\nshould perish I shall let her be taken from me. But this let you all of\nthe council know: some other prize must be given to me that the whole\nhost may know that Agamemnon is not slighted.\"'\n\n'Then said Achilles: \"Agamemnon, of all Kings you are the most covetous.\nThe best of us toil and battle that you may come and take what part of\nthe spoil may please you. Be covetous no more. Let this maiden go back\nto her father and afterwards we will give you some other prize.\"'\n\n'Said Agamemnon: \"The council here must bind itself to give me\nrecompense.\"'\n\n'\"Still you speak of recompense, Agamemnon,\" answered Achilles. \"No one\ngains more than you gain. I had no quarrel with the men of Troy, and yet\nI have come here, and my hands bear the brunt of the war.\"'\n\n'\"You who are captains must give me a recompense,\" said Agamemnon, \"or\nelse I shall go to the tent of Achilles and take away the maiden given\nto him, Briseis of the Fair Cheeks.\"'\n\n'\"I am wearied of making war for you,\" answered Achilles. \"Though I am\nalways in the strife but little of the spoil comes to my tent. Now will\nI depart to my own land, to Phthia, for I am not minded to stay here and\nbe dishonoured by you, O King.\"'\n\n'\"Go,\" said Agamemnon, \"if your soul be set upon fleeing, go. But do not\nthink that there are not captains and heroes here who can make war\nwithout you. Go and lord it amongst your Myrmidons. Never shall we seek\nyour aid. And that all may know I am greater than you, Achilles, I shall\ngo to your tent and take away the maiden Briseis.\"'\n\n'When he heard Agamemnon's speech the heart within Achilles' breast was\ndivided, and he knew not whether he should remain still and silent in\nhis anger, or, thrusting the council aside, go up to Agamemnon and slay\nhim with the sword. His hand was upon the sword-hilt when an immortal\nappeared to him--the goddess Athene. No one in the company but Achilles\nwas aware of her presence. \"Draw not the sword upon Agamemnon,\" she\nsaid, \"for equally dear to the gods are you both.\" Then Achilles drew\nback and thrust his heavy sword into its sheath again. But although he\nheld his hand he did not refrain from angry and bitter words. He threw\ndown on the ground the staff that had been put into his hands as a sign\nthat he was to be listened to in the council. \"By this staff that no\nmore shall bear leaf or blossom,\" he said, \"I swear that longing for\nAchilles' aid shall come upon the host of Agamemnon, but that no\nAchilles shall come to their help. I swear that I shall let Hector\ntriumph over you.\"'\n\n'Then the council broke up and Achilles with Patroklos, his dear\ncomrade, went back to their tent. A ship was launched and the maiden\nChryseis was put aboard and Odysseus was placed in command. The ship set\nout for Chryse. There on the beach they found the priest of Apollo, and\nOdysseus placed his daughter in the old man's arms. They made sacrifice\nto Apollo, and thereafter the plague was averted from the host.\n\n'But to Achilles' tent there came the messengers of the King, and they\ntook Briseis of the Fair Cheeks and led her away. Achilles, in bitter\nanger, sat by the sea, hard in his resolve not to help Agamemnon's men,\nno matter what defeat great Hector inflicted upon them.'\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nSuch was the quarrel, dear son, between Agamemnon, King of men, and\ngreat Achilles. Ah, because of that quarrel many brave men and great\ncaptains whom I remember went down to their deaths!'\n\n'But Agamemnon before long relented and he sent three envoys to make\nfriendship between himself and Achilles. The envoys were Odysseus and\nAias and the old man Phoinix who had been a foster-father to Achilles.\nNow when these three went into his hut they found Achilles sitting with\na lyre in his hands, singing to the music he made. His song was of what\nThetis, his goddess-mother, had told him concerning his own fate--how,\nif he remained in the war against Troy, he should win for himself\nimperishable renown but would soon lose his life, and how, if he left\nthe war, his years in his own land should be long, although no great\nrenown would be his. Patroklos, his dear friend, listened to what\nAchilles sang. And Achilles sang of what royal state would be his if he\ngave up the war against the Trojans and went back to his father's\nhalls--old Peleus would welcome him, and he would seek a bride for him\nfrom amongst the loveliest of the Greek maidens. \"In three days,\" he\nsang, \"can Poseidon, God of the Sea, bring me to my own land and to my\nfather's royal castle.\"'\n\n'\"Well dost thou sing, Achilles,\" said Odysseus to him, \"and pleasant\nwould it be to hear thy song if our hearts were not filled up with great\ngriefs. But have not nine years passed away since we came here to make\nwar on Troy? And now are not our ships' timbers rotted and their\ntacklings loosed, and do not many of our warriors think in their hearts\nhow their wives and children have long been waiting for their return?\nAnd still the walls of Troy rise up before us as high and as\nunconquerable as ever! No wonder our hearts are filled up with griefs.\nAnd now Achilles, the greatest of our heroes, and the Myrmidons, the\nbest of our warriors, have left us and gone out of the fight.\"'\n\n'\"Even to-day did great Hector turn back our battalions that were led by\nAgamemnon and Aias and Diomedes, driving us to the wall that we have\nbuilt around our ships. Behind that wall we halted and called one to the\nother to find out who had escaped and who had fallen in the onslaught\nHector made. Only when he had driven us behind our wall did Hector turn\nback his chariot and draw off his men.\"'\n\n'\"But Hector has not gone through the gates of the City. Look now,\nAchilles! His chariots remain on the plain. Lo now, his watch-fires! A\nthousand fires thou canst see and beside each sits fifty warriors with\ntheir horses loose beside their chariots champing barley. Eagerly they\nwait for the light of the dawn when they will come against us again,\nhoping this time to overthrow the wall we have builded, and come to our\nships and burn them with fire, and so destroy all hope of our return.\"'\n\n'\"We are all stricken with grief and fear. Even Agamemnon weeps. We have\nseen him standing before us like unto a dark fountain breaking from some\nbeetling cliff. How else could he but weep tears? To-morrow it may be he\nshall have to bid the host draw the ships to the water and depart from\nthe coast of Troy. Then will his name forever be dishonoured because of\ndefeat and the loss of so many warriors.\"'\n\n'\"Deem'st thou I grieve for Agamemnon's griefs, Odysseus?\" said\nAchilles. \"But although thou dost speak of Agamemnon thou art welcome,\nthou and thy companions. Even in my wrath you three are dear to me.\"'\n\n'He brought them within the hut and bade a feast be prepared for them.\nTo Odysseus, Aias and Phoinix wine cups were handed. And when they had\nfeasted and drunk wine, Odysseus turned to where Achilles sat on his\nbench in the light of the fire, and said:\n\n'\"Know, Achilles, that we three are here as envoys from King Agamemnon.\nHe would make a friendship with thee again. He has injured and he has\noffended thee, but all that a man can do he will do to make amends. The\nmaiden Briseis he will let go back. Many gifts will he give thee too,\nAchilles. He will give thee seven tripods, and twenty cauldrons, and ten\ntalents of gold. Yes, and besides, twelve royal horses, each one of\nwhich has triumphed in some race. He who possesses these horses will\nnever lack for wealth as long as prizes are to be won by swiftness. And\nharken to what more Agamemnon bade us say to thee. If we win Troy he\nwill let thee load your ship with spoil of the city--with gold and\nbronze and precious stuffs. And thereafter, if we win to our homes he\nwill treat thee as his own royal son and will give thee seven cities to\nrule over. And if thou wilt wed there are three daughters in his\nhall--three of the fairest maidens of the Greeks--and the one thou wilt\nchoose he will give thee for thy wife, Chrysothemis, or Laodike, or\nIphianassa.\"'\n\n'So Odysseus spoke and then Aias said, \"Think, Achilles, and abandon now\nthy wrath. If Agamemnon be hateful to thee and if thou despiseth his\ngifts, think upon thy friends and thy companions and have pity upon\nthem. Even for our sakes, Achilles, arise now and go into battle and\nstay the onslaught of the terrible Hector.\"'\n\n'Achilles did not answer. His lion's eyes were fixed upon those who had\nspoken and his look did not change at all for all that was said.'\n\n'Then the old man Phoinix who had nurtured him went over to him. He\ncould not speak, for tears had burst from him. But at last, holding\nAchilles' hands, he said:\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'\"In thy father's house did I not rear thee to greatness--even thee,\nmost noble Achilles. With me and with none other wouldst thou go into\nthe feasthall, and, as a child, thou would'st stay at my knee and eat\nthe morsel I gave, and drink from the cup that I put to thy lips. I\nreared thee, and I suffered and toiled much that thou mightst have\nstrength and skill and quickness. Be thou merciful in thy heart,\nAchilles. Be not wrathful any more. Cast aside thine anger now and save\nthe host. Come now. The gifts Agamemnon would give thee are very great,\nand no king nor prince could despise them. But if without gifts thou\nwould'st enter the battle, then above all heroes the host would honour\nthee.\"'\n\n'Achilles answered Phoinix gently and said, \"The honour the host would\nbestow upon me I have no need of, for I am honoured in the judgment of\nZeus, the greatest of the gods, and while breath remains with me that\nhonour cannot pass away. But do thou, Phoinix, stay with me, and many\nthings I shall bestow upon thee, even the half of my kingdom. Ah, but\nurge me not to help Agamemnon, for if thou dost I shall look upon thee\nas a friend to Agamemnon, and I shall hate thee, my foster-father, as I\nhate him.\"'\n\nThen to Odysseus, Achilles spoke and said, \"Son of Laertes, wisest of\nmen, harken now to what I shall say to thee. Here I should have stayed\nand won that imperishable renown that my goddess-mother told me of, even\nat the cost of my young life if Agamemnon had not aroused the wrath that\nnow possesses me. Know that my soul is implacable towards him. How often\ndid I watch out sleepless nights, how often did I spend my days in\nbloody battle for the sake of Agamemnon's and his brother's cause! Why\nare we here if not because of lovely Helen? And yet one whom I cherished\nas Menelaus cherished Helen has been taken from me by order of this\nKing! He would let her go her way now! But no, I do not desire to see\nBriseis ever again, for everything that comes from Agamemnon's hand is\nhateful to me. Hateful are all the gifts he would bestow upon me, and\nhim and his treasures I hold at a straw's worth. I have chosen.\nTo-morrow I shall have my Myrmidons draw my ships out to the sea, and I\nshall depart from Troy for my own land.\"'\n\n'Said Aias, \"Have the gods, Achilles, put into your breast a spirit\nimplacable and proud above all men's spirits?\"'\n\n'\"Yea, Aias,\" said Achilles. \"My spirit cannot contain my wrath.\nAgamemnon has treated me, not as a leader of armies who won many battles\nfor him, but as a vile sojourner in his camp. Go now and declare my will\nto him. Never again shall I take thought of his war.\"'\n\n'So he spoke, and each man took up a two-handled cup and poured out wine\nas an offering to the gods. Then Odysseus and Aias in sadness left the\nhut. But Phoinix remained, and for him Patroklos, the dear friend of\nAchilles, spread a couch of fleeces and rugs.'\n\n'Odysseus and Aias went along the shore of the sea and by the line of\nthe ships and they came to where Agamemnon was with the greatest of the\nwarriors of the host. Odysseus told them that by no means would\nAchilles join in the battle, and they all were made silent with grief.\nThen Diomedes, the great horseman, rose up and said, \"Let Achilles stay\nor go, fight or not fight, as it pleases him. But it is for us who have\nmade a vow to take Priam's city, to fight on. Let us take food and rest\nnow, and to-morrow let us go against Hector's host, and you, Agamemnon,\ntake the foremost place in the battle.\"'\n\n'So Diomedes spoke and the warriors applauded what he said, and they all\npoured out libations of wine to the gods, and thereafter they went to\ntheir huts and slept. But for Agamemnon, the King, there was no sleep\nthat night. Before his eyes was the blaze of Hector's thousand\nwatch-fires and in his ears were the sound of pipes and flutes that made\nwar-music for the Trojan host encamped upon the plain.'\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n\nWhen dawn came the King arrayed himself for the battle, putting on his\ngreat breast-plate and his helmet that had a high plume of horse-hair;\nfastening about his legs greaves fitted with ankle-clasps of silver; and\nhanging round his shoulders a great sword that shone with studs of\ngold--a sword that had a silver scabbard fitted with golden chains. Over\nhis shoulders he cast a great lion's skin, and he took upon his arm a\nshield that covered the whole of a man. Next he took in his hands two\nstrong spears of bronze, and so arrayed and so armed he was ready to\ntake the foremost place in the battle.'\n\n'He cried aloud and bade the Greeks arm themselves, and straightway they\ndid so and poured from behind the wall that guarded their ships into the\nTrojan plain. Then the chiefs mounted their chariots, and their\ncharioteers turned the horses towards the place of battle.'\n\n'Now on the high ground before them the Trojans had gathered in their\nbattalions and the figure of great Hector was plain to Agamemnon and his\nmen. Like a star that now and then was hidden by a cloud, so he appeared\nas he went through the battalions, all covered with shining bronze.\nSpears and arrows fell upon both sides. Footmen kept slaying footmen and\nhorsemen kept slaying horsemen with the sword, and the dust of the plain\nrose up, stirred by the thundering hooves of the horses. From dawn till\nmorning and from morning till noon the battle raged, but at mid-day the\nGreeks broke through the Trojan lines. Then Agamemnon in his chariot\nrushed through a gap in the line. Two men did he instantly slay, and\ndashing onward he slew two warriors who were sons of King Priam. Like\nfire falling upon a wood and burning up the underwood went King\nAgamemnon through the Trojan ranks, and when he passed many\nstrong-necked horses rattled empty chariots, leaving on the earth the\nslain warriors that had been in them. And through the press of men and\nup to the high walls of Troy did Agamemnon go, slaying Trojan warriors\nwith his spear. Hector did not go nigh him, for the gods had warned\nHector not to lead any onslaught until Agamemnon had turned back from\nbattle.'\n\n'But a Trojan warrior smote King Agamemnon on the mid-arm, below the\nelbow, and the point of his spear went clean through. Still he went\nthrough the ranks of the Trojans, slaying with spear and sword. And then\nthe blood dried upon his wound and a sharp pain came upon him and he\ncried out, \"O friends and captains! It is not possible for me to war for\never against the Trojans, but do you fight on to keep the battle from\nour ships.\" His charioteer turned his horses, and they, all covered with\nfoam and grimed with dust, dashed back across the plain bearing the\nwounded King from that day's battle.'\n\n'Then Hector sprang to the onslaught. Leaping into his chariot he led\nthe Trojans on. Nine captains of the Greeks he slew in the first onset.\nNow their ranks would have been broken, and the Greeks would have fled\nback to their ships if Odysseus had not been on that wing of the battle\nwith Diomedes, the great horseman. Odysseus cried out, \"Come hither,\nDiomedes, or verily Hector will sweep us across the plain and bring the\nbattle down to our ships.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Then these two forced themselves through the press of battle and held\nback the onset of Hector till the Greeks had their chance to rally.\nHector spied them and swept in his chariot towards them. Diomedes lifted\nhis great spear and flung it full at Hector. The bronze of the spear\nstruck the bronze of his helmet, and bronze by bronze was turned. The\nblow told upon Hector. But he, springing from his chariot, stayed\namongst the press of warriors, resting himself on his hands and knees.\nDarkness was before his eyes for a while, but he got breath again, and\nleaping back into his chariot drove away from that dangerous place.'\n\n'Then Diomedes himself received a bitterer wound, for Paris, sheltering\nhimself behind a pillar on the plain, let fly an arrow at him. It went\nclean through his right foot. Odysseus put his shield before his friend\nand comrade, and Diomedes was able to draw the arrow from his flesh. But\nDiomedes was fain to get back into his chariot and to command his\ncharioteer to drive from the battle.'\n\n'Now Odysseus was the only one of the captains who stayed on that side\nof the battle, and the ranks of the Trojans came on and hemmed him\nround. One warrior struck at the centre of his shield and through the\nshield the strong Trojan spear passed and wounded the flesh of Odysseus.\nHe slew the warrior who had wounded him and he drew the spear from his\nflesh, but he had to give ground. But loudly as any man ever cried,\nOdysseus cried out to the other captains. And strong Aias heard him and\ndrew near, bearing his famous shield that was like a tower. The Trojan\nwarriors that were round him drew back at the coming of Aias and\nOdysseus went from the press of battle, and mounting his chariot drove\naway.'\n\n'Where Aias fought the Trojans gave way, and on that side of the battle\nthey were being driven back towards the City. But suddenly upon Aias\nthere fell an unaccountable dread. He cast behind him his great shield,\nand he stood in a maze, like a wild bull, turning this way and that, and\nslowly retreating before those who pressed towards him. But now and\nagain his valour would come back and he would stand steadily and, with\nhis great shield, hold at bay the Trojans who were pressing towards the\nships. Arrows fell thick upon his shield, confusing his mind. And Aias\nmight have perished beneath the arrows if his comrades had not drawn him\nto where they stood with shields sloping for a shelter, and so saved\nhim.'\n\n'All this time Hector was fighting on the left wing of the battle\nagainst the Greeks, who were led by Nestor and Idomeneus. And on this\nside Paris let fly an arrow that brought trouble to the enemies of his\nfather's City. He struck Machaon who was the most skilled healer of\nwounds in the whole of the host. And those who were around Machaon were\nfearful that the Trojans would seize the stricken man and bear him away.\nThen said Idomeneus, \"Nestor, arise. Get Machaon into your chariot and\ndrive swiftly from the press of battle. A healer such as he is worth the\nlives of many men. Save him alive so that we may still have him to draw\nthe arrows from our flesh and put medicaments into our wounds.\" Then did\nNestor lift the healer into his chariot, and the charioteer turned the\nhorses and they too drove from the press of battle and towards the\nhollow ships.'\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n\nAchilles, standing by the stern of his great ship, saw the battle as it\nwent this way and that way, but his heart was not at all moved with pity\nfor the destruction wrought upon the Greeks. He saw the chariot of\nNestor go dashing by, dragged by sweating horses, and he knew that a\nwounded man was in the chariot. When it had passed he spoke to his dear\nfriend Patroklos.\n\n'\"Go now, Patroklos,\" he said, \"and ask of Nestor who it is that he has\nborne away from the battle.\"'\n\n'\"I go, Achilles,\" Patroklos said, and even as he spoke he started to\nrun along the line of the ships and to the hut of Nestor.'\n\n'He stood before the door, and when old Nestor beheld him he bade him\nenter. \"Achilles sent me to you, revered Nestor,\" said Patroklos, \"to\nask who it was you bore out of the battle wounded. But I need not ask,\nfor I see that it is none other than Machaon, the best of our healers.\"'\n\n'\"Why should Achilles concern himself with those who are wounded in the\nfight with Hector?\" said old Nestor. \"He does not care at all what evils\nbefall the Greeks. But thou, Patroklos, wilt be grieved to know that\nDiomedes and Odysseus have been wounded, and that sore-wounded is\nMachaon whom thou seest here. Ah, but Achilles will have cause to lament\nwhen the host perishes beside our burning ships and when Hector\ntriumphs over all the Greeks.\"'\n\n'Then the old man rose up and taking Patroklos by the hand led him\nwithin the hut, and brought him to a bench beside which lay Machaon, the\nwounded man.'\n\n'\"Patroklos,\" said Nestor, \"speak thou to Achilles. Nay, but thy father\nbade thee spake words of counsel to thy friend. Did he not say to thee\n'turn Achilles from harsh courses by gentle words'? Remember now the\nwords of thy father, Patroklos, and if ever thou did'st speak to\nAchilles with gentle wisdom speak to him now. Who knows but thy words\nmight stir up his spirit to take part in the battle we have to fight\nwith Hector?\"'\n\n'\"Nay, nay, old man,\" said Patroklos, \"I may not speak to Achilles to\nask for such a thing.\"'\n\n\n'\"Then,\" said Nestor, \"do thou thyself enter the war and bring Achilles'\nMyrmidons with thee. Then might we who are wearied with fighting take\nbreath. And beg of Achilles to give you his armour that you may wear it\nin the battle. If thou would'st appear clad in Achilles' bronze the\nTrojans would think that he had entered the war again and they would not\nforce the fight upon us.\"'\n\n'What old Nestor said seemed good to Patroklos and he left the hut and\nwent back along the ships. And on his way he met Eurypylos, a sorely\nwounded man, dragging himself from the battle, and Patroklos helped him\nback to his hut and cheered him with discourse and laid healing herbs\nupon his wounds.'\n\n'And even as he left old Nestor's hut, Hector was before the wall the\nGreeks had builded to guard their ships. On came the Trojans against\nthat wall, holding their shields of bulls' hides before them. From the\ntowers that were along the wall the Greeks flung great stones upon the\nattackers.'\n\n'Over the host an eagle flew, holding in its talons a blood-red serpent.\nThe serpent struggled with the eagle and the eagle with the serpent, and\nboth had sorely wounded each other. But as they flew over the host of\nGreeks and Trojans the serpent struck at the eagle with his fangs, and\nthe eagle, wounded in the breast, dropped the serpent. Then were the\nTrojans in dread, seeing the blood-red serpent across their path, for\nthey thought it was an omen from Zeus. They would have turned back from\nthe wall in fear for this omen had not Hector pressed them on. \"One omen\nis best, I know,\" he cried, \"to fight a good fight for our country.\nForward then and bring the battle to those ships that came to our coast\nagainst the will of the gods.\"'\n\n'So Hector spoke. Then he lifted up a stone--such a stone as not two of\nthe best of men now living could as much as raise from the ground--and\nhe flung this stone full at the strongly-set gate. It broke the hinges\nand the bars, and the great gate fell under the weight of the tremendous\nstone. Then Hector leaped across it with two spears in his hands. No\nwarrior could withstand him now. And as the Trojans scaled the walls\nand poured across the broken gate, the Greeks fled to their ships in\nterror and dismay.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Patroklos saw the gate go down and the Trojans pour towards the ships\nin a mass that was like a great rock rolling down a cliff. Idomeneus and\nAias led the Greeks who fought to hold them back. Hector cast a spear at\nAias and struck him where the belt of his shield and the belt of his\nsword crossed. Aias was not wounded by the stroke. Then Aias cast at\nHector a great stone that was used to prop a ship. He struck him on the\nbreast, just over the rim of his shield. Under the weight of that blow\ngreat Hector spun round like a top. The spear fell from his hands and\nthe bronze of his shield and helmet rang as he fell on the ground.'\n\n'Then the Greeks dashed up to where Hector lay, hoping to drag him\namongst them. But his comrades placed their shields around him and drove\nback the warriors that were pressing round. They lifted Hector into his\nchariot, and his charioteer drove him from the place of battle groaning\nheavily from the hurt of that terrible blow.'\n\n'Now the Greeks rallied and came on with a shout, driving the Trojans\nback before them. The swift horses under Hector's chariot brought him\nout on the plain. They who were with him lifted him out, and Hector lay\ngasping for breath and with black blood gushing from him. And then as he\nlay there stricken he heard the voice of a god--even of Apollo--saying,\n\"Hector, son of Priam, why dost thou lie fainting, apart from the host?\nDost thou not know that the battle is desperate? Take up thy spirit\nagain. Bid thy charioteer drive thee towards the ships of the Greeks.\"'\n\n'Then Hector rose and went amongst the ranks of his men and roused up\ntheir spirits and led them back to the wall. And when the Greeks saw\nHector in fighting trim again, going up and down the ranks of his men,\nthey were affrighted.'\n\n'He mounted his chariot and he shouted to the others, and the Trojan\ncharioteers lashed their horses and they came on like a great wave. They\ncrossed the broken wall again and came near the ships. Then many of the\nGreeks got into their ships and struck at those who came near with long\npikes.'\n\n'And all around the ships companies of Greek warriors stood like rocks\nthat the sea breaks against in vain. Nestor cried out to the Greeks,\nbidding them fight like heroes, or else lose in the burning ships all\nhope of return to their native land. Aias, a long pike in his hand,\ndrove multitudes of Trojans back, while, in a loud voice, he put courage\ninto the Greeks. Hector fought his way forward crying to the Trojans to\nbring fire to the ships that had come to their coast against the will of\nthe gods,'\n\n'He came to the first of the ships and laid his hand upon its stern.\nMany fought against him there. Swords and spears and armour fell on the\nground, some from the hands, some off the shoulders of warring men, and\nthe black earth was red with blood. But Hector was not driven away from\nthe ship. And he shouted \"Bring fire that we may burn the ships that\nhave brought the enemy to our land. The woes we have suffered were\nbecause of the cowardice of the elders of the City--they would not let\nme bring my warriors here and bring battle down to the ships when first\nthey came to our beach. Do not let us return to the City until we have\nburned the ships with fire.\"'\n\n'But whoever brought fire near the ship was stricken by strong Aias who\nstood there with a long pike in his hands. Now all this time Patroklos\nsat in the hut of Eurypylos, the wounded man he had succoured, cheering\nhim with discourse and laying healing herbs on his wounds. But when he\nsaw fire being brought to the ships he rose up and said, \"Eurypylos, no\nlonger may I stay here although great is your need of attendance. I must\nget aid for our warriors.\" Straightway he ran from the hut and came to\nwhere Achilles was.'\n\n'\"If thy heart, Achilles,\" he said, \"is still hard against the Greeks,\nand if thou wilt not come to their aid, let me go into the fight and let\nme take with me thy company of Myrmidons. And O Achilles, grant me\nanother thing. Let me wear thine armour and thy helmet so that the\nTrojans will believe for a while that Achilles has come back into the\nbattle. Then would they flee before me and our warriors would be given a\nbreathing-time.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Said Achilles, \"I have declared that I shall not cease from my wrath\nuntil the Trojans come to my own ships. But thou, Patroklos, dear\nfriend, may'st go into the battle. All thou hast asked shall be freely\ngiven to thee--my Myrmidons to lead and my armour to wear, and even my\nchariot and my immortal horses. Drive the Trojans from the ships. But\nwhen thou hast driven them from the ships, return to this hut. Do not go\nnear the City. Return, I bid thee, Patroklos, when the Trojans are no\nlonger around the ships, and leave it to others to battle on the\nplain.