Book 17

1 When early-born Dawn appeared, the rose-fingered, Telemachus, the dear son of godlike Odysseus, bound his fine sandals under his feet and took up the strong spear that fitted his grip, eager to be off to the city; and he spoke to his swineherd:

6 “Old father, I am going to the city so that my mother may see me; for I do not think she will stop her hateful weeping and her tearful lamenting until she sees me with her own eyes. But this is what I want you to do. Take this unlucky stranger to the city, so that he can beg his dinner there; whoever wants to will give him a crust and a cupful. I cannot possibly look after every man in the world, with the sorrows I have in my own heart. If the stranger is very angry at this, it will be the worse for him. I like to speak the truth.”

16 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Friend, I have no wish to be kept here myself. A beggar does better to beg his dinner in the city than in the fields; whoever wants to will give to me. I am past the age for staying on at a farm and obeying a master in everything he orders. Go on, then. This man you are giving the order to will take me, as soon as I have warmed myself at the fire and there is some heat in the sun. These clothes of mine are terribly poor, and I am afraid the morning frost may get the better of me; and you say the city is a long way off.”

26 So he spoke, and Telemachus strode out through the farmyard, moving fast on his feet and sowing evil for the suitors. When he reached the stately house, he carried his spear in and stood it against a tall pillar, and went on inside himself and crossed the stone threshold.

31 The nurse Eurycleia was far the first to see him, as she was spreading fleeces over the inlaid chairs, and she burst into tears and came straight to him; and around him the other maids of steadfast Odysseus gathered, and they kissed his head and his shoulders in welcome.

36 Then prudent Penelope came out of her chamber, looking like Artemis or golden Aphrodite, and weeping she threw her arms around her dear son and kissed his head and both his beautiful eyes, and through her sobs she spoke to him, and her words had wings:

41 “You have come, Telemachus, sweet light of my eyes! I thought I would never see you again, once you had gone off in a ship to Pylos, secretly, against my will, after news of your dear father. But come, tell me what sight of him you met with.” Then thoughtful Telemachus answered her: “Mother, do not rouse my grief, do not stir up the heart in my breast, when I have only just escaped sheer destruction. Instead, bathe, put clean clothes on your body, go up to the upper rooms with your women, and vow to all the gods that you will offer them perfect hecatombs, if ever Zeus brings about a day of requital. I am going to the place of assembly to call for a stranger who came with me from there on my way home. I sent him on ahead with my godlike companions and told Peiraeus to take him home and look after him kindly and do him honor until I came.”

57 So he spoke, and her word stayed without wings. She bathed, put clean clothes on her body, and vowed to all the gods that she would offer them perfect hecatombs, if ever Zeus brought about a day of requital.

61 Telemachus went out through the hall holding his spear, and two swift hounds went with him. Athena shed a wondrous grace upon him, and all the people gazed at him as he came. The proud suitors gathered around him, with fair words on their lips, but deep in their hearts they brooded on evil. He kept clear of their great crowd and went and sat down where Mentor sat, and Antiphus and Halitherses, who had been his father’s companions from the first; and they questioned him about everything. Then Peiraeus, famed for his spear, came up to them, bringing the stranger through the city to the place of assembly; and Telemachus did not keep away from the stranger for long, but went and stood beside him. Peiraeus spoke first:

75 “Telemachus, send some women to my house quickly, so that I can send you the gifts Menelaus gave you.”

77 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “Peiraeus, we do not know how these things will turn out. If the proud suitors kill me secretly in the halls and divide all my father’s goods among them, I would rather you kept the gifts and enjoyed them yourself than any of these men. But if I sow death and doom for them, then bring them to my house, and you will be glad to bring them and I glad to have them.”

