3. 2 Kings xix. 35. (return)
The Visit to Nestor at Pylos
I
So all night long the ship clave her way; and at sunrise they reached the flat, sandy coast of Pylos. There they found a great multitude assembled, keeping the feast of Poseidon with sacrifices of oxen. The solemn rite was nearly ended when they brought their vessel to land.
"Courage, now," said Mentor to Telemachus, seeing the young lad somewhat abashed by the presence of so large a company. "Remember whom thou seekest, and lay thy modest scruples aside. Thou seest that venerable man, still tall and erect, though he numbers more than a hundred years. That is Nestor, son of Neleus, wisest of the Greeks, a king and the friend and counsellor of kings. Go straight to him, and tell him thy errand."
Seeing Telemachus, who was a homebred youth, still hanging back, in dread of that august presence, Mentor renewed his friendly remonstrances, "What, still tongue-tied?" he said, taking him by the arm, and leading him forward. "Heaven mend thy wits, poor lad! Knowest thou not that thou art a child of great hopes, and a favourite of heaven?"
When they came to the place where Nestor was seated with his sons, they found them busy preparing the feast which followed the sacrifice. As soon as those of Nestor's company saw the strangers they came forward in a body to greet them, and made them sit down in places of honour, where soft fleeces were heaped up on the level sand. A youth, about the same age as Telemachus, placed a goblet of gold in Mentor's hand, and gave him that portion of the flesh which was set apart as an offering to the gods. "Welcome, friend," he said, after pledging him from the cup. "Put up thy prayer with us to the lord Poseidon, for it is to his feast that ye have come. And when thou hast prayed, give the cup to thy young companion, who has been bred, methinks, as I have, to deeds of piety."
Mentor first asked a blessing on their hosts, and then prayed for a prosperous issue to their own adventure. After him Telemachus uttered his prayer in similar words, and then they all sat down to meat. When they had finished, Nestor looked earnestly at them, and asked them who they were, and what was the purpose of their journey. "Are ye merchants," he said, "or bold buccaneers, who roam the seas, a peril to others, and ever in peril themselves?"
Telemachus, cheered by good fare, and encouraged by the kind manner of Nestor, answered confidently, and explained the nature of his errand. "Concerning all the other Greeks," he added, "we know at least the manner of their death; but even this poor comfort is denied to the wife and son of Odysseus. Therefore, if thou hast aught to tell, I beseech thee by thy friendship with my father, let me know all, and soften not the tale, out of kindness or pity to me."
"Ah! my friend," answered Nestor. "What woeful memories thou hast awakened by thy words!—perils by land and perils by water, long years of siege and battle, sleepless nights and toilsome days. Ill-fated land of Troy! the grave of Grecian chivalry! There lies heroic Ajax, there lies Achilles, and Patroclus, sage in counsel, and there lies Antilochus, my own dear son, fleet of foot and strong of hand. And art thou indeed the son of Odysseus, whom none could match in craft and strategy? But why do I ask? When thou speakest, I seem to hear the very tones of his voice. He was my friend, one with me in mind and heart, and during all the time of the siege we took counsel together for the weal of Greece. But when the war was over disasters came thick and fast upon the host. And first, division arose between the two sons of Atreus; Agamemnon wished to abide in Troy until sacrifice had been offered to appease the anger of Athene, but Menelaus advised immediate departure. The party of Menelaus, of whom I was one, launched their ships and sailed to Tenedos; there Odysseus, who had set sail with us, put back to the mainland of Asia, wishing to do a favour to Agamemnon. But I, and Diomede with me, set forth at once, and, crossing the sea from Lesbos, came to Eubœa; thence, after sacrifice to Poseidon, I steered due south, and parting from Diomede at Argos continued my voyage, and landed safe in Pylos. Thus it happened that I was not witness of the good or evil fortunes of the other Greeks on their voyage home, and know only by rumour how they fared. Of Agamemnon's fate thou hast surely heard thyself, how he was murdered on his own hearth by the treachery of Ægisthus, and how the murder was avenged by Orestes. Happy the father who has such a son! And such, methinks, art thou."
"Ay," answered Telemachus, when Nestor had finished his long story, "I have heard of that glorious deed; and would to heaven that by the might of my hands I might so take vengeance on the evil men who have come to woo my mother, and who fill my house with injury and outrage."
"Ah! thou hast reminded me," said Nestor. "I heard of the shameful wrong which thou hast suffered. But do not despair! Who knows but that Odysseus will yet return, and make them drink the cup which they have filled? It may well come to pass, if Athene continues to thy house the favour which she showed thy father, plain for all eyes to see, in the land of Troy."
"Nay, 'tis too much to hope," answered Telemachus with a sigh, "the thing is too hard—even a god could hardly bring it to pass."
"Now out on thy faint heart!" cried Mentor, who hitherto had sat silent. "Better for him that his homecoming should be long delayed than that he should have died, like Agamemnon, fresh from his victory. Heaven will guide him yet to his own door, though now he be at the uttermost parts of the earth."
Telemachus shook his head as he answered: "No more of that, I pray thee; it can never be." Then, addressing Nestor, he said: "I would fain ask thee more concerning the manner of Agamemnon's death. Where was Menelaus when that foul deed was done? And how did Ægisthus contrive to slay a man mightier far than himself?"
"Thou askest well," replied Nestor. "Menelaus was far away, or we should have another tale to tell. And had the return of Menelaus not been delayed, vengeance would have been forestalled by many years. Yea, the dogs would have eaten the flesh of that vile churl, and not a tear would have been shed for him. But this is how it fell out: while we were toiling and warring at Troy, Ægisthus sat close to the ear of Clytæmnestra, Agamemnon's wife, and poured sweet poison into her mind. For a long while she refused to hearken to his base proposals, for she was of a good understanding, and moreover there was ever at her side a minstrel, into whose care Agamemnon had given her when he went to Troy. But Ægisthus seized upon the minstrel, and left him on a desert island to be devoured by carrion birds. Then Clytæmnestra yielded to his suit, and he brought her to his own house.