\"'\n\n'Then Patroklos put on the armour that Zeus had given to Achilles'\nfather, Peleus. Round his shoulders he cast the sword of bronze with its\nstuds of silver, and upon his head he put the helmet with its high\nhorse-hair crest--the terrible helmet of Achilles. Then Achilles bade\nthe charioteer yoke the horses to the chariot--the horses, Xanthos and\nBalios, that were also gifts from the gods. And while all this was being\ndone Achilles went amongst the Myrmidons, making them ready for the\nbattle and bidding them remember all the threats they had uttered\nagainst the Trojans in the time when they had been kept from the fight.'\n\n'Then he went back to his hut and opening the chest that his mother,\nThetis, had given him he took from it a four-handled cup--a cup that no\none drank out of but Achilles himself. Then pouring wine into this cup\nand holding it towards Heaven, Achilles prayed to Zeus, the greatest of\nthe gods:\n\n\"My comrade I send to the war, O far-seeing Zeus:\n\n    May'st strengthen his heart, O Zeus, that all triumph be his:\n    But when from the ships he hath driven the spear of our foes,\n    Out of the turmoil of battle may he to me return\n    Scathless, with arms and his comrades who fight hand to hand.\"\n\n'So Achilles prayed, and the Myrmidons beside their ships shouted in\ntheir eagerness to join in the battle.'\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\n\nWho was the first of the great Trojan Champions to go down before the\nonset of Patroklos? The first was Sarpedon who had come with an army to\nhelp Hector from a City beyond Troy. He saw the Myrmidons fight round\nthe ships and break the ranks of the Trojans and quench the fire on the\nhalf-burnt ship. He saw that the warrior who had the appearance of\nAchilles affrighted the Trojans so that they turned their horses' heads\ntowards the City. The Myrmidons swept on with Patroklos at their head.\nNow when he saw him rushing down from the ships Sarpedon threw a dart at\nPatroklos. The dart did not strike him. Then Patroklos flung a spear and\nstruck Sarpedon even at the heart. He fell dead from his chariot and\nthere began a battle for his body--the Trojans would have carried it\ninto the City, so that they might bury with all honour the man who had\nhelped them, and the Greeks would have carried it away, so that, having\nhis body and his armour, the slaying of Sarpedon might be more of a\ntriumph for them.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'So a battle for his body went on. Now Sarpedon's comrade, Glaukos,\nsought out Hector, who was fighting in another part of the battle-field,\nand he spoke to him reproachfully. \"Hector,\" he said, \"art thou utterly\nforgetful of those who came from their own country to help thee to\nprotect thy father's City? Sarpedon has fallen, and Achilles' Myrmidons\nwould strip him of his armour and bring his body to the ships that their\ntriumph over him may be greater still. Disgraceful will it be to thee,\nHector, if they win that triumph.\"'\n\n'Hector, when this was said to him, did not delay, but came straight to\nthe spot where Sarpedon had been slain. The Greek who had laid hands\nupon the body he instantly slew. But as he fought on it suddenly seemed\nto Hector that the gods had resolved to give victory to the Greeks, and\nhis spirit grew weary and hopeless within him. He turned his horses'\nheads towards the City and galloped from the press of battle. Then the\nTrojans who were fighting round it fled from the body of Sarpedon, and\nthe Greeks took it and stripped it of its armour and carried the body to\ntheir ships.'\n\n'It was then that Patroklos forgot the command of Achilles--the command\nthat he was not to bring the battle beyond the ships and that he was to\nreturn when the Trojans were beaten towards their City. Patroklos forgot\nall that, and he shouted to the immortal horses, Xanthos and Balios,\nthat drew his chariot, and, slaying warrior after warrior he swept\nacross the plain and came to the very gates of Troy.'\n\n'Now Hector was within the gates and had not yet left his chariot. Then\nthere came and stood before him one who was thought to be the god\nApollo, but who then had the likeness of a mortal man. \"Hector,\" said\nhe, \"why hast thou ceased from the fight? Behold, Patroklos is without\nthe gate of thy father's City. Turn thy horses against him now and\nstrive to slay him, and may the gods give thee glory.\"'\n\n'Then Hector bade his charioteer drive his horses through the gate and\ninto the press of battle. He drew near to Patroklos, and Patroklos,\nleaping down from his chariot, seized a great stone and flung it at\nHector's charioteer. It struck him on the brow and hurled him from the\nchariot.'\n\n'Hector too leaped from the chariot and took his sword in hand. Their\nmen joined Patroklos and joined Hector and the battle began beside the\nbody of Hector's charioteer. Three times did Patroklos rush against the\nranks of the Trojans and nine warriors did he slay at each onset. But\nthe doom of Patroklos was nigh. A warrior smote him in the back and\nstruck the helmet from his head. With its high horse-hair crest it\nrolled beneath the hooves of the horses. Who was it smote Prince\nPatroklos then? Men said it was the god Apollo who would not have the\nsacred City of Troy taken until the time the gods had willed it to\nfall.'\n\n'The spear fell from his hands, the great shield that Achilles had given\nhim dropped on the ground, and all in amaze Patroklos stood. He gave\nground and retreated towards his comrades. Then did Hector deal him the\nstroke that slew. With his great spear he struck and drove it through\nthe body of Patroklos.'\n\n'Then did Hector exult crying, \"Patroklos, thou didst swear that thou\nwouldst sack our sacred City and that thou wouldst take from our people\ntheir day of freedom. Now thou hast fallen and our City need not dread\nthee ever any more!\"'\n\n'Then said Patroklos, \"Thou mayst boast now, Hector, although it was not\nthy stroke that slew me. Apollo's stroke it was that sent me down. Boast\nof my slaying as thou wilt, but hear my saying and keep it in thy heart:\nThy fate too is measured and thee Achilles will slay.\"'\n\nBut Hector did not heed what the dying Patroklos said. He took from his\nbody the armour of Achilles that had been a gift from the gods. The body\ntoo he would have brought within the City that his triumph might be\ngreater, but now Aias came to where Patroklos had fallen and over the\nbody he placed his great shield. The fight went on and Hector,\nwithdrawing himself to the plain, put upon himself the armour he had\nstripped off the body of Patroklos. The armour fitted every limb and\njoint and as he put it on more courage and strength than ever yet he had\nfelt came into the soul of Hector.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'And the immortal steeds that Patroklos had driven, having galloped from\nthe battle, stood apart and would not move for all that their\ncharioteer would do. They stood apart with their heads bowed, and tears\nflowed from their eyes down on the ground. And Zeus, the greatest of the\ngods, saw them and had pity upon them and spoke to himself saying, \"Ah,\nimmortal steeds, why did I give ye to king Peleus, whose generations die\nwhile ye remain young and undying? Was it that ye should know the\nsorrows that befall mortal men? Pitiful, indeed, is the lot of all men\nupon the earth. Even Hector now, who boasteth in the armour that the\ngods once gave, will shortly go down to his death and the City he\ndefendeth will be burned with fire.\"'\n\n'So saying he put courage into the hearts of the immortal steeds and\nthey went where the charioteer would have them go, and they came safely\nout of the battle.'\n\n'Now Hector, with the armour of Achilles upon him, gathered his\ncompanies together and brought them up to the battle to win and carry\naway the body of Patroklos. But each one who laid hands upon that body\nwas instantly slain by Aias. All day the battle went on, for the Greeks\nwould say to each other, \"Comrades, let the earth yawn and swallow us\nrather than let the Trojans carry off the body of Patroklos.\" And on\ntheir side the Trojans would say, \"Friends, rather let us all be slain\ntogether beside this man than let one of us go backward now.\"'\n\n'Now Nestor's son, Antilochos, who was fighting on the left of the\nbattlefield, heard of the slaying of Patroklos. His eyes filled with\ntears and his voice was choked with grief and he dashed out of the\nbattle to bring the grievous tidings to the hut of Achilles. \"Fallen is\nPatroklos,\" he cried, \"and Greeks and Trojans are fighting around his\nbody. And his body is naked now, for Hector has stripped the armor from\nit.\"'\n\nThen Achilles fainted away and his head lay in the ashes of his hut. He\nwoke again and moaned terribly. His goddess-mother heard the sound of\nhis grief as she sat within the depths of the Ocean. She came to him as\nhe was still moaning terribly. She took his hand and clasped it and\nsaid, \"My child, why weep'st thou?\" Achilles ceased his moaning and\nanswered, \"Patroklos, my dear friend, has been slain. Now I shall have\nno joy in my life save the joy of slaying Hector who slew my friend.\"'\n\n'Thetis, his goddess-mother, wept when she heard such speech from\nAchilles. \"Short-lived you will be, my son,\" she said, \"for it is\nappointed by the gods that after the death of Hector your death will\ncome.\"'\n\n'\"Straightway then let me die,\" said Achilles, \"since I let my friend\ndie without giving him help. O that I had not let my wrath overcome my\nspirit! Here I stayed, a useless burthen on the earth, while my comrades\nand my own dear friend fought for their country--here I stayed, I who am\nthe best of all the Greeks. But now let me go into the battle and let\nthe Trojans know that Achilles has come back, although he tarried\nlong.\"'\n\n\"But thine armour, my son,\" said Thetis. \"Thou hast no armour now to\nprotect thee in the battle. Go not into it until thou seest me again. In\nthe morning I shall return and I shall bring thee armour that\nHephaistos, the smith of the gods, shall make for thee.\"'\n\n'So she spoke, and she turned from her son, and she went to Olympus\nwhere the gods have their dwellings.'\n\n'Now darkness had come down on those who battled round the body of\nPatroklos, and in that darkness more Greeks than Trojans were slain. It\nseemed to the Greeks that Zeus had resolved to give the victory to the\nTrojans and not to them, and they were dismayed. But four Greek heroes\nlifted up the body and put it upon their shoulders, and Aias and his\nbrother stood facing the Trojans, holding them back while the four tried\nto bear the body away. The Trojans pressed on, striking with swords and\naxes, but like a wooded ridge that stretches across a plain and holds\nback a mighty flood, Aias and his brother held their ground.'\n\n'Achilles still lay in his hut, moaning in his grief, and the servants\nraised loud lamentations outside the hut. The day wore on and the battle\nwent on and Hector strove against Aias and his brother. Then the figure\nof a goddess appeared before Achilles as he lay on the ground. \"Rouse\nthee, Achilles,\" she said, \"or Hector will drag into Troy the body of\nthy friend, Patroklos.\"'\n\n'Said Achilles, \"Goddess Iris, how may I go into the battle since the\nTrojans hold the armour that should protect me?\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Said Iris, the Messenger of the gods, \"Go down to the wall as thou\nart and show thyself to the men of Troy, and it may be that they will\nshrink back on seeing thee and hearing thy voice, and so give those who\ndefend the body of Patroklos a breathing-spell.\"'\n\n'So she said and departed. Then Achilles arose and went down to the wall\nthat had been built around the ships. He stood upon the wall and shouted\nacross the trench, and friends and foes saw him and heard his voice.\nAround his head a flame of fire arose such as was never seen before\naround the head of a mortal man. And seeing the flame of fire around his\nhead and hearing his terrible voice the Trojans were affrighted and\nstood still. Then the Greeks took up the body of Patroklos and laid it\non a litter and bore it out of the battle.'\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\n\nNow Thetis, the mother of Achilles, went to Olympus where the gods have\ntheir dwellings and to the house of Hephaistos, the smith of the gods.\nThat house shone above all the houses on Olympus because Hephaistos\nhimself had made it of shining bronze. And inside the house there were\nwonders--handmaidens that were not living but that were made out of gold\nand made with such wondrous skill that they waited upon Hephaistos and\nserved and helped him as though they were living maids.'\n\n'Hephaistos was lame and crooked of foot and went limping. He and Thetis\nwere friends from of old time, for, when his mother would have forsaken\nhim because of his crooked foot, Thetis and her sister reared him within\none of the Ocean's caves and it was while he was with them that he began\nto work in metals. So the lame god was pleased to see Thetis in his\ndwelling and he welcomed her and clasped her hand and asked of her what\nshe would have him do for her.'\n\n'Then Thetis, weeping, told him of her son Achilles, how he had lost his\ndear friend and how he was moved to go into the battle to fight with\nHector, and how he was without armour to protect his life, seeing that\nthe armour that the gods had once given his father was now in the hands\nof his foe. And Thetis besought Hephaistos to make new armour for her\nson that he might go into the battle.'\n\n'She no sooner finished speaking than Hephaistos went to his work-bench\nand set his bellows--twenty were there--working. And the twenty bellows\nblew into the crucibles and made bright and hot fires. Then Hephaistos\nthrew into the fires bronze and tin and silver and gold. He set on the\nanvil-stand a great anvil, and took in one hand his hammer and in the\nother hand his tongs.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'For the armour of Achilles he made first a shield and then a corselet\nthat gleamed like fire. And he made a strong helmet to go on the head\nand shining greaves to wear on the ankles. The shield was made with five\nfolds, one fold of metal upon the other, so that it was so strong and\nthick that no spear or arrow could pierce it. And upon this shield he\nhammered out images that were a wonder to men.'\n\n'The first were images of the sun and the moon and of the stars that the\nshepherds and the seamen watch--the Pleiades and Hyads and Orion and the\nBear that is also called Wain. And below he hammered out the images of\ntwo cities: in one there were people going to feasts and playing music\nand dancing and giving judgements in the market-place: the other was a\ncity besieged: there were warriors on the walls and there was an army\nmarching out of the gate to give battle to those that besieged them. And\nbelow the images of the cities he made a picture of a ploughed field,\nwith ploughmen driving their yokes of oxen along the furrows, and with\nmen bringing them cups of wine. And he made a picture of another field\nwhere men were reaping and boys were gathering the corn, where there was\na servant beneath an oak tree making ready a feast, and women making\nready barley for a supper for the men who were reaping, and a King\nstanding apart and watching all, holding a staff in his hands and\nrejoicing at all he saw.'\n\n'And another image he made of a vineyard, with clusters of grapes that\nshowed black, and with the vines hanging from silver poles. And he\nshowed maidens and youths in the vineyard, gathering the grapes into\nbaskets, and one amongst them, a boy, who played on the viol. Beside the\nimage of the vineyard he made images of cattle, with herdsmen, and with\nnine dogs guarding them. But he showed two lions that had come up and\nhad seized the bull of the herd, and the dogs and men strove to drive\nthem away but were affrighted. And beside the image of the oxen he made\nthe image of a pasture land, with sheep in it, and sheepfolds and roofed\nhuts.'\n\n'He made yet another picture--a dancing-place with youths and maidens\ndancing, their hands upon each others' hands. Beautiful dresses and\nwreaths of flowers the maidens had on, and the youths had daggers of\ngold hanging from their silver belts. A great company stood around those\nwho were dancing, and amongst them there was a minstrel who played on\nthe lyre.'\n\n'Then all around the rim of the shield Hephaistos, the lame god, set an\nimage of Ocean, whose stream goes round the world. Not long was he in\nmaking the shield and the other wonderful pieces of armour. As soon as\nthe armour was ready Thetis put her hands upon it, and flying down from\nOlympus like a hawk, brought it to the feet of Achilles, her son.'\n\n'And Achilles, when he saw the splendid armour that Hephaistos the lame\ngod had made for him, rose up from where he lay and took the\nwonderfully-wrought piece in his hands. And he began to put the armour\nupon him, and none of the Myrmidons who were around could bear to look\nupon it, because it shone with such brightness and because it had all\nthe marks of being the work of a god.'\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\n\nThen Achilles put his shining armour upon him and it fitted him as\nthough it were wings; he put the wonderful shield before him and he took\nin his hands the great spear that Cheiron the Centaur had given to\nPeleus his father--that spear that no one else but Achilles could wield.\nHe bade his charioteer harness the immortal horses Xanthos and Balios.\nThen as he mounted his chariot Achilles spoke to the horses. \"Xanthos\nand Balios,\" he said, \"this time bring the hero that goes with you back\nsafely to the ships, and do not leave him dead on the plain as ye left\nthe hero Patroklos.\"'\n\n'Then Xanthos the immortal steed spoke, answering for himself and his\ncomrade. \"Achilles,\" he said, with his head bowed and his mane touching\nthe ground, \"Achilles, for this time we will bring thee safely back from\nthe battle. But a day will come when we shall not bring thee back, when\nthou too shalt lie with the dead before the walls of Troy.\"'\n\n'Then was Achilles troubled and he said, \"Xanthos, my steed, why dost\nthou remind me by thy prophecies of what I know already--that my death\ntoo is appointed, and that I am to perish here, far from my father and\nmy mother and my own land.\"'\n\n'Then he drove his immortal horses into the battle. The Trojans were\naffrighted when they saw Achilles himself in the fight, blazing in the\narmour that Hephaistos had made for him. They went backward before his\nonset. And Achilles shouted to the captains of the Greeks, \"No longer\nstand apart from the men of Troy, but go with me into the battle and let\neach man throw his whole soul into the fight.\"'\n\n'And on the Trojan side Hector cried to his captains and said, \"Do not\nlet Achilles drive you before him. Even though his hands are as\nirresistible as fire and his fierceness as terrible as flashing steel, I\nshall go against him and face him with my spear.\"'\n\n'But Achilles went on, and captain after captain of the Trojans went\ndown before him. Now amongst the warriors whom he caught sight of in the\nfight was Polydoros, the brother of Hector and the youngest of all King\nPriam's sons. Priam forbade him ever to go into the battle because he\nloved him as he would love a little child. But Polydoros had gone in\nthis day, trusting to his fleetness of foot to escape with his life.\nAchilles saw him and pursued him and slew him with the spear. Hector saw\nthe death of his brother. Then he could no longer endure to stand aside\nto order the battle. He came straight up to where Achilles was\nbrandishing his great spear. And when Achilles saw Hector before him he\ncried out, \"Here is the man who most deeply wounded my soul, who slew my\ndear friend Patroklos. Now shall we two fight each other and Patroklos\nshall be avenged by me.\" And he shouted to Hector, \"Now Hector, the day\nof thy triumph and the day of thy life is at its end.\"'\n\n'But Hector answered him without fear, \"Not with words, Achilles, can\nyou affright me. Yet I know that thou art a man of might and a stronger\nman than I. But the fight between us depends upon the will of the gods.\nI shall do my best against thee, and my spear before this has been found\nto have a dangerous edge.\"'\n\n'He spoke and lifted up his spear and flung it at Achilles. Then the\nbreath of a god turned Hector's spear aside, for it was not appointed\nthat either he or Achilles should be then slain. Achilles darted at\nHector to slay him with his spear. But a god hid Hector from Achilles in\na thick mist.'\n\n'Then in a rage Achilles drove his chariot into the ranks of the war and\nmany great captains he slew. He came to Skamandros, the river that flows\nacross the plain before the city of Troy. And so many men did he slay in\nit that the river rose in anger against him for choking its waters with\nthe bodies of men.'\n\n'Then on towards the City, he went like a fire raging through a glen\nthat had been parched with heat. Now on a tower of the walls of Troy,\nPriam the old King stood, and he saw the Trojans coming in a rout\ntowards the City, and he saw Achilles in his armour blazing like a\nstar--like that star that is seen at harvest time and is called Orion's\nDog; the star that is the brightest of all stars, but yet is a sign of\nevil. And the old man Priam sorrowed greatly as he stood upon the tower\nand watched Achilles, because he knew in his heart whom this man would\nslay--Hector, his son, the protector of his City.'\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\n\nSo much of the story of Achilles did Telemachus, the son of Odysseus,\nhear from the lips of King Menelaus as he sat with his comrade\nPeisistratus in the King's feasting-hall. And more would Menelaus have\ntold them then if Helen, his wife, had not been seen to weep. 'Why\nweepst thou, Helen?' said Menelaus. 'Ah, surely I know. It is because\nthe words that tell of the death of Hector are sorrowful to thee.'\n\nAnd Helen, the lovely lady, said 'Never did Prince Hector speak a hard\nor a harsh word to me in all the years I was in his father's house. And\nif anyone upbraided me he would come and speak gentle words to me. Ah,\ngreatly did I lament for the death of noble Hector! After his wife and\nhis mother I wept the most for him. And when one speaks of his slaying I\ncannot help but weep.'\n\nSaid Menelaus, 'Relieve your heart of its sorrow, Helen, by praising\nHector to this youth and by telling your memories of him.'\n\n'To-morrow I shall do so,' said the lady Helen. She went with her maids\nfrom the hall and the servants took Telemachus and Peisistratus to their\nsleeping places.\n\nThe next day they sat in the banqueting hall; King Menelaus and\nTelemachus and Peisistratus, and the lady Helen came amongst them. Her\nhandmaidens brought into the hall her silver work-basket that had wheels\nbeneath it with rims of gold, and her golden distaff that, with the\nbasket, had been presents from the wife of the King of Egypt. And Helen\nsat in her chair and took the distaff in her hands and worked on the\nviolet-coloured wool that was in her basket. And as she worked she told\nTelemachus of Troy and of its guardian, Hector.\n\nSaid Helen, 'The old men were at the gate of the City talking over many\nthings, and King Priam was amongst them. It was in the days when\nAchilles first quarrelled with King Agamemnon. \"Come hither, my\ndaughter,\" said King Priam to me, \"and sit by me and tell me who the\nwarriors are who now come out upon the plain. You have seen them all\nbefore, and I would have you tell me who such and such a one is. Who is\nyon hero who seems so mighty? I have seen men who were more tall than he\nby a head, but I have never seen a man who looked more royal.\"'\n\n'I said to King Priam. \"The hero whom you look upon is the leader of the\nhost of the Greeks. He is the renowned King Agamemnon.\"'\n\n'\"He looks indeed a King,\" said Priam. \"Tell me now who the other\nwarrior is who is shorter by a head than King Agamemnon, but who is\nbroader of chest and shoulder.\"'\n\n'\"He is Odysseus,\" I said, \"who was reared in rugged Ithaka, but who is\nwise above all the Kings.\"'\n\n'And an old man, Antenor, who was by us said, \"That indeed is Odysseus.\nI remember that he and Menelaus came on an embassy to the assembly of\nthe Trojans. When they both stood up, Menelaus seemed the greater man,\nbut when they sat down Odysseus seemed by far the most stately. When\nthey spoke in the assembly, Menelaus was ready and skilful of speech.\nOdysseus when he spoke held his staff stiffly in his hands and fixed his\neyes on the ground. We thought by the look of him then that he was a man\nof no understanding. But when he began to speak we saw that no one could\nmatch Odysseus--his words came like snow-flakes in winter and his voice\nwas very resonant.\"'\n\n'And Priam said, \"Who is that huge warrior? I think he is taller and\nbroader than any of the rest.\"'\n\n'\"He is great Aias,\" I said, \"who is as a bulwark for the Greeks. And\nbeside him stands Idomeneus, who has come from the Island of Crete.\nAround him stand the Cretan captains.\" So I spoke, but my heart was\nsearching for a sight of my own two brothers. I did not see them in any\nof the companies. Had they come with the host, I wondered, and were they\nashamed to be seen with the warriors on account of my wrong-doing? I\nwondered as I looked for them. Ah, I did not know that even then my two\ndear brothers were dead, and that the earth of their own dear land held\nthem.'\n\n'Hector came to the gate and the wives and daughters of the Trojans came\nrunning to him, asking for news of their husbands or sons or brothers,\nwhether they were killed or whether they were coming back from the\nbattle. He spoke to them all and went to his own house. But Andromache,\nhis wife, was not there, and the housedame told him that she had gone to\nthe great tower by the wall of the City to watch the battle and that the\nnurse had gone with her, bringing their infant child.\n\n'So Hector went down the street and came to the gate where we were, and\nAndromache his wife came to meet him. With her was the nurse who carried\nthe little child that the folk of the city named Astyanax, calling him,\n'King of the City' because his father was their city's protector. Hector\nstretched out his arms to the little boy whom the nurse carried. But the\nchild shrank away from him, because he was frightened of the great\nhelmet on his father's head with its horse-hair crest. Then Hector\nlaughed and Andromache laughed with him, and Hector took off his great\nhelmet and laid it on the ground. Then he took up his little son and\ndandled him in his arms, and prayed, \"O Zeus, greatest of the gods,\ngrant that this son of mine may become valiant, and that, like me, he\nmay be protector of the City and thereafter a great King, so that men\nmay say of him as he returns from battle, 'Far greater is he than was\nHector his father.'\" Saying this he left the child back in his nurse's\narms. And to Andromache, his wife, who that day was very fearful, he\nsaid \"Dear one, do not be over sorrowful. You urge me not to go every\nday into the battle, but some days to stay behind the walls. But my own\nspirit forbids me to stay away from battle, for always I have taught\nmyself to be valiant and to fight in the forefront.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'So he said and he put on his helmet again and went to order his men.\nAnd his wife went towards the house, looking back at him often and\nletting her tears fall down. Thou knowst from Menelaus' story what\ntriumphs Hector had thereafter--how he drove the Greeks back to their\nships and affrighted them with his thousand watch-fires upon the plain;\nhow he drove back the host that Agamemnon led when Diomedes and Odysseus\nand Machaon the healer were wounded; how he broke through the wall that\nthe Greeks had builded and brought fire to their ships, and how he slew\nPatroklos in the armour of Achilles.'