84 So he spoke, and led the much-tried stranger to the house. When they reached the stately house, they laid their cloaks on the chairs and seats, and stepped into the polished bathtubs and bathed. When the maids had bathed them and rubbed them with oil and put fleecy cloaks and tunics about them, they stepped out of the tubs and sat down on chairs. A maid brought water in a lovely golden pitcher and poured it over a silver basin for them to wash their hands, and drew up a polished table beside them. The revered housekeeper brought bread and set it before them, and many dishes besides, giving freely of what she had. His mother sat facing them by the doorpost of the hall, leaning back in a chair and twirling fine yarn on a spindle. And they put out their hands to the good things that lay ready before them. But when they had put from them the desire for drink and food, prudent Penelope began to speak:

101 “Telemachus, I will go up to my upper room and lie down on my bed, which has become a bed of groaning for me, always wet with my tears, ever since Odysseus went off with the sons of Atreus to Ilion. And you could not bring yourself, before the proud suitors come into this house, to tell me plainly about your father’s return, if you have heard of it anywhere.”

107 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered her: “Then I will tell you the truth, Mother. We went to Pylos, to Nestor, shepherd of the people. He received me in his lofty house and made me kindly welcome, as a father welcomes his own son who has just come home after a long time from far away; so kindly did he care for me, he and his glorious sons. But of steadfast Odysseus, living or dead, he said he had never heard a word from any man on earth. He sent me on with horses and a well-joined chariot to the son of Atreus, Menelaus famed for his spear. There I saw Argive Helen, for whose sake Argives and Trojans toiled so much by the will of the gods. And Menelaus, good at the war cry, asked me at once what need had brought me to bright Lacedaemon, and I told him the whole truth. Then he answered me and said:

124 “‘Ah! So they wanted to lie in the bed of a man strong of heart, when they are weaklings themselves! As when a doe has laid her newborn suckling fawns to sleep in the lair of a mighty lion and goes off to range the hill spurs and grassy glens for pasture, and then the lion comes back to his lair and brings a shameful doom on them both, so Odysseus will bring a shameful doom on those men. Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo, if only Odysseus, the man he was once in well-built Lesbos, when he rose to wrestle Philomeleides in a match and threw him hard, and all the Achaeans rejoiced, if only that man would come among the suitors! They would all find a swift death and a bitter wedding. But as for what you ask and beg of me, I will not turn aside and tell you anything else, nor deceive you; of all that the unerring Old Man of the Sea told me, I will hide no word from you and keep nothing back. He said he had seen him on an island, suffering hard pains, in the halls of the nymph Calypso, who keeps him there by force; and he cannot reach his native land, for he has no ships fitted with oars and no companions to carry him over the broad back of the sea.’

147 “So spoke the son of Atreus, Menelaus famed for his spear. When I had done all this, I set out for home, and the immortals gave me a fair wind and quickly brought me to my own native land.”

150 So he spoke, and stirred the heart in her breast. And Theoclymenus, godlike in looks, spoke among them too:

152 “Revered wife of Odysseus, son of Laertes, he does not know clearly; but listen to what I say. I will prophesy to you truly and hide nothing. Let Zeus be my witness now, first of the gods, and this table of hospitality, and the hearth of excellent Odysseus to which I have come: Odysseus is already in his native land, sitting still or on the move, learning of these evil deeds, and he is sowing evil for all the suitors. Such was the bird of omen I saw as I sat on the well-benched ship, and I declared it to Telemachus.”

162 Then prudent Penelope said to him: “Stranger, if only this word of yours might be fulfilled! Then you would soon know my kindness and many gifts from me, so that anyone who met you would call you blessed.”

166 So they spoke with one another, while the suitors, in front of the hall of Odysseus, amused themselves throwing the discus and the javelin on the leveled ground, where they had always behaved with insolence. But when it was time for dinner and the flocks came in from the fields on every side, brought in by the men who always brought them, then Medon spoke to them, for of all the heralds he was the one they liked best, and he was always with them at their feasts:

174 “Young men, now that you have all had your pleasure of the games, come into the house, so that we can make the dinner ready. It is no bad thing to take one’s dinner in good season.”