"But as to thy question concerning Menelaus, he left Troy in my company, as I told thee, and we sailed together as far as Sunium. There Menelaus lost his steersman, who was visited by Apollo with sudden death, as he sat by the helm; so he remained there to bury his comrade. But his misfortunes were not yet over; for when he reached the steep headland at Malea a violent storm arose, and parted his fleet. Some of his ships ran into Crete for shelter, while he himself was carried away to Egypt, where he remained many days, and gathered store of wealth.
"Now thou understandest why Ægisthus was able to work his will on Agamemnon, and why he escaped vengeance so long. For seven years he sat on the throne of golden Mycenæ, and grievously oppressed the people. But in the eighth year came Orestes, and cut him off in the fulness of his sin; and on that very day Menelaus came to him, loaded with the treasures of Egypt.
"Far and long had he wandered; but so do not thou, my child. Leave not thy house unguarded, while so many foes are gathered against thee, lest when thou return thou find thyself stripped of all. But to Menelaus I would have thee go; him thou must by all means consult; for who knows what he may have learnt on that wondrous voyage? Vast is the space of water over which he has travelled, not to be measured in one year by a bird in her speediest flight. If thou wilt, thou canst go to Sparta in thy ship, or if thou choose to go by land, my chariots and my horses are thine for this service, and my sons shall guide you on the way."
II
Amid such talk as this, with many a brave story "of moving accidents by flood and field," and many a pithy saw from the white-haired Nestor, who had lived so long and seen so much, the hours glided swiftly by, and the red sun was stooping to the horizon when Mentor rose from his seat and said: "We must be going; the hour of rest is at hand, and to-morrow we have far to go."
"Tarry yet a little," said Nestor, "and eat a morsel and drink a cup with us. And after that, if ye are fain to sleep, ye shall have fit lodging in my house. Heaven forbid that I should suffer such guests as you to sleep on the cold deck, covered with dew, as if I were some needy wretch, with never a blanket to spare for a friend. May the gods preserve me from such a reproach!"
"Thou sayest well," answered Mentor, "and Telemachus shall be thy guest to-night. But for me, I pray thee have me excused. My place is on the ship, that I may give an eye to the crew, for I am the only man of experience among them. And to-morrow I must go to Elis, to recover a debt of long standing due to me there. I leave Telemachus to thy care, that thou mayest cherish him and speed him on his way."
As he said these words, while all eyes were fixed upon him, the speaker vanished from sight, and in his stead a great sea-eagle rose into the air, and sped westwards towards the setting sun. Long they sat speechless and amazed, and Nestor was the first to break the silence. "Great things are in store for thee, my son," said he to Telemachus, "since thou keepest such company thus early in life. This was none other than Jove's mighty daughter, Athene, who honoured thy father so highly among the Greeks. Be gracious to us, our queen, and let thy blessing rest on me and on my house! and I will offer to thee a yearling heifer, that hath never felt the yoke. To thee will I sacrifice her, when I have made gilt her horns with gold."
Then Nestor led the way to his house, and Telemachus sat down with him and his sons in the hall. And they filled a bowl with wine eleven years old, exceeding choice, which was reserved for honoured guests. And after they had finished the bowl, and offered prayer to Athene, they parted for the night. For Telemachus a bed was prepared in the portico, and close by him slept Pisistratus, the youngest of Nestor's sons.
When Telemachus rose next morning he found his host already afoot, giving orders to his sons to prepare the sacrifice to Athene. One was sent to fetch the heifer, another to summon the goldsmith, and a third to bring up the crew of Telemachus' ship, while the rest busied themselves in raising the altar and making all ready for the sacrifice.
Presently the heifer was driven lowing into the courtyard, and the goldsmith followed with the instruments of his art. Nestor gave him gold, and the smith beat it into thin leaf with his hammer, and laid it skilfully over the horns of the heifer. A handmaid brought pure water, and barley-meal in a basket, while one of Nestor's sons stood ready with an axe, and another held a bowl to catch the blood. Then Nestor dipped his hands in the water, took barley-meal from the basket and sprinkled it on the head of the beast, and cutting a tuft of hair from the forehead cast it into the fire. The prayer was spoken, and all due rites being ended he who held the axe smote the heifer on the head, just behind the horns. The women raised the sacrificial cry as the heifer dropped to the ground; and next they whose office it was lifted up the victim's head, and Pisistratus cut the throat. When the last quiver of life was over they flayed the carcass, cut strips of flesh from the thighs, and enveloping them in fat, burnt them on the altar. The gods had now their share of the feast; the rest was cut into slices, and broiled over the live embers.
While the meal was preparing, Telemachus enjoyed the refreshment of a bath; and Polycaste, the youngest of Nestor's daughters, waited on him; for such was the patriarchal simplicity of those days. When he had bathed, and finished his morning meal, the chariot was brought out, and a strong pair of horses led under the yoke. And the house-dame came with a basket, loaded with wine and delicate viands, and placed it behind the seat. Telemachus took his place by the side of Pisistratus, who was to drive the horses; the last farewells were spoken, Pisistratus cracked his whip, and away they went under the echoing gateway, and on through the streets of Pylos.
That night they slept at the house of a friend, and early next day they continued their journey. The way grew steep and difficult, great masses of mountains rose near at hand, and at length they entered a wide valley, covered with waving fields of corn. By sunset they reached the end of their journey, and drew up before the stately portals of King Menelaus.
Telemachus at Sparta
I
Menelaus was keeping the double marriage feast of his son and daughter, and his house was thronged with wedding guests. All sat silent and attentive, listening to the strains of a harper, and watching the gambols of a pair of tumblers, who were whirling in giddy reels round the hall. Presently voices were heard at the entrance, and one of the squires of Menelaus came and informed his master that two strangers of noble mien were standing without, craving hospitality. "Shall I bring them in," asked the squire, "or send them on to another house?"
