by Ralph Hardy
“Rise, son of Odysseus,” Mentes whispers quickly, “for it is not fitting that these men here see you at my feet.”
Telemachos stands up and again takes Mentes by the hand. “You are right, stranger and friend. It is not fitting that these men be here at all. But what can I do? The most powerful men on the island seek my mother’s hand in marriage, convinced that my father is dead. She has resisted them for many years, but our house is nearly depleted, and soon she may have to enter a hateful marriage to save it.”
Mentes shakes his head with indignation. “Shame on these men,” he says bitterly. “If only your father were here, standing at that door, wearing a helmet and carrying two spears, as he was when I first beheld him. Then he would bring quick death and make marriage a painful lesson!”
“Alas, he is not here, noble Mentes, and you yourself do not even know where he is,” Telemachos replies. “What can I do? My arms are strong and I can shoot an arrow straight, but even I cannot defeat a hundred men.”
Again the stranger draws closer. “Here is what you must do, son of Odysseus,” he says softly. “Tonight, tell these hateful men to leave and return in one year. At that time your mother will make her choice in marriage to the man best suited for her hand. Then, tomorrow morning, take a fast ship with twenty oars and leave this place. Seek out your father’s fate. First go to Pylos, where King Nestor lives, and ask him where your father is. He may know it. If not, sail on to Sparta, where Menelaos reigns. He was the last of the Achaians to return from Troy, and he may know if your father was killed in battle.
“If you hear nothing, then return home and build a tomb in your father’s honor. Sacrifice your oxen and sheep so that the gods are appeased, and then let your mother choose her husband. Then, if the gods favor you, plan your revenge on these suitors. Take them on, one by one, until they have paid their price in blood. That is my advice, brave son of Odysseus, though it is bitter to swallow, I grant.”
A year, I thought. Can I live another year with no proof that my master lives?
Hearing these words, Telemachos embraces Mentes and said, “Your advice is well taken, friend, and I will follow it. Now come inside to our hall and join me for dinner. After that, our servants will see to your bath and give you a fine bed on which to rest.”
The stranger nods and says, “That would be most welcome, loyal son of Odysseus. But leave me for a moment, and then I will join you.”
So obedient Telemachos leaves the stranger and enters the house. When he has done so, the stranger pets me once and then instantly turns into a sparrow and flies up to a tree. I bark, and Telemachos comes running out, looking for Mentes.
“Argos, where is the stranger?” he asks.
I lift my muzzle up toward the branch where the sparrow is perched. It whistles once and then flies off. I bark again to thank it, knowing it is a divinity who has come to our door, and Telemachos too says a prayer to the gods. Then, light of foot, he turns and makes his way back inside to the hall where the suitors sit eating and drinking. I follow on his heels, after looking back once to see if the sparrow has returned, but it is truly gone.
In the hall, Telemachos whistles so that the boisterous suitors will stop their merrymaking. When they are silent and he has their attention, Telemachos announces in winged words what the deity has told him.
“Suitors of my mother!” he cries. “You have bespoiled my house for too long. No longer is your rapacity endurable; you have scandalized this home and your reputations with your actions, and I beseech Zeus himself to reverse your fortunes!”
Then Antinoos rises, wiping the juice of the ox meat off his lips, and points a finger at my master’s son. I growl and stand closer to Telemachos in case Antinoos attacks, but he chooses to fight with words only.
“Telemachos, how dare you rebuke us!” he sneers. “It must be the gods themselves who have put those impertinent words in your mouth. We hundred men are here by custom to seek your mother’s hand, as your father, bravest of all men, has not returned for nigh twenty years. If you were my own son, I would strike your mouth for offending a guest in your own house, but since you have no living father, I will spare you that lesson!”
The other suitors cheer Antinoos, but thoughtful Telemachos says nothing until the room grows silent again.
“Hear me, Antinoos, and you other suitors too, for I will not say these words again. This is my offer. Tomorrow I leave on a ship to seek news of my father. I shall return no more than a year hence. While I am away, my mother will marry not. Perhaps on my voyage I will learn that my father is returning; perhaps I will learn that his bones lie beneath the sea. If that is the case, then I will offer my mother’s hand for marriage. But if my father is returning, I will bring destruction to your houses. That is my vow to you.”