\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\n\nKing Priam on his tower saw Achilles come raging across the plain and he\ncried out to Hector, \"Hector, beloved son, do not await this man's onset\nbut come within the City's walls. Come within that thou mayst live and\nbe a protection to the men and women of Troy. And come within that thou\nmayst save thy father who must perish if thou art slain.\"'\n\n'But Hector would not come within the walls of the City. He stood\nholding his shield against a jutting tower in the wall. And all around\nhim were the Trojans, who came pouring in through the gate without\nwaiting to speak to each other to ask who were yet living and who were\nslain. And as he stood there he was saying in his heart, \"The fault is\nmine that the Trojans have been defeated upon the plain. I kept them\nfrom entering the City last night against the counsel of a wise man, for\nin my pride I thought it would be easy to drive Achilles and the Greeks\nback again and defeat them utterly and destroy their hopes of return.\nNow are the Trojans defeated and dishonoured and many have lost their\nlives through my pride. Now the women of Troy will say, 'Hector, by\ntrusting to his own might, has brought destruction upon the whole host\nand our husbands and sons and brothers have perished because of him.'\nRather than hear them say this I shall face Achilles and slay him and\nsave the City, or, if it must be, perish by his spear.\"'\n\n'When Achilles came near him Hector spoke to him and said \"My heart bids\nme stand against thee although thou art a mightier man than I. But\nbefore we go into battle let us take pledges, one from the other, with\nthe gods to witness, that, if I should slay thee, I shall strip thee of\nthine armour but I shall not carry thy body into the City but shall give\nit to thine own friends to treat with all honour, and that, if thou\nshould slay me, thou shalt give my body to my friends.\"'\n\n'But Achilles said, \"Between me and thee there can be no pledges. Fight,\nand fight with all thy soldiership, for now I shall strive to make thee\npay for all the sorrow thou hast brought to me because of the slaying of\nPatroklos, my friend.\"'\n\n'He spoke and raised his spear and flung it. But with his quickness\nHector avoided Achilles' spear. And he raised his own, saying, \"Thou\nhast missed me, and not yet is the hour of my doom. Now it is thy turn\nto stand before my spear.\"'\n\n'He flung it, but the wonderful shield of Achilles turned Hector's spear\nand it fell on the ground. Then was Hector downcast, for he had no other\nspear. He drew his sword and sprang at Achilles. But the helmet and\nshield of Achilles let none of Hector's great strokes touch his body.\nAnd Achilles got back into his hands his own great spear, and he stood\nguarding himself with his shield and watching Hector for a spot to\nstrike him on. Now in the armour that Hector wore--the armour that he\nhad stripped off Patroklos--there was a point at the neck where there\nwas an opening. As Hector came on Achilles drove at his neck with his\nspear and struck him and Hector fell in the dust.'\n\n'Then Achilles stripped from him the armour that Patroklos had worn. The\nother captains of the Greeks came up and looked at Hector where he lay\nand all marvelled at his size and strength and goodliness. And Achilles\ndragged the body at his chariot and drove away towards the ships.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Hector's mother, standing on the tower on the wall, saw all that was\ndone and she broke into a great cry. And all the women of Troy took up\nthe cry and wailed for Prince Hector who had guarded them and theirs\nfrom the foe. Andromache, his wife, did not know the terrible thing\nthat had happened. She was in an inner chamber of Hector's house,\nweaving a great web of cloth and broidering it with flowers, and she had\nordered her handmaidens to heat water for the bath, so that Hector might\nrefresh himself when he came in from the fight. But now she heard the\nwail of the women of Troy. Fear came upon her, for she knew that such\nwailing was for the best of their warriors.'\n\n'She ran from her chamber and out into the street and came to the\nbattlements where the people stood watching. She saw the chariot of\nAchilles dashing off towards the ships and she knew that it dragged the\ndead body of Hector. Then darkness came before her eyes and she fainted\naway. Her husband's sisters and his brothers' wives thronged round her\nand lifted her up. And at last her life came back to her and she wailed\nfor Hector, \"O my husband,\" she cried, \"for misery were we two born! Now\nthou hast been slain by Achilles and I am left husbandless! And ah, woe\nfor our young child! Hard-hearted strangers shall oppress him when he\nlives amongst people that care not for him or his. And he will come\nweeping to me, his widowed mother, who will live forever sorrowful\nthinking upon where thou liest, Hector, by the ships of those who slew\nthee.\"'\n\n'So Andromache spoke and all the women of Troy joined in her grief and\nwept for great Hector who had protected their city.'\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\n\nNow that Hector was dead, King Priam, his father, had only one thought\nin his mind, and that was to get his body from Achilles and bring it\ninto the City so that it might be treated with the honour befitting the\nman who had been the guardian of Troy. And while he sat in his grief,\nthinking of his noble son lying so far from those who would have wept\nover him, behold! there appeared before him Iris, the messenger of Zeus,\nthe greatest of the Gods. Iris said to him, \"King, thou mayst ransom\nfrom Achilles the body of Hector, thy noble son. Go thou thyself to the\nhut of Achilles and bring with thee great gifts to offer him. Take with\nthee a wagon that thou mayst bring back in it the body, and let only one\nold henchman go with thee to drive the mules.\"'\n\n'Then Priam, when he heard this, arose and went into his treasure\nchamber and took out of his chests twelve beautiful robes; twelve\nbright-coloured cloaks; twelve soft coverlets and ten talents of gold;\nhe took, too, four cauldrons and two tripods and a wonderful goblet that\nthe men of Thrace had given him when they had come on an embassy to his\ncity. Then he called upon his sons and he bade them make ready the wagon\nand load it with the treasures he had brought out of his\ntreasure-chamber.'\n\n'When the wagon was loaded and the mules were yoked under it, and when\nPriam and his henchman had mounted the seats, Hekabe, the queen, Priam's\nwife and the mother of Hector, came with wine and with a golden cup that\nthey might pour out an offering to the gods before they went on their\njourney; that they might know whether the gods indeed favoured it, or\nwhether Priam himself was not going into danger. King Priam took the cup\nfrom his wife and he poured out wine from it, and looking towards heaven\nhe prayed, \"O Father Zeus, grant that I may find welcome under Achilles'\nroof, and send, if thou wilt, a bird of omen, so that seeing it with\nmine own eyes I may go on my way trusting that no harm will befall me.\"'\n\n'He prayed, and straightway a great eagle was seen with wide wings\nspread out above the City, and when they saw the eagle, the hearts of\nthe people were glad for they knew that their King would come back\nsafely and with the body of Prince Hector who had guarded Troy.'\n\n'Now Priam and his henchman drove across the plain of Troy and came to\nthe river that flowed across and there they let their mules drink. They\nwere greatly troubled, for dark night was coming down and they knew not\nthe way to the hut of Achilles. They were in fear too that some company\nof armed men would come upon them and slay them for the sake of the\ntreasures they had in the wagon.'\n\n'The henchman saw a young man coming towards them. And when he reached\nthem he spoke to them kindly and offered to guide them through the camp\nand to the hut of Achilles. He mounted the wagon and took the reins in\nhis hands and drove the mules. He brought them to the hut of Achilles\nand helped Priam from the wagon and carried the gifts they had brought\nwithin the hut. \"Know, King Priam,\" he said, \"that I am not a mortal,\nbut that I am one sent by Zeus to help and companion thee upon the way.\nGo now within the hut and speak to Achilles and ask him, for his\nfather's sake, to restore to thee the body of Hector, thy son.\"'\n\n'So he spoke and departed and King Priam went within the hut. There\ngreat Achilles was sitting and King Priam went to him and knelt before\nhim and clasped the hands of the man who had slain his son. And Achilles\nwondered when he saw him there, for he did not know how one could have\ncome to his hut and entered it without being seen. He knew then that it\nwas one of the gods who had guided this man. Priam spoke to him and\nsaid, \"Bethink thee, Achilles upon thine own father. He is now of an age\nwith me, and perhaps even now, in thy far-away country, there are those\nwho make him suffer pain and misery. But however great the pain and\nmisery he may suffer he is happy compared to me, for he knows that thou,\nhis son, art still alive. But I no longer have him who was the best of\nmy sons. Now for thy father's sake have I come to thee, Achilles, to ask\nfor the body of Hector, my son. I am more pitiable than thy father or\nthan any man, for I have come through dangers to take in my hands the\nhands that slew my son.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Achilles remembered his father and felt sorrow for the old man who\nknelt before him. He took King Priam by the hand and raised him up and\nseated him on the bench beside him. And he wept, remembering old Peleus,\nhis father.'\n\n'He called his handmaids and he bade them take the body of Hector and\nwash it and wrap it in two of the robes that Priam had brought. When\nthey had done all this he took up the body of Hector and laid it himself\nupon the wagon.'\n\n'Then he came and said to King Priam, \"Thy son is laid upon a bier, and\nat the break of day thou mayst bring him back to the City. But now eat\nand rest here for this night.\"'\n\n'King Priam ate, and he looked at Achilles and he saw how great and how\ngoodly he was. And Achilles looked at Priam and he saw how noble and how\nkingly he looked. And this was the first time that Achilles and Priam\nthe King of Troy really saw each other.'\n\n'When they gazed on each other King Priam said, \"When thou goest to lie\ndown, lord Achilles, permit me to lie down also. Not once have my\neyelids closed in sleep since my son Hector lost his life. And now I\nhave tasted bread and meat and wine for the first time since, and I\ncould sleep.\"'\n\n'Achilles ordered that a bed be made in the portico for King Priam and\nhis henchman, but before they went Achilles said: \"Tell me, King, and\ntell me truly, for how many days dost thou desire to make a funeral for\nHector? For so many days space I will keep back the battle from the City\nso that thou mayst make the funeral in peace.\" \"For nine days we would\nwatch beside Hector's body and lament for him; on the tenth day we would\nhave the funeral; on the eleventh day we would make the barrow over him,\nand on the twelfth day we would fight,\" King Priam said. \"Even for\ntwelve days I will hold the battle back from the City,\" said Achilles.'\n\n'Then Priam and his henchman went to rest. But in the middle of the\nnight the young man who had guided him to the hut of Achilles--the god\nHermes he was--appeared before his bed and bade him arise and go to the\nwagon and yoke the mules and drive back to the City with the body of\nHector. Priam aroused his henchman and they went out and yoked the mules\nand mounted the wagon, and with Hermes to guide them they drove back to\nthe City.'\n\n'And Achilles on his bed thought of his own fate--how he too would die\nin battle, and how for him there would be no father to make lament. But\nhe would be laid where he had asked his friends to lay him--beside\nPatroklos--and over them both the Greeks would raise a barrow that would\nbe wondered at in after times.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'So Achilles thought. And afterwards the arrow fired by Paris struck him\nas he fought before the gate of the City, and he was slain even on the\nplace where he slew Hector. But the Greeks carried off his body and his\narmour and brought them back to the ships. And Achilles was lamented\nover, though not by old Peleus, his father. From the depths of the sea\ncame Thetis, his goddess-mother, and with her came the Maidens of the\nSea. They covered the body of Achilles with wonderful raiment and over\nit they lamented for seventeen days and seventeen nights. On the\neighteenth day he was laid in the grave beside Patroklos, his dear\nfriend, and over them both the Greeks raised a barrow that was wondered\nat in the after-times.'\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nNow Hector's sister was the first to see her father coming in the dawn\nacross the plain of Troy with the wagon upon which his body was laid.\nShe came down to the City and she cried through the streets, \"O men and\nwomen of Troy, ye who often went to the gates to meet Hector coming back\nwith victory, come now to the gates to receive Hector dead.\"'\n\n'Then every man and woman in the City took themselves outside the gate.\nAnd they brought in the wagon upon which Hector was laid, and all day\nfrom the early dawn to the going down of the sun they wailed for him who\nhad been the guardian of their city.'\n\n'His father took the body to the house where Hector had lived and he\nlaid it upon his bed. Then Hector's wife, Andromache, went to the bed\nand cried over the body. \"Husband,\" she cried, \"thou art gone from life,\nand thou hast left me a widow in thy house. Our child is yet little,\nand he shall not grow to manhood in the halls that were thine, for long\nbefore that the City will be taken and destroyed. Ah, how can it stand,\nwhen thou, who wert its best guardian, hast perished? The folk lament\nthee, Hector; but for me and for thy little son, doomed to grow up\namongst strangers and men unfriendly to him, the pain for thy death will\never abide.\"'\n\n'And Hekabe, Hector's mother, went to the bed and cried \"Of all my\nchildren thou, Hector, wert the dearest. Thou wert slain because it was\nnot thy way to play the coward; ever wert thou championing the men and\nwomen of Troy without thought of taking shelter or flight. And for that\nthou wert slain, my son.\"'\n\n'And I, Helen, went to the bed too, to lament for noble Hector. \"Of all\nthe friends I had in Troy, thou wert the dearest, Hector,\" I cried.\n\"Never did I hear one harsh word from thee to me who brought wars and\ntroubles to thy City. In every way thou wert as a brother to me.\nTherefore I bewail thee with pain at my heart, for in all Troy there is\nno one now who is friendly to me.\"'\n\n'Then did the King and the folk of the City prepare for Hector's\nfuneral. On the tenth day, weeping most bitter tears they bore brave\nHector away. And they made a grave for him, and over the grave they put\nclose-set stones, and over it all they raised a great barrow. On the\neleventh day they feasted at King Priam's house, and on the twelfth day\nthe battle began anew.'\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\n\nFor many days Telemachus and his comrade Peisistratus stayed in the\nhouse of King Menelaus. On the evening before he departed Menelaus spoke\nto him of the famous deeds of his father, Odysseus. 'Now Achilles was\ndead,' said Menelaus, 'and his glorious armour was offered as a prize\nfor the warrior whom the Greeks thought the most of. Two men strove for\nthe prize--Odysseus and his friend Aias. To Odysseus the armour of\nAchilles was given, but he was in no way glad of the prize, for his\ngetting it had wounded the proud spirit of great Aias.'\n\n'It was fitting that Odysseus should have been given Achilles' armour,\nfor no warrior in the host had done better than he. But Odysseus was to\ndo still greater things for us. He knew that only one man could wield a\nbow better than Paris,--Paris who had shot with an arrow Achilles, and\nwho after that had slain many of our chiefs. That man was Philoctetes.\nHe had come with Agamemnon's host to Troy. But Philoctetes had been\nbitten by a water-snake, and the wound given him was so terrible that\nnone of our warriors could bear to be near him. He was left on the\nIsland of Lemnos and the host lost memory of him. But Odysseus\nremembered, and he took ship to Lemnos and brought Philoctetes back.\nWith his great bow and with the arrows of Hercules that were his,\nPhiloctetes shot at Paris upon the wall of Troy and slew him with an\narrow.'\n\n'And then Odysseus devised the means by which we took Priam's city at\nlast. He made us build a great Wooden Horse. We built it and left it\nupon the plain of Troy and the Trojans wondered at it greatly. And\nOdysseus had counselled us to bring our ships down to the water and to\nburn our stores and make it seem in every way that we were going to\ndepart from Troy in weariness. This we did, and the Trojans saw the\ngreat host sail away from before their City. But they did not know that\na company of the best of our warriors was within the hollow of the\nWooden Horse, nor did they know that we had left a spy behind to make a\nsignal for our return.'\n\n'The Trojans wondered why the great Wooden Horse had been left behind.\nAnd there were some who considered that it had been left there as an\noffering to the goddess, Pallas Athene, and they thought it should be\nbrought within the city. Others were wiser and would have left the\nWooden Horse alone. But those who considered that it should be brought\nwithin prevailed; and, as the Horse was too great to bring through the\ngate, they flung down part of the wall that they might bring it through.\nThe Wooden Horse was brought within the walls and left upon the streets\nof the city and the darkness of the night fell.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Now Helen, my wife, came down to where the Wooden Horse was, and she,\nsuspecting there were armed men within, walked around it three times,\ncalling to every captain of the Greeks who might be within in his own\nwife's voice. And when the sound of a voice that had not been heard for\nso many years came to him each of the captains started up to answer. But\nOdysseus put his hands across the mouth of each and so prevented them\nfrom being discovered.'\n\n'We had left a spy hidden between the beach and the city. Now when the\nWooden Horse had been brought within the walls and night had fallen, the\nspy lighted a great fire that was signal to the ships that had sailed\naway. They returned with the host before the day broke. Then we who were\nwithin the Wooden Horse broke through the boards and came out on the\nCity with our spears and swords in our hands. The guards beside the\ngates we slew and we made a citadel of the Wooden Horse and fought\naround it. The warriors from the ships crossed the wall where it was\nbroken down, and we swept through the streets and came to the citadel of\nthe King. Thus we took Priam's City and all its treasures, and thus I\nwon back my own wife, the lovely Helen.'\n\n'But after we had taken and sacked King Priam's City, great troubles\ncame upon us. Some of us sailed away, and some of us remained on the\nshore at the bidding of King Agamemnon, to make sacrifice to the gods.\nWe separated, and the doom of death came to many of us. Nestor I saw at\nLesbos, but none other of our friends have I ever since seen. Agamemnon,\nmy own brother, came to his own land. But ah, it would have been happier\nfor him if he had died on the plain of Troy, and if we had left a great\nbarrow heaped above him! For he was slain in his own house and by one\nwho had married the wife he had left behind. When the Ancient One of the\nSea told me of my brother's doom I sat down upon the sand and wept, and\nI was minded to live no more nor to see the light of the sun.'\n\n'And of thy father, Telemachus, I have told thee what I myself know and\nwhat was told me of him by the Ancient One of the Sea--how he stays on\nan Island where the nymph Calypso holds him against his will: but where\nthat Island lies I do not know. Odysseus is there, and he cannot win\nback to his own country, seeing that he has no ship and no companions to\nhelp him to make his way across the sea. But Odysseus was ever master of\ndevices. And also he is favoured greatly by the goddess, Pallas Athene.\nFor these reasons, Telemachus, be hopeful that your father will yet\nreach his own home and country.'\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\n\nNow the goddess, Pallas Athene, had thought for Telemachus, and she came\nto him where he lay in the vestibule of Menelaus' house. His comrade,\nPeisistratus was asleep, but Telemachus was wakeful, thinking upon his\nfather.\n\nAthene stood before his bed and said to him, 'Telemachus, no longer\nshouldst thou wander abroad, for the time has come when thou shouldst\nreturn. Come. Rouse Menelaus, and let him send thee upon thy way.'\n\nThen Telemachus woke Peisistratus out of his sleep and told him that it\nwas best that they should be going on their journey. But Peisistratus\nsaid, 'Tarry until it is dawn, Telemachus, when Menelaus will come to us\nand send us on our way.'\n\nThen when it was light King Menelaus came to them. When he heard that\nthey would depart he told the lady Helen to bid the maids prepare a meal\nfor them. He himself, with Helen his wife, and Megapenthes, his son,\nwent down into his treasure-chamber and brought forth for gifts to\nTelemachus a two-handled cup and a great mixing bowl of silver. And\nHelen took out of a chest a beautiful robe that she herself had made and\nembroidered. They came to Telemachus where he stood by the chariot with\nPeisistratus ready to depart. Then Menelaus gave him the beautiful\ntwo-handled cup that had been a gift to himself from the king of the\nSidonians. Megapenthes brought up the great bowl of silver and put it in\nthe chariot, and beautiful Helen came to him holding the embroidered\nrobe.\n\n'I too have a gift, dear child, for thee,' she said. 'Bring this robe\nhome and leave it in thy mother's keeping. I want thee to have it to\ngive to thy bride when thou bringest her into thy father's halls.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen were the horses yoked to the chariot and Telemachus and\nPeisistratus bade farewell to Menelaus and Helen who had treated them so\nkindly. As they were ready to go Menelaus poured out of a golden cup\nwine as an offering to the gods. And as Menelaus poured it out,\nTelemachus prayed that he might find Odysseus, his father, in his home.\n\nNow as he prayed a bird flew from the right hand and over the horses'\nheads. It was an eagle, and it bore in its claws a goose that belonged\nto the farmyard. Telemachus asked Menelaus was this not a sign from\nZeus, the greatest of the Gods.\n\nThen said Helen, 'Hear me now, for I will prophesy from this sign to\nyou. Even as yonder eagle has flown down from the mountain and killed a\ngoose of the farmyard, so will Odysseus come from far to his home and\nkill the wooers who are there.'\n\n'May Zeus grant that it be so,' said Telemachus. He spoke and lashed the\nhorses, and they sped across the plain.\n\nWhen they came near the city of Pylos, Telemachus spoke to his comrade,\nPeisistratus, and said:\n\n'Do not take me past my ship, son of Nestor. Thy good father expects me\nto return to his house, but I fear that if I should, he, out of\nfriendliness, would be anxious to make me stay many days. But I know\nthat I should now return to Ithaka.'\n\nThe son of Nestor turned the horses towards the sea and they drove the\nchariot to where Telemachus' ship was anchored. Then Telemachus gathered\nhis followers, and he bade them take on board the presents that Menelaus\nand Helen had given him.\n\nThey did this, and they raised the mast and the sails and the rowers\ntook their seats on the benches. A breeze came and the sails took it and\nTelemachus and his companions sailed towards home. And all unknown to\nthe youth, his father, Odysseus, was even then nearing his home.\n\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\n\nHOW ODYSSEUS LEFT CALYPSO'S ISLAND AND CAME TO THE LAND OF THE\nPH\u00c6ACIANS; HOW HE TOLD HE FARED WITH THE CYCL\u00d4PES AND WENT PAST THE\nTERRIBLE SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS AND CAME TO THE ISLAND OF THRINACIA WHERE\nHIS MEN SLAUGHTERED THE CATTLE OF THE SUN; HOW HE WAS GIVEN A SHIP BY\nTHE PH\u00c6ACIANS AND CAME TO HIS OWN LAND; HOW HE OVERTHREW THE WOOERS WHO\nWASTED HIS SUBSTANCE AND CAME TO REIGN AGAIN AS KING OF ITHAKA\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nEver mindful was Pallas Athene of Odysseus although she might not help\nhim openly because of a wrong he had done Poseidon, the god of the sea.\nBut she spoke at the council of the gods, and she won from Zeus a pledge\nthat Odysseus would now be permitted to return to his own land. On that\nday she went to Ithaka, and, appearing to Telemachus, moved him, as has\nbeen told, to go on the voyage in search of his father. And on that day,\ntoo, Hermes, by the will of Zeus, went to Ogygia--to that Island where,\nas the Ancient One of the Sea had shown Menelaus, Odysseus was held by\nthe nymph Calypso.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBeautiful indeed was that Island. All round the cave where Calypso lived\nwas a blossoming wood--alder, poplar and cypress trees were there, and\non their branches roosted long-winged birds--falcons and owls and\nchattering sea-crows. Before the cave was a soft meadow in which\nthousands of violets bloomed, and with four fountains that gushed out of\nthe ground and made clear streams through the grass. Across the cave\ngrew a straggling vine, heavy with clusters of grapes. Calypso was\nwithin the cave, and as Hermes came near, he heard her singing one of\nher magic songs.\n\nShe was before a loom weaving the threads with a golden shuttle. Now she\nknew Hermes and was pleased to see him on her Island, but as soon as he\nspoke of Odysseus and how it was the will of Zeus that he should be\npermitted to leave the Island, her song ceased and the golden shuttle\nfell from her hand.\n\n'Woe to me,' she said, 'and woe to any immortal who loves a mortal, for\nthe gods are always jealous of their love. I do not hold him here\nbecause I hate Odysseus, but because I love him greatly, and would have\nhim dwell with me here,--more than this, Hermes, I would make him an\nimmortal so that he would know neither old age nor death.'\n\n'He does not desire to be freed from old age and death,' said Hermes,\n'he desires to return to his own land and to live with his dear wife,\nPenelope, and his son, Telemachus. And Zeus, the greatest of the gods,\ncommands that you let him go upon his way.'\n\n'I have no ship to give him,' said Calypso, 'and I have no company of\nmen to help him to cross the sea,'\n\n'He must leave the Island and cross the sea--Zeus commands it,' Hermes\nsaid.\n\n'I must help him to make his way across the sea if it must be so,'\nCalypso said. Then she bowed her head and Hermes went from her.\n\nStraightway Calypso left her cave and went down to the sea. By the shore\nOdysseus stayed, looking across the wide sea with tears in his eyes.\n\nShe came to him and she said, 'Be not sorrowful any more, Odysseus. The\ntime has come when thou mayst depart from my Island. Come now. I will\nshow how I can help thee on thy way.'\n\nShe brought him to the side of the Island where great trees grew and she\nput in his hands a double-edged axe and an adze. Then Odysseus started\nto hew down the timber. Twenty trees he felled with his axe of bronze,\nand he smoothed them and made straight the line. Calypso came to him at\nthe dawn of the next day; she brought augers for boring and he made the\nbeams fast. He built a raft, making it very broad, and set a mast upon\nit and fixed a rudder to guide it. To make it more secure, he wove out\nof osier rods a fence that went from stem to stern as a bulwark against\nthe waves, and he strengthened the bulwark with wood placed behind.\nCalypso wove him a web of cloth for sails, and these he made very\nskilfully. Then he fastened the braces and the halyards and sheets, and\nhe pushed the raft, with levers down to the sea.