"Hast thou lost thy wits?" answered Menelaus in some heat, being touched in his most sensitive point. "Shall we, who owe so much to the kindness of strangers, in the long years of our wanderings, send any man from our doors? Unyoke the horses, and bid our new guests enter."
Four or five servants hastened to do his bidding. The horses, covered with sweat from their hard journey, were unyoked and led into the stable, and Telemachus, with his companion, was ushered with all courtesy into the great hall of Menelaus. The palace was one of the wealthiest and most splendid in Greece; and Telemachus, accustomed to a much humbler style of dwelling, stood amazed at the glories which met his eyes. After bathing and changing their raiment they returned to the hall, and were assigned places close to the chair of Menelaus.
The prince greeted them kindly, and said: "Welcome to our halls, young sirs. Ye are, as I see, of no mean descent, for Zeus has set his stamp on your faces,4 and none can mistake the signs of kingly birth. When ye have eaten, we will inquire of you further."
A plentiful and delicate meal was promptly set before the young travellers, and they ate and drank with keen appetite. When they had finished, Telemachus said to Pisistratus, speaking low, that he might not be overheard: "Dear son of Nestor, is not this a brave place! Hast thou ever seen such lavish ornament of silver, and gold, and ivory? Surely such is the dwelling of Olympian Zeus; more magnificent it can hardly be."
The quick ear of Menelaus caught his last words, and he answered, smiling: "Nay, my friend, no mortal may vie with the everlasting glories of Zeus. But whether any man can equal me in riches, I know not. For indeed I wandered far and long to gather all this treasure, to Cyprus, and Phœnicia, and Egypt, to Æthiopia, and Sidon, and the Afric shore, a land unmatched in its countless multitudes of sheep. There the ewes bring forth young three times a year, and the poorest shepherd has abundance of cheese, and flesh, and milk. From all these lands I gathered many a costly freight, and now I dwell in the midst of plenty. Nevertheless my heart is sad, when I think of all that I have lost. Had I returned home straight from Troy, I should have come back a poor man, for my house had gone to waste in my absence; but I should not have had to mourn for the death of my brother, struck down, as doubtless ye have heard, by a murderer's hand. And then the thought lies heavy upon me of all those who fell in my cause at Troy, and especially of one who was dear to me above all, Odysseus, ever the foremost in every toil and adventure. His image haunts me by day and by night, marring my slumbers, and making my food taste bitter in my mouth. He was a man of many woes, and sorrowful is the lot of his wife Penelope and Telemachus his son."
At this mention of his father Telemachus could not control his tears, but covered his face with his mantle, and wept without restraint. Menelaus saw his emotion, and began to suspect who he was; but for the present he said nothing.
A slight stir was now heard at the back of the hall, and a low murmur went round among the guests, who whispered to each other: "The Queen! The Queen!" And in she came softly, with slow and stately step, Helen, the daughter of Tyndareus, and wife of Menelaus, fairest among all the high-born dames of Greece. Her wondrous beauty was now ripened into matronly perfection, but now and then a shadow seemed to pass over her face, like the ghost of an old sin, long repented and forgiven. A handmaid set a chair for her, throwing over it a soft rug, and brought a footstool for her feet, while another bare a silver basket, with rims of gold, and placed it ready, filled with purple yarn. When Helen was seated, she gazed long and earnestly at Telemachus, and then, turning to her husband, she said; "Menelaus, shall I utter the thought which is in my heart? Nay, speak I must. Ne'er saw I such a likeness, either in man or woman, as is the likeness of this fair youth to Odysseus. Surely this is Telemachus, whom he left an infant in Ithaca when the host was summoned to Troy to fight in a worthless woman's cause."
"I have marked it too," answered Menelaus. "Such were his very hands and feet, and the carriage of his head, and the glance of his eye. Moreover, when I made mention of Odysseus he covered his face, and wept full sore."
Telemachus was still too much distressed to speak, and Pisistratus had to answer for him: "Thou sayest truly, my lord; it is Telemachus himself. Nestor sent me with him to inquire of thee, and crave counsel of thy wisdom. He is left like an orphan in his home, with none to aid him, and take his father's place."
Then Menelaus drew near to Telemachus, and taking his hand kindly said: "Welcome again, and thrice welcome to these halls, thou son of my trustiest friend and helper! It was the dream of my life to bring Odysseus and all his household from Ithaca, and give him a home and a city in this land, that we might grow old together in friendship and loving-kindness, never to be parted until death. But envious heaven has blighted my hopes and hindered his return."
At these sad words every eye was moist, and all sat silent, absorbed in sorrowful memories. Pisistratus was the first to speak, and his words roused the rest from their melancholy mood. "Son of Atreus," he said, "my father has often spoken of thy wisdom, and perchance it has taught thee that sorrow is an ill guest at a banquet. The dead, indeed, claim their due, and he would be hard-hearted who would grudge them the poor tribute of a tear. But we cannot mourn for ever, even for such a one as my brother Antilochus, whom I never saw, but thou knewest him well, stout in battle, and swift in the pursuit."
"'Tis well said," replied Menelaus. "Thou art wise beyond thy years, and a true son of Nestor. Happy is he, beyond the common lot of men, and smooth and fair runs the thread of his Destiny. He dwells in a green old age in his father's house, and sees his sons growing up around him, true heirs of his valour and prudence. Now let us banish care, and get to our supper, for the day is far spent, and we have matter for talk which will last us all the morrow."
