suppose our guest, sitting here at peace,
here in our own house,
were hauled and badly hurt by such cruel treatment?
You’d be shamed, disgraced in all men’s eyes!”
“Mother . . .” Telemachus paused, then answered.
“I cannot fault your anger at all this.
My heart takes note of everything, feels it, too,
both the good and the bad —the boy you knew is gone.
260 But how can I plan my world in a sane, thoughtful way?
These men drive me mad, hedging me round, right and left,
plotting their lethal plots, and no one takes my side.
Still, this battle between the stranger and Irus
hardly went as the suitors might have hoped:
the stranger beat him down!
If only —Father Zeus, Athena and lord Apollo —
these gallants, now, this moment, here in our house,
were battered senseless, heads lolling, knees unstrung,
some sprawled in the courtyard, some sprawled outside!
270 Slumped like Irus down at the front gates now,
whipped, and his head rolling like some drunk.
He can’t stand up on his feet and stagger home,
whatever home he’s got —the man’s demolished.”
So Penelope and her son exchanged their hopes
as Eurymachus stepped in to praise the queen.
“Ah, daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope,
277 if all the princes in Ionian Argos saw you now!
What a troop of suitors would banquet in your halls
tomorrow at sunrise! You surpass all women
280 in build and beauty, refined and steady mind.”
“Oh no, Eurymachus,” wise Penelope demurred,
“whatever form and feature I had, what praise I’d won,
the deathless gods destroyed that day the Achaeans
sailed away to Troy, my husband in their ships,
Odysseus —if he could return to tend my life
the renown I had would only grow in glory.
Now my life is torment . . .
look at the griefs some god has loosed against me!
I’ll never forget the day he left this land of ours;
290 he caught my right hand by the wrist and said, gently,
‘Dear woman, I doubt that every Achaean under arms
will make it home from Troy, all safe and sound.
The Trojans, they say, are fine soldiers too,
hurling javelins, shooting flights of arrows,
charioteers who can turn the tide —like that! —
when the great leveler, War, brings on some deadlock.
So I cannot tell if the gods will sail me home again
or I’ll go down out there, on the fields of Troy,
but all things here must rest in your control.
300 Watch over my father and mother in the palace,
just as now, or perhaps a little more,
when I am far from home.
303 But once you see the beard on the boy’s cheek,
you wed the man you like, and leave your house behind.’
So my husband advised me then. Now it all comes true . . .
a night will come when a hateful marriage falls my lot —
this cursed life of mine! Zeus has torn away my joy.
But there’s something else that mortifies me now.
Your way is a far cry from the time-honored way
310 of suitors locked in rivalry, striving to win
some noble woman, a wealthy man’s daughter.
They bring in their own calves and lambs
to feast the friends of the bride-to-be, yes,
and shower her with gleaming gifts as well.
They don’t devour the woman’s goods scot-free.”
Staunch Odysseus glowed with joy to hear all this —
his wife’s trickery luring gifts from her suitors now,
enchanting their hearts with suave seductive words
but all the while with something else in mind.
“Gifts?”
320 Eupithes’ son Antinous took her point at once.
“Daughter of Icarius, sensible Penelope,
whatever gifts your suitors would like to bring,
accept them. How ungracious to turn those gifts away!
We won’t go back to our own estates, or anywhere else,
till you have wed the man you find the best.”
So he proposed, and all the rest agreed.
Each suitor sent a page to go and get a gift.
Antinous’ man brought in a grand, resplendent robe,
stiff with embroidery, clasped with twelve gold brooches,
330 long pins that clipped into sheathing loops with ease.
Eurymachus’ man brought in a necklace richly wrought,
gilded, strung with amber and glowing like the sun.
333 Eurydamas’ two men came with a pair of earrings,
mulberry clusters dangling in triple drops
with a glint to catch the heart.
336 From the halls of lord Pisander, Polyctor’s son,
a servant brought a choker, a fine, gleaming treasure.
And so each suitor in turn laid on a handsome gift.
Then the noble queen withdrew to her upper room,
340 her file of waiting ladies close behind her,
bearing the gorgeous presents in their arms.
Now the suitors turned to dance and song,
to the lovely beat and sway,
waiting for dusk to come upon them there . . .
and the dark night came upon them, lost in pleasure.
They rushed to set up three braziers along the walls
to give them light, piled them high with kindling,
sere, well-seasoned, just split with an ax,
and mixed in chips to keep the torches flaring.
