Book 2
1 When early-born Dawn appeared, the rose-fingered, the dear son of Odysseus rose from his bed and put on his clothes. He slung his sharp sword over his shoulder, bound his beautiful sandals on his shining feet, and went out of his chamber, like a god to look upon. At once he ordered the clear-voiced heralds to summon the long-haired Achaeans to the assembly. The heralds made the summons, and the men gathered very quickly. When they had gathered and were all assembled, he went to the assembly with a bronze spear in his hand, not alone: two swift dogs went with him. Athena shed a wonderful grace upon him, and all the people gazed at him as he came. He sat down in his father’s seat, and the elders made way. Then the hero Aegyptius was the first to speak among them. He was bent with age and knew things beyond counting. His dear son, the spearman Antiphus, had gone with godlike Odysseus in the hollow ships to Ilion,1 land of fine horses; but the savage Cyclops had killed him in his hollow cave and made him the last meal he ate there. Aegyptius had three other sons: one, Eurynomus, kept company with the suitors, and two always worked their father’s fields. Even so he could not forget that one, but mourned and grieved for him. Weeping for him, he spoke out before the assembly:
25 “Hear me now, men of Ithaca, what I have to say. We have had no assembly and no session since noble Odysseus went away in the hollow ships. Who has called us together now like this? What great need has come upon him, whether he is one of the young men or one of the elders? Has he heard some news of the army coming home, which he could tell us plainly, since he learned it first? Or is there some other public matter he will set before us and speak about? He seems to me a good man, and may he prosper. May Zeus bring about for him whatever good thing he has in mind.”
35 So he spoke, and the dear son of Odysseus was glad at the words of good omen. He did not sit still for long, but was eager to speak, and he stood up in the middle of the assembly. The herald Peisenor, wise in counsel, put the staff into his hand. Then he spoke, addressing the old man first:
40 “Old man, that man is not far away, and you will soon know him yourself: it is I who called the people together, for grief has come upon me above all. I have heard no news of the army coming home that I could tell you plainly, since I had learned it first, and there is no other public matter that I will set before you and speak about. It is my own need, the evil that has fallen on my house, and it is twofold. First, I have lost my noble father, who was once king among you here and was gentle as a father. And now there is a far greater evil, which will soon break up my whole house completely and destroy all my livelihood. Suitors have beset my mother against her will, the dear sons of the men who are the best here. They shrink from going to the house of her father Icarius, so that he himself might give his daughter in marriage, and give her to whomever he wished, the man who found favor with him. Instead they haunt our house day after day, slaughtering oxen and sheep and fat goats, feasting and drinking the sparkling wine recklessly, and so much is wasted. For there is no man here like Odysseus to keep ruin from the house. We are not the men to keep it off; even if we tried, we would prove pitiful and unskilled in fighting. I would defend myself, if only I had the strength. For deeds past bearing have been done, and my house has been destroyed beyond all decency. You should be indignant yourselves, and feel shame before your neighbors, the people who live around us; and fear the wrath of the gods, in case they turn against you in anger at your evil deeds. I beg you, by Olympian Zeus and by Themis, who dissolves and gathers the assemblies of men: hold back, friends, and leave me alone to waste away in bitter grief, unless it was my noble father Odysseus who in hatred did harm to the well-greaved Achaeans, and now you take your revenge on me in your hatred, urging these men on. It would be better for me if you yourselves were eating up my treasures and my flocks. If you were eating them, there might soon be some repayment: we would go about the town pressing you with words, asking for our goods back, until everything had been returned. But now you are filling my heart with pain I can do nothing about.”
80 So he spoke in anger, and he dashed the staff to the ground, bursting into tears, and pity seized all the people. Then all the others were silent, and no one dared to answer Telemachus with harsh words. Antinous alone answered him and said:
85 “Telemachus, lofty speaker, unchecked in your fury, what a thing you have said to shame us! You would like to fasten blame on us. But it is not the Achaean suitors who are to blame for you; it is your own dear mother, who is crafty beyond all others. It is now the third year, and soon it will be the fourth, that she has been cheating the hearts in the breasts of the Achaeans. She gives hope to all and makes promises to each man, sending him messages, but her mind is set on other things. And she devised this further trick in her heart: she set up a great loom in the halls and began to weave a web, fine and very wide, and at once she said to us:
96 “‘Young men, my suitors, since noble Odysseus is dead, wait, eager as you are for my marriage, until I finish this mantle, so that my spinning may not be wasted and come to nothing. It is a shroud for the hero Laertes, against the time when the deadly fate of death that lays men out at length shall take him, so that none of the Achaean women in the land may blame me if he, who won so much, should lie without a shroud.’
