Book 20

1 But noble Odysseus made his bed in the forecourt. He spread an untanned oxhide on the ground, and on top of it many fleeces of sheep that the Achaeans had slaughtered, and Eurynome threw a cloak over him when he had lain down. There Odysseus lay awake, plotting evil for the suitors in his heart. And the women came out of the hall, the ones who had long been sleeping with the suitors, laughing and making merry with one another. And the heart in his dear breast was stirred, and he pondered long in his mind and in his heart whether to rush after them and deal death to every one, or to let them lie with the overbearing suitors for the last and final time; and his heart growled within him. As a bitch standing over her tender puppies growls at a man she does not know and is eager to fight, so his heart growled within him, indignant at their wicked deeds. And he struck his chest and rebuked his heart with these words:

18 “Endure, my heart. You endured a viler thing than this once, on the day when the Cyclops, unchecked in his fury, devoured my mighty companions; and you held out, until cunning got you out of the cave when you thought you would die.”

22 So he spoke, rebuking the dear heart in his breast; and his heart stayed obedient and endured without ceasing; but he himself tossed this way and that. As when a man turns a paunch full of fat and blood this way and that before a great blazing fire, very eager to have it roasted quickly, so he tossed this way and that, pondering how he could lay hands on the shameless suitors, one man against many. And Athena came close to him, coming down from heaven in the form of a woman, and she stood over his head and said to him:

33 “Why are you awake again, ill-starred beyond all men? This is your house, and here is your wife in the house, and your son, such a son as any man might wish to have.”

36 Odysseus of many wiles answered her: “Yes, goddess, all this you have said is right. But the heart in my breast is pondering this: how I can lay hands on the shameless suitors, alone as I am, while they are always together inside. And besides, I ponder this greater thing in my mind: even if I kill them, by the will of Zeus and by yours, where can I escape to? I ask you to think about that.”

44 Then the goddess, gray-eyed Athena, said to him: “Stubborn man! People trust even a weaker friend, one who is mortal and does not know so many plans. But I am a goddess, who guards you to the end in all your toils. I tell you plainly: even if fifty companies of mortal men stood around the two of us, eager to kill us in battle, even so you would drive off their cattle and their fat sheep. But let sleep take you too. It is a weariness to keep watch all night awake, and soon you will come up out of your troubles.”

54 So she spoke, and shed sleep upon his eyelids; and she herself, bright among goddesses, went back to Olympus.

56 While sleep seized him, loosening the cares of his heart, sleep that loosens the limbs, his loyal wife woke, and she wept, sitting up in her soft bed. And when she had wept to her heart’s fill, the noble among women prayed first of all to Artemis:

61 “Artemis, lady goddess, daughter of Zeus, I wish you would shoot an arrow into my breast and take my life away now, at once; or else that a storm wind would snatch me up and go carrying me off along the misty ways and cast me down where backward-flowing Ocean pours out. So the storm winds carried off the daughters of Pandareus. The gods had destroyed their parents, and they were left orphans in the halls; and bright Aphrodite tended them with cheese and sweet honey and sweet wine, and Hera gave them beauty and wisdom beyond all women, and chaste Artemis gave them stature, and Athena taught them to do glorious handiwork. But when bright Aphrodite went up to high Olympus to ask for the girls the fulfillment of flourishing marriage—to Zeus who delights in thunder, for he knows all things well, what is fated and what is not fated for mortal men—meanwhile the Harpies snatched the girls away and gave them to the hateful Erinyes to serve. So may those who hold the halls of Olympus make me vanish, or may lovely-haired Artemis strike me down, so that I may go beneath the hateful earth with Odysseus before my eyes, and never gladden the mind of a lesser man. Yet the evil can be borne when a man weeps by day, sorely grieved at heart, but sleep holds him at night—for sleep makes him forget everything, good and bad, once it has covered his eyelids—but on me a god has sent evil dreams as well. For this very night someone lay beside me who looked like him, such as he was when he went with the army; and my heart was glad, for I thought it was not a dream but a waking vision at last.”

91 So she spoke, and at once Dawn of the golden throne came. And noble Odysseus heard the sound of her weeping, and he pondered, and it seemed to him in his heart that she already knew him and was standing by his head. He gathered up the cloak and the fleeces he had slept in and laid them on a chair in the hall, and carried the oxhide outside, and he lifted up his hands and prayed to Zeus:

98 “Father Zeus, if you gods willingly brought me over dry land and sea to my own land, after you had afflicted me so much, let someone of the people waking inside speak a word of omen for me, and outside let some other sign from Zeus appear.”