350 The maids of Odysseus, steady man, took turns
to keep the fires up, but the king himself,
dear to the gods and cunning to the core,
gave them orders brusquely: “Maids of Odysseus,
your master gone so long —quick now, off you go
to the room where your queen and mistress waits.
Sit with her there and try to lift her spirits,
combing wool in your hands or spinning yarn.
But I will trim the torches for all her suitors,
even if they would like to revel on till Morning
360 mounts her throne. They’ll never wear me down.
I have a name for lasting out the worst.”
At that
the women burst into laughter, glancing back and forth.
363 Flushed with beauty, Melantho mocked him shamelessly —
Dolius was her father but Penelope brought her up;
she treated her like her own child and gave her toys
to cheer her heart. But despite that, her heart
felt nothing for all her mistress’ anguish now.
She was Eurymachus’ lover, always slept with him.
She was the one who mocked her king and taunted,
370 “Cock of the walk, did someone beat your brains out?
Why not go bed down at the blacksmith’s cozy forge?
Or a public place where tramps collect? Why here —
blithering on, nonstop,
bold as brass in the face of all these lords?
No fear in your heart? Wine’s got to your wits? —
or do you always play the fool and babble nonsense?
Lost your head, have you, because you drubbed that hobo Irus?
You wait —a better man than Irus will take you on,
he’ll box both sides of your skull with heavy fists
and cart you from the palace gushing blood!”
380 “You wait,
you bitch” —the hardened veteran flashed a killing look.
“I’ll go straight to the prince with your foul talk.
The prince will chop you to pieces here and now!”
His fury sent the women fluttering off, scattering
down the hall with panic shaking every limb —
they knew he spoke the truth.
But he took up his post by the flaring braziers,
tending the fires closely, looking after them all,
though the heart inside him stirred with other things,
390 ranging ahead, now, to all that must be done . . .
But Athena had no mind to let the brazen suitors
hold back now from their heart-rending insults —
she meant to make the anguish cut still deeper
into the core of Laertes’ son Odysseus.
Polybus’ son Eurymachus launched in first,
baiting the king to give his friends a laugh:
“Listen to me, you lords who court our noble queen!
I simply have to say what’s on my mind. Look,
surely the gods have fetched this beggar here
400 to Odysseus’ house. At least our torchlight seems
to come from the sheen of the man’s own head —
there’s not a hair on his bald pate, not a wisp!”
Then he wheeled on Odysseus, raider of cities:
“Stranger, how would you like to work for me
if I took you on —I’d give you decent wages —
picking the stones to lay a tight dry wall
or planting tall trees on the edge of my estate?
I’d give you rations to last you year-round,
clothes for your body, sandals for your feet.
410 Oh no, you’ve learned your lazy ways too well,
you’ve got no itch to stick to good hard work,
you’d rather go scrounging round the countryside,
begging for crusts to stuff your greedy gut!”
“Ah, Eurymachus,” Odysseus, master of many exploits,
answered firmly, “if only the two of us could go
man-to-man in the labors of the field . . .
In the late spring, when the long days come round,
out in the meadow, I swinging a well-curved scythe
and you swinging yours —we’d test our strength for work,
420 fasting right till dusk with lots of hay to mow.
Or give us a team of oxen to drive, purebreds,
hulking, ruddy beasts, both lusty with fodder,
paired for age and pulling-power that never flags —
with four acres to work, the loam churning under the plow —
you’d see what a straight unbroken furrow I could cut you then.
Or if Zeus would bring some battle on —out of the blue,
this very day —and give me a shield and two spears
and a bronze helmet to fit this soldier’s temples,
then you’d see me fight where front ranks clash —
430 no more mocking this belly of mine, not then.
Enough. You’re sick with pride, you brutal fool.
No doubt you count yourself a great, powerful man
because you sport with a puny crowd, ill-bred to boot.
If only Odysseus came back home and stood right here,
in a flash you’d find those doors —broad as they are —
too cramped for your race to safety through the porch!”
That made Eurymachus’ fury seethe and burst —
he gave the beggar a dark look and let fly, “You,
you odious —I’ll make you pay for your ugly rant!
440 Bold as brass in the face of all these lords?
No fear in your heart? Wine’s got to your wits? —
or do you always play the fool and babble nonsense?
Lost your head, have you, because you drubbed that hobo Irus?”
As he shouted out he seized a stool, but Odysseus,
fearing the blow, crouched at Amphinomus’ knees
as Eurymachus hurled and hit the wine-steward,
clipping his right hand —
his cup dropped, clattered along the floor
and flat on his back he went, groaning in the dust.