103 “So she spoke, and our proud hearts were persuaded. Then by day she would weave at the great loom, but by night she would unravel it, with torches set beside her. So for three years she deceived the Achaeans with her trick and kept them persuaded. But when the fourth year came and the seasons came round, then one of her women, who knew it well, told us, and we caught her unraveling the splendid web. So she finished it, against her will, because she was forced to. Now this is the suitors’ answer to you, so that you may know it in your own heart and all the Achaeans may know it: send your mother away, and order her to marry whichever man her father bids and she herself is pleased with. But she may go on tormenting the sons of the Achaeans for a long time yet, with her mind set on the gifts that Athena has given her above all women, to know beautiful handiwork and to have a good mind and cunning, such as we have never heard of in any woman, even among those of old, the lovely-haired Achaean women who lived before, Tyro and Alcmene and Mycene of the fair crown. Not one of them had such thoughts as Penelope. Yet this at least she has not thought out rightly. For they will go on eating up your livelihood and your possessions as long as she keeps to the mind that the gods have now put in her breast. She wins great fame for herself, but for you the loss of much livelihood. And we will not go back to our own lands or anywhere else until she marries whichever of the Achaeans she chooses.”
129 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “Antinous, I cannot drive out of the house against her will the woman who bore me and raised me. My father is somewhere else in the world, alive or dead. And it would be hard for me to pay back so much to Icarius, if I myself send my mother away of my own accord. I will suffer evil from her father, and the god will send me more, for my mother will call down the hateful Erinyes2 as she leaves the house, and I will be blamed by men. So I will never say that word. If your own hearts are indignant at this, then get out of my halls. Find other feasts, eat your own goods, and take turns from house to house. But if this seems better and more profitable to you, that one man’s livelihood should be destroyed without payment, then go on and devour it. I will call on the gods who live forever, in the hope that Zeus may grant that such deeds be paid back. Then you would perish inside this house, and there would be no payment for you.”
146 So Telemachus spoke, and for him far-seeing Zeus sent two eagles flying from high on a mountain peak. For a while they flew on the breath of the wind, close beside each other, their wings spread wide. But when they reached the middle of the assembly of many voices, they wheeled about there and beat their wings thick and fast, and they looked down on the heads of all, and their eyes foretold destruction. Then they tore each other’s cheeks and necks with their talons and darted away to the right, over the houses and the city of the people. The men were amazed at the birds when they saw them with their eyes, and they wondered in their hearts what was to come to pass. Then the old hero Halitherses, son of Mastor, spoke among them, for he alone surpassed the men of his age in knowing birds and in declaring what was fated. With good will toward them he spoke out before the assembly:
161 “Hear me now, men of Ithaca, what I have to say; and it is to the suitors most of all that I declare it, for a great disaster is rolling toward them. Odysseus will not be away from his friends for long. Already, I think, he is near, sowing murder and doom for all these men; and to many others of us who live in clear-seen Ithaca there will be evil too. Long before that, let us think how we may stop them; or let them stop of their own accord, for that is far better for them, and at once. I do not prophesy without experience, but with sure knowledge. For him, too, I say that everything has been fulfilled as I told him when the Argives went up to Ilion and Odysseus of many wiles went with them. I said that after suffering many evils and losing all his companions, unknown to all, in the twentieth year, he would come home. And now all this is being fulfilled.”
177 Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, answered him: “Old man, come now, go home and prophesy to your children, so that they may not suffer some harm in days to come. In these matters I am a far better prophet than you. Many birds fly to and fro under the rays of the sun, and not all of them are birds of fate. Odysseus has perished far away, and how I wish you had perished with him. Then you would not be uttering so many prophecies, or stirring up Telemachus in his anger like this, hoping for some gift for your house, if he will give it. But I will tell you plainly, and it will come to pass: if you, who know many things of old, lead on a younger man with your talk and urge him to rage, it will first be the worse for him, and he will get nothing done for all that; and on you, old man, we will lay a fine that it will grieve your heart to pay, and your pain will be hard to bear. And to Telemachus I myself will give this advice before you all: let him order his mother to go back to her father’s house, and they will arrange a marriage and make ready the bride-gifts, very many, as many as should go with a dear daughter. For I do not think the sons of the Achaeans will give up their hard courtship before then, since in any case we fear no one, certainly not Telemachus, for all his many words, and we care nothing for the prophecy you utter, old man, which will never come true, and you make yourself hated all the more. And his goods will be devoured miserably, and there will never be any amends, as long as she puts off the Achaeans in this matter of her marriage. And we, waiting here day after day, compete for her excellence, and do not go after other women whom each of us might fitly marry.”
208 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “Eurymachus, and all the rest of you who are lordly suitors, I will not plead with you about this any longer or speak of it, for the gods and all the Achaeans know it already. But come, give me a swift ship and twenty companions who can make the journey for me there and back. I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to ask about the return of my father, who has been gone so long, in case some mortal can tell me, or I hear a rumor from Zeus, which most of all brings news to men. If I hear that my father is alive and on his way home, then, worn down as I am, I could still endure for a year. But if I hear that he is dead and no longer living, then I will come home to my dear native land and heap up a mound for him and make funeral offerings, very many, as is fitting, and give my mother to a husband.”