102 So he prayed, and Zeus the counselor heard him, and at once he thundered from gleaming Olympus, from high among the clouds; and noble Odysseus was glad. And a woman grinding at the mill gave out a word of omen from the house nearby, where the mills of the shepherd of the people stood. At them twelve women in all labored, making barley meal and wheat meal, the marrow of men. The others were asleep, for they had ground their wheat, but this one had not yet stopped, for she was the weakest of them all. She stopped her mill and spoke a word, a sign for her master:

112 “Father Zeus, you who rule over gods and men, you have thundered loudly from the starry sky, and there is no cloud anywhere; surely you are showing this sign to someone. Fulfill now for me too, wretched as I am, the word I speak: may the suitors, on this day, for the last and final time, take their pleasant feast in the halls of Odysseus, they who have loosened my knees with heartbreaking toil as I make their barley meal. May they now dine for the last time!”

120 So she spoke, and noble Odysseus rejoiced at the omen in her words and at the thunder of Zeus; for he thought he would punish the wrongdoers.

122 The other maids gathered throughout the fine house of Odysseus and kindled the tireless fire on the hearth. And Telemachus rose from his bed, a man equal to the gods, and put on his clothes. He slung his sharp sword around his shoulder, bound his fine sandals under his shining feet, and took up his strong spear, tipped with sharp bronze; and he went and stood on the threshold and said to Eurycleia:

129 “Dear old mother, did you honor the stranger in the house with a bed and food, or does he lie just as he is, uncared for? For that is how my mother is, wise though she is: she will rashly honor one man, the worse of mortals, and send the better away without honor.”

134 Then prudent Eurycleia said to him: “Child, you should not blame her now, when she is blameless. He sat and drank wine as long as he wanted, but food, he said, he no longer hungered for; for she asked him. And when he was thinking of rest and sleep, she told the maids to spread a bed for him; but he, like a man utterly wretched and unlucky, would not sleep in a bed and under blankets, but slept on an untanned oxhide and sheep fleeces in the forecourt; and we threw a cloak over him.”

144 So she spoke, and Telemachus went out through the hall holding his spear, and two swift hounds went with him. He went to the place of assembly to join the well-greaved Achaeans. And the noble among women, Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, son of Peisenor, called to the maids:

149 “Come, some of you, get busy and sweep the house and sprinkle it, and throw purple covers on the well-made chairs; and you others, wipe all the tables with sponges, and clean the mixing bowls and the well-made two-handled cups; and you others, go to the fountain for water and bring it here quickly. The suitors will not be long away from the hall; they will come very early, for today is a feast day for everyone.”

157 So she spoke, and they listened closely and obeyed. Twenty of them went to the fountain of dark water, and the others worked skillfully there in the house.

160 Then the Achaeans’ serving men came in. They split the firewood well and skillfully, and the women came back from the fountain; and after them came the swineherd, driving three fatted hogs, the best he had. These he left to graze in the fine courtyard, and he himself spoke to Odysseus with gentle words:

166 “Stranger, do the Achaeans look on you with more respect now, or do they dishonor you in the hall as before?”

168 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Eumaeus, if only the gods would punish the outrage these men commit in their insolence, plotting reckless deeds in another man’s house, with no share of shame!”

172 So they spoke with one another, and Melanthius, the goatherd, came up close to them, driving goats, the best in all the herds, for the suitors’ dinner; and two herdsmen came along with him. He tied the goats under the echoing portico, and he himself spoke to Odysseus with taunting words:

178 “Stranger, are you still going to make a nuisance of yourself here in the house, begging from the men? Won’t you get out the door? I don’t think we two will part now till we’ve had a taste of each other’s fists, since the way you beg is not decent. There are other feasts of the Achaeans.”

183 So he spoke, but Odysseus of many wiles said nothing to him; he shook his head in silence, brooding on evil deep within.

185 Third came Philoetius, leader of men, bringing a barren heifer and fat goats for the suitors. Ferrymen had brought them across, the ones who carry other people too, whoever comes to them. He tied the animals well under the echoing portico, and he himself came and stood near the swineherd and asked him:

191 “Who is this stranger, swineherd, newly come to our house? From what people does he claim to be? Where are his family and his native fields? Poor man! In build he looks like a king, a lord. But the gods plunge wandering men into misery, when they spin out trouble even for kings.”