\n\nThat was on the fourth day. On the fifth Calypso gave him garments for\nthe journey and brought provision down to the raft--two skins of wine\nand a great skin of water; corn and many dainties. She showed Odysseus\nhow to guide his course by the star that some call the Bear and others\nthe Wain, and she bade farewell to him. He took his place on the raft\nand set his sail to the breeze and he sailed away from Ogygia, the\nisland where Calypso had held him for so long.\n\nBut not easily or safely did he make his way across the sea. The winds\nblew upon his raft and the waves dashed against it; a fierce blast came\nand broke the mast in the middle; the sail and the arm-yard fell into\nthe deep. Then Odysseus was flung down on the bottom of the raft. For a\nlong time he lay there overwhelmed by the water that broke over him. The\nwinds drove the raft to and fro--the South wind tossed it to the North\nto bear along, and the East wind tossed it to the West to chase.\n\nIn the depths of the sea there was a Nymph who saw his toils and his\ntroubles and who had pity upon him. Ino was her name. She rose from the\nwaves in the likeness of a seagull and she sat upon the raft and she\nspoke to Odysseus in words.\n\n'Hapless man,' she said, 'Poseidon, the god of the sea, is still wroth\nwith thee. It may be that the waters will destroy the raft upon which\nthou sailest. Then there would be no hope for thee. But do what I bid\nthee and thou shalt yet escape. Strip off thy garments and take this\nveil from me and wind it around thy breast. As long as it is upon thee\nthou canst not drown. But when thou reachest the mainland loose the veil\nand cast it into the sea so that it may come back to me.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nShe gave him the veil, and then, in the likeness of a seagull she\ndived into the sea and the waves closed over her. Odysseus took the veil\nand wound it around his breast, but he would not leave the raft as long\nas its timbers held together.\n\nThen a great wave came and shattered the raft. He held himself on a\nsingle beam as one holds himself on a horse, and then, with the veil\nbound across his breast, he threw himself into the waves.\n\nFor two nights and two days he was tossed about on the waters. When on\nthe third day the dawn came and the winds fell he saw land very near. He\nswam eagerly towards it. But when he drew nearer he heard the crash of\nwaves as they struck against rocks that were all covered with foam. Then\nindeed was Odysseus afraid.\n\nA great wave took hold of him and flung him towards the shore. Now would\nhis bones have been broken upon the rocks if he had not been\nready-minded enough to rush towards a rock and to cling to it with both\nhands until the wave dashed by. Its backward drag took him and carried\nhim back to the deep with the skin stripped from his hands. The waves\nclosed over him. When he rose again he swam round looking for a place\nwhere there might be, not rocks, but some easy opening into the land.\n\nAt last he saw the mouth of a river. He swam towards it until he felt\nits stream flowing through the water of the sea. Then in his heart he\nprayed to the river. 'Hear me, O River,' was what he said, 'I am come to\nthee as a suppliant, fleeing from the anger of Poseidon, god of the sea.\nEven by the gods is the man pitied who comes to them as a wanderer and\na hapless man. I am thy suppliant, O River; pity me and help me in my\nneed.'\n\nNow the river water was smooth for his swimming, and he came safely to\nits mouth. He came to a place where he might land, but with his flesh\nswollen and streams of salt water gushing from his mouth and nostrils.\nHe lay on the ground without breath or speech, swooning with the\nterrible weariness that was upon him. But in a while his breath came\nback to him and his courage rose. He remembered the veil that the\nSea-nymph had given him and he loosened it and let it fall back into the\nflowing river. A wave came and bore it back to Ino who caught it in her\nhands.\n\nBut Odysseus was still fearful, and he said in his heart, 'Ah me! what\nis to befall me now? Here am I, naked and forlorn, and I know not\namongst what people I am come. And what shall I do with myself when\nnight comes on? If I lie by the river in the frost and dew I may perish\nof the cold. And if I climb up yonder to the woods and seek refuge in\nthe thickets I may become the prey of wild beasts.'\n\nHe went from the cold of the river up to the woods, and he found two\nolive trees growing side by side, twining together so that they made a\nshelter against the winds. He went and lay between them upon a bed of\nleaves, and with leaves he covered himself over. There in that shelter,\nand with that warmth he lay, and sleep came on him, and at last he\nrested from perils and toils.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nAnd while he rested the goddess, Pallas Athene, went to the City of the\nPh\u00e6acians, to whose land Odysseus had now come.\n\nShe came to the Palace of the King, and, passing through all the doors,\ncame to the chamber where the King's daughter, Nausicaa slept. She\nentered into Nausicaa's dream, appearing to her in it as one of her\ngirl-comrades. And in the dream she spoke to the Princess:\n\n'Nausicaa,' she said, 'the garments of your household are all uncared\nfor, and the time is near when, more than ever, you have need to have\nmuch and beautiful raiment. Your marriage day will be soon. You will\nhave to have many garments ready by that time--garments to bring with\nyou to your husband's house, and garments to give to those who will\nattend you at your wedding. There is much to be done, Nausicaa. Be ready\nat the break of day, and take your maidens with you, and bring the\ngarments of your household to the river to be washed. I will be your\nmate in the toil. Beg your father to give you a wagon with mules to\ncarry all the garments that we have need to wash.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSo in her dream Pallas Athene spoke to the Princess in the likeness of\nher girl-friend. Having put the task of washing into her mind, the\ngoddess left the Palace of the King and the country of the Ph\u00e6acians.\n\nNausicaa, when she rose thought upon her dream, and she went through the\nPalace and found her father. He was going to the assembly of the\nPh\u00e6acians. She came to him, but she was shy about speaking of that which\nhad been in her dream--her marriage day--since her parents had not\nspoken to her about such a thing. Saying that she was going to the river\nto wash the garments of the household, she asked for a wagon and for\nmules. 'So many garments have I lying soiled,' she said. 'Yes and thou\ntoo, my father, should have fresh raiment when you go forth to the\nassembly of the Ph\u00e6acians. And in our house are the two unwedded youths,\nmy brothers, who are always eager for new washed garments wherein to go\nto dances.'\n\nHer father smiled on her and said, 'The mules and wagon thou mayst have,\nNausicaa, and the servants shall get them ready for thee now.'\n\nHe called to the servants and bade them get ready the mules and the\nwagon. Then Nausicaa gathered her maids together and they brought the\nsoiled garments of the household to the wagon. And her mother, so that\nNausicaa and her maids might eat while they were from home, put in a\nbasket filled with dainties and a skin of wine. Also she gave them a jar\nof olive-oil so that they might rub themselves with oil when bathing in\nthe river.\n\nYoung Nausicaa herself drove the wagon. She mounted it and took the\nwhip in her hands and started the mules, and they went through fields\nand by farms and came to the river-bank.\n\nThe girls brought the garments to the stream, and leaving them in the\nshallow parts trod them with their bare feet. The wagon was unharnessed\nand the mules were left to graze along the river side. Now when they had\nwashed the garments they took them to the sea-shore and left them on the\nclean pebbles to dry in the sun. Then Nausicaa and her companions went\ninto the river and bathed and sported in the water.\n\nWhen they had bathed they sat down and ate the meal that had been put on\nthe wagon for them. The garments were not yet dried and Nausicaa called\non her companions to play. Straightway they took a ball and threw it\nfrom one to the other, each singing a song that went with the game. And\nas they played on the meadow they made a lovely company, and the\nPrincess Nausicaa was the tallest and fairest and noblest of them all.\n\nBefore they left the river side to load the wagon they played a last\ngame. The Princess threw the ball, and the girl whose turn it was to\ncatch missed it. The ball went into the river and was carried down the\nstream. At that they all raised a cry. It was this cry that woke up\nOdysseus who, covered over with leaves, was then sleeping in the shelter\nof the two olive trees.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHe crept out from under the thicket, covering his nakedness with leafy\nboughs that he broke off the trees. And when he saw the girls in the\nmeadow he wanted to go to them to beg for their help. But when they\nlooked on him they were terribly frightened and they ran this way and\nthat way and hid themselves. Only Nausicaa stood still, for Pallas\nAthene had taken fear from her mind.\n\nOdysseus stood a little way from her and spoke to her in a beseeching\nvoice. 'I supplicate thee, lady, to help me in my bitter need. I would\nkneel to thee and clasp thy knees only I fear thine anger. Have pity\nupon me. Yesterday was the twentieth day that I was upon the sea, driven\nhither and thither by the waves and the winds.'\n\nAnd still Nausicaa stood, and Odysseus looking upon her was filled with\nreverence for her, so noble she seemed. 'I know not as I look upon\nthee,' he said, 'whether thou art a goddess or a mortal maiden. If thou\nart a mortal maiden, happy must thy father be and thy mother and thy\nbrothers. Surely they must be proud and glad to see thee in the dance,\nfor thou art the very flower of maidens. And happy above all will he be\nwho will lead thee to his home as his bride. Never have my eyes beheld\none who had such beauty and such nobleness. I think thou art like to the\nyoung palm-tree I once saw springing up by the altar of Apollo in\nDelos--a tree that many marvelled to look at. O lady, after many and\nsore trials, to thee, first of all the people, have I come. I know that\nthou wilt be gracious to me. Show me the way to the town. Give me an\nold garment to cast about me. And may the gods grant thee thy wish and\nheart's desire--a noble husband who will cherish thee.'\n\nShe spoke to him as a Princess should, seeing that in spite of the evil\nplight he was in, he was a man of worth. 'Stranger,' she said, 'since\nthou hast come to our land, thou shalt not lack for raiment nor aught\nelse that is given to a suppliant. I will show thee the way to the town\nalso.'\n\nHe asked what land he was in. 'This, stranger,' she said, 'is the land\nof the Ph\u00e6acians, and Alcinous is King over them. And I am the King's\ndaughter, Nausicaa.'\n\nThen she called to her companions. 'Do not hide yourselves,' she said.\n'This is not an enemy, but a helpless and an unfriended man. We must\nbefriend him, for it is well said that the stranger and the beggar are\nfrom God.'\n\nThe girls came back and they brought Odysseus to a sheltered place and\nthey made him sit down and laid a garment beside him. One brought the\njar of olive oil that he might clean himself when he bathed in the\nriver. And Odysseus was very glad to get this oil for his back and\nshoulders were all crusted over with flakes of brine. He went into the\nriver and bathed and rubbed himself with the oil. Then he put on the\ngarment that had been brought him. So well he looked that when he came\ntowards them again the Princess said to the maids:\n\n'Look now on the man who a while ago seemed so terrifying! He is most\nhandsome and stately. Would that we might see more of him. Now, my\nmaidens, bring the stranger meat and drink.'\n\nThey came to him and they served him with meat and drink and he ate and\ndrank eagerly, for it was long since he had tasted food. And while he\nate, Nausicaa and her companions went down to the seashore and gathered\nthe garments that were now dried, singing songs the while. They\nharnessed the mules and folded the garments and left them on the wagon.\n\nWhen they were ready to go Nausicaa went to Odysseus and said to him,\n'Stranger, if thou wouldst make thy way into the city come with us now,\nso that we may guide thee. But first listen to what I would say. While\nwe are going through the fields and by the farms walk thou behind,\nkeeping near the wagon. But when we enter the ways of the City, go no\nfurther with us. People might speak unkindly of me if they saw me with a\nstranger such as thou. They might say, \"Who does Nausicaa bring to her\nfather's house? Someone she would like to make her husband, most\nlikely.\" So that we may not meet with such rudeness I would have thee\ncome alone to my father's house. Listen now and I will tell thee how\nthou mayst do this.'\n\n'There is a grove kept for the goddess Pallas Athene within a man's\nshout of the city. In that grove is a spring, and when we come near I\nwould have thee go and rest thyself by it. Then when thou dost think we\nhave come to my father's house, enter the City and ask thy way to the\npalace of the King. When thou hast come to it, pass quickly through the\ncourt and through the great chamber and come to where my mother sits\nweaving yarn by the light of the fire. My father will be sitting near,\ndrinking his wine in the evening. Pass by his seat and come to my\nmother, and clasp your hands about her knees and ask for her aid. If she\nbecome friendly to thee thou wilt be helped by our people and wilt be\ngiven the means of returning to thine own land.'\n\nSo Nausicaa bade him. Then she touched the mules with the whip and the\nwagon went on. Odysseus walked with the maids behind. As the sun set\nthey came to the grove that was outside the City--the grove of Pallas\nAthene. Odysseus went into it and sat by the spring. And while he was in\nher grove he prayed to the goddess, 'Hear me, Pallas Athene, and grant\nthat I may come before the King of this land as one well worthy of his\npity and his help.'\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nAbout the time that the maiden Nausicaa had come to her father's house,\nOdysseus rose up from where he sat by the spring in the grove of Pallas\nAthene and went into the City. There he met one who showed him the way\nto the palace of King Alcinous. The doors of that palace were golden and\nthe door-posts were of silver. And there was a garden by the great door\nfilled with fruitful trees--pear trees and pomegranates; apple trees and\ntrees bearing figs and olives. Below it was a vineyard showing\nclusters of grapes. That orchard and that vineyard were marvels, for in\nthem never fruit fell or was gathered but other fruit ripened to take\nits place; from season to season there was fruit for the gathering in\nthe king's close.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOdysseus stood before the threshold of bronze and many thoughts were in\nhis mind. But at last with a prayer to Zeus he crossed the threshold and\nwent through the great hall. Now on that evening the Captains and the\nCouncillors of the Ph\u00e6acians sat drinking wine with the King. Odysseus\npassed by them, and stayed not at the King's chair, but went where\nArete, the Queen, sat. And he knelt before her and clasped her knees\nwith his hands and spoke to her in supplication:\n\n'Arete, Queen! After many toils and perils I am come to thee and to thy\nhusband, and to these, thy guests! May the gods give all who are here a\nhappy life and may each see his children in safe possession of his\nhalls. I have come to thee to beg that thou wouldst put me on my way to\nmy own land, for long have I suffered sore affliction far from my\nfriends.'\n\nThen, having spoken, Odysseus went and sat down in the ashes of the\nhearth with his head bowed. No one spoke for long. Then an aged\nCouncillor who was there spoke to the King.\n\n'O Alcinous,' he said, 'it is not right that a stranger should sit in\nthe ashes by thy hearth. Bid the stranger rise now and let a chair be\ngiven him and supper set before him.'\n\nThen Alcinous took Odysseus by the hand, and raised him from where he\nsat, and bade his son Laodamas give place to him. He sat on a chair\ninlaid with silver and the housedame brought him bread and wine and\ndainties. He ate, and King Alcinous spoke to the company and said:\n\n'To-morrow I shall call you together and we will entertain this stranger\nwith a feast in our halls, and we shall take counsel to see in what way\nwe can convoy him to his own land.'\n\nThe Captains and Councillors assented to this, and then each one arose\nand went to his own house. Odysseus was left alone in the hall with the\nKing and the Queen. Now Arete, looking closely at Odysseus, recognized\nthe mantle he wore, for she herself had wrought it with her handmaids.\nAnd when all the company had gone she spoke to Odysseus and said:\n\n'Stranger, who art thou? Didst thou not speak of coming to us from\nacross the deep? And if thou didst come that way, who gave thee the\nraiment that thou hast on?'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Lady, for seven and ten days I sailed across the deep,\nand on the eighteenth day I sighted the hills of thy land. But my woes\nwere not yet ended. The storm winds shattered my raft, and when I strove\nto land the waves overwhelmed me and dashed me against great rocks in a\ndesolate place. At length I came to a river, and I swam through its\nmouth and I found a shelter from the wind. There I lay amongst the\nleaves all the night long and from dawn to mid-day. Then came thy\ndaughter down to the river. I was aware of her playing with her friends,\nand to her I made my supplication. She gave me bread and wine, and she\nbestowed these garments upon me, and she showed an understanding that\nwas far beyond her years.'\n\nThen said Alcinous the King, 'Our daughter did not do well when she did\nnot bring thee straight to our house.'\n\nOdysseus said, 'My Lord, do not blame the maiden. She bade me follow\nwith her company, and she was only careful that no one should have cause\nto make ill-judged remarks upon the stranger whom she found.'\n\nThen Alcinous, the King, praised Odysseus and said that he should like\nsuch a man to abide in his house and that he would give him land and\nwealth, in the country of the Ph\u00e6acians. 'But if it is not thy will to\nabide with us,' he said, 'I shall give thee a ship and a company of men\nto take thee to thy own land, even if that land be as far as Eub\u00e6a,\nwhich, our men say, is the farthest of all lands.' As he said this\nOdysseus uttered a prayer in his heart, 'O Father Zeus, grant that\nAlcinous the King may fulfil all that he has promised--and for that may\nhis fame never be quenched--and that I may come to my own land.'\n\nArete now bade the maids prepare a bed for Odysseus. This they did,\ncasting warm coverlets and purple blankets upon it. And when Odysseus\ncame to the bed and lay in it, after the tossing of the waves, rest in\nit seemed wonderfully good.\n\nAt dawn of day he went with the King to the assembly of the Ph\u00e6acians.\nWhen the Princes and Captains and Councillors were gathered together,\nAlcinous spoke to them saying:\n\n'Princes and Captains and Councillors of the Ph\u00e6acians! This stranger\nhas come to my house in his wanderings, and he desires us to give him a\nship and a company of men, so that he may cross the sea and come to his\nown land. Let us, as in times past we have done for others, help him in\nhis journey. Nay, let us even now draw down a black ship to the sea, and\nput two and fifty of our noblest youths upon it, and let us make it\nready for the voyage. But before he departs from amongst us, come all of\nyou to a feast that I shall give to this stranger in my house. And\nmoreover, let us take with us the minstrel of our land, blind Demodocus,\nthat his songs may make us glad at the feast.'\n\nSo the King spoke, and the Princes, Captains and Councillors of the\nPh\u00e6acians went with him to the palace. And at the same time two and\nfifty youths went down to the shore of the sea, and drew down a ship and\nplaced the masts and sails upon it, and left the oars in their leathern\nloops. Having done all this they went to the palace where the feast was\nbeing given and where many men had gathered.\n\nThe henchman led in the minstrel, blind Demodocus. To him the gods had\ngiven a good and an evil fortune--the gift of song with the lack of\nsight. The henchman led him through the company, and placed him on a\nseat inlaid with silver, and hung his lyre on the pillar above his seat.\nWhen the guests and the minstrel had feasted, blind Demodocus took down\nthe lyre and sang of things that were already famous--of the deeds of\nAchilles and Odysseus.\n\nNow when he heard the words that the minstrel uttered, Odysseus caught\nup his purple cloak and drew it over his head. Tears were falling down\nhis cheeks and he was ashamed of their being seen. No one marked his\nweeping except the King, and the King wondered why his guest should be\nso moved by what the minstrel related.\n\nWhen they had feasted and the minstrel had sung to them, Alcinous said,\n'Let us go forth now and engage in games and sports so that our stranger\nguest may tell his friends when he is amongst them what our young men\ncan do.'\n\nAll went out from the palace to the place where the games were played.\nThere was a foot-race, and there was a boxing-match, and there was\nwrestling and weight-throwing. All the youths present went into the\ngames. And when the sports were ending Laodamas, the son of King\nAlcinous, said to his friends:\n\n'Come, my friends, and let us ask the stranger whether he is skilled or\npractised in any sport,' And saying this he went to Odysseus and said,\n'Friend and stranger, come now and try thy skill in the games. Cast care\naway from thee, for thy journey shall not be long delayed. Even now the\nship is drawn down to the sea, and we have with us the company of youths\nthat is ready to help thee to thine own land.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Sorrow is nearer to my heart than sport, for much have I\nendured in times that are not far past'\n\nThen a youth who was with Laodamas, Euryalus, who had won in the\nwrestling bout, said insolently, 'Laodamas is surely mistaken in\nthinking that thou shouldst be proficient in sports. As I look at thee I\nthink that thou art one who makes voyages for gain--a trader whose only\nthought is for his cargo and his gains,'\n\nThen said Odysseus with anger. 'Thou hast not spoken well, young man.\nThou hast beauty surely, but thou hast not grace of manner nor speech.\nAnd thou hast stirred the spirit in my breast by speaking to me in such\nwords.'\n\nThereupon, clad as he was in his mantle, Odysseus sprang up and took a\nweight that was larger than any yet lifted, and with one whirl he flung\nit from his hands. Beyond all marks it flew, and one who was standing\nfar off cried out, 'Even a blind man, stranger, might know that thy\nweight need not be confused with the others, but lies far beyond them.\nIn this bout none of the Ph\u00e6acians can surpass thee.'\n\nAnd Odysseus, turning to the youths, said, 'Let who will, pass that\nthrow. And if any of you would try with me in boxing or wrestling or\neven in the foot-race, let him stand forward--anyone except Laodamas,\nfor he is of the house that has befriended me. A rude man he would\nsurely be who should strive with his host.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAll kept silence. Then Alcinous the King said, 'So that thou shalt\nhave something to tell thy friends when thou art in thine own hand, we\nshall show thee the games in which we are most skilful. For we Ph\u00e6acians\nare not perfect boxers or wrestlers, but we excel all in running and in\ndancing and in pulling with the oar. Lo, now, ye dancers! Come forward\nand show your nimbleness, so that the stranger may tell his friends,\nwhen he is amongst them, how far we surpass all men in dancing as well\nas in seamanship and speed of foot.'\n\nA place was levelled for the dance, and the blind minstrel, Demodocus,\ntook the lyre in his hands and made music, while youths skilled in the\ndance struck the ground with their feet. Odysseus as he watched them\nmarvelled at their grace and their spirit. When the dance was ended he\nsaid to the King, 'My Lord Alcinous, thou didst boast thy dancers to be\nthe best in the world, and thy word is not to be denied. I wonder as I\nlook upon them.'\n\nAt the end of the day Alcinous spoke to his people and said, 'This\nstranger, in all that he does and says, shows himself to be a wise and a\nmighty man. Let each of us now give him the stranger's gift. Here there\nare twelve princes of the Ph\u00e6acians and I am the thirteenth. Let each of\nus give him a worthy gift, and then let us go back to my house and sit\ndown to supper. As for Euryalus, let him make amends to the stranger for\nhis rudeness of speech as he offers him his gift.'\n\nAll assented to the King's words, and Euryalus went to Odysseus and\nsaid, 'Stranger, if I have spoken aught that offended thee, may the\nstorm winds snatch it and bear it away. May the gods grant that thou\nshalt see thy wife and come to thine own country. Too long hast thou\nendured afflictions away from thy friends.'\n\nSo saying, Euryalus gave Odysseus a sword of bronze with a silver hilt\nand a sheath of ivory. Odysseus took it and said, 'And to you, my\nfriend, may the gods grant all happiness, and mayst thou never miss the\nsword that thou hast given me. Thy gracious speech hath made full\namends.'\n\nEach of the twelve princes gave gifts to Odysseus, and the gifts were\nbrought to the palace and left by the side of the Queen. And Arete\nherself gave Odysseus a beautiful coffer with raiment and gold in it,\nand Alcinous, the King, gave him a beautiful cup, all of gold.\n\nIn the palace the bath was prepared for Odysseus, and he entered it and\nwas glad of the warm water, for not since he had left the Island of\nCalypso did he have a warm bath. He came from the bath and put on the\nbeautiful raiment that had been given him and he walked through the\nhall, looking a king amongst men.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNow the maiden, Nausicaa, stood by a pillar as he passed, and she knew\nthat she had never looked upon a man who was more splendid. She had\nthought that the stranger whom she had saved would have stayed in her\nfather's house, and that one day he would be her husband. But now she\nknew that by no means would he abide in the land of the Ph\u00e6acians. As he\npassed by, she spoke to him and said, 'Farewell, O Stranger! And when\nthou art in thine own country, think sometimes of me, Nausicaa, who\nhelped thee.' Odysseus took her hand and said to her, 'Farewell,\ndaughter of King Alcinous! May Zeus grant that I may return to my own\nland. There every day shall I pay homage to my memory of thee, to whom I\nowe my life.'\n\nHe passed on and he came to where the Princes and Captains and\nCouncillors of the Ph\u00e6acians sat. His seat was beside the King's. Then\nthe henchman brought in the minstrel, blind Demodocus, and placed him on\na seat by a pillar. And when supper was served Odysseus sent to\nDemodocus a portion of his own meat. He spoke too in praise of the\nminstrel saying, 'Right well dost thou sing of the Greeks and all they\nwrought and suffered--as well, methinks, as if thou hadst been present\nat the war of Troy. I would ask if thou canst sing of the Wooden Horse\nthat brought destruction to the Trojans. If thou canst, I shall be a\nwitness amongst all men how the gods have surely given thee the gift of\nsong.'\n\nDemodocus took down the lyre and sang. His song told how one part of the\nGreeks sailed away in their ships and how others with Odysseus to lead\nthem were now in the center of Priam's City all hidden in the great\nWooden Horse which the Trojans themselves had dragged across their\nbroken wall. So the Wooden Horse stood, and the people gathered around\ntalked of what should be done with so wonderful a thing--whether to\nbreak open its timbers, or drag it to a steep hill and hurl it down on\nthe rocks, or leave it there as an offering to the gods. As an offering\nto the gods it was left at last. Then the minstrel sang how Odysseus and\nhis comrades poured forth from the hollow of the horse and took the\nCity.