224 So he spoke and sat down, and among them rose Mentor, who was a companion of excellent Odysseus. When Odysseus went away in the ships, he had entrusted his whole household to him, that they should obey the old man and that he should keep everything safe. With good will toward them he spoke out before the assembly:
229 “Hear me now, men of Ithaca, what I have to say. Let no sceptered king ever again be eager to be gentle and kind, or have justice at heart; let him always be harsh and do what is wicked, since no one remembers godlike Odysseus among the people he ruled, though he was as gentle with them as a father. I do not grudge the proud suitors their deeds of violence, done in the wickedness of their minds; for they stake their own heads when they violently devour the house of Odysseus, and they say he will never come back. It is the rest of the people I am indignant with, the way you all sit there in silence and do not rebuke them with a word and restrain the suitors, though they are few and you are many.”
242 Then Leocritus, son of Euenor, answered him: “Mentor, you mischief-maker, out of your wits, what a thing you have said, urging them to restrain us! It is hard to fight with men who outnumber you, and over a feast. Even if Odysseus of Ithaca himself were to come and set his heart on driving the lordly suitors out of the hall as they feast in his house, his wife would have no joy in his coming, much as she longs for him; he would meet a shameful death right there, if he fought against so many. What you have said is not right. But come, people, scatter, each of you to your own work. Mentor and Halitherses will speed this boy on his way, since they have been his father’s companions from the beginning. But I think he will sit a long time in Ithaca waiting for news, and he will never make this journey.”
257 So he spoke, and quickly broke up the assembly. They scattered, each to his own house, and the suitors went to the house of godlike Odysseus.
260 But Telemachus went off alone to the shore of the sea, and after washing his hands in the gray sea he prayed to Athena: “Hear me, you god who came yesterday to our house and told me to go in a ship over the misty sea to ask about the return of my father, who has been gone so long. All this the Achaeans are putting off and hindering, and above all the suitors, in their evil arrogance.”
267 So he spoke in prayer, and Athena came near him, in the likeness of Mentor, in form and in voice, and she spoke to him, and her words had wings:
270 “Telemachus, you will be no coward and no fool from now on, if your father’s good strength has been instilled in you, such a man as he was to make good both deed and word. Then this journey of yours will not be in vain or come to nothing. But if you are not his son and Penelope’s, then I have no hope that you will accomplish what you have in mind. Few sons are like their fathers; most are worse, and few are better than their fathers. But since you will be no coward and no fool from now on, and the cunning of Odysseus has not altogether failed you, there is hope that you will bring this work to its end. So now let the plans and purposes of the suitors be, for they are senseless; they have neither sense nor justice. They know nothing of the death and black doom that is close upon them, to perish all in a single day. The journey you have in mind will not be far off much longer, for I am such a companion of your father’s that I will fit out a swift ship for you and come with you myself. But you go to the house and keep company with the suitors. Get the provisions ready and pack everything in vessels, wine in jars and barley meal, the marrow of men, in close-sewn skins; and I will quickly gather volunteers among the people. There are many ships in sea-girt Ithaca, new and old. I will look them over and choose the best for you, and we will quickly rig her and launch her on the wide sea.”
296 So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus, and Telemachus did not linger long after he had heard the voice of the god. He went to the house, sad at heart, and found the proud suitors in the halls, skinning goats and singeing hogs in the courtyard. Antinous came straight up to Telemachus with a laugh, clasped his hand, and spoke to him, calling him by name:
303 “Telemachus, lofty speaker, unchecked in your fury, let no other evil deed or word concern your heart, but eat and drink with me just as before. The Achaeans will see to all this for you, a ship and picked oarsmen, so that you may come all the sooner to holy Pylos, to hear news of your noble father.”
309 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: “Antinous, there is no way I can feast in silence among you overbearing men and enjoy myself at ease. Is it not enough that in the past you suitors wasted my many fine possessions, while I was still a child? But now that I am grown and learn the truth by hearing others speak, and the spirit within me is rising, I will try to let loose evil doom upon you, whether I go to Pylos or stay here in this land. I will go, and the journey I speak of will not be in vain, though I go as a passenger, since I have no ship or oarsmen of my own. That is what you must have thought best.”
321 He spoke, and he drew his hand lightly out of the hand of Antinous. The suitors were busy with the feast throughout the house. They mocked him and taunted him with words, and one of the arrogant young men would say:
325 “Telemachus is surely plotting our murder. He will bring men from sandy Pylos to help him, or even from Sparta, since he is so terribly eager. Or else he means to go to Ephyra, that rich land, to bring back deadly poisons from there, and throw them into the mixing bowl and destroy us all.”