197 So he spoke, and he came up and greeted him with his right hand, and he spoke to him, and his words had wings:

199 “Welcome, old father, stranger! May happiness be yours in time to come, though now you are held fast by many evils. Father Zeus, no other god is more destructive than you. You have no pity on men, though you yourself begot them, but plunge them into misery and wretched pains. I broke into a sweat when I saw you, and my eyes filled with tears as I remembered Odysseus; for I think he too is wandering among men in rags like these, if he is still alive somewhere and sees the light of the sun. But if he is already dead and in the house of Hades, then alas for excellent Odysseus, who set me over his cattle in the land of the Cephallenians when I was still a boy. Now they have grown past counting; in no other way could a breed of broad-browed cattle multiply better for a man. But other men tell me to bring them in for themselves to eat, and they care nothing for the son in the halls, and do not tremble at the vengeance of the gods; for they are eager now to divide the possessions of our master, so long gone. And the heart in my dear breast keeps turning this over and over: it would be a very wrong thing, while his son is alive, to go off to another people, cattle and all, to foreign men; but it is worse to stay here and suffer hardships, sitting over cattle that belong to others. I would have fled long ago and gone to some other mighty king, for things are past bearing now; but I still think of that unhappy man, and wonder whether he might come from somewhere and scatter the suitors through the house.”

226 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Cowherd, since you seem neither a bad man nor a foolish one, and I see for myself that understanding has come into your mind, I will tell you something and swear a great oath to it. 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: while you are still here, Odysseus will come home; and you will see with your own eyes, if you wish, the suitors being killed, who lord it here.” Then the man who herded the cattle said to him: “Stranger, if only the son of Cronus would fulfill this word! Then you would know what my strength is, and how my hands follow it.”

238 In the same way Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that wise-hearted Odysseus might come home to his own house.

240 So they spoke with one another. But the suitors were plotting death and doom for Telemachus; and a bird came to them on their left, an eagle flying high, holding a trembling dove. And Amphinomus spoke and addressed them:

245 “Friends, this plan of ours will not prosper, the murder of Telemachus. Let us think of the feast.”

247 So spoke Amphinomus, and his word pleased them. They went into the house of godlike Odysseus and 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. They roasted the inner parts and served them out, and mixed the wine in the bowls; and the swineherd handed out the cups. Philoetius, leader of men, served them bread in beautiful baskets, and Melanthius poured the wine. And they put out their hands to the good things that lay ready before them.

257 Telemachus, with crafty purpose, seated Odysseus inside the well-built hall by the stone threshold, setting down a shabby stool and a small table for him. He set portions of the inner parts beside him and poured wine into a golden cup, and said to him:

262 “Sit there now among the men and drink your wine. I myself will keep off the insults and the hands of all the suitors, since this is no public house but the house of Odysseus, and he won it for me. And you, suitors, keep your hearts from abuse and your hands from blows, so that no strife and quarrel may arise.”

268 So he spoke, and they all bit their lips and marveled at Telemachus, how boldly he spoke. And Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said among them:

271 “Achaeans, hard as it is, let us accept Telemachus’s word; he speaks to us with great threats. Zeus, son of Cronus, would not let us; otherwise we would have silenced him in the halls by now, clear-voiced speaker though he is.”

275 So spoke Antinous; but Telemachus paid no heed to his words. Meanwhile the heralds were leading a sacred hecatomb for the gods through the city, and the long-haired Achaeans gathered beneath the shady grove of far-shooting Apollo.

279 When they had roasted the outer flesh and drawn it off the spits, they divided the portions and feasted on a glorious feast. And those who served set beside Odysseus a portion equal to the one they received themselves; for so Telemachus had ordered, the dear son of godlike Odysseus.

284 But Athena would not let the proud suitors hold back altogether from heartbreaking insult, so that the pain would sink still deeper into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. There was among the suitors a man whose mind was set on lawless things; Ctesippus was his name, and he lived in Same. Trusting in his vast wealth, he was wooing the wife of Odysseus, so long gone. He now said to the overbearing suitors:

292 “Hear me, proud suitors, while I say something. The stranger has long had his portion, as is fitting, an equal one; for it is neither fine nor just to slight the guests of Telemachus, whoever comes to this house. But come, let me too give him a guest gift, so that he can give a present himself to the bath-woman or to some other servant in the house of godlike Odysseus.”