\n\nAs the minstrel sang, the heart of Odysseus melted within him and tears\nfell down his cheeks. None of the company saw him weeping except\nAlcinous the King. But the King cried out to the company saying, 'Let\nthe minstrel cease, for there is one amongst us to whom his song is not\npleasing. Ever since it began the stranger here has wept with tears\nflowing down his cheeks.'\n\nThe minstrel ceased, and all the company looked in surprise at Odysseus,\nwho sat with his head bowed and his mantle wrapped around his head. Why\ndid he weep? each man asked. No one had asked of him his name, for each\nthought it was more noble to serve a stranger without knowing his name.\n\nSaid the King, speaking again, 'In a brother's place stands the stranger\nand the suppliant, and as a brother art thou to us, O unknown guest. But\nwilt thou not be brotherly to us? Tell us by what name they call thee in\nthine own land. Tell us, too, of thy land and thy city. And tell us,\ntoo, where thou wert borne on thy wanderings, and to what lands and\npeoples thou earnest. And as a brother tell us why thou dost weep and\nmourn in spirit over the tale of the going forth of the Greeks to the\nwar of Troy. Didst thou have a kinsman who fell before Priam's City--a\ndaughter's husband, or a wife's father, or someone nearer by blood? Or\ndidst thou have a loving friend who fell there--one with an\nunderstanding heart who wast to thee as a brother?'\n\nSuch questions the King asked, and Odysseus taking the mantle from\naround his head turned round to the company.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nThen Odysseus spoke before the company and said, 'O Alcinous, famous\nKing, it is good to listen to a minstrel such as Demodocus is. And as\nfor me, I know of no greater delight than when men feast together with\nopen hearts, when tables are plentifully spread, when wine-bearers pour\nout good wine into cups, and when a minstrel sings to them noble songs.\nThis seems to me to be happiness indeed. But thou hast asked me to speak\nof my wanderings and my toils. Ah, where can I begin that tale? For the\ngods have given me more woes than a man can speak of!'\n\n'But first of all I will declare to you my name and my country. I am\nODYSSEUS, SON OF LAERTES, and my land is Ithaka, an island around which\nmany islands lie. Ithaka is a rugged isle, but a good nurse of hardy\nmen, and I, for one, have found that there is no place fairer than a\nman's own land. But now I will tell thee, King, and tell the Princes\nand Captains and Councillors of the Ph\u00e6acians, the tale of my\nwanderings.'\n\n'The wind bore my ships from the coast of Troy, and with our white sails\nhoisted we came to the cape that is called Malea. Now if we had been\nable to double this cape we should soon have come to our own country,\nall unhurt. But the north wind came and swept us from our course and\ndrove us wandering past Cythera.'\n\n'Then for nine days we were borne onward by terrible winds, and away\nfrom all known lands. On the tenth day we came to a strange country.\nMany of my men landed there. The people of that land were harmless and\nfriendly, but the land itself was most dangerous. For there grew there\nthe honey-sweet fruit of the lotus that makes all men forgetful of their\npast and neglectful of their future. And those of my men who ate the\nlotus that the dwellers of that land offered them became forgetful of\ntheir country and of the way before them. They wanted to abide forever\nin the land of the lotus. They wept when they thought of all the toils\nbefore them and of all they had endured. I led them back to the ships,\nand I had to place them beneath the benches and leave them in bonds. And\nI commanded those who had ate of the lotus to go at once aboard the\nships. Then, when I had got all my men upon the ships, we made haste to\nsail away.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Later we came to the land of the Cycl\u00f4pes, a giant people. There is a\nwaste island outside the harbour of their land, and on it there is a\nwell of bright water that has poplars growing round it. We came to that\nempty island, and we beached our ships and took down our sails.'\n\n'As soon as the dawn came we went through the empty island, starting the\nwild goats that were there in flocks, and shooting them with our arrows.\nWe killed so many wild goats there that we had nine for each ship.\nAfterwards we looked across to the land of the Cycl\u00f4pes, and we heard\nthe sound of voices and saw the smoke of fires and heard the bleating of\nflocks of sheep and goats.'\n\n'I called my companions together and I said, \"It would be well for some\nof us to go to that other island. With my own ship and with the company\nthat is on it I shall go there. The rest of you abide here. I will find\nout what manner of men live there, and whether they will treat us kindly\nand give us gifts that are due to strangers--gifts of provisions for our\nvoyage.\"' E embarked and we came to the land. There was a cave near the\nsea, and round the cave there were mighty flocks of sheep and goats. I\ntook twelve men with me and I left the rest to guard the ship. We went\ninto the cave and found no man there. There were baskets filled with\ncheeses, and vessels of whey, and pails and bowls of milk. My men wanted\nme to take some of the cheeses and drive off some of the lambs and kids\nand come away. But this I would not do, for I would rather that he who\nowned the stores would give us of his own free will the offerings that\nwere due to strangers.'\n\n'While we were in the cave, he whose dwelling it was, returned to it. He\ncarried on his shoulder a great pile of wood for his fire. Never in our\nlives did we see a creature so frightful as this Cyclops was. He was a\ngiant in size, and, what made him terrible to behold, he had but one\neye, and that single eye was in his forehead. He cast down on the ground\nthe pile of wood that he carried, making such a din that we fled in\nterror into the corners and recesses of the cave. Next he drove his\nflocks into the cave and began to milk his ewes and goats. And when he\nhad the flocks within, he took up a stone that not all our strengths\ncould move and set it as a door to the mouth of the cave.'\n\n'The Cyclops kindled his fire, and when it blazed up he saw us in the\ncorners and recesses. He spoke to us. We knew not what he said, but our\nhearts were shaken with terror at the sound of his deep voice.'\n\n'I spoke to him saying that we were Agamemnon's men on our way home from\nthe taking of Priam's City, and I begged him to deal with us kindly, for\nthe sake of Zeus who is ever in the company of strangers and suppliants.\nBut he answered me saying, \"We Cycl\u00f4pes pay no heed to Zeus, nor to any\nof thy gods. In our strength and our power we deem that we are mightier\nthan they. I will not spare thee, neither will I give thee aught for the\nsake of Zeus, but only as my own spirit bids me. And first I would have\nthee tell me how you came to our laud.\"'\n\n'I knew it would be better not to let the Cyclops know that my ship and\nmy companions were at the harbour of the island. Therefore I spoke to\nhim guilefully, telling him that my ship had been broken on the rocks,\nand that I and the men with me were the only ones who had escaped utter\ndoom.'\n\n'I begged again that he would deal with us as just men deal with\nstrangers and suppliants, but he, without saying a word, laid hands upon\ntwo of my men, and swinging them by the legs, dashed their brains out on\nthe earth. He cut them to pieces and ate them before our very eyes. We\nwept and we prayed to Zeus as we witnessed a deed so terrible.'\n\n'Next the Cyclops stretched himself amongst his sheep and went to sleep\nbeside the fire. Then I debated whether I should take my sharp sword in\nmy hand, and feeling where his heart was, stab him there. But second\nthoughts held me back from doing this. I might be able to kill him as he\nslept, but not even with my companions could I roll away the great stone\nthat closed the mouth of the cave.'\n\n'Dawn came, and the Cyclops awakened, kindled his fire and milked his\nflocks. Then he seized two others of my men and made ready for his\nmid-day meal. And now he rolled away the great stone and drove his\nflocks out of the cave.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'I had pondered on a way of escape, and I had thought of something that\nmight be done to baffle the Cyclops. I had with me a great skin of\nsweet wine, and I thought that if I could make him drunken with wine I\nand my companions might be able for him. But there were other\npreparations to be made first. On the floor of the cave there was a\ngreat beam of olive wood which the Cyclops had cut to make a club when\nthe wood should be seasoned. It was yet green. I and my companions went\nand cut off a fathom's length of the wood, and sharpened it to a point\nand took it to the fire and hardened it in the glow. Then I hid the beam\nin a recess of the cave.'\n\n'The Cyclops came back in the evening, and opening up the cave drove in\nhis flocks. Then he closed the cave again with the stone and went and\nmilked his ewes and his goats. Again he seized two of my companions. I\nwent to the terrible creature with a bowl of wine in my hands. He took\nit and drank it and cried out, \"Give me another bowl of this, and tell\nme thy name that I may give thee gifts for bringing me this\nhoney-tasting drink.\"'\n\n'Again I spoke to him guilefully and said, \"Noman is my name. Noman my\nfather and my mother call me.\"'\n\n'\"Give me more of the drink, Noman,\" he shouted. \"And the gift that I\nshall give to thee is that I shall make thee the last of thy fellows to\nbe eaten.\"'\n\n'I gave him wine again, and when he had taken the third bowl he sank\nbackwards with his face upturned, and sleep came upon him. Then I, with\nfour companions, took that beam of olive wood, now made into a hard and\npointed stake, and thrust it into the ashes of the fire. When the\npointed end began to glow we drew it out of the flame. Then I and my\ncompanions laid hold on the great stake and, dashing at the Cyclops,\nthrust it into his eye. He raised a terrible cry that made the rocks\nring and we dashed away into the recesses of the cave.'\n\nHis cries brought other Cycl\u00f4pes to the mouth of the cave, and they,\nnaming him as Polyphemus, called out and asked him what ailed him to\ncry. \"Noman,\" he shrieked out, \"Noman is slaying me by guile.\" They\nanswered him saying, \"If no man is slaying thee, there is nothing we can\ndo for thee, Polyphemus. What ails thee has been sent to thee by the\ngods.\" Saying this, they went away from the mouth of the cave without\nattempting to move away the stone.'\n\n'Polyphemus then, groaning with pain, rolled away the stone and sat\nbefore the mouth of the cave with his hands outstretched, thinking that\nhe would catch us as we dashed out. I showed my companions how we might\npass by him. I laid hands on certain rams of the flock and I lashed\nthree of them together with supple rods. Then on the middle ram I put a\nman of my company. Thus every three rams carried a man. As soon as the\ndawn had come the rams hastened out to the pasture, and, as they passed,\nPolyphemus laid hands on the first and the third of each three that went\nby. They passed out and Polyphemus did not guess that a ram that he did\nnot touch carried out a man.'\n\n'For myself, I took a ram that was the strongest and fleeciest of the\nwhole flock and I placed myself under him, clinging to the wool of his\nbelly. As this ram, the best of all his flock, went by, Polyphemus,\nlaying his hands upon him, said, \"Would that you, the best of my flock,\nwere endowed with speech, so that you might tell me where Noman, who has\nblinded me, has hidden himself.\" The ram went by him, and when he had\ngone a little way from the cave I loosed myself from him and went and\nset my companions free.'\n\n'We gathered together many of Polyphemus' sheep and we drove them down\nto our ship. The men we had left behind would have wept when they heard\nwhat had happened to six of their companions. But I bade them take on\nboard the sheep we had brought and pull the ship away from that land.\nThen when we had drawn a certain distance from the shore I could not\nforbear to shout my taunts into the cave of Polyphemus. \"Cyclops,\" I\ncried, \"you thought that you had the company of a fool and a weakling to\neat. But you have been worsted by me, and your evil deeds have been\npunished.\"'\n\n'So I shouted, and Polyphemus came to the mouth of the cave with great\nanger in his heart. He took up rocks and cast them at the ship and they\nfell before the prow. The men bent to the oars and pulled the ship away\nor it would have been broken by the rocks he cast. And when we were\nfurther away I shouted to him:\n\n'\"Cyclops, if any man should ask who it was set his mark upon you, say\nthat he was Odysseus, the son of Laertes.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Then I heard Polyphemus cry out, \"I call upon Poseidon, the god of the\nsea, whose son I am, to avenge me upon you, Odysseus. I call upon\nPoseidon to grant that you, Odysseus, may never come to your home, or if\nthe gods have ordained your return, that you come to it after much toil\nand suffering, in an evil plight and in a stranger's ship, to find\nsorrow in your home.\"'\n\n'So Polyphemus prayed, and, to my evil fortune, Poseidon heard his\nprayer. But we went on in our ship rejoicing at our escape. We came to\nthe waste island where my other ships were. All the company rejoiced to\nsee us, although they had to mourn for their six companions slain by\nPolyphemus. We divided amongst the ships the sheep we had taken from\nPolyphemus' flock and we sacrificed to the gods. At the dawn of the next\nday we raised the sails on each ship and we sailed away,'\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nWe came to the Island where \u00c6olus, the Lord of the Winds, he who can\ngive mariners a good or a bad wind, has his dwelling. With his six sons\nand his six daughters \u00c6olus lives on a floating island that has all\naround it a wall of bronze. And when we came to his island, the Lord of\nthe Winds treated us kindly and kept us at his dwelling for a month. Now\nwhen the time came for us to leave, \u00c6olus did not try to hold us on the\nisland. And to me, when I was going down to the ships, he gave a bag\nmade from the hide of an ox, and in that bag were all the winds that\nblow. He made the mouth of the bag fast with a silver thong, so that no\nwind that might drive us from our course could escape. Then he sent the\nWest Wind to blow on our sails that we might reach our own land as\nquickly as a ship might go.'\n\n'For nine days we sailed with the West Wind driving us, and on the tenth\nday we came in sight of Ithaka, our own land. We saw its coast and the\nbeacon fires upon the coast and the people tending the fires. Then I\nthought that the curse of the Cyclops was vain and could bring no harm\nto us. Sleep that I had kept from me for long I let weigh me down, and I\nno longer kept watch.'\n\n'Then even as I slept, the misfortune that I had watched against fell\nupon me. For now my men spoke together and said, \"There is our native\nland, and we come back to it after ten years' struggles and toils, with\nempty hands. Different it is with our lord, Odysseus. He brings gold and\nsilver from Priam's treasure-chamber in Troy. And \u00c6olus too has given\nhim a treasure in an ox-hide bag. But let us take something out of that\nbag while he sleeps.\"'\n\n'So they spoke, and they unloosed the mouth of the bag, and behold! all\nthe winds that were tied in it burst out. Then the winds drove our ship\ntowards the high seas and away from our land. What became of the other\nships I know not. I awoke and I found that we were being driven here and\nthere by the winds. I did not know whether I should spring into the sea\nand so end all my troubles, or whether I should endure this terrible\nmisfortune. I muffled my head in my cloak and lay on the deck of my\nship.'\n\n'The winds brought us back again to the floating Island. We landed and I\nwent to the dwelling of the Lord of the Winds. I sat by the pillars of\nhis threshold and he came out and spoke to me. \"How now, Odysseus?\" said\nhe. \"How is it thou hast returned so soon? Did I not give thee a fair\nwind to take thee to thine own country, and did I not tie up all the\nwinds that might be contrary to thee?\"'\n\n'\"My evil companions,\" I said, \"have been my bane. They have undone all\nthe good that thou didst for me, O King of the Winds. They opened the\nbag and let all the winds fly out. And now help me, O Lord \u00c6olus, once\nagain.\"'\n\n'But \u00c6olus said to me, \"Far be it from me to help such a man as thou--a\nman surely accursed by the gods. Go from my Island, for nothing will I\ndo for thee.\" Then I went from his dwelling and took my way down to the\nship.'\n\nWe sailed away from the Island of \u00c6olus with heavy hearts. Next we came\nto the \u00c6ean Island, where we met with Circe, the Enchantress. For two\ndays and two nights we were on that island without seeing the sign of a\nhabitation. On the third day I saw smoke rising up from some hearth. I\nspoke of it to my men, and it seemed good to us that part of our company\nshould go to see were there people there who might help us. We drew lots\nto find out who should go, and it fell to the lot of Eurylochus to go\nwith part of the company, while I remained with the other part.'\n\n'So Eurylochus went with two and twenty men. In the forest glades they\ncame upon a house built of polished stones. All round that house wild\nbeasts roamed--wolves and lions. But these beasts were not fierce. As\nEurylochus and his men went towards the house the lions and wolves\nfawned upon them like house dogs.'\n\n'But the men were affrighted and stood round the outer gate of the\ncourt. They heard a voice within the house singing, and it seemed to\nthem to be the voice of a woman, singing as she went to and fro before a\nweb she was weaving on a loom. The men shouted, and she who had been\nsinging opened the polished doors and came out of the dwelling. She was\nvery fair to see. As she opened the doors of the house she asked the men\nto come within and they went into her halls.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'But Eurylochus tarried behind. He watched the woman and he saw her give\nfood to the men. But he saw that she mixed a drug with what she gave\nthem to eat and with the wine she gave them to drink. No sooner had they\neaten the food and drunk the wine than she struck them with a wand, and\nbehold! the men turned into swine. Then the woman drove them out of\nthe house and put them in the swine-pens and gave them acorns and mast\nand the fruit of the cornel tree to eat.'\n\n'Eurylochus, when he saw these happenings, ran back through the forest\nand told me all. Then I cast about my shoulder my good sword of bronze,\nand, bidding Eurylochus stay by the ships, I went through the forest and\ncame to the house of the enchantress. I stood at the outer court and\ncalled out. Then Circe the Enchantress flung wide the shining doors, and\ncalled to me to come within. I entered her dwelling and she brought me\nto a chair and put a footstool under my feet. Then she brought me in a\ngolden cup the wine into which she had cast a harmful drug.'\n\n'As she handed me the cup I drew my sword and sprang at her as one eager\nto slay her. She shrank back from me and cried out, \"Who art thou who\nart able to guess at my enchantments? Verily, thou art Odysseus, of whom\nHermes told me. Nay, put up thy sword and let us two be friendly to each\nother. In all things I will treat thee kindly.\"'\n\n'But I said to her, \"Nay, Circe, you must swear to me first that thou\nwilt not treat me guilefully.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'She swore by the gods that she would not treat me guilefully, and I put\nup my sword. Then the handmaidens of Circe prepared a bath, and I bathed\nand rubbed myself with olive oil, and Circe gave me a new mantle and\ndoublet. The handmaidens brought out silver tables, and on them set\ngolden baskets with bread and meat in them, and others brought cups of\nhoney-tasting wine. I sat before a silver table but I had no pleasure in\nthe food before me.'\n\n'When Circe saw me sitting silent and troubled she said, \"Why, Odysseus,\ndost thou sit like a speechless man? Dost thou think there is a drug in\nthis food? But I have sworn that I will not treat thee guilefully, and\nthat oath I shall keep.\"'\n\n'And I said to her, \"O Circe, Enchantress, what man of good heart could\ntake meat and drink while his companions are as swine in swine-pens? If\nthou wouldst have me eat and drink, first let me see my companions in\ntheir own forms.\"'\n\n'Circe, when she heard me say this, went to the swine-pen and anointed\neach of the swine that was there with a charm. As she did, the bristles\ndropped away and the limbs of the man were seen. My companions became\nmen again, and were even taller and handsomer than they had been\nbefore.'\n\n'After that we lived on Circe's island in friendship with the\nenchantress. She did not treat us guilefully again and we feasted in her\nhouse for a year.'\n\n'But in all of us there was a longing to return to our own land. And my\nmen came to me and craved that I should ask Circe to let us go on our\nhomeward way. She gave us leave to go and she told us of the many\ndangers we should meet on our voyage.'\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nWhen the sun sank and darkness came on, my men went to lie by the\nhawsers of the ship. Then Circe the Enchantress took my hand, and,\nmaking me sit down by her, told me of the voyage that was before us.'\n\n'\"To the Sirens first you shall come,\" said she, \"to the Sirens, who sit\nin their field of flowers and bewitch all men who come near them. He who\ncomes near the Sirens without knowing their ways and hears the sound of\ntheir voices--never again shall that man see wife or child, or have joy\nof his home-coming. All round where the Sirens sit are great heaps of\nthe bones of men. But I will tell thee, Odysseus, how thou mayst pass\nthem.\"'\n\n'\"When thou comest near put wax over the ears of thy company lest any of\nthem hear the Sirens' song. But if thou thyself art minded to hear, let\nthy company bind thee hand and foot to the mast. And if thou shalt\nbeseech them to loose thee, then must they bind thee with tighter bonds.\nWhen thy companions have driven the ship past where the Sirens sing then\nthou canst be unbound.\"'\n\n'\"Past where the Sirens sit there is a dangerous place indeed. On one\nside there are great rocks which the gods call the Rocks Wandering. No\nship ever escapes that goes that way. And round these rocks the planks\nof ships and the bodies of men are tossed by waves of the sea and storms\nof fire. One ship only ever passed that way, Jason's ship, the Argo, and\nthat ship would have been broken on the rocks if Hera the goddess had\nnot helped it to pass, because of her love for the hero Jason.\"'\n\n'\"On the other side of the Rocks Wandering are two peaks through which\nthou wilt have to take thy ship. One peak is smooth and sheer and goes\nup to the clouds of heaven. In the middle of it there is a cave, and\nthat cave is the den of a monster named Scylla. This monster has six\nnecks and on each neck there is a hideous head. She holds her heads over\nthe gulf, seeking for prey and yelping horribly. No ship has ever passed\nthat way without Scylla seizing and carrying off in each mouth of her\nsix heads the body of a man.\"'\n\n'\"The other peak is near. Thou couldst send an arrow across to it from\nScylla's den. Out of the peak a fig tree grows, and below that fig tree\nCharybdis has her den. She sits there sucking down the water and\nspouting it forth. Mayst thou not be near when she sucks the water down,\nfor then nothing could save thee. Keep nearer to Scylla's than to\nCharybdis's rock. It is better to lose six of your company than to lose\nthy ship and all thy company. Keep near Scylla's rock and drive right\non.\"'\n\n'\"If thou shouldst win past the deadly rocks guarded by Scylla and\nCharybdis thou wilt come to the Island of Thrinacia. There the Cattle of\nthe Sun graze with immortal nymphs to guard them. If them comest to\nthat Island, do no hurt to those herds. If thou doest hurt to them I\nforesee ruin for thy ship and thy men, even though thou thyself shouldst\nescape.\"'\n\n'So Circe spoke to me, and having told me such things she took her way\nup the island. Then I went to the ship and roused my men. Speedily they\nwent aboard, and, having taken their seats upon the benches, struck the\nwater with their oars. Then the sails were hoisted and a breeze came and\nwe sailed away from the Isle of Circe, the Enchantress.'\n\n'I told my companions what Circe had told me about the Sirens in their\nfield of flowers. I took a great piece of wax and broke it and kneaded\nit until it was soft. Then I covered the ears of my men, and they bound\nme upright to the mast of the ship. The wind dropped and the sea became\ncalm as though a god had stilled the waters. My company took their oars\nand pulled away. When the ship was within a man's shout from the land we\nhad come near the Sirens espied us and raised their song.'\n\n'\"Come hither, come hither, O Odysseus,\" the Sirens sang, \"stay thy bark\nand listen to our song. None hath ever gone this way in his ship until\nhe hath heard from our own lips the voice sweet as a honeycomb, and hath\njoy of it, and gone on his way a wiser man. We know all things--all the\ntravail the Greeks had in the war of Troy, and we know all that\nhereafter shall be upon the earth. Odysseus, Odysseus, come to our field\nof flowers, and hear the song that we shall sing to thee.\"'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'My heart was mad to listen to the Sirens. I nodded my head to the\ncompany commanding them to unloose me, but they bound me the tighter,\nand bent to their oars and rowed on. When we had gone past the place of\nthe Sirens the men took the wax from off their ears and loosed me from\nthe mast.'\n\nBut no sooner had we passed the Island than I saw smoke arising and\nheard the roaring of the sea. My company threw down their oars in\nterror. I went amongst them to hearten them, and I made them remember\nhow, by my device, we had escaped from the Cave of the Cyclops.\n\nI told them nothing of the monster Scylla, lest the fear of her should\nbreak their hearts. And now we began to drive through that narrow\nstrait. On one side was Scylla and on the other Charybdis. Fear gripped\nthe men when they saw Charybdis gulping down the sea. But as we drove\nby, the monster Scylla seized six of my company--the hardiest of the men\nwho were with me. As they were lifted up in the mouths of her six heads\nthey called to me in their agony. 'But I could do nothing to aid them.\nThey were carried up to be devoured in the monster's den. Of all the\nsights I have seen on the ways of the water, that sight was the most\npitiful.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Having passed the rocks of Scylla and Charybdis we came to the Island\nof Thrinacia. While we were yet on the ship I heard the lowing of the\nCattle of the Sun. I spoke to my company and told them that we should\ndrive past that Island and not venture to go upon it.'\n\n'The hearts of my men were broken within them at that sentence, and\nEurylochus answered me, speaking sadly.'\n\n'\"It is easy for thee, O Odysseus, to speak like that, for thou art\nnever weary, and thou hast strength beyond measure. But is thy heart,\ntoo, of iron that thou wilt not suffer thy companions to set foot upon\nshore where they may rest themselves from the sea and prepare their\nsupper at their ease?\"'\n\n'So Eurylochus spoke and the rest of the company joined in what he said.\nTheir force was greater than mine. Then said I, \"Swear to me a mighty\noath, one and all of you, that if we go upon this Island none of you\nwill slay the cattle out of any herd.\"'\n\n'They swore the oath that I gave them. We brought our ship to a harbour,\nand landed near a spring of fresh water, and the men got their supper\nready. Having eaten their supper they fell to weeping for they thought\nupon their comrades that Scylla had devoured. Then they slept.'