ok out that someone tougher doesn't beat you bloody and throw you out! Odysseus stared at her wrathfully and said: I'll soon go to Telemachos, you bitch, and tell him what you're saying. He'll cut you into bits! At this the women fled, thinking he meant what he said. Odysseus stood there by the flaming braziers, pondering things that would be fulfilled (304-45).
346-428: Athene kept the suitors outrageous to sharpen Odysseus' resentment. Eurymachos thus jeered at him to amuse his fellow suitors, saying: The gods must have sent him here, there's a gleam of torchlight from him--from his bald pate! Then to Odysseus he said: Stranger, would you work for me on a farmstead, gathering stones for walls, planting trees? I'd pay you, feed you, clothe you. But no, you won't work, you'd rather slouch round begging for food! Odysseus said: I wish we two could have a spring mowing contest, deep grass, each with a scythe, working till evening. Or plowing with oxen in a four-acre field to see who kept the straightest furrow! Or a war would come, and I had helmet and shield and two spears, out in the front line--you wouldn't taunt me with my belly then! I suppose you think you're someone because you move among a crowd of no-goods. If Odysseus came home, these doors, however wide, would be too narrow for your flight (346-86). Eurymachos got angry and said: I'll punish you for talking like that, quite shameless among gentlemen, You must be drunk. Or do you always talk this kind of nonsense? Maybe you're getting above yourself after beating that vagabond Iros? He then threw a footstool at Odysseus, who ducked it, and it hit a cupbearer, who fell, dropping his wine jug with a crash (387-400). The suitors burst into an uproar, saying they wished he [Odysseus] had perished elsewhere, and now here they were, quarrelling over beggars and spoiling the feast. Telemachos said they were mad and should go home and sleep it off. Not that he turned anyone away, of course. Amphinomos then said: No one responds in anger to what's been fairly said. Don't abuse this stranger or any of Odysseus' servants any more! One more libation, and we'll go home, and leave this stranger here, to be looked after by Telemachos! They all agreed. The libation was poured, they drank their fill, and then went home.
BOOK 19
1-64: Odysseus now said to Telemachos: You must hide away the weapons of war that are in the hall. When the suitors ask you why, you must say they're not as clean as when Odysseus left, they're grimy with smoke from the fire, so you're stowing them away. Also because of possible quarrels when the suitors have been drinking. . . Telemachos agreed. He called Eurykleia and told her to shut the women in their quarters while he put the arms away. Eurykleia said: I wish you were always as careful about your property! And who will give you a light for this? The stranger, Telemachus replied. She said nothing, but locked the doors (1-30). Odysseus and his son then started removing the arms. Athene went ahead of them with a golden lamp. Telemachos said: There's a wonderful light, it must be some god. Odysseus said: Hush, no questions. Yes, this the way of Olympian gods. You go to bed now. I'll test your mother, and the maids. She's going to question me too. Telemachos now went to his room by torchlight, leaving his father alone in the hall, planning death for the suitors (31-52). Penelope now came in, and sat in her favorite chair by the fire. The maids now entered from the women's quarters, cleared away the remains of the suitors' feast, and fed the braziers with fresh firewood (53-64).
65-103: Melantho started attacking Odysseus again, saying: You still going to be a nuisance here, roaming through the house and spying on the women? Get out now, be content with supper, or you'll get beaten with a lit torch! Odysseus said angrily: Why are you attacking me? Because I'm ragged and dirty, a beggar? I've no other choice! I too was once a wealthy house owner, with servants and property, who gave to vagrants. But Zeus, for his own reasons, took it all away. So you too watch out: you may lose your beauty, become repulsive to your mistress, or Odysseus still may return, and even should he not, Telemachos is a true son of his, and knows what's going on: he's not a child any more (65-89). Penelope heard this, and said: I know what you've been up to, you bitch! And you knew I wanted to question the stranger, I said so myself! At this Eurynome brought another chair, with a fleece covering, and Odysseus sat on it (90-103).