When they had finished eating, and the cups were about to be replenished, Helen rose from her seat, and, whispering a few words to the cupbearer, left the hall. In a few minutes she returned, carrying in her hand a small phial, whose contents she poured into the great mixing-bowl from which the cups were filled. "Now, drink," she said, "and fear not that black care will pay us a second visit to-night. I have poured into the wine a drug of wondrous potency and virtue, which was given me in Egypt by Polydamna, the wife of Thon. Many such drugs the soil of Egypt bears, some baneful and some good. And the Egyptians are skilled in such craft beyond all mankind. He who drinks of this drug will be armed for that day against all the assaults of sorrow, and will not shed one tear, though his father and mother were to die, no, not though he saw his brother or his son slain before his eyes. So mighty is the virtue of this drug." And when they had drunk of the magic potion Helen began again: "'Tis now the witching hour, when all hearts are opened, and the burden of life presses lightest on men's shoulders. Come, let me tell you a story, one among many, of the deeds and the hardihood of Odysseus. It was in the days of the siege, and the Trojans were kept close prisoners in their city by the leaguer of the Greeks. Then he disguised himself as a beggar, clothed himself in filthy rags, and marred his goodly person with cruel stripes. In such fashion he entered the foemen's walls, as if he were a slave flying from a hard master.5 And I alone in all the city knew who he was. So I brought him to my house, and began to question him; but he made as if he understood not. But when I entertained him as an honoured guest, and swore a solemn oath not to betray him, he trusted me, and declared all the purpose of the Greeks. At dead of night he stole out into the town, and, having slain many of the Trojans with the edge of the sword, he went back to the camp, and brought much information to his friends.
"When morning came, the voice of wailing rose high in the streets of Troy; but my heart rejoiced, for I was filled with longing for my home, and my eyes were opened to the folly which I had wrought by the beguilement of Aphrodite, when I left my fatherland and broke faith with my lord."
"Tis a good story, and thou hast told it well, fair wife," said Menelaus. "Now hear my tale. It was the time when I and the other champions were shut up in the wooden horse; and Odysseus was with us. Then thou camest thither, led, I suppose, by some god, hostile to Greece, who wished to work our ruin; and Deiphobus followed thee. Three times thou didst pace around our hollow ambush, feeling it with thy hands, and calling aloud to the princes of Greece by name; and thy voice was like the voice of all their wives. There we sat, I, and Diomede, and the rest, and heard thee calling. Now I and Diomede were minded to answer thee, or to go forth and confer with thee; but Odysseus suffered it not, and when one of our number was about to lift up his voice he pressed his hands on that foolish mouth, and restrained him by force until thou hadst left the place. And so he saved all our lives."
"Yes," said Telemachus, "he had a heart of iron. But what has it availed him? It could not save him from ruin. Howbeit, no more of this; 'tis time to go to rest and forget our cares in sleep."
II
Early next morning Telemachus found his host sitting by his bedside; and as soon as he was dressed Menelaus led him to a quiet place, and inquired the reason of his coming. He listened with attention while Telemachus explained the purpose of his visit; but when he heard of the suitors, and their riot and waste, he was filled with indignation.
"What!" he cried, "would these dastards fill the seat and wed the wife of that mighty man? Their lot shall be the lot of a pair of fawns, left by the mother hind in a lion's lair. The hind goes forth to pasture, and in her absence the lion returns, and devours them where they lie. Even so shall Odysseus return, and bring swift destruction on the whole crew.
"But thou hast asked me what I know of the fortunes of Odysseus, since he departed from Troy; and verily I will tell thee all that I have heard, without turning aside in my tale. I must go back to the time when I lay wind-bound with my ships in a little island off the mouth of the Nile. The island is called Pharos, and it is distant a day's voyage from the river's mouth. I had lain there twenty days, and still not a breath of air ruffled the glassy surface of the sea. All our stores were consumed, and we had nothing to eat but the fish which my men caught with rudely fashioned hooks and lines. One day I left my men busy with their angling, and wandered away along the shore, full of sad thoughts, and wondering how all this would end. Suddenly I heard a light footstep on the pebbles, and there stepped forth from behind a tall rock a young maiden in white, flowing robes. Full of dread I saw her coming towards me; for I knew that she was no mortal woman. But her look was gracious, and her voice was sweet; so I took courage as she said: 'Who art thou, stranger, and why lingerest thou with thy company in this desert place? I am Eidothea, daughter of Proteus, the ancient one of the sea; and I am ready to help thee, if thou wilt tell me thy need.'
"Then I told her how I had been kept an unwilling captive on the island, and begged her to let me know what power I had offended, that he might be appeased by sacrifice, and suffer the wind to blow. 'There is one who can tell thee all that thou desirest to know,' answered she. 'Yea, Proteus, my father, will show thee how to win thy path across the watery waste. No secrets are hidden from him, neither on earth nor in the sea; and he can tell thee all that hath befallen in thy house in the long years of thine absence. Now hearken, and I will tell thee how thou mayest wring from him all his secrets. Every day at noon he comes forth from the sea, and lays him down to sleep in a rocky cave; and about him are couched his herd of seals. I will bring thee to the place in the early morning, and set thee in ambush to await his coming. Choose three of the stoutest of thy men to aid thee in the adventure, and as soon as thou seest him asleep rush upon him and hold him fast. He will struggle hard, and take a hundred different shapes; but loose him not until he return to his own form, and then will he reveal to thee all that he has to tell.'
"So saying, the goddess disappeared beneath the waves. Next morning I went with three picked men to the appointed place, and soon Eidothea arrived, bearing four hides of seals, freshly flayed. Then she hollowed out four pits in the sand for us to lie in, and clothed us in the skins, and couched us together. Now that bed had like to have been our last, for we were stifled by the dreadful stench of the seabred seals. But the goddess saw our distress, and found a remedy; for she brought ambrosia and set it beneath our nostrils, and that heavenly perfume overpowered the noisome stench.