\n\n'The dawn came, but we found that we could not take our ship out of the\nharbour, for the North Wind and the East Wind blew a hurricane. So we\nstayed upon the Island and the days and the weeks went by. When the corn\nwe had brought in the ship was all eaten the men went through the island\nfishing and hunting. Little they got to stay their hunger.'\n\n'One day while I slept, Eurylochus gave the men a most evil counsel.\n\"Every death,\" he said, \"is hateful to man, but death by hunger is far\nthe worst. Rather than die of hunger let us drive off the best cattle\nfrom the herds of the Sun. Then, if the gods would wreck us on the sea\nfor the deed, let them do it. I would rather perish on the waves than\ndie in the pangs of hunger.\"'\n\n'So he spoke, and the rest of the men approved of what he said. They\nslaughtered them and roasted their flesh. It was then that I awakened\nfrom my sleep. As I came down to the ship the smell of the roasting\nflesh came to me. Then I knew that a terrible deed had been committed\nand that a dreadful thing would befall all of us.'\n\n'For six days my company feasted on the best of the cattle. On the\nseventh day the winds ceased to blow. Then we went to the ship and set\nup the mast and the sails and fared out again on the deep.'\n\n'But, having left that island, no other land appeared, and only sky and\nsea were to be seen. A cloud stayed always above our ship and beneath\nthat cloud the sea was darkened. The West Wind came in a rush, and the\nmast broke, and, in breaking, struck off the head of the pilot, and he\nfell straight down into the sea. A thunderbolt struck the ship and the\nmen were swept from the deck. Never a man of my company did I see\nagain.'\n\n'The West Wind ceased to blow but the South Wind came and it drove the\nship back on its course. It rushed towards the terrible rocks of Scylla\nand Charybdis. All night long I was borne on, and, at the rising of the\nsun? I found myself near Charybdis. My ship was sucked down. But I\ncaught the branches of the fig tree that grew out of the rock and hung\nto it like a bat. There I stayed until the timbers of my ship were cast\nup again by Charybdis. I dropped down on them. Sitting on the boards I\nrowed with my hands and passed the rock of Scylla without the monster\nseeing me.'\n\n'Then for nine days I was borne along by the waves, and on the tenth day\nI came to Ogygia where the nymph Calypso dwells. She took me to her\ndwelling and treated me kindly. But why tell the remainder of my toils?\nTo thee, O King, and to thy noble wife I told how I came from Calypso's\nIsland, and I am not one to repeat a plain-told tale.'\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nOdysseus finished, and the company in the hall sat silent, like men\nenchanted. Then King Alcinous spoke and said, 'Never, as far as we\nPh\u00e6acians are concerned, wilt thou, Odysseus, be driven from thy\nhomeward way. To-morrow we will give thee a ship and an escort, and we\nwill land thee in Ithaka, thine own country.' The Princes, Captains and\nCouncillors, marvelling that they had met the renowned Odysseus, went\neach to his own home. When the dawn had come, each carried down to the\nship on which Odysseus was to sail, gifts for him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the sun was near its setting they all came back to the King's hall\nto take farewell of him. The King poured out a great bowl of wine as an\noffering to the gods. Then Odysseus rose up and placed in the Queen's\nhands a two-handled cup, and he said, 'Farewell to thee, O Queen! Mayst\nthou long rejoice in thy house and thy children, and in thy husband,\nAlcinous, the renowned King.'\n\nHe passed over the threshold of the King's house, and he went down to\nthe ship. He went aboard and lay down on the deck on a sheet and rug\nthat had been spread for him. Straightway the mariners took to their\noars, and hoisted their sails, and the ship sped on like a strong\nsea-bird. Odysseus slept. And lightly the ship sped on, bearing that man\nwho had suffered so much sorrow of heart in passing through wars of men\nand through troublous seas--the ship sped on, and he slept, and was\nforgetful of all he had passed through.\n\nWhen the dawn came the ship was near to the Island of Ithaka. The\nmariners drove to a harbour near which there was a great cave. They ran\nthe ship ashore and lifted out Odysseus, wrapped in the sheet and the\nrugs, and still sleeping. They left him on the sandy shore of his own\nland. Then they took the gifts which the King and Queen, the Princes,\nCaptains and Councillors of the Ph\u00e6acians had given him, and they set\nthem by an olive tree, a little apart from the road, so that no\nwandering person might come upon them before Odysseus had awakened. Then\nthey went back to their ship and departed from Ithaka for their own\nland.\n\nOdysseus awakened on the beach of his own land. A mist lay over all, and\nhe did not know what land he had come to. He thought that the Ph\u00e6acians\nhad left him forsaken on a strange shore. As he looked around him in his\nbewilderment he saw one who was like a King's son approaching.\n\nNow the one who came near him was not a young man, but the goddess,\nPallas Athene, who had made herself look like a young man. Odysseus\narose, and questioned her as to the land he had come to. The goddess\nanswered him and said, 'This is Ithaka, a land good for goats and\ncattle, a land of woods and wells,'\n\nEven as she spoke she changed from the semblance of a young man and was\nseen by Odysseus as a woman tall and fair. 'Dost thou not know me,\nPallas Athene, the daughter of Zeus, who has always helped thee?' the\ngoddess said. 'I would have been more often by thy side, only I did not\nwant to go openly against my brother, Poseidon, the god of the sea,\nwhose son, Polyphemus, thou didst blind.'\n\nAs the goddess spoke the mist that lay on the land scattered and\nOdysseus saw that he was indeed in Ithaka, his own country--he knew the\nharbour and the cave, and the hill Neriton all covered with its forest.\nAnd knowing them he knelt down on the ground and kissed the earth of his\ncountry.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen the goddess helped him to lay his goods within the cave--the gold\nand the bronze and the woven raiment that the Ph\u00e6acians had given him.\nShe made him sit beside her under the olive tree while she told him of\nthe things that were happening in his house.\n\n'There is trouble in thy halls, Odysseus,' she said, 'and it would be\nwell for thee not to make thyself known for a time. Harden thy heart,\nthat thou mayest endure for a while longer ill treatment at the hands of\nmen.' She told him about the wooers of his wife, who filled his halls\nall day, and wasted his substance, and who would slay him, lest he\nshould punish them for their insolence. 'So that the doom of Agamemnon\nshall not befall thee--thy slaying within thine own halls--I will change\nthine appearance that no man shall know thee,' the goddess said.\n\nThen she made a change in his appearance that would have been evil but\nthat it was to last for a while only. She made his skin wither, and she\ndimmed his shining eyes. She made his yellow hair grey and scanty. Then\nshe changed his raiment to a beggar's wrap, torn and stained with smoke.\nOver his shoulder she cast the hide of a deer, and she put into his\nhands a beggar's staff, with a tattered bag and a cord to hang it by.\nAnd when she had made this change in his appearance the goddess left\nOdysseus and went from Ithaka.\n\nIt was then that she came to Telemachus in Sparta and counselled him to\nleave the house of Menelaus and Helen; and it has been told how he went\nwith Peisistratus, the son of Nestor, and came to his own ship. His ship\nwas hailed by a man who was flying from those who would slay him, and\nthis man Telemachus took aboard. The stranger's name was Theoclymenus,\nand he was a sooth-sayer and a second-sighted man.\n\nAnd Telemachus, returning to Ithaka, was in peril of his life. The\nwooers of his mother had discovered that he had gone from Ithaka in a\nship. Two of the wooers, Antinous and Eurymachus, were greatly angered\nat the daring act of the youth. 'He has gone to Sparta for help,'\nAntinous said, 'and if he finds that there are those who will help him\nwe will not be able to stand against his pride. He will make us suffer\nfor what we have wasted in his house. But let us too act. I will take a\nship with twenty men, and lie in wait for him in a strait between Ithaka\nand Samos, and put an end to his search for his father.'\n\nThereupon Antinous took twenty men to a ship, and fixing mast and sails\nthey went over the sea. There is a little isle between Ithaka and\nSamos--Asteris it is called--and in the harbour of that isle he and his\nmen lay in wait for Telemachus.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nNear the place where Odysseus had landed there lived an old man who was\na faithful servant in his house. Eum\u00e6us was his name, and he was a\nswineherd. He had made for himself a dwelling in the wildest part of the\nisland, and had built a wall round it, and had made for the swine pens\nin the courtyard--twelve pens, and in each pen there were fifty swine.\nOld Eum\u00e6us lived in this place tending the swine with three young men to\nhelp him. The swine-pens were guarded by four dogs that were as fierce\nas the beasts of the forest.\n\nAs he came near the dogs dashed at him, yelping and snapping; and\nOdysseus might have suffered foul hurt if the swineherd had not run out\nof the courtyard and driven the fierce dogs away. Seeing before him one\nwho looked an ancient beggar, Eum\u00e6us said, 'Old man, it is well that my\ndogs did not tear thee, for they might have brought upon me the shame of\nthy death. I have grief and pains enough, the gods know, without such a\nhappening. Here I sit, mourning for my noble master, and fattening hogs\nfor others to eat, while he, mayhap, is wandering in hunger through some\nfriendless city. But come in, old man. I have bread and wine to give\nthee.'\n\nThe swineherd led the seeming beggar into the courtyard, and he let him\nsit down on a heap of brushwood, and spread for him a shaggy goat-skin.\nOdysseus was glad of his servant's welcome, and he said, 'May Zeus and\nall the other gods grant thee thy heart's dearest wish for the welcome\nthat thou hast given to me.'\n\nSaid Eum\u00e6us the swineherd, 'A good man looks on all strangers and\nbeggars as being from Zeus himself. And my heart's dearest wish is that\nmy master Odysseus should return. Ah, if Odysseus were here, he would\ngive me something which I could hold as mine own--a piece of ground to\ntill, and a wife to comfort me. But my master will not return, and we\nthralls must go in fear when young lords come to rule it over them.'\n\nHe went to the swine-pens and brought out two sucking pigs; he\nslaughtered them and cut them small and roasted the meat. When all was\ncooked, he brought portions to Odysseus sprinkled with barley meal, and\nhe brought him, too, wine in a deep bowl of ivy wood. And when Odysseus\nhad eaten and drunken, Eum\u00e6us the swineherd said to him:\n\n'Old man, no wanderer ever comes to this land but that our lady Penelope\nsends for him, and gives him entertainment, hoping that he will have\nsomething to tell her of her lord, Odysseus. They all do as thou wouldst\ndo if thou earnest to her--tell her a tale of having seen or of having\nheard of her lord, to win her ear. But as for Odysseus, no matter what\nwanderers or vagrants say, he will never return--dogs, or wild birds, or\nthe fishes of the deep have devoured his body ere this. Never again\nshall I find so good a lord, nor would I find one so kind even if I were\nback in my own land, and saw the faces of my father and my mother. But\nnot so much for them do I mourn as for the loss of my master.'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Thou sayst that thy master will never return, but I\nnotice that thou art slow to believe thine own words. Now I tell thee\nthat Odysseus will return and in this same year. And as sure as the old\nmoon wanes and the young moon is born, he will take vengeance on those\nwhom you have spoken of--those who eat his substance and dishonour his\nwife and son. I say that, and I swear it with an oath.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'I do not heed thine oath,' said Eum\u00e6us the swineherd. 'I do not listen\nto vagrant's tales about my master since a stranger came here and\ncheated us with a story. He told us that he had seen Odysseus in the\nland of the Cretans, in the house of the hero Idomeneus, mending his\nships that had been broken by the storm, and that he would be here by\nsummer or by harvest time, bringing with him much wealth.'\n\nAs they were speaking the younger swineherds came back from the woods,\nbringing the drove of swine into the courtyard. There was a mighty din\nwhilst the swine were being put into their pens. Supper time came on,\nand Eum\u00e6us and Odysseus and the younger swineherds sat down to a meal.\nEum\u00e6us carved the swineflesh, giving the best portion to Odysseus whom\nhe treated as the guest of honour. And Odysseus said, 'Eum\u00e6us, surely\nthou art counselled by Zeus, seeing thou dost give the best of the meat\neven to such a one as I.'\n\nAnd Eum\u00e6us, thinking Odysseus was praising him for treating a stranger\nkindly, said, 'Eat, stranger, and make merry with such fare as is here.'\n\nThe night came on cold with rain. Then Odysseus, to test the kindliness\nof the swineherd, said, 'O that I were young and could endure this\nbitter night! O that I were better off! Then would one of you swineherds\ngive me a wrap to cover myself from the wind and rain! But now, verily,\nI am an outcast because of my sorry raiment.'\n\nThen Eum\u00e6us sprang up and made a bed for Odysseus near the fire.\nOdysseus lay down, and the swineherd covered him with a mantle he kept\nfor a covering when great storms should arise. Then, that he might\nbetter guard the swine, Eum\u00e6us, wrapping himself up in a cloak, and\ntaking with him a sword and javelin, to drive off wild beasts should\nthey come near, went to lie nearer to the pens.\n\nWhen morning came, Odysseus said, 'I am going to the town to beg, so\nthat I need take nothing more from thee. Send someone with me to be a\nguide. I would go to the house of Odysseus, and see if I can earn a\nlittle from the wooers who are there. Right well could I serve them if\nthey would take me on. There could be no better serving-man than I, when\nit comes to splitting faggots, and kindling a fire and carving meat.'\n\n'Nay, nay,' said Eum\u00e6us, 'do not go there, stranger. None here are at a\nloss by thy presence. Stay until the son of Odysseus, Telemachus,\nreturns, and he will do something for thee. Go not near the wooers. It\nis not such a one as thee that they would have to serve them. Stay this\nday with us.'\n\nOdysseus did not go to the town but stayed all day with Eum\u00e6us. And at\nnight, when he and Eum\u00e6us and the younger swineherds were seated at the\nfire, Odysseus said, 'Thou, too, Eum\u00e6us, hast wandered far and hast had\nmany sorrows. Tell us how thou earnest to be a slave and a swineherd,'\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF EUM\u00c6US THE SWINEHERD\n\n\n'There is,' said Eum\u00e6us, 'a certain island over against Ortygia. That\nisland has two cities, and my father was king over them both.'\n\n'There came to the city where my father dwelt, a ship with merchants\nfrom the land of the Phoenicians. I was a child then, and there was in my\nfather's house a Phoenician slave-woman who nursed me. Once, when she was\nwashing clothes, one of the sailors from the Phoenician ship spoke to her\nand asked her would she like to go back with them to their own land.'\n\n'She spoke to that sailor and told him her story. \"I am from Sidon in\nthe Phoenician land,\" she said, \"and my father was named Artybas, and was\nfamous for his riches. Sea robbers caught me one day as I was crossing\nthe fields, and they stole me away, and brought me here, and sold me to\nthe master of yonder house.\"'\n\n'Then the sailor said to her, \"Your father and mother are still alive, I\nknow, and they have lost none of their wealth. Wilt thou not come with\nus and see them again?\"'\n\n'Then the woman made the sailors swear that they would bring her safely\nto the city of Sidon. She told them that when their ship was ready she\nwould come down to it, and that she would bring what gold she could lay\nher hands on away from her master's house, and that she would also\nbring the child whom she nursed. \"He is a wise child,\" she said, \"and\nyou can sell him for a slave when you come to a foreign land.\"'\n\n'When the Phoenician ship was ready to depart they sent a message to the\nwoman. The sailor who brought the message brought too a chain of gold\nwith amber beads strung here and there, for my mother to buy. And, while\nmy mother and her handmaids were handling the chain, the sailor nodded\nto the woman, and she went out, taking with her three cups of gold, and\nleading me by the hand,'\n\n'The sun sank and all the ways were darkened. But the Phoenician woman\nwent down to the harbour and came to the ship and went aboard it. And\nwhen the sailor who had gone to my father's house came back, they raised\nthe mast and sails, and took the oars in their hands, and drew the ship\naway from our land. We sailed away and I was left stricken at heart. For\nsix days we sailed over the sea, and on the seventh day the woman died\nand her body was cast into the deep. The wind and the waves bore us to\nIthaka, and there the merchants sold me to Laertes, the father of\nOdysseus.'\n\n'The wife of Laertes reared me kindly, and I grew up with the youngest\nof her daughters, the lovely Ctimene. But Ctimene went to Same, and was\nmarried to one of the princes of that island. Afterwards Laertes' lady\nsent me to work in the fields. But always she treated me kindly. Now\nLaertes' lady is dead, she wasted away from grief when she heard no\ntidings of her only son, Odysseus. Laertes yet lives, but since the\ndeath of his noble wife he never leaves his house. All day he sits by\nhis fire, they say, and thinks upon his son's doom, and how his son's\nsubstance is being wasted, and how his son's son will have but little to\ninherit.'\n\nSo Odysseus passed part of the night, Eum\u00e6us telling him of his\nwanderings and his sorrows. And while they were speaking, Telemachus,\nthe son of Odysseus, came to Ithaka in his good ship. Antinous had lain\nin wait for him, and had posted sentinels to watch for his ship;\nnevertheless Telemachus had passed by without being seen by his enemies.\nAnd having come to Ithaka, he bade one of his comrades bring the ship\ninto the wharf of the city while he himself went to another place.\nLeaving the ship he came to the dwelling of the servant he most\ntrusted--to the dwelling of Eum\u00e6us, the swineherd.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nOn the morning of his fourth day in Ithaka, as he and the swineherd were\neating a meal together, Odysseus heard the sound of footsteps\napproaching the hut. The fierce dogs were outside and he expected to\nhear them yelping against the stranger's approach. No sound came from\nthem. Then he saw a young man come to the entrance of the courtyard, the\nswineherd's dogs fawning upon him.\n\nWhen Eum\u00e6us saw this young man he let fall the vessels he was carrying,\nand running to him, kissed his head and his eyes and his hands. While he\nwas kissing and weeping over him, Odysseus heard the swineherd saying:\n\n'Telemachus, art thou come back to us? Like a light in the darkness thou\nhast appeared! I thought that never again should we see thee when I\nheard that thou hadst taken a ship to Pylos! Come in, dear son, come in,\nthat I may see thee once again in mine house.'\n\nOdysseus raised his head and looked at his son. As a lion might look\nover his cub so he looked over Telemachus. But neither the swineherd nor\nTelemachus was aware of Odysseus' gaze.\n\n'I have come to see thee, friend Eum\u00e6us,' said Telemachus, 'for before I\ngo into the City I would know whether my mother is still in the house of\nOdysseus, or whether one of the wooers has at last taken her as a wife\nto his own house.'\n\n'Thy mother is still in thy father's house,' Eum\u00e6us answered. Then\nTelemachus came within the courtyard. Odysseus in the guise of the old\nbeggar rose from his seat, but the young man said to him courteously:\n'Be seated, friend. Another seat can be found for me.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nEum\u00e6us strewed green brushwood and spread a fleece upon it, and\nTelemachus seated himself. Next Eum\u00e6us fetched a meal for him--oaten\ncakes and swine flesh and wine. While they were eating, the swineherd\nsaid:\n\n'We have here a stranger who has wandered through many countries, and\nwho has come to my house as a suppliant. Wilt thou take him for thy man,\nTelemachus?'\n\nSaid Telemachus, 'How can I support any man? I have not the strength of\nhand to defend mine own house. But for this stranger I will do what I\ncan. I will give him a mantle and doublet, with shoes for his feet and a\nsword to defend himself, and I will send him on whatever way he wants to\ngo. But, Eum\u00e6us, I would not have him go near my father's house. The\nwooers grow more insolent each day, and they might mock the stranger if\nhe went amongst them.'\n\nThen said Odysseus, speaking for the first time, 'Young sir, what thou\nhast said seems strange to me. Dost thou willingly submit to insolence\nin thine own father's house? But perhaps it is that the people of the\nCity hate thee and will not help thee against thine enemies. Ah, if I\nhad such youth as I have spirit, or if I were the son of Odysseus, I\nshould go amongst them this very day, and make myself the bane of each\nman of them. I would rather die in mine own halls than see such shame as\nis reported--strangers mocked at, and servants injured, and wine and\nfood wasted.'\n\nSaid Telemachus, 'The people of the City do not hate me, and they would\nhelp me if they could. But the wooers of my mother are powerful men--men\nto make the City folk afraid. And if I should oppose them I would\nassuredly be slain in my father's house, for how could I hope to\novercome so many?'\n\n'What wouldst thou have me do for thee, Telemachus?' said the swineherd.\n\n'I would have thee go to my mother, friend Eum\u00e6us,' Telemachus said,\n'and let her know that I am safe-returned from Pylos.'\n\nEum\u00e6us at once put sandals upon his feet and took his staff in his\nhands. He begged Telemachus to rest himself in the hut, and then he left\nthe courtyard and went towards the City.\n\nTelemachus lay down on his seat and closed his eyes in weariness. He\nsaw, while thinking that he only dreamt it, a woman come to the gate of\nthe courtyard. She was fair and tall and splendid, and the dogs shrank\naway from her presence with a whine. She touched the beggar with a\ngolden wand. As she did, the marks of age and beggary fell from him and\nthe man stood up as tall and noble looking.\n\n'Who art thou?' cried Telemachus, starting up. 'Even a moment ago thou\ndidst look aged and a beggar! Now thou dost look a chief of men! Art\nthou one of the divine ones?'\n\nOdysseus looked upon him and said. 'My son, do not speak so to me. I am\nOdysseus, thy father. After much suffering and much wandering I have\ncome to my own country.' He kissed his son with tears flowing down his\ncheeks, and Telemachus threw his arms around his father's neck, but\nscarce believing that the father he had searched for was indeed before\nhim.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBut no doubt was left as Odysseus talked to him, and told him how he had\ncome to Ithaka in a ship given him by the Ph\u00e6acians, and how he had\nbrought with him gifts of bronze and raiment that were hidden in the\ncave, and told him, too, how Pallas Athene had changed his appearance\ninto that of an old beggar.\n\nAnd when his own story was finished he said, 'Come, my son, tell me of\nthe wooers who waste the substance of our house--tell me how many they\nnumber, and who they are, so that we may prepare a way of dealing with\nthem.'\n\n'Even though thou art a great warrior, my father, thou and I cannot hope\nto deal with them. They have come, not from Ithaka alone, but from all\nthe islands around--from Dulichium and Same and Zacynthus. We two cannot\ndeal with such a throng.'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'I shall make a plan to deal with them. Go thou home, and\nkeep company with the wooers. Later in the day the swineherd will lead\nme into the city, and I shall go into the house in the likeness of an\nold beggar. And if thou shouldst see any of the wooers ill-treat me,\nharden thine heart to endure it--even if they drag me by the feet to the\ndoor of the house, keep quiet thou. And let no one--not even thy mother,\nPenelope--nor my father Laertes--know that Odysseus hath returned.'\n\nTelemachus said, 'My father, thou shalt learn soon what spirit is in me\nand what wisdom I have.'\n\nWhile they talked together the ship that Antinous had taken, when he\nwent to lie in wait for Telemachus, returned. The wooers assembled and\ndebated whether they should kill Telemachus, for now there was danger\nthat he would draw the people to his side, and so make up a force that\ncould drive the wooers out of Ithaka. But they did not agree to kill him\nthen, for there was one amongst them who was against the deed.\n\nEum\u00e6us brought the news to Telemachus and Odysseus of the return of\nAntinous' ship. He came back to the hut in the afternoon. Pallas Athene\nhad again given Odysseus the appearance of an ancient beggar-man and the\nswineherd saw no change in his guest.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nIt was time for Telemachus to go into the City. He put his sandals on\nhis feet, and took his spear in his hand, and then speaking to the\nswineherd he said:\n\n'Friend Eum\u00e6us, I am now going into the City to show myself to my\nmother, and to let her hear from my own lips the tale of my journey. And\nI have an order to leave with thee. Take this stranger into the City,\nthat he may go about as he desires, asking alms from the people.'\n\nOdysseus in the guise of a beggar said, 'I thank thee, lord Telemachus.\nI would not stay here, for I am not of an age to wait about a hut and\ncourtyard, obeying the orders of a master, even if that master be as\ngood a man as thy swineherd. Go thy way, lord Telemachus, and Eum\u00e6us, as\nthou hast bidden him, will lead me into the City.'\n\nTelemachus then passed out of the courtyard and went the ways until he\ncame into the City. When he went into the house, the first person he saw\nwas his nurse, old Eurycleia, who welcomed him with joy. To Eurycleia he\nspoke of the guest who had come on his ship, Theoclymenus. He told her\nthat this guest would be in the house that day, and that he was to be\ntreated with all honour and reverence. The wooers came into the hall and\ncrowded around him, with fair words in their mouths. Then all sat down\nat tables, and Eurycleia brought wheaten bread and wine and dainties.\n\nJust at that time Odysseus and Eum\u00e6us were journeying towards the City.\nOdysseus, in the guise of a beggar, had a ragged bag across his\nshoulders and he carried a staff that the swineherd had given him to\nhelp him over the slippery ground. They went by a rugged path and they\ncame to a place where a spring flowed into a basin made for its water,\nand where there was an altar to the Nymphs, at which men made offerings.\n\nAs Eum\u00e6us and Odysseus were resting at the spring, a servant from\nOdysseus' house came along. He was a goatherd, and Melanthius was his\nname. He was leading a flock of goats for the wooers to kill, and when\nhe saw the swineherd with the seeming beggar he cried out:\n\n'Now we see the vile leading the vile. Say, swineherd, whither art thou\nleading this wretch? It is easy to see the sort of fellow he is! He is\nthe sort to rub shoulders against many doorposts, begging for scraps.\nNothing else is he good for. But if thou wouldst give him to me,\nswineherd, I would make him watch my fields, and sweep out my stalls,\nand carry fresh water to the kids. He'd have his dish of whey from me.\nBut a fellow like this doesn't want an honest job--he wants to lounge\nthrough the country, filling his belly, without doing anything for the\npeople who feed him up. If he goes to the house of Odysseus, I pray that\nhe be pelted from the door.'