104-63: Penelope said: Let me first ask you: who are you, and from where? Tell me your city, name your parents! Odysseus said: No mortal could fault you, you're renowned as some good king is renowned, for justice and fertile crops and prolific flocks and seas swarming with fish! But don't ask me about myself--it's not polite to weep and wail as a guest, and your servants might say I wail because I'm drunk. Penelope replied: Any beauty I had the gods destroyed when Odysseus sailed for Troy! Things would be better were he back here to look after me! Not only am I mourning his absence, but all the island princes are courting me against my will, and devouring our property! I take no notice of strangers or suppliants or public heralds, but I have ways of keeping them at arm's length (104-37). I set up a great web on my loom for weaving and told the suitors, Odysseus may be dead, but have patience while I weave a shroud for Laertes! They agreed to. So for three years I wove during the day and at night by torchlight undid most of what I'd done. But in the fourth year, alerted by my handmaids, they caught me. So I had to finish the shroud, and now I have no other tricks to postpone this marriage, my parents and my son want me wed, while the suitors are squandering our flocks and wine. So, tell me your background! (138-63).
164-250: Odysseus said: Will you never stop questioning me about my lineage? Well, I'll tell you, sad though it'll make me. There's this great island of Krete, with a famous city, Knosos, where Minos reigned: he was my grandfather. My father was his son Deukalion, who sired both me and Idomeneus. It was there I saw Odysseus: he'd been driven to Krete by a storm, and sought harbor at Amnisos, the port of Knosos. He asked for Idomeneus, but he'd sailed for Ilion ten days or so earlier. So I took him home and entertained him and his comrades. The wind kept them ashore for twelve days, but then it dropped and they put to sea (164-202). Thus Odysseus spun a farrago of lies like the truth, and Penelope wept as she listened, mourning the husband who was sitting there beside her. He pitied her, but held back his tears and kept an impassive face. But then Penelope pulled herself together and began to test the story she'd been told. What kind of clothes had he [Odysseus] been wearing? What did he look like? What about his comrades? Odysseus said: it was nearly twenty years ago, hard to recall. He had on a double-folded woolen cloak, with a gold brooch, and on the brooch was a hound holding a struggling fawn. His tunic was of sheer stuff, and shone like dried onion skin. I don't know if he had these clothes as a gift, or from home. I myself gave him bronze sword and a purple cloak and a fringed tunic. And he had a favorite attendant, a herald called Eurybates--dark-complexioned, stoop-shouldered, curly-haired. Penelope recognized the tokens and wept still more (203-50).
251-308: Penelope said: Before I pitied you; now I shall honor you too. I gave him the clothes you describe! But he's dead, he'll never come back from Troy! Odysseus said: I don't blame you for weeping, any wife would when she lost her husband! But recently I heard from Pheidon, the Thesprotian king, that Odysseus was back, and near, bringing much treasure, even though he'd lost his ship and crew in a storm--they'd killed Helios' cattle! He escaped the wreck, and washed up in the country of the Phaiakians, who honored him and gave him rich gifts and transport. Pheidon said there had been a ship ready to bring him home and showed me his treasure. He said Odysseus had gone to Dodone to ask the oracle whether he should return openly or in secret. So, he's safe and near: I swear to you, this very month he'll be home! (251-307).
308-85: Penelope said: How I wish this were true! But Odysseus will never return, and there's now no one here like he was who'll give you conveyance, either. But we can and will look after you! She then told her handmaids to make him up a good bed, and in the morning to bathe him, so that he'd look forward to dinner with Telemachos. And if anyone here give him trouble, so much the worse for him! How will you know if I deserve my reputation, stranger, if you're left to sit and eat in my house in mean, threadbare rags? Man's life is short. A hard man is cursed while he lives and mocked when he's dead. But a decent man is much praised, and his guests spread his fame. Odysseus said: I got to detest comfortable beds when I left Krete aboard my ship! Nor do I much love baths, though if there's a loyal old woman here who's suffered as I have, her I'd let wash my feet (308-48). Penelope said: You're the most understanding and sensible guest we've had here, stranger! I do have the kind of old servant you mention. Eurykleia, come and wash the stranger's feet--he's the same age as your master, and Odysseus' hands and feet must be much like his! Eurykleia wept, face in hands, and said sadly, apostrophizing Odysseus: I'm old, I can do nothing. Zeus has cut off the day of your [Odysseus'] returning, despite all your lavish sacrifices to him, praying you might raise your son and reach a prosperous old age! [Then she said to the "stranger":] I suppose women mocked him, too, when he came to a famous man's house, just as these hussies here mocked you! That's why you won't let them wash your feet! But Penelope has told me to wash them, and for her sake and yours, I will! And I have to tell you: of all those who've come here, you're most like Odysseus in every respect--feet too! Odysseus said: Yes, a lot of people have noticed that (349-85).