"So all the morning we lay and wafted patiently, and at noon the seals came up out of the sea and lay down in order on the sand. Last of all came Proteus, and counted his herd, reckoning us among their number, with no suspicion of guile. We waited until he was fast asleep, and then we rushed from our ambush and seized him hand and foot. Long and hard was the struggle, and many the shapes which he took. First he became a bearded lion, then a snake, then a leopard, then a huge boar; after these he turned into running water and a tall, leafy tree. But we only held him the more firmly, and at last he grew weary and spake to me in his own shape: 'What wouldst thou have, son of Atreus, and who has taught thee to outwit me and take me captive by craft?'
"'Thou knowest my need,' I answered; 'why dost thou waste thy words? Tell me rather how I may find release from my present strait'
"'Hear, then,' said he: 'thou hast forgotten thy duty to Zeus and the other gods. Not a victim bled, not a prayer was offered, when thou didst embark on this voyage. Go back to Egypt, to the holy waters of Nile, and there pay thy vows, and offer a great sacrifice to their offended deity; thus, and thus only, canst thou win thy return to thine own country and thy stately home.'
"When I heard this my heart was broken within me, to think of that long and perilous path across the misty deep. Nevertheless I consented to take that journey, for I saw no other way of escape. And after I had promised to obey him, I began to inquire further of the fate of Nestor and the rest, whom I left behind me on my way home.
"''Tis a grievous story that thou requirest of me,' said Proteus, 'and thou shalt have little joy in the hearing. Many have been taken and many left. Two only perished in returning, and one is still living, a prisoner of the sea. Ajax has paid his debt to Athene, whose shrine he polluted; and this was the manner of his death: when his vessel was shattered by that great tempest, he himself escaped to a rock, for Poseidon came to his aid. But even the peril which he had just escaped could not subdue his haughtiness and his pride, and he uttered an impious vaunt, boasting that in despite of heaven he had escaped a watery grave. Then Poseidon was wroth, and smote the rock with his trident, and that half of the rock on which Ajax was sitting fell into the sea, bearing him with it. So he died, when he had drunk the brine.
"'Now harden thy heart, and learn how thy brother Agamemnon fell. After a long and stormy voyage he at length brought his shattered vessels safe into harbour, and set foot on his native soil at Argos. With tears of joy and thankfulness he fell on his knees and kissed the sod, trusting that now his sorrows were passed. Now there was a watchman whom Ægisthus had posted on a high place commanding the sea to look out for Agamemnon's return. A whole year he watched, for he had been promised a great reward. And when he saw the king's face he went with all speed to tell his master. Forthwith Ægisthus prepared an ambush of twenty armed men; these he kept in hiding at the back of the hall, while he ordered his servants to prepare a great banquet. Then he went to meet Agamemnon with horses and with chariots, and brought him to his house, and made good cheer. And when he had feasted him he smote and slew him, as a man slaughters an ox in his stall.'
"At that tale of horror I fell upon the sand, weeping bitterly, for I had no desire to live any longer or look on the light of the sun. Long I lay mourning, as one who had lost all hope, but at last Proteus checked the torrent of my passion, and bade me take thought of my own homecoming. 'This is no time,' he said, 'to melt away in womanish grief. Haste thee to take vengeance, if so be that Orestes hath not forestalled thee, and slain his father's murderer.'
"Somewhat comforted by these words, I took courage to ask who was the man of whom he had spoken as a prisoner of the sea. 'It is the son of Laertes,' answered Proteus, 'Odysseus, whose home is in Ithaca. I myself saw him on an island, in the house of the nymph Calypso; and sore he wept because he could not leave the goddess, who holds him in thrall, and will not suffer him to return to his country.'
"Lastly, he told me concerning my own fate. 'Thou, Menelaus,' he said, 'art exempt from the common lot of men, because thou art the husband of Helen, and she is a daughter of Zeus. Therefore it is not appointed for thee to die, but when thine hour is come the gods shall convey thee to the Elysian fields, where dwell the elect spirits in everlasting blessedness. There falls not snow nor rain, there blows no rude blast, but the fresh cool breath of the west comes softly from Ocean to refresh them that dwell in that happy clime.'"
Thus happily ended the story of the Spartan prince's wanderings. And when he had finished, he pressed Telemachus to prolong his visit; but that prudent youth declined the invitation, pleading the necessity of a speedy return to Ithaca, that he might keep an eye on the doings of the suitors. Menelaus was compelled to allow the justice of his plea, and accordingly all things were made ready for a speedy departure.
III
We must now return to Ithaca, and see what reception was preparing for Telemachus when he came back from his adventurous journey. Two or three days after he left Ithaca the suitors were gathered before the doors of Odysseus, playing at quoits, or hurling their javelins at a mark. Presently a young noble came up to the group, and addressing Antinous, who was watching the sport, asked him if he had heard aught of Telemachus. "I would fain know how long he is like to be absent from Ithaca," he said; "for he has borrowed my ship, and I have need of her. Know ye when he is to return from Pylos?"
Antinous heard him with amazement; for neither he nor any other of the suitors knew that Telemachus had sailed from Ithaca, supposing him to be absent on his farm. So he questioned the youth closely as to the time and manner of that voyage, how the crew was composed, and whether the vessel was lent willingly, or taken by force. "Of my own free will I lent her," answered the lad, "why should I not help him in his need? As to the crew, they were all picked men, and well born; and the captain was Mentor, or some god in his likeness; for I saw Mentor yesterday in the town, and not a ship has touched at Ithaca since they sailed."
When he who had lent the ship was departed the suitors left their sports, and drawing close together began to converse in low tones. They were full of anger against Telemachus because of this journey, which gave the lie to their malicious prophecies, and was not without prospect of danger to themselves. Accordingly Antinous found ready hearers when he stood up and spoke as follows:—"This forward boy must be put down, or he will mar our wooing. It is a great deed which he has done, and he will not stop here, unless we find means to cut short his adventures. Now hear what I advise: let us man a ship and moor her in the narrow sea between Ithaca and Samos, and lie in wait for him there. This cruise of his is like to cost him dear."