177 So he spoke, and they rose and went, obeying his word. When they reached the stately house, they laid their cloaks on the chairs and seats, and they slaughtered great sheep and fat goats, and slaughtered fatted hogs and a heifer of the herd, making the dinner ready. Meanwhile Odysseus and the noble swineherd were making haste to go from the country to the city. And the swineherd, leader of men, began to speak:

185 “Stranger, since you are eager to go to the city today, as my master ordered—though I would rather have left you here myself, to guard the farm; but I respect him and am afraid he may scold me afterward, and a master’s rebukes are hard—come, let us go now. The day is mostly gone, and toward evening you will soon find it colder.”

192 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “I know, I understand; you are telling this to a man who has sense. Let us go, and you lead the way the whole way. But give me a stick to lean on, if you have one cut anywhere, since you say the path is very slippery.”

197 So he spoke, and threw his shabby wallet over his shoulders, full of holes, with a twisted cord for a strap; and Eumaeus gave him a staff to his liking. The two of them set off, and the dogs and the herdsmen stayed behind to guard the farm. And he led his master to the city looking like a wretched beggar and an old man, leaning on a staff; and the clothes on his body were miserable rags.

204 But when, going down the rugged road, they were near the city and had come to the fountain, well built and fair-flowing, where the townspeople drew their water (Ithacus had made it, and Neritus and Polyctor), with a grove of poplars that grow by water around it, circling it on every side, and cold water running down from the rock above, and over it an altar to the nymphs, where all travelers made offerings: there Melanthius, son of Dolius, came upon them, driving goats, the best in all the herds, for the suitors’ dinner; and two herdsmen came along with him. When he saw them he abused them and spoke and addressed them, savage and shameful words, and stirred the heart of Odysseus:

217 “Now here’s one wretch leading another wretch, sure enough; the god always brings like to like. Where are you taking this greedy pig, you miserable swineherd, this nuisance of a beggar, this spoiler of feasts? He’ll stand rubbing his shoulders on many doorposts, begging for scraps, not for swords or cauldrons. If you would give him to me to watch my farm and sweep out the pens and carry green fodder to the kids, he could drink whey and put some bulk on his thighs. But since he has learned nothing but bad ways, he won’t want to set about work; he’d rather go cringing through the country, begging to feed that bottomless belly of his. But I tell you plainly, and it will come true: if he comes to the house of godlike Odysseus, his ribs will wear out many a footstool that men hurl about his head as he is pelted through the house.”

233 So he spoke, and as he passed, in his folly, he kicked him on the hip; but he could not push him off the path; Odysseus stood firm. And Odysseus pondered whether to rush at him and take his life with his stick, or to lift him by the waist and dash his head against the ground. But he endured it and held himself back. The swineherd looked the man in the face and rebuked him, and lifted up his hands and prayed aloud:

240 “Nymphs of the fountain, daughters of Zeus, if ever Odysseus burned thigh bones for you, wrapped in rich fat, of lambs and kids, grant me this wish: that that man may come home, and some god guide him. Then he would scatter all those fine airs you put on so insolently, forever wandering about the town while bad herdsmen ruin the flocks.”

247 Then Melanthius, the goatherd, said to him: “Oh, for shame! What a thing this dog has said, with his head full of tricks! Some day I’ll take him off in a well-benched black ship far from Ithaca, so that he can earn me a good living. I wish Apollo of the silver bow would strike Telemachus down today in the halls, or the suitors would kill him, as surely as Odysseus, far away, has lost the day of return.”