386-466: Eurykleia poured water in the cauldron. Odysseus suddenly figured she might recognize him from an old scar, and he backed into the shadows. In fact, she recognized him at once. This scar he'd been given by a boar's tusk when he went up Parnassos on a visit to his mother's father, Autolykos, a sharp trickster who'd learned his skill from Hermes, and on whose knees Eurykleia had laid the newborn and yet unnamed Odysseus, asking him to give the child a name. Autolykos chose the name Odysseus, since he himself had brought trouble to plenty in his time. He also said when the child was grown he should come visit, and get the legacy waiting for him (386-412). So Odysseus went, when grown, to collect the gifts, and was warmly welcomed, and went hunting on Parnassos with Autolykos' sons. This was where he got the gash in his thigh and killed the boar in response. They bound the wound, healed him, and sent him home with his gifts. He told his parents the whole story (413-66).
467-558: Eurykleia recognized the scar instantly. She dropped his leg in the basin, spilling the water. In joy and grief, she exclaimed tearfully, eyes on Penelope: You're Odysseus! And I didn't know you till I handled your body! But Penelope wasn't looking: Athene had distracted her. And Odysseus caught the old woman by the throat, drew her close, and whispered: You want to destroy me? Yes, you nursed me, and in the twentieth year I'm home! But keep quiet, someone might hear! My nurse you may be, but I won't spare you, if I do away with the suitors, when I come to deal with the other women! Eurykleia said: What a way to talk! I'm tough, I won't tell! And if you do finish off the suitors, I'll tell you which women have misbehaved. Odysseus said: Why you? I'll know for myself. Just keep quiet. She went and fetched more water and washed him. Then he drew his chair nearer the fire, hiding the scar under his rags (467-507). Penelope now said: Stranger, I have one question for you before bedtime. Days, I mourn while working and directing my servants. Nights, I lie awake and worry. Like the nightingale mourning for Itylos, I can't decide whether to stay here and guard our possessions or marry the best of these suitors! Now my son's grown, he's worried about his patrimony, and says I should perhaps do this and leave! (508-34. But I had this dream: can you interpret it for me? I have twenty tame geese around the house. I dreamed that a great eagle swooped down and killed them all, leaving them scattered about the hall. I wept for their loss, but then the eagle returned and said, in a human voice: This is a true vision! The geese are the suitors, and I who was the eagle am your husband, who will destroy them. Then I woke, and there were the geese, as usual. Odysseus said: The meaning is plain: Odysseus will return, the suitors will perish (535-58).
559-604: Penelope said: Dreams can be ambiguous and deceptive. They have two gates, of horn and ivory. Those that come through the ivory gate are deceptive and unfulfilled. But those that come through the gate of horn come true. I don't think my dream was that kind, much though I and my son would have welcomed that. And the day will soon be here when I'll have to leave this house. I'm going to set the suitors a contest. Odysseus used to line up twelve axes and shoot an arrow clean through them. The suitor who does this, and most easily strings his bow, him I'll marry, though I think I'll always remember this house in my dreams (559-80). Odysseus said: Do this! Odysseus will be here before any of them have a chance to string the bow or shoot through the axes. Penelope said: I wish you could sit here forever and give me pleasure! But men can't always go sleepless: there's an appointed time for everything. I shall lie down and weep for my husband, as I've done since he left. You sleep here in the hall: get the servant girls to make you a bed. She then left, lay down in her room, and wept till Athene put her to sleep (581-604).
BOOK 20
1-55: Odysseus lay down to sleep in the forecourt, brooding trouble for the suitors. The servant girls who slept with the suitors came out laughing from the hall. Should he kill them all now, or leave them to it one last time? His heart growled, like a bitch over her puppies. Endure, he told himself, you've borne worse than this. He tossed and turned, like a man cooking a full paunch over the fire. Then Athene came and stood over him and said: Why are you wakeful? This is your house, and your wife and son are here (1-35). Very true, said Odysseus, but I'm still wondering how to destroy the suitors, being one against many; and even if with your help I do, how should I escape the dead men's kinsmen? Athene said: Many trust those who are mortal, and weaker; but I'm a god! I tell you, even were fifty troops around us, to kill us, you'd end by driving off their cattle! Now go to sleep--your troubles are nearly over! Athene shed sleep on him, and left for Olympos (36-55).