The plan was highly approved, and the whole body rose and entered the house together, resolved to act at once on the advice of Antinous. Before long news of their wicked designs came to the ears of Penelope, who was still ignorant of her son's departure; for Eurycleia had kept her counsel well. The evil tidings were brought by Medon, a servant in the house of Odysseus, who had overheard the suitors plotting together, while he stood concealed behind a buttress of the courtyard fence. Without delay he went in search of Penelope, whom he found sitting with her handmaids in her chamber. As soon as he appeared on the threshold Penelope looked at him reproachfully, and said: "What message bringest thou from thy fair masters? Is it their pleasure that my maidens should leave their tasks and spread the board for them? Out on your feasting and your wooing! May this be the last morsel that ye ever taste! Ungrateful men, have ye forgotten all the good deeds that were wrought here by the hands of Odysseus, and all the kindness that ye received from him? Yes, all is forgotten; ye have no thought in your hearts but to grow fat at his cost, and devour his living."
"Alas! lady," answered Medon, "would that this were the worst! But I am the bearer of heavier news than this. Telemachus has sailed to Pylos, to inquire concerning his father, and the suitors have plotted to slay him on his way home." Having delivered his message, Medon left the chamber, and the door was shut.
Long Penelope sat without a word, struck dumb by this cruel blow. Then, as if seized by a sudden thought, she rose from her seat, and took two paces towards the door. But her strength failing her she tottered backward, and sank down upon the ground, leaning against the wall. Her handmaids gathered round her, and would have lifted her up, but she waved them off and at last gave utterance to her feelings in wailing and broken tones:
"Woeful beyond the lot of all women on earth is my portion! First, I lost my lion-hearted lord, rich in every excellent gift, a hero among heroes; and now the powers of the air6 have carried off my child, my well-beloved, without one word of farewell. Hearts of stone, why did ye not tell me of his going? Had I known his purpose I would have prevailed on him to stay, or he must have left me dead in these halls. Go, one of you, and call Dolius, the keeper of my garden and orchard, and send him to tell all to Laertes, if haply he may devise some way to turn the hearts of the people, and save his race from being utterly cut off."
"Sweet lady," answered Eurycleia, who was sitting among the women, "I will tell thee all the truth, and then thou shalt slay me, if it be thy will. I was privy to this journey, and Telemachus made me swear a solemn oath not to reveal it to thee until twelve days were passed, or thou hadst heard of it from others. For he feared that thou wouldst waste thy fair cheeks with weeping. But be not cast down; I am sure that the gods hate not so utterly the house of Odysseus, nor purpose to destroy it altogether. Vex not the old man Laertes in his sorrow, but go wash thyself, put on clean raiment, and go up and pray to Athene in thy upper chamber to guard and keep thy son from harm."
Then Penelope was comforted, and dried her tears, and went up with her handmaids to the upper chamber. There she made her offering before the shrine of Athene, and lifted up her voice in prayer: "Daughter of Zeus, stern warrior maiden, if ever my lord Odysseus offered acceptable sacrifice to thee, remember now his service, save my son, and let not the wooers work evil against him." When her prayer was ended the women joined their voices with hers, and called again and again on the awful name of Athene. After that they left her, and she sank down on a couch, exhausted by her emotions, and full of anxious thought. At length she ceased her weary tossing, and fell into a quiet and refreshing sleep.
Athene had heard her prayer, and being full of pity for the sorely tried lady she resolved to find means to soothe her troubled spirit. So she made a phantom, like in form and in feature to Iphthime, a sister of Penelope, who lived with her husband in distant Pheræ. And the phantom came to the house of Penelope, and entering her chamber by the keyhole, stood by her bedside and spake to her thus: "Sorrow not at all, nor vex thy soul for the sake of Telemachus. The gods love thy son, and will bring him safe home."
Then wise Penelope made answer, slumbering right sweetly at the gates of dreams: "Dear sister, what has brought thee hither from thy far distant home? Thou biddest me take comfort, but my heart is torn with fear and grief for my brave lord, and yet more for Telemachus, who is encompassed with perils by sea and by land." "Fear nothing," answered the dim phantom. "He has a mighty helper by his side, even Pallas Athene, who sent me hither to strengthen and console thee." With that the ghostly visitor vanished as it came, and left Penelope much cheered by the clear vision which had brought her words of healing at the blackest hour of the night.
Meanwhile Antinous had taken steps to carry out his villainous design. At nightfall he went down to the sea with twenty picked men, boarded the vessel which had been prepared for their use, and sailed out to a little island which lies in the middle of the strait between Samos and Ithaca. There they anchored in a sheltered bay, and waited for the coming of Telemachus.
4. In Homer, all kings and their families are supposed to be descended from Zeus. (return)
5. Compare the stratagem of Zopyrus, in "Stories from Greek History." (return)
6. Demons, to whom sudden disappearance was attributed. (return)
Odysseus and Calypso
I
We have waited long for the appearancef of Odysseus, and at last he is about to enter the scene, which he will never leave again until the final act of the great drama is played out. Hitherto he has been pursued by the malice of Poseidon, who wrecked his fleet, drowned all his men, and kept him confined for seven years in Calypso's island, in vengeance for the blinding of his son Polyphemus.
But now the prayers of Athene have prevailed, and Hermes, the messenger of the gods, is on his way from Olympus, bearing a peremptory summons to Calypso to let Odysseus depart. Shod with his golden, winged sandals, which bear him, swift as the wind, over moist and dry, and holding in his hand his magic wand, Hermes skimmed like a seagull over the blue waters of the Ægæan, until he came to that far distant isle. Arrived there, he went straight to the great cavern where Calypso dwelt; and he found her there, walking about her room, weaving with a golden shuttle, and singing sweetly at her work. A great fire was blazing on the hearth, sending forth a sweet odour of cedar and sandal-wood. Round about the cavern grew a little wood of blossoming trees, "alder and poplar tall, and cypress sweet of smell"; and there owls and hawks and cormorants built their nests. Over the threshold was trained a wide-branching vine, with many a purple cluster and wealth of rustling leaves. Four springs of clear water welled up before the cave, and wandered down to the meadows where the violet and parsley grew. It was a choice and cool retreat, meet dwelling for a lovely nymph.