254 So he spoke, and left them there, walking slowly, while he went on and very quickly reached his master’s house. He went straight in and sat down among the suitors, opposite Eurymachus, for he liked him best. Those who were busy serving set a portion of meat before him, and the revered housekeeper brought bread and set it before him to eat. Odysseus and the noble swineherd came up close and stood still, and around them rose the sound of the hollow lyre, for Phemius was striking up a song for the suitors. And Odysseus took the swineherd by the hand and said to him:

264 “Eumaeus, surely this is the fine house of Odysseus. It would be easy to pick out even among many. Building opens out of building, the courtyard is finished off with a wall and coping, and the double doors are strongly made; no man could make light of it. And I can tell that many men are feasting in it, for the savor of roasting fat rises up, and the lyre sounds within, which the gods made the companion of the feast.”

272 And you answered him, Eumaeus, swineherd: “You recognized it easily, since you are no fool in other things either. But come, let us think how this is to be done. Either you go into the stately house first and mingle with the suitors, and I stay behind here; or, if you like, wait here, and I will go ahead. But do not linger long, in case someone sees you outside and throws something at you or strikes you. I tell you to think about this.” Then much-enduring noble Odysseus answered him:

281 “I know, I understand; you are telling this to a man who has sense. Go on ahead, and I will stay behind here. I am no stranger to blows and things thrown. My heart is patient, for I have suffered many hardships on the waves and in war; let this be added to them. But there is no way to hide a ravenous belly, the cursed thing, which brings men many evils; for its sake well-benched ships are fitted out to sail the barren sea, bringing evil to enemies.” So they spoke with one another. And a dog that lay there raised his head and pricked his ears: Argos, the dog of steadfast Odysseus, whom he had bred himself long ago but never had the joy of, for before that he went to sacred Ilion. In past days the young men used to take him out after wild goats and deer and hares; but now, with his master gone, he lay neglected in the deep dung of mules and cattle that was heaped up in plenty before the doors, until the servants of Odysseus should carry it off to manure his great estate. There lay the dog Argos, full of ticks. And now, when he knew Odysseus close by, he wagged his tail and dropped both his ears, but he had no strength anymore to come nearer to his master. And Odysseus looked away and wiped a tear, easily hiding it from Eumaeus, and at once he asked him:

306 “Eumaeus, this is a strange thing, this dog lying here in the dung. He has a fine build, but I cannot tell for certain whether he was fast at running too, to go with his looks, or just like the table dogs men have, that their masters keep for show.”

311 And you answered him, Eumaeus, swineherd: “Yes, this is the dog of a man who has died far away. If he were the dog he was in build and in deeds when Odysseus left him and went to Troy, you would soon be amazed to see his speed and his strength. No beast he chased in the depths of the thick forest ever got away from him, and he was keen at tracking too. But now he is in a bad way. His master has perished far from his own country, and the women do not care and do not look after him. Servants, when their masters are no longer over them, do not want to do their proper work anymore; for far-seeing Zeus takes away half a man’s worth on the day that slavery takes him.”

324 So he spoke, and went into the stately house and straight to the hall among the lordly suitors. But the fate of black death took Argos as soon as he had seen Odysseus, in the twentieth year.

328 Telemachus, godlike in looks, was far the first to see the swineherd coming through the house, and at once he nodded and called him to his side. The swineherd looked about and took up a stool that lay there, where the carver used to sit when he carved the meat in plenty for the suitors feasting in the house. He carried it to Telemachus’s table and set it opposite him, and sat down there himself; and the herald took a portion and set it before him, and bread from the basket.

336 Close behind him Odysseus came into the house, looking like a wretched beggar and an old man, leaning on a staff; and the clothes on his body were miserable rags. He sat down on the ash-wood threshold inside the doors, leaning against the doorpost of cypress, which a carpenter had once planed with skill and made true to the line. Telemachus called the swineherd to him and spoke to him, taking a whole loaf from the beautiful basket and as much meat as his hands could hold when he spread them around it: “Take these and give them to the stranger, and tell him to go around among all the suitors and beg from each. Shame is no good companion for a man in need.”

348 So he spoke, and the swineherd went when he heard the word, and standing near he spoke, and his words had wings:

350 “Telemachus gives you these, stranger, and tells you to go around among all the suitors and beg from each. He says shame is no good thing for a beggar.”