299 So saying, he threw a cow’s hoof with his strong hand, taking it from the basket where it lay. But Odysseus avoided it, ducking his head a little to one side, and in his heart he smiled a grim, sardonic smile; and the hoof struck the well-built wall. Then Telemachus rebuked Ctesippus:

304 “Ctesippus, it turned out much the better for you: you did not hit the stranger, for he avoided the missile himself. Otherwise I would have struck you through the middle with my sharp spear, and instead of a wedding your father would have been busy with your funeral here. So let no one show me unseemly behavior in my house. For now I understand and know each thing, the good and the worse; before, I was still a child. But even so we bear to see these things, sheep being slaughtered and wine being drunk and bread eaten; for it is hard for one man to restrain many. But come, do me no more harm in your hostility. If you are eager now to kill me myself with the bronze, I would even wish it, and it would be much better to be dead than to see these shameful deeds forever, strangers being mistreated and men dragging the women servants shamefully through the fine house.”

320 So he spoke, and they all fell silent and were still. At last Agelaus, son of Damastor, spoke among them:

322 “Friends, no one should take offense at what has been rightly said and attack it with hostile words. Do not mistreat the stranger, or any other of the servants in the house of godlike Odysseus. But I would say a gentle word to Telemachus and his mother, if it might please the hearts of them both. As long as the hearts in your breasts still hoped that wise-hearted Odysseus would return to his own house, there was no blame in waiting and holding back the suitors in the house; that was the better course, in case Odysseus did return and come back home. But now this is plain: he will never return. So come, sit by your mother and tell her this: to marry whoever is the best man and offers the most, so that you may enjoy all your father’s possessions gladly, eating and drinking, and she may keep another man’s house.”

338 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “No, by Zeus, Agelaus, and by the sorrows of my father, who has perished or is wandering somewhere far from Ithaca, I am not delaying my mother’s marriage. I urge her to marry whom she will, and I offer gifts beyond telling besides. But I am ashamed to drive her out of the hall against her will with a harsh word. May the god never bring that about.”

345 So spoke Telemachus. And Pallas Athena roused unquenchable laughter among the suitors and drove their wits astray. They were laughing now with jaws that were not their own, and the meat they were eating was all smeared with blood; their eyes filled with tears, and their hearts foreboded lamentation. And Theoclymenus, godlike in looks, spoke among them:

351 “Ah, wretched men, what evil is this you suffer? Your heads and your faces and your knees beneath are wrapped in night. A sound of wailing has blazed up, your cheeks are wet with tears, and the walls and the fine panels between the pillars are spattered with blood. The doorway is full of ghosts, and the courtyard full too, hastening down to Erebus into the darkness; the sun has perished out of the sky, and an evil mist has come rushing over all.”

358 So he spoke, and they all laughed sweetly at him. And Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak among them:

360 “This stranger newly come from somewhere else is out of his mind. Quick, young men, send him out of the house to go to the place of assembly, since he finds it like night in here.”

363 Then Theoclymenus, godlike in looks, said to him: “Eurymachus, I do not ask you to give me guides. I have eyes and ears and both my feet, and a mind in my breast that is not badly made. With these I will go out the door, for I see evil coming upon you, which not one of the suitors will escape or avoid, you who in the house of godlike Odysseus insult men and plot reckless deeds.”

371 So saying, he went out of the stately house and came to Peiraeus, who welcomed him kindly. And all the suitors, looking at one another, tried to provoke Telemachus by laughing at his guests; and one of the arrogant young men would say:

376 “Telemachus, no one is unluckier in his guests than you. What a fellow you keep here, this scrounging wanderer, wanting bread and wine, no use for work or for strength, just a burden on the earth! And this other one stood up to prophesy. If you would listen to me, it would be much better: let us throw these strangers into a many-oared ship and send them to the Sicels, where they would fetch you a good price.”

384 So the suitors spoke; but he paid no heed to their words, and in silence he kept looking at his father, always waiting for the moment when Odysseus would lay hands on the shameless suitors.

387 But the daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope, had set her beautiful chair facing them, and she heard every man’s words in the halls. For they had made their dinner ready with laughter, a sweet and satisfying one, since they had slaughtered a great many beasts; but no supper could have been more graceless than the one a goddess and a mighty man were soon to set before them; for they had been the first to plot shameful deeds.