Calypso greeted her visitor kindly, bade him be seated, and set nectar and ambrosia before him. And when he had refreshed himself, he told his message. "I bear the commands of Zeus," he said, "and to do his high will have I travelled this long and weary way. It is said that thou keepest with thee a man of many woes, who has suffered more than any of those who fought at Troy. Him thou art commanded to send away from thee with all speed; for it is not destined for him to end his days here, but the hour has come when he must go back to his home and country, Zeus has spoken, and thou must obey."
This was bitter news to Calypso, for she loved Odysseus, and would have made him immortal, that he might abide with her for ever. She wrung her hands, and said in a mournful voice: "Now I know of a truth that the gods are a jealous race, and will not suffer one of their kind to wed with a mortal mate. Therefore Orion fell by the unseen arrows of Artemis, when fair Aurora chose him for her lord; and therefore Zeus slew Iasion with his lightning, because he was loved of Demeter. Is not Odysseus mine? Did I not save him and cherish him when he was flung naked and helpless on these shores? But since no other deity may evade or frustrate the will of Zeus, let him go, and I will show him how he may reach his own country without scathe."
When he had heard Calypso's answer, Hermes took leave of her, and returned to Olympus, and the nymph went down to the part of the shore where she knew Odysseus was accustomed to sit. There he would remain all day, gazing tearfully over the barren waste of waters, and wearing out his soul with ceaseless lamentation. For he had long grown weary of his soft slavery in Calypso's cave, and yearned with exceeding great desire for the familiar hills of Ithaca, so rugged, but so dear. And there Calypso found him now, sitting on a rock with dejected mien. She sat down at his side, and said: "A truce to thy complaints, thou man of woes! Thou hast thy wish; I will let thee go with all good-will, and I will show thee how to build a broad raft, which shall bear thee across the misty deep. I will victual her with corn and wine, and clothe thee in new garments, and send a breeze behind thee to waft thee safe. Thus am I commanded by the gods, whose dwelling is in the wide heaven, and their will I do. Up now and fell me yon tall trees for timber to make the raft."
Odysseus was by nature a very shrewd and cautious man, and he feared that Calypso was contriving some mischief against him, in revenge for his coldness. He looked at her doubtfully, and answered: "I fear thee, nymph, and I mistrust thy purpose. How shall a man cross this dreadful gulf, where no ship is ever seen, on a raft? And though that were possible, I will never leave thee against thy will. Swear to me now that thou intendest me no harm."
Calypso smiled at his suspicions, and patted him on the shoulder as she answered: "Thou art a sad rogue, and very deep of wit, as anyone may see by these words of thine. Now hear me swear: Witness, thou earth, and the wide heaven above us, and the dark waterfall of Styx, the greatest and most awful thing by which a god may swear, that I intend no ill, but only good, to this man."
Having sworn that oath Calypso rose, and bidding Odysseus follow led the way to her cave. There she set meat before him, such as mortal men eat, and wine to drink; but she herself was served by her handmaids with immortal food, and nectar, the wine of the gods. When they had supped, Calypso looked at Odysseus and said: "And wilt thou indeed leave me, thou strange man? Am I not tall and fair, and worthy to be called a daughter of heaven? And is thy Penelope so rare a dame, that thou preferrest her to me! Ah! if thou knewest all the toils which await thee before thou reachest thy home, and all the perils prepared for thee there, thou wouldst renounce thy purpose, and dwell for ever with me. Nevertheless go, if go thou must, and my blessing go with thee."
Her words were kind, but some anger lurked in her tone, which Odysseus hastened to appease. "Fair goddess," he answered, "be not wroth with me. I know that thou art more lovely far than my wife Penelope; for thou art divine, and she is but a mortal woman. Nevertheless I long day and night to see her face, and to sit beneath the shadow of my own rooftree. And if I be stricken again by the hand of Heaven on the purple sea, I will bear it, for I have a very patient heart. Long have I toiled, and much have I suffered, amid waves and wars. If more remains, I will endure that also."
II
At early dawn, when the eastern wave was just silvered by the dim light, Calypso roused Odysseus, and equipped him for the task of the day. First she gave him a weighty two-edged axe, well balanced on its haft of olive-wood, and an adze, freshly ground; then she showed him where the tall trees grew, and bade him fall to work with the axe. Twenty great trees fell beneath his sturdy strokes, and he trimmed the trunks with the axe, and stripped off the bark. Meanwhile Calypso had brought him an augur, and he bored the timbers, and fitted them together, and fastened them with bolts and cross-pieces. So the raft grew under his hands, broad as the floor of a stout merchantship. And he fenced her with bulwarks, piling up blocks of wood to steady them. Last of all he made mast and sail and rigging; and when all was ready he thrust the frail vessel with rollers and levers down to the sea.
Four times the sun had risen and set before his labour was ended; and on the fifth day Calypso brought him provisions for the voyage, a great goatskin bottle full of water, and a smaller one of wine, and a sack of corn, with other choice viands as a relish to his bread.
A joyful man was Odysseus when he spread his sail, and took his place at the helm, and waved a last farewell to his gentle friend. A fair breeze wafted him swiftly from the shore, and ere long that lovely island, at once his home and his prison for seven long years, became a mere shadow in the distance. All night he sat sleepless, tiller in hand, watching the pilot stars, the Pleiades, and Boötes, and the Bear, named also the Wain, which turns on one spot, and watches Orion, and never dips into the ocean stream. For the goddess Calypso had bidden him keep that star on the left hand as he sailed the seas. Thus he voyaged for seventeen days, and on the eighteenth he saw afar off, dimly outlined, a range of hills, rising, like the back of a shield, above the horizon's verge.