One of the suitors, hearing this, throws a bone at Telemachos, but he ducks it, and the bone lands against the wall. Then Telemachos reaches for his short knife, but Eurymachos runs to him and stays his arm, and he sheaths his weapon. After that, without another word, Telemachos leaves the room.
But I linger.
I lie down under a table, and this is what I hear, though I do not know who says it: “Heed these words, suitors. It is clear to me that Telemachos plans to kill us. Even if he does not find his father, he will bring back men from Pylos or Sparta and visit evil upon our houses. Therefore, I say to you, let us send out our own ship when we learn which direction he sails. Who knows? Might he not perish at sea just like his father?”
The man laughs most foully, and so do the other suitors.
“If we are in agreement then, I shall be the one who spies on young Telemachos, for I know my way around the harbor. I will go there tomorrow and report back to you all, and then we will hire a swift boat to do our bidding,” the man continues. “Do you all say aye?”
And they, most treacherous of all men, agree.
I cannot see the man who said this, but I can smell him. From beneath the table I sniff his dirty and yellow-nailed feet. A dog never forgets a scent, and I am Argos, the greatest tracker on Ithaka.
When the suitors are distracted again by a servant bringing more wine, I slip out from under the table. My master’s dear son had gone to his room, and I find him there packing for his journey. He takes my head in his strong arms and says, “I leave tomorrow to search for news of our father, Argos, but I dare not tell my mother that I leave, for she would beg me too piteously to stay, and I would obey her. Watch over the household and guard our property, as you have done for so many years, noble one. When I return, with or without my father, we will drive the suitors from our house, if the gods allow it.”
I lick his face and settle down on the floor beside his bed to sleep, as I used to do when he was a young boy and I was a pup. Strange dreams come to Telemachos in the night, and he thrashes and moans, though never wakens. But I remain awake as the black evening falls on us, planning my own revenge and thinking of smelly feet.
Dawn’s rosy fingers creep over Ithaka, turning the wine-dark sea purple and then blue. After breakfast, I watch as Telemachos and his servants carry his belongings down to the harbor. He calls me thrice to join him as he climbs down the path, but I do not go to his whistle, though it tears my heart to disobey him. Instead, I take my own path, high above the harbor, to a point where the women and children of Ithaka can gaze down at the harbor and far out to sea, watching for ships returning their loved ones. I know Smelly Feet will come there to spy on Telemachos and to learn what ship he hired and which direction he sails, and so I get there first.
I hide in the windswept scrub near the edge of the ridge and wait. Apollo’s chariot rises higher, and still I do not move. A young widow from the village climbs the path that I have taken and stands there at the ledge, weeping and cursing the gods. Then two boys come and throw stones down toward the sea, but soon they too leave. Finally I smell him. He is alone. Then I hear his labored breathing as he climbs the path. I think he had drunk too much wine the night before, bec
ause he stumbles twice and complains bitterly to no one about his aching head. I crouch lower. Only the gods can see me.
Smelly Feet reaches the top of the narrow ridge, not ten paces from where I lie hidden. His back is turned to me as he stares down at the harbor far below. After a few minutes, I hear him say to himself, “There is his ship. A black one like his father’s, with a single white sail. And he sails southeast, toward Pylos, just as he said he would. Now I go quickly to make my report.”
I wait for Smelly Feet to turn before I make my move. I want him to see me, his destruction, before he sees no more. When I charge him, he barely has time to lower his spear, and I easily dodge it. He falls to his doom with my name on his lips.
From the high ridge I look out and see Telemachos’s ship entering the bay. He had said he would be gone a year. I think how cruel the ships were that took away the ones I loved: my master, Odysseus, my mate, Aurora, my children, and now Telemachos. I say a prayer to Athena, and then, although my legs are old, I run the rest of the way home. When I am nearly there, I hear Penelope’s cry of anguish; she has just learned that her beloved son has left on a ship. I do not leave her side for three days except to growl at the suitors when they arrive each night. Now I alone must protect the honor of the house of Odysseus.
