The <I>Odyssey</I>
Page 17
No snow, no powerful storms, hardly a rainfall:
only the high-toned Westwind steadily blowing,
the Ocean cooling you all by sending you good air.
Since Helen is yours, to the Gods you are God’s son.’
Once More to Egypt
“He spoke that way then plunged in the billowing water.
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I walked to the ships with my godlike war-friends alongside,
pondering many things in my heart as I walked there.
Soon as we came back down to the ships and the salt sea
we all made dinner. Night came down like ambrosia.
We took our rest right there on the shore of the salt sea.
“When newborn Dawn came on with her rose-fingered daylight,
first we hauled our vessels down to the bright sea.
After we raised and set both mast and sail on the balanced
ships our crewmen boarded and sat on the benches.
All in place they rowed, splashing the gray sea.
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“I stood my ships once more by the waters of Egypt,
the Zeus-fed river. I offered hecatombs duly.
After quelling the anger of Gods living forever,
I raised Agamemnon’s death-mound, making his great name
endless. With all that done I sailed with a sea-wind—
the Gods gave it—sending me fast to my own land.
To Stay or to Go
“But now come on and linger a while in my great hall.
Wait for the eleventh day to arrive or the twelfth day.
I’ll give you a fine send-off, my gifts are outstanding:
a well-shined chariot led by a trio of horses;
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a lovely goblet too for pouring your wine out
to deathless Gods. All your days you’ll recall me.”
But now Telemakhos gave him a sensible answer.
“Son of Atreus, don’t hold me here for a long time.
I’d like to stay, to sit by your side for a whole year.
Longing for home and parents would hardly enfold me,
I’d take such anxious pleasure hearing the stories
you tell in your hall. But my crewmen must be worried already
in holy Pulos: you’ve held me here for a long time.
Whatever bounty you offer, make it an heirloom.
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♦ I can’t take horses to Ithaka. Let them remain here,
your own delight on the broad plains you are lord of,
where so much trefoil grows and plenty of tall sedge,
wheat and spelt, white barley spaced in its planting.
Ithaka lacks your wide courses and meadows.
Our goats’ pastures are far more charming than horses’
but none of our islands is good for chariot driving,
lacking meadows. They slope to the sea, Ithaka more so.”
The Silver Wine-Bowl
Those were his words. Menelaos, good at a war-cry,
smiled and touched his hand. He answered by saying,
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“Your bloodline is good, dear child—everything well said!
I’ll change the gifts myself, that’s in my power.
Of all the presents and heirlooms that lie in my household
I’ll give you the best, the one most stunning and precious:
I’ll give you my wine-bowl, carefully crafted in silver
except for the edges finished in gold by the deathless
God Hephaistos. The war-chief Phaidimos gave it,
Sidon’s king, that time his house was my shelter
when traveling home. I want to give it to you now.”
Building a Good Feast
So they went on talking that way with each other
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as dinner guests arrived at the house of the godlike
king. They prodded sheep or brought a heart-lifting wine in;
housewives in lovely veils carried the bread-loaves.
Everyone worked well at the feast in the great hall.
Bad News for the Suitors
♦ Suitors meanwhile in front of Odysseus’s palace
enjoyed themselves by throwing a spear or a discus
on leveled ground just as before, full of their high pride.
Godlike Eurumakhos sat with Antinoos close by,
the ranking suitors—in manly strength they were foremost.
Noemon, the son of Phronios, came to them up close,
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wanting words with Antinoos, asking him outright,
“Antinoos, when will we know—or maybe we won’t know—
Telemakhos’s time of arrival from deep-sanded Pulos?
He took my ship when he left; I need her myself now
to sail across to the spread-out dancing places of Elis.
Twelve brood mares are suckling my hard-working donkeys,
all unbroken. I’d like to drive off a donkey and break him.”
Their hearts were stunned by his words. They’d hardly imagined
Telemakhos going to Pulos, Neleus’s city. He must be
out on his land somewhere with flocks or the swineherd.
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So now Eupeithes’ son Antinoos answered,
“Tell me the truth: when did he go and who followed,
which young men? Ithaka’s best or some others,
workmen and slaves? I’m sure he could find them and work them.
Tell me a few more things, help me to know this:
your own black ship—did he use force when he took it?
Or maybe you gave it freely because he implored you.”
Phronios’s son Noemon answered by saying,
“I gave her myself gladly. Would anyone do less
for such a man? His heart was caring and anxious,
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he wanted a favor, saying no would be cruel.
The men who joined him too were the best in the country
♦ after ourselves. I saw Mentor board as their leader—
or maybe a God who looked like Mentor in each way.
Yet I wonder. I saw a godlike Mentor about here
yesterday morning. Then he left on my ship for Pulos.”
He spoke that way and left for the house of his father.
The Rage of Antinoos
The brash hearts of both were astonished and angry.