Now Poseidon, his great enemy, had been absent for many days on a far journey, and thus had taken no part in the council at Olympus when Zeus had issued his order for the release of Odysseus. Just at this time he was on his way back to Olympus, and caught sight of the bold voyager steering towards the nearest land. "Ha! art thou there?" said the implacable god, shaking his head; "and have the other powers plotted against me in my absence, to frustrate my just anger? Thy wanderings are well-nigh over, poor wretch! But thou shalt taste once more of my vengeance, before thou reachest yonder shore."
So saying the lord of ocean took his trident and stirred up the deep; and the clouds came trooping at his call, covering the sky with a black curtain. Soon a great tempest broke loose, blowing in violent and fitful blasts from all the four quarters of heaven. Then pale fear got hold of Odysseus, as he saw the great curling billows heaving round his frail craft. "Woe is me!" he cried, "when shall my troubles have an end? Surely the goddess spoke truth, when she foretold me that I should perish amid the waves, and never see my home again. Here I lie helpless, given over to destruction, the sport of all the winds of heaven. Happy, thrice happy, were my comrades who fell fighting bravely and found honourable burial in the soil of Troy! Would that I had died on that great day when the battle raged fiercest over the body of Pelides; then should I have found death with honour, but now I am doomed to a miserable and dishonoured end."
The words were hardly uttered when a huge toppling wave struck the raft with tremendous force, carrying away mast and sail, and hurling Odysseus into the sea. Deep down he sank, and the waters darkened over his head, for he was encumbered by the weight of his clothes. At last he rose to the surface, gasping, and spitting out the brine, and though sore spent, he swam towards the raft, and hauled himself on board. There he sat clinging to the dismasted and rudderless vessel, which was tossed to and fro from wave to wave, as the winds of autumn sport with the light thistledown and drive it hither and thither.
But help was at hand. There was a certain ocean nymph, named Ino, daughter of Cadmus, who had once been a mortal woman, but now was numbered among the immortal powers. She saw and pitied Odysseus, and boarding the raft addressed him in this wise: "Poor man, why is Poseidon so wroth with thee that he maltreats thee thus? Yet shall he not destroy thee, for all his malice. Only do as I bid thee, and thou shalt get safely to land: take this veil, and when thou hast stripped off thy garments, bind it across thy breast. Then leave the raft to its fate, and swim manfully to land; and when thou art safe fling the veil back into the sea, and go thy way."
So saying the goddess sank beneath the waves, leaving Odysseus with her veil in his hand. But that cautious veteran did not at once act on her advice, for he feared that some treachery was intended against him. He resolved therefore to remain on the raft as long as her timbers held together, and only to have recourse to the veil in the last extremity.
He had just taken this prudent resolution, when another wave, more huge than the last, thundered down on the raft, scattering her timbers, as the wind scatters a heap of chaff. Odysseus clung fast to one beam and, mounting it, sat astride as on a horse, until he had stripped off his clothes. Then he bound the veil round him, flung himself head foremost into the billows, and swam lustily towards land.
The storm was now subsiding, and a steady breeze succeeded, blowing from the north, which helped that much-tried hero in his struggle for life. Yet for two days and two nights he battled with the waves, and when day broke on the third day he found himself close under a frowning wall of cliffs, at whose foot the sea was breaking with a noise like thunder. Odysseus ceased swimming, and trod the water, looking anxiously round for an opening in the cliffs where he might land. While he hesitated, a great foaming wave came rushing landward, threatening to sweep him against that rugged shore; but Odysseus saw his danger in time, and succeeded in gaining a rocky mass which stood above the surface just before him, and clutching it with hands and knees, contrived to keep his hold until the huge billow was past. In another moment he was caught by the recoil of the wave, and flung back into the boiling surf, with fingers torn and bleeding. With desperate exertions he fought his way out into the comparatively calm water, outside the line of breakers, and swam parallel to the shore, until he saw with delight a sheltered inlet, whence a river flowed into the sea. Murmuring a prayer to the god of the river he steered for land, and a few strokes brought him to a smooth sandy beach, where he lay for a long time without sense or motion. All his flesh was swollen by his long immersion in the water, the skin was stripped from his hands, and when his breath came back to him he felt as weak as a child. Then a deadly nausea came over him, and the water which he had swallowed gushed up through his mouth and nostrils. Somewhat relieved by this, he rose to his feet, and tottering to the river's brink loosed the veil from his waist, and dropped it into the flowing water. For he remembered the request of Ino, to whom he owed his life.
He had indeed escaped the sea; but his position seemed almost hopeless. There he lay, naked, and more dead than alive, without food or shelter, in a strange land, without a sign of human habitation in view. Crawling painfully to a bed of rushes he lay down and considered what was best for him to do. He could not remain where he was, for it was an exposed place, with no protection from the dew, and open to the chill breeze from the river, which blows at early dawn. A few hours of such a vigil would certainly kill him in his exhausted state. If, on the other hand, he sought the shelter of the woods, he feared that he would fall a prey to some prowling beast.
At last he determined to face the less certain peril, and made his way into a thicket not far from the river side. Searching for a place where he might lie he soon came upon two dense bushes of olive, whose leaves and branches were so closely interwoven that they formed a sort of natural arbour, impenetrable by sun, or rain, or wind. "In good time!" murmured Odysseus, as he crept beneath that green roof, and scooped out a deep bed for himself in the fallen leaves. There he lay down, and piled the leaves high over him. And as a careful housewife in some remote farmhouse, where there are no neighbours near, covers up a burning brand among the ashes, so that it may last all night, and preserve the seed of fire; so lay Odysseus, nursing the spark of life, in his deep bed of leaves. And soon he forgot all his troubles in a deep and dreamless sleep.