CHAPTER XXXIII
What the cat saw
The most perfidious of all animals approaches me today as I lie down in the barn to rest. The harbor cat has returned. Only a plea to Athena for wisdom and patience keeps me from crushing that hateful creature in my jaws, for I have sworn vengeance against him. But the goddess favors me and gives me the strength to remain still as he rubs against my side, arching his orange back and lashing his tail around my nose. Finally, though, I can stand it no longer, and a growl escapes my lips.
“Why do you come to Argos, Mouse Catcher? Cats belong on ships and in dirty barns, not here among sheepherders and hunters. If you are lost, I will gladly chase you down to the harbor where you will find your mangy brothers.”
“Foul-smelling canine,” he purrs. “Do you presume I came here willingly to hear your insults? If Artemis herself had not asked me to come, I would have remained on my swift ship, killing rats and sailing the seas. There are lands far from here where I myself am treated like a god, though this is beyond your imagination. Hear my tale, blackest one, and do not delay me further.”
“Tell it, then, Rat Chaser, before you cough up a fur ball.”
The cat closes his eyes and then extends each and every claw before he speaks.
“I have just retur-r-rned from Scheria,” he says. “Do you know that land? I think not, since, like most dogs, you have probably never left your island.”
“Scheria? What of it? Is it a land of rugged men and dogs such as Ithaka? Do they breed warriors there?”
“No, Tail Chaser, it is nothing like Ithaka, I grant you. That land was settled by Nausithoos many years ago, and now it is ruled by Alkinoos, who is learned in building and has erected many great palaces there. There he rules justly and with great honor-r-r, and there your master, Odysseus, washed ashore.”
“My master lives? How do you know this?” I demand.
“I was there, Big Foot! I saw the wretched man myself! I live on that island in summer-r-r when the winds are not favorable. Now, do not interrupt, long-tongued one, or I will say no more. And my story is one you will wish to hear.”
I clamp my jaws shut and listen.
“Once your master crawled onto the shore of Scheria, he set out to look for the island’s inhabitants, and I followed him. But soon sleep and exhaustion overcame him, and he made himself a bed of soft willow leaves near the banks of a river-r-r and fell asleep. Athena herself covered his eyes and let him rest undisturbed. Meanwhile I returned to the palace, for it was time for my dinner-r-r. That evening, Athena approached the bedchamber of Alkinoos’s beautiful daughter, Nausikaa, and whispered into her ear that she must go to the river-r-r to wash her clothes because the men of the island would soon be courting her. To the river-r-r she went the next day, along with her servants and me, for she is a dutiful girl, and there, at the edge of a burbling stream that feeds a deep, quiet pool, she discovered a man she thought was dead.”
“Say not those words!” I cry.
“Nay, Boar Licker, I said she thought the man was dead, but upon hearing her cry of surprise, the man awoke and jumped to his feet. Imagine her terror-r-r at seeing him, for he was salt crusted and swollen from the sea, but Athena had given the girl courage, and she stood fast.”
“Go on, whiskered one,” I urge.
“Seeing this girl so fair and resolute, your master bowed to his knees, saying, ‘I offer my services, fair queen. Tell me, are you mortal or goddess? For if you are immortal, you resemble most lovely Artemis, but if you are one of the mortals who live on this land, then blessed are your parents, for their spirits must be warmed at the thought of you.’ Truly, Tail Sniffer, your master, though nearly dead, still had the wits to charm a young maiden.”
I say nothing in reply to this latest insult, for this odious cat still has much to tell me.
“Then Nausikaa her-r-rself answered him, saying, ‘You are most thoughtful, sir, for indeed, though we are all mortal here, we are close to Father Zeus, and good fortune follows us.’
“‘And what is the name of this land, fair lady, and who are your people? As you can see, I am lost and far from my own home,’ your-r-r master said.