They stopped the suitors’ games at once and they sat them.
Eupeithes’ son Antinoos spoke to them very
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grimly as rage mounted and filled his darkened
heart, his eyes glowing as though with a hot fire:
“Look at this! Great big work, Telemakhos proudly
ending his travels! We never thought he could do it.
Despite us all the boy went off without trouble,
hauling a ship out, choosing the best in the country.
He’ll start to be far more trouble. Let Zeus be the wrecker
of all that power before it reaches a measure of manhood!
Come on then, give me a race-fast ship and twenty companions
to look out closely and ambush the man as he enters
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the channel of rock-strewn Samos and Ithaka Island.
Then he’ll be sad he sailed because of his father.”
He spoke that way, they all approved and they urged it.
They stood up fast and reentered Odysseus’s palace.
Bitter News for the Queen
Penelopeia was not unaware of this plotting
for long in the minds and unholy hearts of the suitors,
♦ for Medon the herald told her. Outside in the courtyard
he’d heard the plans they wove while gathered inside there.
He’d gone through the house with word for Penelopeia.
She spoke to the man first when he came to her threshold:
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“Hera
ld, why did the high-born suitors dispatch you?
Maybe to tell the maids of godlike Odysseus
to stop their work and prepare more food for themselves here?
If only they stopped this wooing and crowded together
elsewhere—if only they dined here now for the last time!
“You men thronging my house and wasting all our resources,
mind-full Telemakhos’s wealth, you never listened
before to your own fathers when you were children
telling you how Odysseus fared with your parents,
never acting or saying a word in this country
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unfairly. The way kings are, even the godlike
hate one man and make friends with another.
My husband never was rash at all with a man here.
But your own hearts and acts are plainly disgusting.
You’re never grateful for work well done in a gone time.”
Medon spoke to her now, knowing and wary.
“My queen, if only the wrongs you cite were the worst ones.
No, the suitors are plotting another and far more
godless act. May Zeus not end it in this way!
They’re planning Telemakhos’s death, using their sharp bronze
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when he comes home. He’d gone for news of his father
to holy Pulos and then to bright Lakedaimon.”
No Answers
Her heart and knees went slack soon as he’d spoken.
She lost all speech for a while. Both of her eyelids
welled with tears, her voice was forceful but stopped short.
When words finally came she answered by asking,
“Herald, why did my child go off? What was the great need
to board some fast-running ship that acts like a strong horse
for men at sea while crossing all of that water?
So now even his name won’t last among people.”
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Medon gave her an answer, knowing and wary.
“I don’t know if a God roused him. Maybe his own heart
drove him to sail to Pulos, hoping to find out
whether his father was coming, or gone to his own doom.”
He spoke that way then left for Odysseus’s great hall.
Double Grief
A spirit-destroying grief surrounded the woman.
She could not bear to sit though her chairs were many.
Instead she sat on the floor of her richly crafted
room and moaned wretchedly. All of her handmaids,
younger and older help in the house, were crying around her.
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Penelopeia told them, heavily sobbing,
“Hear it, my friends, how Zeus on Olumpos gave me
anguish beyond all women born and raised alongside me.
I lost a good man first, his heart like a lion’s,
in every manly strength the best of Danaans,
so well known through the center of Argos and Hellas.
Now some sea-wind’s carried away my beloved
son from our hall, nameless. I heard no word when he left here.
What Help from an Old Man?
“Not even you, heartless women, chose to arouse me,
no one, from bed. You knew enough in your own hearts
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the hour Telemakhos left in the hollow and night-black
ship. If I’d known my son was planning this voyage,
whatever his hurry to go, the man would have stayed here
or left his mother behind him dead in the great hall.
“One of you go then, call old Dolios quickly,
the helper my Father gave me before I arrived here
to tend the crowds of trees in my garden. Ask him to hurry,
go and sit by Laertes and tell him of all this.
Somehow Laertes may weave a plan in his own heart
to go in tears among people, those who are planning
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to kill his seed and that of godlike Odysseus.”
A Nurse’s Hard Advice
But then her loving nurse Eurukleia answered,
“My dear lady, whether you kill me with ruthless
bronze or let me stay in your house, I cannot conceal it:
I knew all this myself. I gave him whatever
sweet wine and bread he wanted. He took from me great oaths
not to tell you before the passing of twelve days
unless you missed him yourself and heard he had gone off.
He wanted no tears to mar your face and your beauty.
“Now you should bathe, dress your body in clean clothes,
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go upstairs to your room with your women and pray hard
to Athene, daughter of Zeus, who carries the great shield.
The Goddess to save him, even from death, is that Goddess.
Don’t cause pain for that pained old man. I’ve doubted
the line of Arkeisios’s son is wholly despised by the blissful
Gods. A man of his bloodline somehow will take back