353 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Lord Zeus, grant that Telemachus may be blessed among men, and may he have all that his heart desires.”

356 So he spoke, and took it in both hands and set it down there before his feet on his shabby wallet, and he ate while the bard sang in the halls. When he had dined, the godlike bard stopped singing, and the suitors broke into uproar through the hall. But Athena came and stood beside Odysseus, son of Laertes, and urged him to go collecting bread among the suitors and find out which of them were decent and which were lawless; but even so she was not going to save any one of them from ruin. He set off to beg from each man in turn, going around from left to right, stretching out his hand on every side as if he had been a beggar all his life. They pitied him and gave, and they wondered at him, and asked one another who he was and where he came from.

369 Then Melanthius, the goatherd, spoke among them: “Hear me, suitors of the glorious queen, about this stranger; for I have seen him before. It was the swineherd who led him here, I know that, but the man himself I do not know for certain, or where he claims his family comes from.”

374 So he spoke, and Antinous rebuked the swineherd with words: “You notorious swineherd, why did you bring this man to the city? Haven’t we vagabonds enough already, nuisance beggars, spoilers of feasts? Is it not enough for you that men gather here and eat up your master’s livelihood, but you have to invite this one too?”

380 And you answered him, Eumaeus, swineherd: “Antinous, noble as you are, what you say is not well said. Who goes out himself and calls a stranger in from abroad, unless he is one of those who work for the people: a seer, or a healer of sickness, or a builder in wood, or else an inspired bard, who gives delight with his song? Those are the men who are invited all over the boundless earth. But nobody would invite a beggar to eat him out of house and home. You are always harder than all the other suitors on the servants of Odysseus, and on me most of all. But I do not care, so long as sensible Penelope lives on in the halls, and Telemachus, godlike in looks.”

392 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “Quiet. Do not answer him with so many words. Antinous always likes to provoke people meanly with harsh words, and he urges the others on as well.”

396 So he said, and to Antinous he spoke, and his words had wings: “Antinous, how kindly you look after me, like a father his son, telling me to drive the stranger out of the hall with a harsh word! May the god never bring that about. Take something and give it to him; I do not grudge it. I tell you to. Do not hold back for fear of my mother in this, or of any of the servants in the house of godlike Odysseus. But that is not the thought in your breast; you would much rather eat yourself than give to another.” Then Antinous answered him: “Telemachus, you high and mighty talker, unchecked in your fury, what a thing to say! If all the suitors handed him as much as I will, he would keep away from this house for three months.”

409 So he spoke, and seized the footstool from under the table where it lay, the one he rested his shining feet on as he feasted, and showed it. But all the others gave, and they filled the wallet with bread and meat. And now Odysseus was about to go back to the threshold and taste the Achaeans’ free gifts; but he stopped beside Antinous and said to him:

415 “Give, friend. You do not seem to me the worst of the Achaeans, but the best, for you look like a king. So you ought to give me a better portion of bread than the others, and I will sing your fame over the boundless earth. For I too once lived among men in a house of my own, a rich man in a wealthy house, and often I gave to a wanderer, whoever he was and whatever need had brought him. I had servants past counting, and plenty of all the other things by which men live well and are called rich. But Zeus, son of Cronus, ruined it all—he wanted to, I suppose—and sent me off with roving pirates to go to Egypt, a long voyage, to my ruin. I moored my curved ships in the river of Egypt. Then I ordered my faithful companions to stay there by the ships and guard them, and I sent out scouts to the lookout points. But they gave way to insolence, following their own impulse, and at once began plundering the beautiful fields of the Egyptians, and carried off the women and little children, and killed the men; and soon the cry reached the city. The people heard the shouting and came at the breaking of dawn, and the whole plain was filled with foot soldiers and horses and the flash of bronze. And Zeus who delights in thunder cast an evil panic among my companions, and no one dared to stand and face them, for evils stood around us on every side. Then they killed many of us with the sharp bronze, and led others away alive to work for them by force. But me they gave to a stranger who met them, to take to Cyprus: Dmetor son of Iasus, who ruled Cyprus with might. And from there I have now come here, suffering hardships.” Then Antinous answered him and said: “What god has brought this plague here, this pest of the feast? Stand off, out there in the middle, away from my table, or you will soon come to a bitter Egypt and Cyprus! What a bold and shameless beggar you are. You stand by each man in turn, and they give recklessly; for there is no holding back and no scruple about being generous with what belongs to someone else, when each of them has plenty beside him.”