56-121: While Odysseus slept, Penelope woke and prayed to Artemis, saying: I wish you'd slay me now with an arrow, or else that a storm wind would carry me off like Pandareus' daughters, snatched by the spirits of the storm and given as servants to the Furies! Then I'd never give pleasure in marriage to a lesser man than Odysseus--and though sleep brings forgetfulness, the gods give me evil dreams too: I dreamed that one like him when he left lay beside me, and I thought it no dream but the truth (56-90). So she spoke, and dawn came. To Odysseus it seemed that she knew him and was standing by him. Then he put aside his bedding and prayed to Zeus, saying: If you gods have kindly brought me home, after all my suffering, may someone here utter an omen, and give me a sign outside too! So Zeus thundered, and a woman still grinding grain--the others were asleep--exclaimed: Zeus, you thundered from a clear sky! And fulfill my wish: may this be the last day of life for the suitors who've been overworking me! Hearing this, Odysseus was glad, planning as he was to be revenged on the guilty (91-121).
122-84: The handmaids were up and relighting the fire. Telemachos rose, dressed, and said to Eurykleia: Did you feed and provide bedding for the stranger? Or is he still uncared for? That's my mother for you: she looks after the riffraff, but sends the good men away. Eurykleia said: She's not at fault! He sat with her and drank, but said he wasn't hungry when she asked him. And he wouldn't sleep on a proper bed, but out in the forecourt on an oxhide and sheepskins: someone threw a cloak over him. Telemachos then went out to assembly, and Eurykleia told her handmaids to sweep the hall, scrub the tables, wash the cups and dishes, and fetch water: the suitors would soon be back. The suitors' servitors came in and began chopping firewood. The women came back with water. The swineherd returned, driving three fine hogs, and left them to feed in the courtyard (122-64). He asked Odysseus if the suitors were still insulting him, or treating him with more respect. Odysseus said: I wish the gods would punish them for the shameless way they abuse another man's house! Melanthios came in, tethered his goats in the forecourt, and said to Odysseus: Still bothering us, eh? Still begging? Won't you ever get out? We'll end up fighting! Besides, there are other local feasts for you to beg at. Odysseus said nothing, but shook his head, brooding (165-84).
185-239: The cowherd Philoitios now came in driving a heifer and she-goats, ferried over from the mainland, which he tethered in the colonnade. He asked the swineherd: Who's this stranger who looks like a royal prince? The gods, he said, make trouble for any man, regardless of rank. Then he greeted Odysseus, saying: Good luck in your troubles! There's no god more lethal than Zeus! Seeing you, I think of Odysseus, who's probably also a ragged vagrant, if he's still alive. But if he's dead, bad luck for me! He put me in charge of his Kephallenian cattle when I was a boy, and they flourished. But now strangers are making me supply these cattle for them to eat, and sharing my absent master's property. I don't want to take my cattle and go elsewhere; but this is still worse! I would indeed have gone had I not hoped that unfortunate man would return and scatter these suitors! (185-225). Odysseus said: You don't seem a bad man or a fool; indeed, I can see you're sensible, so I'll tell you, on my oath, that Odysseus will return while you're here, and you'll see the suitors killed! The cowherd said: Ah, if only! Then you'd see what kind of strength I have. And Eumaios too prayed for Odysseus' return (226-39).
240-319: While the suitors were plotting in assembly against Telemachos, an eagle flew past on the left, clutching a dove, and Amphinomos said: This idea of killing Telemachos won't turn out well! Let's rather think about feasting! What he said met with approval. They all went to Odysseus' house. Men slew animals, roasted and served the innards, mixed wine. Philoitios served bread, Melanthios poured wine (240-56). Telemachos now sat Odysseus near the threshold with a stool and a little table, gave him innards and wine, and said: Sit here and drink! I'll keep off their insults and blows from you--this is not a public venue, but Odysseus' house, and my inheritance! You suitors! No violence, no insults! We don't want quarrels or fighting here. Antinoos said: We have to go by Telemachos' bold words, hard though that may be! Zeus refused to let us silence him! Te