Stories from the Odyssey

At the first peep of dawn Telemachus was afoot, and summoning the heralds he ordered them to make proclamation of an assembly to be held in a public place in the town of Ithaca. Then he went down to the place of assembly, with two favourite hounds following close at his heels; and when he arrived he found the princes and elders of the people already gathered together. All eyes were turned to the gallant lad, as he sat down on his father's seat among the noblest of the sons of Ithaca. Never had he worn so princely an air, or seemed so worthy of his mighty sire.

Then the old chieftain ?gyptus began the debate; he was bent double with age, and one of his sons, Antiphus, had followed Odysseus to Troy, while another, Eurynomus, was among the suitors of Penelope. It was of Antiphus that he thought, as he stood up and made harangue among the elders:

"Who has summoned us hither, and what is his need? Never have we met together in council since the day when Odysseus set sail from Ithaca. Hath any tidings come of the return of those who followed him to Troy, or is it some other business of public moment which has called us hither? But whoever sent out this summons, I doubt not he is a worthy man, and may Zeus accomplish his purpose, whatever it be."

Such chance sayings were regarded as a sign of Heaven's will, and Telemachus rejoiced in spirit at the old man's blessing. And forthwith he stood up in the midst, and, taking the sceptre from the herald's hand, rushed at once into the subject of which his mind was full.

"Behold me here, old man," he said, addressing ?gyptus. "It is I who have called you together, and surely not without a cause. Is it not enough that I have lost my brave father, whose gentleness and loving-kindness ye all knew, when he was your king? But must I sit still, day after day, and see the fattest of my flocks and herds slaughtered, and the red wine poured out wastefully, by these men who have come to woo my mother? Take shame to yourselves, and restrain them; fear the reproach of men, and the wrath of Heaven, and suffer me not thus to be evilly entreated, unless ye harbour revengeful thoughts against my father, for some wrong which he has done you."

He had spoken thus far, when tears choked his voice, and flinging the sceptre on the ground he returned to his seat. There was a general feeling of compassion among his hearers, and not one of the suitors ventured to answer him, save only Antinous, who began in his wonted style of brutal insolence, upbraiding Telemachus in violent terms, and throwing all the blame on Penelope, who, he said, had beguiled them for three years by holding out promises which she never meant to fulfil. Then he told the story of Penelope's web, and concluded his speech with these words:

"As long as thy mother continues in this mind, so long will we stay here and consume thy living. If thou wouldst be quit of us, send her to her father's house and bid her marry the man of her choice."

Telemachus replied: "How can I drive away the mother who bare me and nourished me? And where shall I find means to pay back her dower? But most of all I dread my mother's curse. No, never shall that word be spoken by me. Therefore, if ye know aught of fair and honest dealing, depart from my house, and live on your own goods; but if it seems good to you to eat up another man's living, then will I appeal to the justice of heaven, and pray for vengeance on your heads."

"Behold, his prayer is answered," cried Halitherses, a venerable elder, with snow-white beard, who was skilled in augury; and looking up they saw two eagles winging their way at full speed towards the place of assembly. Now the two great birds hovered over the meeting; and just at this moment they wheeled round and attacked each other fiercely with beak and claw. After fighting for some time they shot away to the right and were soon lost to view. Then Halitherses spake again, interpreting the omen: "Hearken, men of Ithaca, to my words, and to you, the suitors of Penelope, especially do I speak. Woe is coming upon you; I see it rising and swelling as a wave. Not long shall Odysseus be absent, but even now he is near at hand hatching mischief for those who sit here. And many another shall suffer, besides these who have done the wrong. Therefore, I say, let us stop their evil deeds, or let them cease themselves. The hour is near at hand which I foretold, when Odysseus embarked for Troy: I said that after many sufferings, having lost all his comrades, unknown to all in the twentieth year he should come home. And now all these things are coming to pass."

Then up rose Eurymachus, in an angry and scornful mood. "Old man," said he, "go home and prophesy to thine own children, lest some harm befall thee here. Thinkest thou that every fowl of the air is a messenger from heaven? Odysseus has perished, and would that thou hadst perished with him! Art thou not ashamed to take sides with this malapert boy, feeding his passion and folly with thy crazy prophecies? Doubtless thou lookest to him for favour and reward, but thou wilt find that his friendship will cost thee dear. Telemachus has heard our answer to his complaint; let him keep his eloquence for his froward mother, and bring her to a better mind, for neither his speeches nor thy prophecies will turn us from our purpose."

The principal object of the meeting was now attained: the villainy of the suitors had been publicly exposed, and they were left without excuse or hope of mercy when the day of reckoning should arrive. Accordingly Telemachus, dismissing the subject of his wrongs, now spoke of his intended voyage to Pylos and Sparta, and begged for the loan of a ship to carry him and his comrades to the mainland.

No response was made to his request; but one man still attempted to rouse public opinion against the suitors. This was Mentor, an old friend of Odysseus, who had been left in charge of his household on his departure from Ithaca. "Is there not one among you," he cried indignantly, "who will speak a word for Telemachus, or testify against the wickedness of these men? No more let kings be gentle and merciful towards their people, as was Odysseus when he ruled over you, loving and tender-hearted as a father. Let righteousness give place to oppression, if these are its rewards. There you sit, like cowed and beaten men, and suffer a handful of worthless men to lord it over you all."

After this last appeal, which was as fruitless as the others, the meeting broke up, and the suitors returned to their revels in the house of Odysseus.