331 And another of the arrogant young men would say: “Who knows whether he too may not go off in the hollow ship and perish far from his friends, wandering like Odysseus? Then he would make even more work for us, for we would have to divide all his possessions, and give the house to his mother to keep, and to whoever marries her.”
337 So they spoke, but he went down into his father’s high-roofed storeroom, a wide room, where gold and bronze lay piled, and clothing in chests, and plenty of fragrant olive oil. Jars of old wine, sweet to drink, stood there, holding the pure, divine drink inside, ranged in order along the wall, in case Odysseus should ever come home, even after many hardships. The close-fitted doors were shut, double doors, and a woman was in charge there night and day as housekeeper, who guarded everything with the great wisdom of her mind: Eurycleia, daughter of Ops son of Peisenor. Telemachus called her to the storeroom and said to her:
349 “Nurse, come, draw off wine for me in jars, sweet wine, the finest after the one you are keeping in hope of that unhappy man, in case Odysseus, sprung from Zeus, should come from somewhere, escaping death and doom. Fill twelve and fit them all with lids. And pour barley meal for me into well-stitched skins; let there be twenty measures of ground barley meal. You alone must know of this. Have it all ready together, for I will take it in the evening, when my mother has gone up to her room and is thinking of bed. I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to ask about my dear father’s return, in case I may hear something.”
361 So he spoke, and the dear nurse Eurycleia cried out, and wailing she spoke to him, and her words had wings: “Why, dear child, has this thought come into your mind? Where do you want to go, over so much of the earth, you, an only son, so dearly loved? He has perished far from his country, Odysseus, sprung from Zeus, in a land of strangers. And these men, as soon as you are gone, will plot evil against you, so that you may die by trickery, and they will divide all this among themselves. No, stay here and sit among your own things. There is no need for you to suffer evils on the barren sea or to go wandering.”
371 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered her: “Take heart, nurse, for this plan is not without a god. But swear that you will not tell my dear mother of this until the eleventh or twelfth day has come, or until she misses me herself and hears that I am gone, so that she may not weep and mar her lovely skin.”
377 So he spoke, and the old woman swore the great oath of the gods that she would not. When she had sworn and finished the oath, she at once drew off the wine for him in jars and poured the barley meal into well-stitched skins, and Telemachus went to the house and kept company with the suitors.
382 Then the goddess, gray-eyed Athena, had another thought. In the likeness of Telemachus she went all through the city, and standing beside each man she spoke her word and told them to gather in the evening at the swift ship. And she asked Noemon, the shining son of Phronius, for a swift ship, and he promised it gladly.
388 The sun set, and all the ways grew dark. Then she dragged the swift ship down to the sea and put in it all the gear that well-benched ships carry. She moored it at the far end of the harbor, and the good companions gathered around in a crowd, and the goddess spurred on each of them.
393 Then the goddess, gray-eyed Athena, had another thought. She went to the house of godlike Odysseus, and there she poured sweet sleep over the suitors. She dazed them as they drank and knocked the cups from their hands, and they rose to go to sleep throughout the city; they did not sit there long, for sleep was falling on their eyelids. But gray-eyed Athena called Telemachus out of the well-built halls and spoke to him, in the likeness of Mentor, in form and in voice:
402 “Telemachus, your well-greaved companions are already sitting at the oars, waiting for you to set out. Come, let us go, and not delay our journey long.”
405 So speaking, Pallas Athena led the way quickly, and he followed in the footsteps of the god. When they had come down to the ship and the sea, they found the long-haired companions on the shore, and the sacred strength of Telemachus spoke among them:
410 “Come, friends, let us bring the provisions. Everything is already gathered in the hall. My mother knows nothing of it, nor do the other women servants; only one has heard of it.”
413 So speaking, he led the way, and they went with him. They brought everything and stowed it in the well-benched ship, as the dear son of Odysseus told them. Telemachus went aboard the ship, and Athena went before him and sat down in the stern of the ship, and Telemachus sat down close beside her. The men cast off the stern cables, went aboard themselves, and sat down at the oarlocks. Gray-eyed Athena sent them a favoring breeze, a fresh West Wind, singing over the wine-dark sea. Telemachus called to his companions and told them to lay hold of the tackle, and they listened to his call. They raised the mast of fir, set it in the hollow box amidships, made it fast with the forestays, and hoisted the white sail with well-twisted ropes of oxhide. The wind filled the belly of the sail, and the dark wave sang loud around the stem as the ship went on. She ran over the waves, making her way. When they had made the tackle fast throughout the swift black ship, they set out mixing bowls brimming with wine and poured offerings to the immortal gods who are forever, and above all to the gray-eyed daughter of Zeus. All night long and into the dawn the ship cut her way.