\n\nHe said all this as he came up to them with his flock of goats. And as\nhe went by he gave a kick to Odysseus.\n\nOdysseus took thought whether he should strike the fellow with his staff\nor fling him upon the ground. But in the end he hardened his heart to\nendure the insult, and let the goatherd go on his way. But turning to\nthe altar that was by the spring, he prayed:\n\n'Nymphs of the Well! If ever Odysseus made offerings to you, fulfil for\nme this wish--that he--even Odysseus--may come to his own home, and have\npower to chastise the insolence that gathers around his house.'\n\nThey journeyed on, and when they came near they heard the sound of the\nlyre within the house. The wooers were now feasting, and Phemius the\nminstrel was singing to them. And when Odysseus came before his own\nhouse, he caught the swineherd by the hand suddenly and with a hard\ngrip, and he said:\n\n'Lo now, I who have wandered in many lands and have walked in pain\nthrough many Cities have come at last to the house of Odysseus. There it\nis, standing as of old, with building beyond building; with its walls\nand its battlements; its courts and its doors. The house of Odysseus,\nverily! And lo! unwelcome men keep revel within it, and the smoke of\ntheir feast rises up and the sound of the lyre is heard playing for\nthem.'\n\nSaid Eum\u00e6us, 'What wilt thou have me do for thee, friend? Shall I bring\nthee into the hall and before the company of wooers, whilst I remain\nhere, or wouldst thou have me go in before thee?'\n\n'I would have thee go in before me,' Odysseus said.\n\nNow as they went through the courtyard a thing happened that dashed\nOdysseus' eyes with tears. A hound lay in the dirt of the yard, a hound\nthat was very old. All uncared for he lay in the dirt, old and feeble.\nBut he had been a famous hound, and Odysseus himself had trained him\nbefore he went to the wars of Troy. Argos was his name. Now as Odysseus\ncame near, the hound Argos knew him, and stood up before him and whined\nand dropped his ears, but had no strength to come near him. Odysseus\nknew the hound and stopped and gazed at him. 'A good hound lies there,'\nsaid he to Eum\u00e6us, 'once, I think, he was so swift that no beast in the\ndeep places of the wood could flee from him.' Then he went on, and the\nhound Argos lay down in the dirt of the yard, and that same day the life\npassed from him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nBehind Eum\u00e6us, the swineherd, he came into his own hall, in the\nappearance of a beggar, wretchedly clad and leaning on an old man's\nstaff. Odysseus looked upon the young lords who wooed his wife, and then\nhe sat down upon the threshold and went no further into the hall.\n\nTelemachus was there. Seeing Eum\u00e6us he called to him and gave the\nswineherd bread and meat, and said, 'Take these, and give them to the\nstranger at the doorway, and tell him that he may go amongst the company\nand crave an alms from each.'\n\nOdysseus ate whilst the minstrel was finishing his song. When it was\nfinished he rose up, and went into the hall, craving an alms from each\nof the wooers.\n\nSeeing him, Antinous, the most insolent of the wooers, cried out, 'O\nnotorious swineherd, why didst thou bring this fellow here? Have we not\nenough vagabonds? Is it nothing to thee that worthless fellows come here\nand devour thy master's substance?'\n\nHearing such a speech from Antinous, Telemachus had to say, 'Antinous, I\nsee that thou hast good care for me and mine. I marvel that thou hast\nsuch good care. But wouldst thou have me drive a stranger from the door?\nThe gods forbid that I should do such a thing. Nay, Antinous. Give the\nstranger something for the sake of the house.'\n\n'If all the company gives him as much as I, he will have something to\nkeep him from beggary for a three months' space,' said Antinous, meaning\nby that that he would work some hurt upon the beggar.\n\nOdysseus came before him. 'They say that thou art the noblest of all the\nwooers,' he said, 'and for that reason thou shouldst give me a better\nthing than any of the others have given me. Look upon me. I too had a\nhouse of mine own, and was accounted wealthy amongst men, and I had\nservants to wait upon me. And many a time would I make welcome the\nwanderer and give him something from my store.'\n\n'Stand far away from my table, thou wretched fellow,' said Antinous.\n\nThen said Odysseus, 'Thou hast beauty, lord Antinous, but thou hast not\nwisdom. Out of thine own house thou wouldst not give a grain of salt to\na suppliant. And even whilst thou dost sit at another man's table thou\ndost not find it in thy heart to give something out of the plenty that\nis before thee.'\n\nSo Odysseus spoke and Antinous became terribly angered. He caught up a\nfootstool, and with it he struck Odysseus in the back, at the base of\nthe right shoulder. Such a blow would have knocked another man over, but\nOdysseus stood steadfast under it. He gave one look at Antinous, and\nthen without a word he went over and sat down again upon the threshold.\n\nTelemachus had in his heart a mighty rage for the stroke that had been\ngiven his father. But he let no tear fall from his eyes and he sat very\nstill, brooding in his heart evil for the wooers. Odysseus, after a\nwhile, lifted his head and spoke:\n\n[Illustration]\n\n'Wooers of the renowned queen,' he said, 'hear what the spirit within me\nbids me say to you. There is neither pain nor shame in the blow that a\nman may get in battle. But in the blow that Antinous has given me--a\nblow aimed at a beggar--there is pain and there is shame. And now I call\nupon that god who is the avenger of the insult to the poor, to bring,\nnot a wedding to Antinous, but the issue of death.'\n\n'Sit there and eat thy meat in quiet,' Antinous called out, 'or else\nthou wilt be dragged through the house by thy heels, and the flesh will\nbe stripped off thy bones,'\n\nAnd now the lady Penelope had come into the hall. Hearing that a\nstranger was there, she sent for Eum\u00e6us and bade the swineherd bring him\nto her, that she might question him as to what he had heard about\nOdysseus. Eum\u00e6us came and told him of Penelope's request. But Odysseus\nsaid, 'Eum\u00e6us, right willing am I to tell the truth about Odysseus to\nthe fair and wise Penelope. But now I may not speak to her. Go to her\nand tell her that when the wooers have gone I will speak to her. And ask\nher to give me a seat near the fire, that I may sit and warm myself as I\nspeak, for the clothes I wear are comfortless.'\n\nAs Eum\u00e6us gave the message to the lady Penelope, one who was there,\nTheoclymenus, the guest who had come in Telemachus' ship, said, 'O wife\nof the renowned Odysseus, be sure that thy lord will return to his\nhouse. As I came here on the ship of Telemachus, thy son, I saw a\nhappening that is an omen of the return of Odysseus. A bird flew out on\nthe right, a hawk. In his talons he held a dove, and plucked her and\nshed the feathers down on the ship. By that omen I know that the lord\nof this high house will return, and strike here in his anger.'\n\nPenelope left the hall and went back to her own chamber. Next Eum\u00e6us\nwent away to look after his swine. But still the wooers continued to\nfeast, and still Odysseus sat in the guise of a beggar on the threshold\nof his own house.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nThere was in Ithaka a common beggar; he was a most greedy fellow, and he\nwas nicknamed Irus because he used to run errands for the servants of\nOdysseus' house. He came in the evening, and seeing a seeming beggar\nseated on the threshold, he flew into a rage and shouted at him:\n\n'Get away from here, old fellow, lest you be dragged away by the hand or\nfoot. Look you! The lords within the house are giving me the wink to\nturn you out. But I can't demean myself by touching the like of you. Get\nup now and go while I'm easy with you.'\n\nOdysseus looked at the fellow and said, 'I have not harmed you in deed\nor word, and I do not grudge you anything of what you may get in this\nhouse. The threshold I sit on is wide enough for two of us.'\n\n'What words this fellow has!' said Irus the beggar. 'He talks like an\nold sit-by-the-fire. I'll not waste more words on him. Get up now, heavy\npaunch, and strip for the fight, for I'm going to show all the lords\nthat I can keep the door for them.'\n\n'Do not provoke me,' said Odysseus. 'Old as I seem, I may be able to\ndraw your blood.'\n\nBut Irus kept on shouting, 'I'll knock the teeth out of your jaws.'\n'I'll trounce you.' Antinous, the most insolent of the wooers, saw the\nsquabble, and he laughed to see the pair defying each other. 'Friends,'\nsaid he, 'the gods are good to us, and don't fail to send us amusement.\nThe strange beggar and our own Irus are threatening each other. Let us\nsee that they don't draw back from the fight. Let us match one against\nthe other.'\n\nAll the wooers trooped to the threshold and stood round the ragged men.\nAntinous thought of something to make the game more merry. 'There are\ntwo great puddings in the larder,' he said. 'Let us offer them for a\nprize to these pugilists. Come, Irus. Come, stranger. A choice of\npuddings for whichever of you wins the match. Aye, and more than that.\nWhoever wins shall have leave to eat every day in this hall, and no\nother beggar shall be let come near the house. Go to it now, ye mighty\nmen.' All the wooers crowded round and clapped the men on to the fight.\n\nOdysseus said, 'Friends, an old man like me cannot fight one who is\nyounger and abler.'\n\nBut they cried to him, 'Go on, go on. Get into the fight or else take\nstripes upon your body,'\n\nThen said Odysseus, 'Swear to me, all of you, that none of you will show\nfavour to Irus nor deal me a foul blow,'\n\nAll the wooers cried out that none would favour Irus or deal his\nopponent a foul blow. And Telemachus, who was there, said, 'The man who\nstrikes thee, stranger, will have to take reckoning from me.'\n\nStraightway Odysseus girt up his rags. When his great arms and shoulders\nand thighs were seen, the wooers were amazed and Irus was frightened. He\nwould have slipped away if Antinous had not caught him and said to him,\n'You lubber, you! If you do not stand up before this man I will have you\nflung on my ship and sent over to King Echetus, who will cut off your\nnose and ears and give your flesh to his dogs to eat,' He took hold of\nIrus and dragged him into the ring.\n\nThe fighters faced each other. But Odysseus with his hands upraised\nstood for long without striking, for he was pondering whether he should\nstrike Irus a hard or a light blow. It seemed to him better to strike\nhim lightly, so that his strength should not be made a matter for the\nwooers to note and wonder at. Irus struck first. He struck Odysseus on\nthe shoulder. Then Odysseus aimed a blow at his neck, just below the\near, and the beggar fell to the ground, with the blood gushing from his\nmouth and nose.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe wooers were not sorry for Irus. They laughed until they were ready\nto fall backwards. Then Odysseus seized Irus by the feet, and dragged\nhim out of the house, and to the gate of the courtyard. He lifted him up\nand put him standing against the wall. Placing the staff in the beggar's\nhands, he said, 6 Sit there, and scare off the dogs and swine, and do\nnot let such a one as you lord it over strangers. A worse thing might\nhave befallen you.'\n\nThen back he went to the hall, with his beggar's bag on his shoulder and\nhis clothes more ragged than ever. Back he went, and when the wooers saw\nhim they burst into peals of laughter and shouted out:\n\n'May Zeus, O stranger, give thee thy dearest wish and thy heart's\ndesire. Thou only shalt be beggar in Ithaka.' They laughed and laughed\nagain when Antinous brought out the great pudding that was the prize.\nOdysseus took it from him. And another of the wooers pledged him in a\ngolden cup, saying, 'May you come to your own, O beggar, and may\nhappiness be yours in time to come.'\n\nWhile these things were happening, the wife of Odysseus, the lady\nPenelope, called to Eurycleia, and said, 'This evening I will go into\nthe hall of our house and speak to my son, Telemachus. Bid my two\nhandmaidens make ready to come with me, for I shrink from going amongst\nthe wooers alone.'\n\nEurycleia went to tell the handmaidens and Penelope washed off her\ncheeks the traces of the tears that she had wept that day. Then she sat\ndown to wait for the handmaidens to come to her. As she waited she fell\ninto a deep sleep. And as she slept, the goddess Pallas Athene bathed\nher face in the Water of Beauty and took all weariness away from her\nbody, and restored all her youthfulness to her. The sound of the\nhandmaidens' voices as they came in awakened her, and Penelope rose up\nto go into the hall.\n\nNow when she came amongst them with her two handmaidens, one standing\neach side of her, the wooers were amazed, for they had never seen one so\nbeautiful. The hearts of all were enchanted with love for her, and each\nprayed that he might have her for his wife.\n\nPenelope did not look on any of the wooers, but she went to her son,\nTelemachus, and spoke to him.\n\n'Telemachus,' she said, 'I have heard that a stranger has been\nill-treated in this house. How, my child, didst thou permit such a thing\nto happen?'\n\nTelemachus said, 'My lady mother, thou hast no right to be angered at\nwhat took place in this hall.'\n\nSo they spoke to one another, mother and son. Now one of the wooers,\nEurymachus by name, spoke to Penelope, saying:\n\n'Lady, if any more than we beheld thee in the beauty thou hast now, by\nso many more wouldst thou have wooers to-morrow.'\n\n'Speak not so to me, lord Eurymachus,' said Penelope, 'speak not of my\nbeauty, which departed in the grief I felt when my lord went to the wars\nof Troy.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOdysseus stood up, and gazed upon his wife who was standing amongst her\nwooers. Eurymachus noted him and going to him, said, 'Stranger, wouldst\nthou be my hireling? If thou wouldst work on my upland farm, I should\ngive thee food and clothes. But I think thou art practised only in\nshifts and dodges, and that thou wouldst prefer to go begging thy way\nthrough the country.'\n\nOdysseus, standing there, said to that proud wooer, 'Lord Eurymachus, if\nthere might be a trial of labour between us two, I know which of us\nwould come out the better man. I would that we two stood together, a\nscythe in the hands of each, and a good swath of meadow to be mown--then\nwould I match with thee, fasting from dawn until evening's dark. Or\nwould that we were set ploughing together. Then thou shouldst see who\nwould plough the longest and the best furrow! Or would that we two were\nin the ways of war! Then shouldst thou see who would be in the front\nrank of battle. Thou dost think thyself a great man. But if Odysseus\nshould return, that door, wide as it is, would be too narrow for thy\nflight.'\n\nSo angry was Eurymachus at this speech that he would have struck\nOdysseus if Telemachus had not come amongst the wooers, saying, 'That\nman must not be struck again in this hall. Sirs, if you have finished\nfeasting, and if the time has come for you, go to your own homes, go in\npeace I pray you.'\n\nAll were astonished that Telemachus should speak so boldly. No one\nanswered him back, for one said to the other, 'What he has said is\nproper. We have nothing to say against it. To misuse a stranger in the\nhouse of Odysseus is a shame. Now let us pour out a libation of wine to\nthe gods, and then let each man go to his home.'\n\nThe wine was poured out and the wooers departed. Then Penelope and her\nhandmaidens went to her own chamber and Telemachus was left with his\nfather, Odysseus.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nTo Telemachus Odysseus said, 'My son, we must now get the weapons out of\nthe hall. Take them down from the walls.' Telemachus and his father took\ndown the helmets and shields and sharp-pointed spears. Then said\nOdysseus as they carried them out, 'To-morrow, when the wooers miss the\nweapons and say, \"Why have they been taken?\" answer them, saying, \"The\nsmoke of the fire dulled them, and they no longer looked the weapons\nthat my father left behind him when he went to the wars of Troy.\nBesides, I am fearful lest some day the company in the hall come to a\nquarrel, one with the other, and snatch the weapons in anger. Strife has\ncome here already. And iron draws iron, men say.\"'\n\nTelemachus carried the armour and weapons out of the hall and hid them\nin the women's apartment. Then when the hall was cleared he went to his\nown chamber.\n\nIt was then that Penelope came back to the hall to speak to the\nstranger. One of her handmaidens, Melantho by name, was there, and she\nwas speaking angrily to him. Now this Melantho was proud and hard of\nheart because Antinous often conversed with her. As Penelope came near\nshe was saying:\n\n'Stranger, art thou still here, prying things out and spying on the\nservants? Be thankful for the supper thou hast gotten and betake thyself\nout of this.'\n\nOdysseus, looking fiercely at her, said, 'Why shouldst thou speak to me\nin such a way? If I go in ragged clothes and beg through the land it is\nbecause of my necessity. Once I had a house with servants and with much\nsubstance, and the stranger who came there was not abused.'\n\nThe lady Penelope called to the handmaiden and said, 'Thou, Melantho,\ndidst hear it from mine own lips that I was minded to speak to this\nstranger and ask him if he had tidings of my lord. Therefore, it does\nnot become thee to revile him.' She spoke to the old nurse who had come\nwith her, and said, 'Eurycleia, bring to the fire a bench, with a fleece\nupon it, that this stranger may sit and tell me his story.'\n\nEurycleia brought over the bench, and Odysseus sat down near the fire.\nThen said the lady Penelope, 'First, stranger, wilt thou tell me who\nthou art, and what is thy name, and thy race and thy country?'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Ask me all thou wilt, lady, but inquire not concerning\nmy name, or race, or country, lest thou shouldst fill my heart with more\npains than I am able to endure. Verily I am a man of grief. But hast\nthou no tale to tell me? We know of thee, Penelope, for thy fame goes up\nto heaven, and no one of mortal men can find fault with thee.'\n\nThen said Penelope, 'What excellence I had of face or form departed from\nme when my lord Odysseus went from this hall to the wars of Troy. And\nsince he went a host of ills has beset me. Ah, would that he were here\nto watch over my life! The lords of all the islands around--Dulichium\nand Same and Zacynthus; and the lords of the land of Ithaka, have come\nhere and are wooing me against my will. They devour the substance of\nthis house and my son is being impoverished.'\n\n'Long ago a god put into my mind a device to keep marriage with any of\nthem away from me. I set up a great web upon my loom and I spoke to the\nwooers, saying, \"Odysseus is assuredly dead, but I crave that you be not\neager to speed on this marriage with me. Wait until I finish the web I\nam weaving. It is a shroud for Odysseus' father, and I make it against\nthe day when death shall come to him. There will be no woman to care for\nLaertes when I have left his son's house, and I would not have such a\nhero lie without a shroud, lest the women of our land should blame me\nfor neglect of my husband's father in his last days.'\"\n\n'So I spoke, and they agreed to wait until the web was woven. In the\ndaytime I wove it, but at night I unravelled the web. So three years\npassed away. Then the fourth year came, and my wooers were hard to deal\nwith. My treacherous handmaidens brought them upon me as I was\nunravelling the web. And now I cannot devise any other plan to keep the\nmarriage away from me. My parents command me to marry one of my wooers.\nMy son cannot long endure to see the substance of his house and field\nbeing wasted, and the wealth that should be his destroyed. He too would\nwish that I should marry. And there is no reason why I should not be wed\nagain, for surely Odysseus, my lord, is dead.'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Thy lord was known to me. On his way to Troy he came to\nmy land, for the wind blew him out of his course, sending him wandering\npast Malea. For twelve days he stayed in my city, and I gave him good\nentertainment, and saw that he lacked for nothing in cattle, or wine, or\nbarley meal.'\n\nWhen Odysseus was spoken of, the heart of Penelope melted, and tears ran\ndown her cheeks. Odysseus had pity for his wife when he saw her weeping\nfor the man who was even then sitting by her. Tears would have run down\nhis own cheeks only that he was strong enough to hold them back.\n\nSaid Penelope, 'Stranger, I cannot help but question thee about\nOdysseus. What raiment had he on when thou didst see him? And what men\nwere with him?'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Lady, it is hard for one so long parted from him to tell\nthee what thou hast asked. It is now twenty years since I saw Odysseus.\nHe wore a purple mantle that was fastened with a brooch. And this brooch\nhad on it the image of a hound holding a fawn between its fore-paws. All\nthe people marvelled at this brooch, for it was of gold, and the fawn\nand the hound were done to the life. And I remember that there was a\nhenchman with Odysseus--he was a man somewhat older than his master,\nround shouldered and black-skinned and curly headed. His name was\nEurybates, and Odysseus honoured him above the rest of his company.'\n\nWhen he spoke, giving such tokens of Odysseus, Penelope wept again. And\nwhen she had wept for a long time she said:\n\n'Stranger, thou wert made welcome, but now thou shalt be honoured in\nthis hall. Thou dost speak of the garments that Odysseus wore. It was I\nwho gave him these garments, folding them myself and bringing them out\nof the chamber. And it was I who gave him the brooch that thou hast\ndescribed. Ah, it was an evil fate that took him from me, bringing him\nto Troy, that place too evil to be named by me.'\n\nOdysseus leaned towards her, and said, 6 Do not waste thy heart with\nendless weeping, lady. Cease from lamentation, and lay up in thy mind\nthe word I give thee. Odysseus is near. He has lost all his companions,\nand he knows not how to come into this house, whether openly or by\nstealth. I swear it. By the hearth of Odysseus to which I am come, I\nswear that Odysseus himself will stand up here before the old moon wanes\nand the new moon is born.'\n\n'Ah, no,' said Penelope. 'Often before have wanderers told me such\ncomfortable things, and I believed them. I know now that thy word cannot\nbe accomplished. But it is time for thee to rest thyself, stranger. My\nhandmaidens will make a bed for thee in the vestibule, and then come to\nthee and bathe thy feet.'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Thy handmaidens would be loath to touch the feet of a\nwanderer such as I. But if there is in the house some old wife who has\nborne such troubles as I have borne, I would have my feet bathed by\nher.'\n\nSaid Penelope, 'Here is an ancient woman who nursed and tended that\nhapless man, Odysseus. She took him in her arms in the very hour he was\nborn. Eurycleia, wash the feet of this man, who knew thy lord and mine.'\n\nThereupon the nurse, old Eurycleia, fetched water, both hot and cold,\nand brought the bath to the hearth. And standing before Odysseus in the\nflickering light of the fire, she said, 'I will wash thy feet, both for\nPenelope's sake and for thine own. The heart within me is moved at the\nsight of thee. Many strangers have come into this hall, but I have never\nseen one that was so like as thou art to Odysseus.'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Many people have said that Odysseus and I favour each\nother.'\n\nHis feet were in the water, and she put her hand upon one of them. As\nshe did so, Odysseus turned his face away to the darkness, for it\nsuddenly came into his mind that his nurse, old Eurycleia, might\nrecognize the scar that was upon that foot.\n\nHow came it there, that scar? It had been made long ago when a boar's\ntusk had ripped up the flesh of his foot. Odysseus was then a youth, and\nhe had gone to the mountain Parnassus to visit there his mother's\nfather.\n\nOne morning, with his uncles, young Odysseus went up the slope of the\nmountain Parnassus, to hunt with hounds. In a thick lair a mighty boar\nwas lying. When the sound of the men's trampling came near him, he\nsprang up with gleaming eyes and stood before them all. Odysseus,\nholding his spear in his hands, rushed upon him. But before he could\nstrike him, the boar charged, ripping deep into his flesh with his tusk.\nThen Odysseus speared him through the shoulder and the boar was slain.\nHis uncles staunched the wound and he stayed with them on the mountain\nParnassus, in his grandfather's house, until the wound was healed.\n\nAnd now, as Eurycleia, his old nurse, passed her hands along the leg,\nshe let his foot drop suddenly. His knee struck against the bath, and\nthe vessel of water was overturned. The nurse touched the chin of\nOdysseus and she said, 'Thou art Odysseus.'\n\nShe looked to where Penelope was sitting, so that she might make a sign\nto her. But Penelope had her eyes turned away. Odysseus put his hand on\nEurycleia's mouth, and with the other hand he drew her to him.\n\n'Woman,' he whispered. 'Say nothing. Be silent, lest mine enemies learn\nwhat thou knowest now.'\n\n'Silent I'll be,' said the nurse Eurycleia. 'Thou knowest me. Firm and\nunyielding I am, and by no sign will I let anyone know that thou hast\ncome under this roof.'\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nSo saying she went out of the hall to fetch water in the place of that\nwhich had been spilt. She came back and finished bathing his feet. Then\nOdysseus arranged the rags around his leg to hide the scar, and he drew\nthe bench closer to the fire.\n\nPenelope turned to him again, 'Wise thou art, my guest,' she said, 'and\nit may be that thou art just such a man as can interpret a dream that\ncomes to me constantly. I have twenty geese in the yard outside. In my\ndream I see them, and then a great eagle flies down from the mountains,\nand breaks their necks and kills them all, and lays them in a heap in\nthis hall. I weep and lament for my geese, but then the eagle comes\nback, and perching on a beam of the roof speaks to me in the voice of a\nman. \"Take heart, O wife of Odysseus,\" the eagle says, \"this is no dream\nbut a true vision. For the geese that thou hast seen are thy wooers, and\nI, that appeared as an eagle, am thy husband who will swiftly bring\ndeath to the wooers.\" Then the dream goes, and I waken and look out on\nthe daylight and see my geese in the courtyard pecking at the wheat in\nthe trough. Canst thou interpret this dream?'\n\n'Lady,' said Odysseus, 'the dream interprets itself. All will come about\nas thou hast dreamed.'\n\n'Ah,' said Penelope, 'but it cannot now, for the day of my woe is at\nhand. I am being forced by my parents to choose a husband from the\nwooers, and depart from the house of Odysseus.'\n\n'And how wilt thou choose from amongst them?' said Odysseus.\n\n'In this way will I make choice,' said Penelope. 'My husband's great bow\nis still in the house. The one who can bend that bow, and shoot an arrow\nthrough the holes in the backs of twelve axes set one behind the\nother--him will I choose for my husband.'\n\nSaid Odysseus, 'Thy device is good, Penelope, and some god hath\ninstructed thee to do this. But delay no longer the contest of the bow.\nLet it be to-morrow.'\n\n'Is that thy counsel, O stranger?' said Penelope.\n\n'It is my counsel,' said Odysseus.\n\n'I thank thee for thy counsel,' she said. 'And now farewell, for I must\ngo to my rest. And do thou lie down in the vestibule, in the bed that\nhas been made for thee.'\n\nSo Penelope spoke, and then she went to her chamber with her\nhandmaidens. And in her bed she thought over all the stranger had told\nher of Odysseus, and she wept again for him.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n\nAll night Odysseus lay awake, tossing this side and that, as he pondered\non how he might slay the wooers, and save his house from them. As soon\nas the dawn came, he went into the open air and, lifting up his hands,\nprayed to Zeus, the greatest of the gods, that he might be shown some\nsign, as to whether he would win victory or meet with defeat.