“‘We are Phaiakians who hold this land, and I am Nausikaa, daughter of great-hearted Alkinoos. But come, it is not right that my servants and I look upon you so poorly clothed. We have mantles here, and oil for your blistered skin, as well as food and wine. Dress, eat, and anoint yourself, then we will return to my father’s house, where we will take care of you as is our custom.’
“Then Nausikaa and her servants turned their backs so your-r-r master could prepare himself. While they were thus occupied, Athena came unbidden and cast a spell over him, healing his wounds and erasing the toll of years in battle and hardship, so that he appeared younger and godlike when they turned back to him. Truly, he was magnificent in appearance. For a man.”
I think then how my own years of wolf hunting and shepherding have aged me. Would my master even recognize me if he saw me?
“Do you wish for me to continue, old one?” the cat asks, as if he knows my thoughts. Then he yawns, showing me his pink mouth, and stretches his long tail.
“Yes, stealthy one, please finish your tale,” I beg.
But instead of finishing the story, the cat slinks over to a patch of sunlight and curls himself into a ball, falling asleep before my very eyes!
After a few minutes I bark at the miserable creature. Finally he opens one green eye and says, “If you wish to hear more, Broken Tooth, you will not make another sound. I will tell the rest of the story when I wake, if there is a saucer-r-r of milk waiting for me, for talking so much makes me very thir-r-rsty. Go now, and retur-r-rn when I wake.”
There is a young, kindhearted servant girl who tends to my mistress Penelope and has a soft disposition toward animals. When a lamb is born, she makes sure that it suckles; when a baby bird is found beneath a nest, it is she who climbs the tree to return it. And like many young girls who have not yet learned to think critically, she likes cats.
I find her sweeping the alcove where my mistress often waits in vain for news of my master, and I take her sleeve in my mouth and lead her to the rat catcher still lying asleep near the barn. To hear her cry of wonder and happiness when she sees him lying there, you would have thought she’d found gold, jewels, or a bolt of the finest silk, not a mangy, flea-bitten orange harbor cat. But she squeals with delight and gathers the beast in her arms. To his credit, the cat wakes and plays his part, whining pitifully and hungrily until she realizes he needs milk. She puts him down and rushes to find a goat with a swollen udder.
“Quickly,” I say. “Finish your story. And let every word be true, or you will live the rest
of your life tailless.”
After a series of yawns and a long scratch behind his ears, he continues.
“Once your master-r-r was dressed and had eaten, quick-thinking Nausikaa said to him, ‘Follow our chariots back to my father’s palace, but stop in the grove of poplars that you will see there, for us to arrive together would cause scandal, as I am to be married soon. So wait some time in the meadow and pray to Athena, for the poplars were grown in her honor. Then go into the city of the Phaiakians and inquire about the house of Alkinoos. Once you are there, enter the courtyard and proceed to the hearth on the other side. There, every evening, my mother and father sit and receive guests. When you arrive, bend your knees to my mother, and if she finds you honest and noble, she will convince my father to help you return to the land of your fathers.’
“Hearing this, your master thanked her most graciously, and soon they left for the palace, with your-r-r master following behind the retinue. I do not know if he prayed to Athena, but I myself was already in the palace, ridding it of mice, when I saw your-r-r master enter the courtyard, approach Queen Arete, and clasp her knees in his arms, as is the custom there.”
“What did she say to him? Did she welcome him as her daughter promised?” I ask, desperately, I must confess.
“Aye, Boring one, she did. But fir-r-rst the courtyard grew silent, for never had so godlike a man entered their walls. Then your-r-r master made his entreaty, saying, ‘Queen Arete, daughter of Rhexenor, I come to you on my knees after enduring great hardship and suffering. Here, among your friends and family, I ask of you and your noble king, Alkinoos, that you help me return to my homeland, for I am without conveyance, having been shipwrecked and washed ashore.’”
“What did the queen say, orange one? Did she agree to his request?”
“Yes, whisker-r-red one, she did, saying, ‘Rise up and sit on this silver-studded chair, sir.’ Heralds, bring him wine and supper and let us say a prayer to Zeus, who protects suppliants and grants their wishes when they are just.’