453 Odysseus of many wiles drew back and said to him: “Ah! So your wits do not match your looks after all. You would not give even salt from your own house to a man who stood at your door, you who now, sitting at another man’s table, could not bring yourself to take a bit of bread and give it to me, though there is plenty here.”

458 So he spoke, and Antinous grew angrier still at heart, and with a dark look from under his brows he spoke to him, and his words had wings: “Now I do not think you will get back out of this hall in one piece, since you are even throwing insults.”

462 So he spoke, and took the footstool and threw it, and hit him on the right shoulder, at the base of the back. But he stood firm as a rock, and the missile of Antinous did not make him stagger; he shook his head in silence, brooding on evil deep within. He went back to the threshold and sat down and set down his well-filled wallet, and he spoke among the suitors:

468 “Hear me, suitors of the glorious queen, so that I may say what the heart in my breast commands me. There is no pain in a man’s heart, and no grief, when he is struck fighting for his own possessions, for his cattle or his white sheep. But Antinous struck me for the sake of my wretched belly, the cursed thing, which brings men many evils. But if there are gods and Erinyes for beggars, may the end of death come upon Antinous before his marriage.”

477 Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said to him: “Sit still and eat, stranger, or go somewhere else, or the young men will drag you through the house by the foot or by the hand for the things you say, and strip the skin off you all over.”

481 So he spoke, and they were all indignant beyond measure; and one of the arrogant young men would say:

483 “Antinous, you did wrong to strike the poor wanderer. You are a doomed man, if he turns out to be some god from heaven. And the gods do take the likeness of strangers from other lands, appearing in every kind of shape, and go about the cities, watching over the insolence and the good order of men.”

488 So the suitors spoke, but he paid no heed to their words. And Telemachus nursed a great grief in his heart for the blow, but he let no tear fall from his eyelids to the ground; he shook his head in silence, brooding on evil deep within.

492 When prudent Penelope heard of the man being struck in the hall, she said among her maids: “I wish Apollo, famed for his bow, would strike you yourself like that!” And Eurynome the housekeeper said to her: “If only our prayers were fulfilled! Not one of these men would live to see Dawn of the lovely throne.”

498 Then prudent Penelope said to her: “Old mother, they are all hateful, since they are plotting evil; but Antinous most of all is like black doom. Some poor stranger is wandering through the house begging from the men, for need drives him to it; and all the others filled his wallet and gave, but this one hit him with a footstool on the right shoulder, at the base of the back.”

505 So she spoke among her women, sitting in her chamber, while noble Odysseus was eating his dinner. And she called the noble swineherd to her and said:

508 “Go, noble Eumaeus, and tell the stranger to come here, so that I may greet him and ask whether he has heard anything of steadfast Odysseus, or seen him with his own eyes. He looks like a man who has wandered far.”

512 And you answered her, Eumaeus, swineherd: “If only the Achaeans would be quiet, my queen! The things he tells would charm your dear heart. I had him three nights, and kept him three days, in my hut, for I was the first he came to when he ran away from a ship; and still he has not come to the end of telling his sufferings. As when a man gazes at a bard who has learned from the gods to sing words of longing to mortals, and they yearn endlessly to hear him whenever he sings, so he charmed me as he sat beside me in my house. He says he is an old friend of Odysseus’s family, and lives in Crete, where the race of Minos is. From there he has now come here, suffering hardships, rolling on and on; and he insists that he has heard of Odysseus close by, in the rich land of the Thesprotians, alive, and that he is bringing many treasures home.”