\n\nAnd then, as he was going within the house, he heard the voice of a\nwoman who ground barley-meal between stones. She was one of twelve, but\nthe other women had fallen asleep by the quern-stones. She was an\nancient, wretched woman, covered all over with the dust of the grain,\nand, as Odysseus came near her, she lifted up her hands and prayed in a\nweak voice:\n\n'O Zeus, even for miserable me, fulfil a prayer! May this be the last\nday that the wooers make their feast in the house of Odysseus! They have\nloosened my knees with the cruel toil they have made me undergo,\ngrinding for them the barley for the bread they eat. O Zeus, may they\nto-day sup their last!'\n\nThus the quern-woman spoke, as Odysseus crossed his threshold. He was\nglad of her speech, for it seemed to him her words were an omen from\nZeus, and that vengeance would soon be wrought upon the proud and\nhard-hearted men who wasted the goods of the house and oppressed the\nservants.\n\nAnd now the maids came into the hall from the women's apartment, and\nsome cleaned the tables and others took pitchers and went to the well\nfor water. Then men-servants came in and split the fagots for the fire.\nOther servants came into the courtyard--Eum\u00e6us the swineherd, driving\nfatted swine, the best of his drove, and Philoetius the cattle-herd\nbringing a calf. The goatherd Melanthius, him whom Odysseus and Eum\u00e6us\nhad met on the road the day before, also came, bringing the best goats\nof his flock to be killed for the wooers' feast.\n\nWhen the cattle-herd, Philoetius, saw a stranger in the guise of a\nbeggar, he called out as he tethered the calf in the yard, 'Hail,\nstranger friend! My eyes fill with tears as I look on thee. For even\nnow, clad as thou art in rags, thou dost make me think of my master\nOdysseus, who may be a wanderer such as thou in friendless lands. Ah,\nthat he might return and make a scattering of the wooers in his hall.'\nEum\u00e6us the swineherd came up to Philoetius and made the same prayer.\nThese two, and the ancient woman at the quern, were the only ones of his\nservants whom he heard pray for his return.\n\nAnd now the wooers came into the hall. Philoetius the cattle-herd, and\nMelanthius the evil goatherd, went amongst them, handing them bread and\nmeat and wine. Odysseus stood outside the hall until Telemachus went to\nhim and brought him within.\n\nNow there was amongst the wooers a man named Ctesippus, and he was the\nrudest and the roughest of them all. When he saw Telemachus bringing\nOdysseus within he shouted out, 'Here is a guest of Telemachus to whom\nsome gift is due from us. It will be unseemly if he should get nothing\nto-day. Therefore I will bestow this upon him as a token.'\n\nSaying this, Ctesippus took up the foot of a slaughtered ox and flung it\nfull at Odysseus. Odysseus drew back, and the ox's foot struck the wall.\nThen did Odysseus smile grimly upon the wooers.\n\nSaid Telemachus, 'Verily, Ctesippus, the cast turned out happily for\nthyself. For if thou shouldst have struck my guest, there would have\nbeen a funeral feast instead of a wedding banquet in thy father's house.\nAssuredly I should have driven my spear through thee.'\n\nAll the wooers were silent when Telemachus spoke these bold words. But\nsoon they fell laughing at something one of their number said. The guest\nfrom Telemachus' ship, Theoclymenus, was there, and he started up and\nwent to leave the hall.\n\n'Why dost thou go, my guest?' said Telemachus.\n\n'I see the walls and the beams of the roof sprinkled with blood,' said\nTheoclymenus, the second-sighted man. 'I hear the voice of wailing. I\nsee cheeks wet with tears. The men before me have shrouds upon them. The\ncourtyard is filled with ghosts.'\n\nSo Theoclymenus spoke, and all the wooers laughed at the second-sighted\nman, for he stumbled about the hall as if it were in darkness. Then said\none of the wooers, 'Lead that man out of the house, for surely he cannot\ntell day from night.'\n\n'I will go from the place,' said Theoclymenus. 'I see death approaching.\nNot one of all the company before me will be able to avoid it.'\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nSo saying, the second-sighted man went out of the hall. The wooers\nlooking at each other laughed again, and one of them said:\n\n'Telemachus has no luck in his guests. One is a dirty beggar, who thinks\nof nothing but what he can put from his hand into his mouth, and the\nother wants to stand up here and play the seer.' So the wooers spake in\nmockery, but neither Telemachus nor Odysseus paid heed to their words,\nfor their minds were bent upon the time when they should take vengeance\nupon them.\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n\nIn the treasure-chamber of the house Odysseus' great bow was kept. That\nbow had been given to him by a hero named Iphitus long ago. Odysseus had\nnot taken it with him when he went to the wars of Troy.\n\nTo the treasure-chamber Penelope went. She carried in her hand the great\nkey that opened the doors--a key all of bronze with a handle of ivory.\nNow as she thrust the key into the locks, the doors groaned as a bull\ngroans. She went within, and saw the great bow upon its peg. She took it\ndown and laid it upon her knees, and thought long upon the man who had\nbent it.\n\nBeside the bow was its quiver full of bronze-weighted arrows. The\nservant took the quiver and Penelope took the bow, and they went from\nthe treasure-chamber and into the hall where the wooers were.\n\nWhen she came in she spoke to the company and said: 'Lords of Ithaka and\nof the islands around: You have come here, each desiring that I should\nwed him. Now the time has come for me to make my choice of a man from\namongst you. Here is how I shall make choice.'\n\n'This is the bow of Odysseus, my lord who is no more. Whosoever amongst\nyou who can bend this bow and shoot an arrow from it through the holes\nin the backs of twelve axes which I shall have set up, him will I wed,\nand to his house I will go, forsaking the house of my wedlock, this\nhouse so filled with treasure and substance, this house which I shall\nremember in my dreams.'\n\nAs she spoke Telemachus took the twelve axes and set them upright in an\neven line, so that one could shoot an arrow through the hole that was in\nthe back of each axe-head. Then Eum\u00e6us, the old swineherd, took the bow\nof Odysseus, and laid it before the wooers.\n\nOne of the wooers took up the bow and tried to bend it. But he could not\nbend it, and he laid it down at the doorway with the arrow beside it.\nThe others took up the bow, and warmed it at the fire, and rubbed it\nwith lard to make it more pliable. As they were doing this, Eum\u00e6us, the\nswineherd, and Philoetius, the cattleherd, passed out of the hall.\n\nOdysseus followed them into the courtyard. He laid a hand on each and\nsaid, 'Swineherd and cattleherd, I have a word to say to you. But will\nyou keep it to yourselves, the word I say? And first, what would you do\nto help Odysseus if he should return? Would you stand on his side, or on\nthe side of the wooers? Answer me now from your hearts.'\n\nSaid Philoetius the cattleherd, 'May Zeus fulfil my wish and bring\nOdysseus back! Then thou shouldst know on whose side I would stand.'\nAnd Eum\u00e6us said, 'If Odysseus should return I would be on his side, and\nthat with all the strength that is in me.'\n\nWhen they said this, Odysseus declared himself. Lifting up his hand to\nheaven he said, 'I am your master, Odysseus. After twenty years I have\ncome back to my own country, and I find that of all my servants, by you\ntwo alone is my homecoming desired. If you need see a token that I am\nindeed Odysseus, look down on my foot. See there the mark that the wild\nboar left on me in the days of my youth.'\n\nStraightway he drew the rags from, the scar, and the swineherd and the\ncattleherd saw it and marked it well. Knowing that it was indeed\nOdysseus who stood before them, they cast their arms around him and\nkissed him on the head and shoulders. And Odysseus was moved by their\ntears, and he kissed their heads and their hands.\n\nAs they went back to the hall, he told Eum\u00e6us to bring the bow to him as\nhe was bearing it through the hall. He told him, too, to order\nEurycleia, the faithful nurse, to bar the doors of the women's apartment\nat the end of the hall, and to bid the women, even if they heard a\ngroaning and a din, not to come into the hall. And he charged the\ncattleherd Philoetius to bar the gates of the courtyard.\n\nAs he went into the hall, one of the wooers, Eurymachus, was striving to\nbend the bow. As he struggled to do so he groaned aloud:\n\n'Not because I may not marry Penelope do I groan, but because we youths\nof to-day are shown to be weaklings beside Odysseus, whose bow we can in\nno way bend.'\n\nThen Antinous, the proudest of the wooers, made answer and said, 'Why\nshould we strive to bend the bow to-day? Nay, lay the bow aside,\nEurymachus, and let the wine-bearers pour us out a cupful each. In the\nmorning let us make sacrifice to the Archer-god, and pray that the bow\nbe fitted to some of our hands.'\n\nThen Odysseus came forward and said, 'Sirs, you do well to lay the bow\naside for to-day. But will you not put the bow into my hands, that I may\ntry to bend it, and judge for myself whether I have any of the strength\nthat once was mine?'\n\nAll the wooers were angry that a seeming beggar should attempt to bend\nthe bow that none of their company were able to bend; Antinous spoke to\nhim sharply and said:\n\n'Thou wretched beggar! Is it not enough that thou art let into this high\nhall to pick up scraps, but thou must listen to our speech and join in\nour conversation? If thou shouldst bend that bow we will make short\nshrift of thee, I promise. We will put thee on a ship and send thee over\nto King Echetus, who will cut thee to pieces and give thy flesh to his\nhounds.'\n\nOld Eum\u00e6us had taken up the bow. As he went with it to Odysseus some of\nthem shouted to him, 'Where art thou going with the bow, thou crazy\nfellow? Put it down,' Eum\u00e6us was confused by their shouts, and he put\ndown the bow.\n\nThen Telemachus spoke to him and said, 'Eum\u00e6us, beware of being the man\nwho served many masters.' Eum\u00e6us, hearing these words, took it up again\nand brought it to Odysseus, and put the bow into his hands.\n\nAs Odysseus stood in the doorway of the hall, the bow in his hands, and\nwith the arrows scattered at his feet, Eum\u00e6us went to Eurycleia, and\ntold her to bar the door of the women's apartment at the back. Then\nPhiloetius, the cattleherd, went out of the hall and barred the gates\nleading out of the courtyard.\n\nFor long Odysseus stood with the bow in his hands, handling it as a\nminstrel handles a lyre when he stretches a cord or tightens a peg. Then\nhe bent the great bow; he bent it without an effort, and at his touch\nthe bow-string made a sound that was like the cry of a swallow. The\nwooers seeing him bend that mighty bow felt, every man of them, a sharp\npain at the heart. They saw Odysseus take up an arrow and fit it to the\nstring. He held the notch, and he drew the string, and he shot the\nbronze-weighted arrow straight through the holes in the back of the\naxe-heads.\n\nThen as Eum\u00e6us took up the axes, and brought them outside, he said,\n'Thou seest, lord Telemachus, that thy guest does not shame thee through\nfoolish boasting. I have bent the bow of Odysseus, and I have shot the\narrow aright. But now it is time to provide the feast for the lords who\nwoo thy lady mother. While it is yet light, the feast must be served to\nthem, and with the feast they must have music and the dance.'\n\n[Illustration.]\n\nSaying this he nodded to Telemachus, bending his terrible brows.\nTelemachus instantly girt his sword upon him and took his spear in his\nhand. Outside was heard the thunder of Zeus. And now Odysseus had\nstripped his rags from him and was standing upright, looking a master of\nmen. The mighty bow was in his hands, and at his feet were scattered\nmany bronze-weighted arrows.\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\n\nIt is ended,' Odysseus said, 'My trial is ended. Now will I have another\nmark.' Saying this, he put the bronze-weighted arrow against the string\nof the bow, and shot at the first of his enemies.\n\nIt was at Antinous he pointed the arrow--at Antinous who was even then\nlifting up a golden cup filled with wine, and who was smiling, with\ndeath far from his thoughts. Odysseus aimed at him, and smote him with\nthe arrow in the throat and the point passed out clean through his neck.\nThe wine cup fell from his hands and Antinous fell dead across the\ntable. Then did all the wooers raise a shout, threatening Odysseus for\nsending an arrow astray. It did not come into their minds that this\nstranger-beggar had aimed to kill Antinous.\n\nBut Odysseus shouted back to them, 'Ye dogs, ye that said in your hearts\nthat Odysseus would never return to his home, ye that wasted my\nsubstance, and troubled my wife, and injured my servants; ye who showed\nno fear of heaven, nor of the just judgements of men; behold Odysseus\nreturned, and know what death is being loosed on you!'\n\nThen Eurymachus shouted out, 'Friends, this man will not hold his hands,\nnor cease from shooting with the bow, until all of us are slain. Now\nmust we enter into the battle with him. Draw your swords and hold up the\ntables before you for shields and advance upon him.'\n\nBut even as he spoke Odysseus, with a terrible cry, loosed an arrow at\nhim and shot Eurymachus through the breast. He let the sword fall from\nhis hand, and he too fell dead upon the floor.\n\nOne of the band rushed straight at Odysseus with his sword in hand. But\nTelemachus was at hand, and he drove his spear through this man's\nshoulders. Then Telemachus ran quickly to a chamber where there were\nweapons and armour lying. The swineherd and the cattleherd joined him,\nand all three put armour upon them. Odysseus, as long as he had arrows\nto defend himself, kept shooting at and smiting the wooers. When all the\narrows were gone, he put the helmet on his head and took up the shield\nthat Telemachus had brought, and the two great spears.\n\nBut now Melanthius, the goatherd--he who was the enemy of Odysseus, got\ninto the chamber where the arms were kept, and brought out spears and\nshields and helmets, and gave them to the wooers. Seeing the goatherd go\nback for more arms, Telemachus and Eum\u00e6us dashed into the chamber, and\ncaught him and bound him with a rope, and dragged him up near the\nroof-beams, and left him hanging there. Then they closed and bolted the\ndoor, and stood on guard.\n\nMany of the wooers lay dead upon the floor of the hall. Now one who was\ncalled Agelaus stood forward, and directed the wooers to cast spears at\nOdysseus. But not one of the spears they cast struck him, for Odysseus\nwas able to avoid them all.\n\nAnd now he directed Telemachus and Eum\u00e6us and Philoetius to cast their\nspears. When they cast them with Odysseus, each one struck a man, and\nfour of the wooers fell down. And again Odysseus directed his following\nto cast their spears, and again they cast them, and slew their men. They\ndrove those who remained from one end of the hall to the other, and slew\nthem all.\n\nStraightway the doors of the women's apartment were flung open, and\nEurycleia appeared. She saw Odysseus amongst the bodies of the dead, all\nstained with blood. She would have cried out in triumph if Odysseus had\nnot restrained her. 'Rejoice within thine own heart,' he said, 'but do\nnot cry aloud, for it is an unholy thing to triumph over men lying dead.\nThese men the gods themselves have overcome, because of their own hard\nand unjust hearts.'\n\nAs he spoke the women came out of their chambers, carrying torches in\ntheir hands. They fell upon Odysseus and embraced him and clasped and\nkissed his hands. A longing came over him to weep, for he remembered\nthem from of old--every one of the servants who were there.\n\n[Illustration.]\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\n\nEurycleia, the old nurse, went to the upper chamber where Penelope lay\nin her bed. She bent over her and called out, 'Awake, Penelope, dear\nchild. Come down and see with thine own eyes what hath happened. The\nwooers are overthrown. And he whom thou hast ever longed to see hath\ncome back. Odysseus, thy husband, hath returned. He hath slain the proud\nwooers who have troubled thee for so long.'\n\nBut Penelope only looked at the nurse, for she thought that her brain\nhad been turned.\n\nStill Eurycleia kept on saying, 'In very deed Odysseus is here. He is\nthat guest whom all the wooers dishonour in the hall.'\n\nThen hearing Eurycleia say these words, Penelope sprang out of bed and\nput her arms round the nurse's neck. 'O tell me--if what thou dost say\nbe true--tell me how this stranger slew the wooers, who were so many.'\n\n'I did not see the slaying,' Eurycleia said, 'but I heard the groaning\nof the men as they were slain. And then I found Odysseus standing\namongst many dead men, and it comforted my heart to see him standing\nthere like a lion aroused. Come with me now, lady, that you may both\nenter into your heart's delight--you that have suffered so much of\naffliction. Thy lord hath come alive to his own hearth, and he hath\nfound his wife and his son alive and well.'\n\n'Ah no!' said Penelope, 'ah no, Odysseus hath not returned. He who hath\nslain the wooers is one of the deathless gods, come down to punish them\nfor their injustice and their hardheartedness. Odysseus long ago lost\nthe way of his returning, and he is lying dead in some far-off land.'\n\n'No, no,' said Eurycleia. 'I can show thee that it is Odysseus indeed\nwho is in the hall. On his foot is the scar that the tusk of a boar gave\nhim in the old days. I spied it when I was washing his feet last night,\nand I would have told thee of it, but he clapped a hand across my mouth\nto stop my speech. Lo, I stake my life that it is Odysseus, and none\nother who is in the hall below.'\n\nSaying this she took Penelope by the hand and led her from the upper\nchamber into the hall. Odysseus was standing by a tall pillar. He waited\nthere for his wife to come and speak to him. But Penelope stood still,\nand gazed long upon him, and made no step towards him.\n\nThen said Telemachus, 'Mother, can it be that thy heart is so hard? Here\nis my father, and thou wilt not go to him nor question him at all.'\n\nSaid Penelope, 'My mind is amazed and I have no strength to speak, nor\nto ask him aught, nor even to look on him face to face. If this is\nindeed Odysseus who hath come home, a place has to be prepared for him.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen Odysseus spoke to Telemachus and said, 'Go now to the bath, and\nmake thyself clean of the stains of battle. I will stay and speak with\nthy lady mother.'\n\n'Strange lady,' said he to Penelope, 'is thy heart indeed so hard? No\nother woman in the world, I think, would stand so aloof from her husband\nwho, after so much toil and so many trials, has come back after twenty\nyears to his own hearth. Is there no place for me here, and must I again\nsleep in the stranger's bed?'\n\nSaid Penelope, 'In no stranger's bed wilt thou lie, my lord. Come,\nEurycleia. Set up for him his own bedstead outside his bed-chamber.'\n\nThen Odysseus said to her, speaking in anger: 'How comes it that my bed\ncan be moved to this place and that? Not a bed of that kind was the bed\nI built for myself. Knowest thou not how I built my bed? First, there\ngrew up in the courtyard an olive tree. Round that olive tree I built a\nchamber, and I roofed it well and I set doors to it. Then I sheared off\nall the light wood on the growing olive tree, and I rough-hewed the\ntrunk with the adze, and I made the tree into a bed post. Beginning with\nthis bed post I wrought a bedstead, and when I finished it, I inlaid it\nwith silver and ivory. Such was the bed I built for myself, and such a\nbed could not be moved to this place or that.'\n\nThen did Penelope know assuredly that the man who stood before her was\nindeed her husband, the steadfast Odysseus--none other knew of where the\nbed was placed, and how it had been built. Penelope fell a-weeping and\nshe put her arms round his neck.\n\n'O Odysseus, my lord,' she said, 'be not angry with thy wife. Always the\nfear was in my heart that some guileful stranger should come here\nprofessing to be Odysseus, and that I should take him to me as my\nhusband. How terrible such a thing would be! But now my heart is freed\nfrom all doubts. Be not angry with me, Odysseus, for not throwing myself\non thy neck, as the women of the house did.'\n\nThen husband and wife wept together, and Penelope said, 'It was the gods\ndid this to us, Odysseus--the gods who grudged that we should have joy\nof the days of our youth.'\n\nNext they told each other of things that happened in the twenty years\nthey were apart; Odysseus speaking of his own toils and sorrows, and\nPenelope telling what she had endured at the hands of the wooers. And as\nthey told tales, one to the other, slumber came upon them, and the dawn\nfound them sleeping side by side.\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\n\nAnd still many dangers had to be faced. The wooers whom Odysseus had\nslain were the richest and the most powerful of the lords of Ithaka and\nthe Islands; all of them had fathers and brothers who would fain avenge\nthem upon their slayer.\n\nNow before anyone in the City knew that he had returned, Odysseus went\nforth to the farm that Laertes, his old father, stayed at. As he drew\nnear he saw an old man working in the vineyard, digging round a plant.\nWhen he came to him he saw that this old man was not a slave nor a\nservant, but Laertes, his own father.\n\nWhen he saw him, wasted with age and all uncared for, Odysseus stood\nstill, leaning his hand against a pear tree and sorrowing in his heart.\nOld Laertes kept his head down as he stood digging at the plant, and he\ndid not see Odysseus until he stood before him and said:\n\n'Old man, thou dost care for this garden well and all things here are\nflourishing--fig tree, and vine, and olive, and pear. But, if a stranger\nmay say it, thine own self is not cared for well.'\n\n'Who art thou that dost speak to me like this?' old Laertes said,\nlifting his head.\n\n'I am a stranger in Ithaka,' said Odysseus. 'I seek a man whom I once\nkindly treated--a man whose name was Odysseus. A stranger, he came to\nme, and he declared that he was of Ithaka, and that one day he would\ngive me entertainment for the entertainment I had given him. I know not\nif this man be still alive.'\n\nOld Laertes wept before Odysseus. 'Ah,' said he, 'if thou hadst been\nable to find him here, the gifts you gave him would not have been\nbestowed in vain. True hospitality thou wouldst have received from\nOdysseus, my son. But he has perished--far from his country's soil he\nhas perished, the hapless man, and his mother wept not over him, nor his\nwife, nor me, his father.'\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSo he spake and then with his hands he took up the dust of the ground,\nand he strewed it over his head in his sorrow. The heart of Odysseus was\nmoved with grief. He sprang forward and fell on his father's neck and he\nkissed him, saying:\n\n'Behold I am here, even I, my father. I, Odysseus, have come back to\nmine own country. Cease thy lamentation until I tell thee of the things\nthat have happened. I have slain the wooers in mine hall, and I have\navenged all their injuries and all their wrongful doings. Dost thou not\nbelieve this, my father? Then look on what I will show thee. Behold on\nmy foot the mark of the boar's tusk--there it is from the days of my\nyouth.'\n\nLaertes looked down on the bare foot, and he saw the scar, but still his\nmind was clouded by doubt. But then Odysseus took him through the\ngarden, and he told him of the fruit trees that Laertes had set for him\nwhen he, Odysseus, was a little child, following his father about the\ngarden--thirteen pear trees, and ten apple trees, and forty fig trees.\n\nWhen Odysseus showed him these Laertes knew that it was his son indeed\nwho stood before him--his son come back after twenty years' wandering.\nHe cast his arms around his neck, and Odysseus caught him fainting to\nhis breast, and led him into the house.\n\nWithin the house were Telemachus, and Eum\u00e6us the swineherd and Philoetius\nthe cattleherd. They all clasped the hand of Laertes and their words\nraised his spirits. Then he was bathed, and, when he came from the bath,\nrubbed with olive oil he looked hale and strong, Odysseus said to him,\n'Father, surely one of the gods has made thee goodlier and greater than\nthou wert a while ago.'\n\nSaid the old hero Laertes: 'Ah, my son, would that I had such might as\nwhen, long before thou wert born, I took the Castle of Nericus there\nupon the Foreland. Would that in such might, and with such mail upon my\nshoulders, I stood with thee yesterday when thou didst fight with the\nwooers.'\n\nWhile they were speaking in this way the rumour of the slaying of the\nwooers went through the City. Then those who were related to the men\nslain went into the courtyard of Odysseus' house, and brought forth the\nbodies. Those who belonged to Ithaka they buried, and those who belonged\nto the Islands they put upon ships, and sent them with fisherfolk, each\nto his own home. Many were wroth with Odysseus for the slaying of a\nfriend. He who was the most wroth was Eupeithes, the father of Antinous.\n\nThere was an assembly of the men of the country, and Eupeithes spake in\nit, and all who were there pitied him. He told how Odysseus had led away\nthe best of the men of Ithaka, and how he had lost them in his ships.\nAnd he told them how, when he returned, he slew the noblest of the men\nof Ithaka and the Islands in his own hall. He called upon them to slay\nOdysseus saying, 'If we avenge not ourselves on the slayer of our kin we\nwill be scorned for all time as weak and cowardly men. As for me, life\nwill be no more sweet to me. I would rather die straightway and be with\nthe departed. Up now, and let us attack Odysseus and his followers\nbefore they take ship and escape across the sea.'\n\nMany in that assembly put on their armour and went out with old\nEupeithes. And as they went through the town they met with Odysseus and\nhis following as they were coming from the house of Laertes.\n\nNow as the two bands came close to each other--Odysseus with Telemachus\nand Laertes; with the swineherd and the cattleherd; with Dolius,\nLaertes' servant, and with the six sons of Dolius--and Eupeithes with\nhis friends--a great figure came between. It was the figure of a tall,\nfair and splendid woman. Odysseus knew her for the goddess Pallas\nAthene.\n\n'Hold your hands from fierce fighting, ye men of Ithaka,' the goddess\ncalled out in a terrible voice. 'Hold your hands,' Straightway the arms\nfell from each man's hands. Then the goddess called them together, and\nshe made them enter into a covenant that all bloodshed and wrong would\nbe forgotten, and that Odysseus would be left to rule Ithaka as a King,\nin peace.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSo ends the story of Odysseus who went with King Agamemnon to the wars\nof Troy; who made the plan of the Wooden Horse by which Priam's City was\ntaken at last; who missed the way of his return, and came to the Land of\nthe Lotus-eaters; who came to the Country of the dread Cycl\u00f4pes, to the\nIsland of \u00c6olus and to the house of Circe, the Enchantress; who heard\nthe song of the Sirens, and came to the Rocks Wandering, and to the\nterrible Charybdis, and to Scylla, past whom no other man had won\nscatheless; who landed on the Island where the Cattle of the Sun grazed,\nand who stayed upon Ogygia, the home of the nymph Calypso; so ends the\nstory of Odysseus, who would have been made deathless and ageless by\nCalypso if he had not yearned always to come back to his own hearth and\nhis own land. And spite of all his troubles and his toils he was\nfortunate, for he found a constant wife and a dutiful son and a father\nstill alive to weep over him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\nPrinted in the United States of America.","title":"The Adventures of Odysseus and The Tales of Troy","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":54182}