450 The suitors broke into uproar through the shadowed halls,
glancing at one another, trading angry outcries:
“Would to god this drifter had dropped dead —”
“Anywhere else before he landed here!”
“Then he’d never have loosed such pandemonium.”
“Now we’re squabbling over beggars!”
“No more joy
in the sumptuous feast . . .”
“Now riot rules the day!”
But now Prince Telemachus dressed them down:
“Fools, you’re out of your minds! No hiding it,
food and wine have gone to your heads. Some god
460 has got your blood up. Come, now you’ve eaten well
go home to bed —when the spirit moves, that is.
I, for one, I’ll drive no guest away.”
So he declared. And they all bit their lips,
amazed the prince could speak with so much daring.
At last Amphinomus rose to take the floor,
the noted son of Nisus, King Aretias’ grandson.
“Fair enough, my friends; when a man speaks well
we have no grounds for wrangling, no cause for abuse.
Hands off the stranger! And any other servant
470 in King Odysseus’ palace. Come, steward,
pour first drops for the god in every cup;
let’s make libations, then go home to bed.
The stranger? Leave him here in Odysseus’ halls
and have his host, Telemachus, tend him well —
it’s the prince’s royal house the man has reached.”
So he said. His proposal pleased them all.
477 And gallant Mulius, a herald of Dulichion,
a friend-in-arms of lord Amphinomus too,
mixed the men a bowl and, hovering closely,
480 poured full rounds for all. They tipped cups
to the blissful gods and then, libations made,
they drank the heady wine to their hearts’ content
and went their ways to bed, each suitor to his house.
BOOK NINETEEN
Penelope and Her Guest
That left the great Odysseus waiting in his hall
as Athena helped him plot the slaughter of the suitors.
He turned at once to Telemachus, brisk with orders:
“Now we must stow the weapons out of reach, my boy,
all the arms and armor —and when the suitors miss them
and ask you questions, put them off with a winning story:
‘I stowed them away, clear of the smoke. A far cry
from the arms Odysseus left when he went to Troy,
fire-damaged equipment, black with reeking fumes.
10 And a god reminded me of something darker too.
When you’re in your cups a quarrel might break out,
you’d wound each other, shame your feasting here
and cast a pall on your courting.
14 Iron has powers to draw a man to ruin.’ ”
Telemachus did his father’s will at once,
calling out to his old nurse Eurycleia: “Quick,
dear one, close the women up in their own quarters,
till I can stow my father’s weapons in the storeroom.
Splendid gear, lying about, neglected, black with soot
20 since father sailed away. I was only a boy then.
Now I must safeguard them from the smoke.”
“High time, child,” the loving nurse replied.
“If only you’d bother to tend your whole house
and safeguard all your treasures. Tell me,
who’s to fetch and carry the torch for you?
You won’t let out the maids who’d light your wa
y.”
“Our friend here will,” Telemachus answered coolly.
“I won’t put up with a man who shirks his work,
not if he takes his ration from my stores,
30 even if he’s miles away from home.”
That silenced the old nurse.
She barred the doors that led from the long hall —
and up they sprang, Odysseus and his princely son,
and began to carry off the helmets, studded shields
and pointed spears, and Pallas Athena strode before them,
lifting a golden lamp that cast a dazzling radiance round about.
“Father,” Telemachus suddenly burst out to Odysseus,
“oh what a marvel fills my eyes! Look, look there —
all the sides of the hall, the handsome crossbeams,
40 pinewood rafters, the tall columns towering —
all glow in my eyes like flaming fire!
Surely a god is here —
one of those who rule the vaulting skies!”
“Quiet,” his father, the old soldier, warned him.
“Get a grip on yourself. No more questions now.
It’s just the way of the gods who rule Olympus.
Off you go to bed. I’ll stay here behind
to test the women, test your mother too.
She in her grief will ask me everything I know.”
50 Under the flaring torchlight, through the hall
Telemachus made his way to his own bedroom now,
where he always went when welcome sleep came on him.
There he lay tonight as well, till Dawn’s first light.
That left the great king still waiting in his hall
as Athena helped him plot the slaughter of the suitors . . .
Now down from her chamber came reserved Penelope,
looking for all the world like Artemis or golden Aphrodite.
Close to the fire her women drew her favorite chair
with its whorls of silver and ivory, inlaid rings.
60 The craftsman who made it years ago, Icmalius,
added a footrest under the seat itself,
mortised into the frame,
and over it all was draped a heavy fleece.
Here Penelope took her place, discreet, observant.
The women, arms bared, pressing in from their quarters,
cleared away the tables, the heaped remains of the feast
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