528 Then prudent Penelope said to him: “Go, call him here, so that he may tell me himself, face to face. Let these men amuse themselves sitting at the doors, or here in the house, since their hearts are merry. Their own goods lie untouched in their homes, bread and sweet wine, and their servants eat them; but they haunt our house day after day, slaughtering our oxen and sheep and fat goats, and they feast and drink the sparkling wine recklessly, and most of it is being wasted. For there is no man like Odysseus to ward off ruin from the house. But if Odysseus were to come and reach his native land, he and his son would soon pay these men back for their violence.”

541 So she spoke, and Telemachus sneezed loudly, and the whole house rang with it fearfully. Penelope laughed, and at once she spoke to Eumaeus, and her words had wings:

544 “Go and call the stranger here before me. Do you not see how my son sneezed at all my words? So death will not fail to come for the suitors, for all of them, and not one would escape death and doom. And I will tell you something else, and you lay it to heart: if I find that he tells the whole truth, I will dress him in a cloak and a tunic, fine clothes.”

551 So she spoke, and the swineherd went when he heard the word, and standing near he spoke, and his words had wings:

553 “Stranger, old father, prudent Penelope, the mother of Telemachus, is calling for you. Her heart bids her ask you something about her husband, though she has suffered many sorrows. And if she finds that you tell the whole truth, she will dress you in a cloak and a tunic, which you need most of all; and then you can beg your bread through the land and feed your belly. Whoever wants to will give to you.”

560 Then much-enduring noble Odysseus said to him: “Eumaeus, I would gladly tell the whole truth at once to the daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope; for I know about him well, and we have shared the same misery. But I am afraid of the crowd of harsh suitors, whose insolence and violence reach the iron sky. Just now, when this man struck me and gave me pain as I went through the house doing no harm, neither Telemachus nor anyone else protected me from it. So now tell Penelope to wait in the halls, eager though she is, until the sun goes down; and then let her ask me about her husband and the day of his return, giving me a seat nearer the fire, for the clothes I have are wretched. You know that yourself, since it was you I came to first as a suppliant.”

574 So he spoke, and the swineherd went when he heard the word. And as he crossed the threshold Penelope said to him:

576 “You have not brought him, Eumaeus? What does the wanderer mean by this? Is he afraid of someone beyond measure, or is he shy in the house for some other reason? A shy beggar is a poor beggar.”

579 And you answered her, Eumaeus, swineherd: “He speaks rightly, as anyone else would think; he wants to avoid the insolence of arrogant men, and he asks you to wait until the sun goes down. And it is much better for you yourself, my queen, to speak to the stranger alone and hear what he has to say.” Then prudent Penelope said to him: “The stranger is no fool. He sees how things may well turn out, for surely there are no mortal men anywhere who behave so insolently and plan such reckless deeds as these.”

589 So she spoke, and the noble swineherd went back into the crowd of suitors, when he had made everything clear. At once he spoke to Telemachus, and his words had wings, holding his head close so that the others would not hear:

593 “Friend, I am going away to guard the pigs and all the rest, your livelihood and mine. You see to everything here. Keep yourself safe first of all, and take care in your heart that nothing happens to you. Many of the Achaeans are plotting evil. May Zeus destroy them before they do us harm.”

598 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “It will be so, old father. Go when you have had your evening meal, and come at dawn and bring fine animals for sacrifice. All this will be my care, and the immortals’.”

602 So he spoke, and the swineherd sat down again on the polished stool, and when he had satisfied his heart with food and drink, he set off to go to his pigs, and left the courtyard and the hall full of feasters. And they took their pleasure in dancing and song, for evening had already come on.