Book II — The Assembly at Ithaca

1 Now when early-born Dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, 2 up from his bed arose the dear son of Odysseus, 3 dressed in his clothes, over his shoulder slung the sharp sword, 4 and beneath his shining feet bound the beautiful sandals. 5 Forth from his chamber he went, in face like a god. 6 At once he bade the clear-voiced heralds 7 to summon to assembly the long-haired Achaeans. 8 They gave the cry, and the men gathered with all speed. 9 When they had assembled and were crowded together, 10 he went to the assembly place, bronze spear in his grip— 11 not alone, for two swift hounds went along beside him. 12 Athena poured over him a wondrous grace, 13 and all the folk gazed at him as he approached. 14 He sat in his father’s seat, and the elders yielded.

15 Then among them the hero Aegyptius began the speaking, 16 a man bowed with age and knowing things past counting. 17 For his own dear son had gone in the hollow ships 18 to Ilios, land of fine horses, with godlike Odysseus— 19 Antiphos the spearman. Him the savage Cyclops slew 20 in his hollow cave, and made of him his latest meal. 21 Three other sons had he: one, Eurynomus, consorted with the suitors; 22 the two others always managed their father’s lands. 23 Yet not even so could he forget, grieving and sorrowing, 24 and shedding tears for him now he spoke before the gathering:

25 “Hear me, Ithacans, whatever word I utter. 26 No assembly of ours has convened, no council session held, 27 since noble Odysseus departed in the hollow ships. 28 Now who has called us together? What great need befalls 29 one of the younger men, or of those who are older? 30 Has he caught some rumour of an army on its way, 31 which he might tell us plainly, since he has learned it first? 32 Or does he bring forward some other public matter to declare? 33 A worthy man he seems to me, a bearer of profit. May Zeus 34 bring to fulfilment for him whatever good his heart desires.”

35 So he spoke, and the dear son of Odysseus rejoiced at the omen, 36 nor did he stay seated long; his spirit strained to speak. 37 He stood in the middle of the assembly. Into his hand the herald 38 Peisenor, a man who knew prudent counsel, placed the scepter. 39 Then, first addressing the old man, he said:

40 “Old sir, not far away is that man—soon you will know him yourself— 41 the one who gathered the host. Grief has come upon me most of all. 42 I have not caught any rumour of an army on its way, 43 that I might tell you plainly, having learned it first; 44 nor do I bring forward any other public matter to declare, 45 but my own private need, when evil has fallen on my house, 46 two things: I have lost my noble father, who once ruled 47 over you here as a gentle father; 48 and now a far worse thing, which swiftly will utterly wreck 49 my whole house and destroy all my livelihood. 50 For suitors have descended on my mother, though she is unwilling— 51 sons of the men who here are the greatest. 52 They shrink from going to her father’s house, Icarion’s, 53 where he himself might offer his daughter in marriage 54 and give her to whom he chose, the one most pleasing to him. 55 No, they flock into our home every day, 56 slaughtering oxen and sheep and fat goats, 57 feasting and drinking the flaming wine 58 recklessly, and most of our goods are consumed. 59 For there is no man left such as Odysseus was, 60 to ward off ruin from the house. We ourselves are not 61 such as to defend it; we shall turn out base men with little strength. 62 Truly I would defend if I had the power; for what has been done 63 is past bearing, and beyond all decency my house is destroyed. 64 You too, take notice and be ashamed before your neighbours, 65 those dwelling round about, and dread the anger of the gods, 66 lest they, enraged, turn on you for these wicked deeds. 67 I pray you, by Olympian Zeus and by Themis 68 who dissolves and convokes the assemblies of men: 69 hold off, my friends, and leave me alone to pine in bitter grief, 70 unless perchance my father, good Odysseus, once 71 did harm to the well‑greaved Achaeans and brought them evil, 72 and in requital you now do me harm by encouraging these men? 73 Better it were for me that you yourselves devoured my stores 74 and my flocks. If you were the ones consuming them, 75 payment might be made; for we would go through the town 76 demanding back our goods, until everything was restored. 77 But now you heap upon me pains that cannot be cured.”

78 So he spoke in hot anger, and hurled the scepter to the earth, 79 and burst into tears. Pity seized all the people. 80 The rest remained silent; no one dared 81 answer Telemachus with a harsh word. 82 Only Antinoüs replied, speaking his name: 83 “Telemachus, what you say is arrogant, unbounded in pride— 84 you even blame us, and would fasten disgrace on the suitors. 85 Yet the Achaean suitors are not at fault, 86 but your own mother, who surpasses all women in wiles. 87 For three years now, and the fourth soon closing, 88 she has deceived the hearts in the breasts of the Achaeans. 89 To each man she gives hope and makes promises, 90 sending word to each, but her mind intends otherwise. 91 And this other trick she devised in her heart: 92 setting up a great loom in the hall, she began to weave, 93 a web fine and immense, and gave us this word: 94 ‘Young men, my suitors, since noble Odysseus is dead, 95 wait, eager though you are for my marriage, until I finish 96 this shroud—lest the threads be wasted in vain— 97 a burial garment for lord Laertes, when the grim fate 98 of death that lays men low shall overtake him, 99 lest any Achaean woman in the land should cast reproach on me 100 that a man who won much should lie without a shroud.’ 101 So she spoke, and our proud hearts consented. 102 Then by day she wove at the great web, 103 but at night, by torchlight, she unravelled it. 104 Thus for three years she concealed her purpose and eluded the Achaeans. 105 But when the fourth year came and the seasons advanced, 106 one of her women, who knew all, told us, 107 and we caught her unravelling the splendid shroud. 108 So, against her will, she was forced to finish it. 109 This answer the suitors return to you, that you may know 110 in your own mind, and all the Achaeans may know: 111 send your mother back, command her to marry 112 whichever man her father bids and pleases her. 113 But if she continues to vex the sons of the Achaeans, 114 proud of the gifts Athena has richly bestowed on her— 115 knowledge of beautiful crafts, an excellent mind, 116 and tricks of cleverness such as we never hear 117 even among the lovely‑haired Achaean women of old, 118 Tyro, Alcmene, Mycene of the lovely crown— 119 not one of these matched Penelope in wiles. 120 Yet in this, at least, her thinking was not straight. 121 As long as she keeps to the intent the gods are putting 122 in her breast, so long the suitors will devour 123 your livelihood and substance—a great fame for herself, 124 but a grievous loss of goods for you. 125 We will not return to our own estates nor go elsewhere 126 until she marries whichever of the Achaeans she prefers.”

127 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: 128 “Antinoüs, I cannot thrust out of the house against her will 129 the mother who bore me and nurtured me. 130 My father, whether alive or dead, is in some other land. 131 Hard it would be to pay back much to Icarion, 132 if I myself send my mother away of my own accord. 133 For from her father I might meet with evil, and a god 134 would send other woes, since my mother would call down 135 the dreaded Furies as she left the house, 136 and all men would heap reproach on me. Never 137 will I be the one to speak such a word. 138 But if your own hearts feel shame, leave my halls, 139 feast elsewhere, spending your own goods, 140 taking turns from house to house. 141 But if you decide it is better and more profitable 142 to destroy one man’s livelihood without repayment, 143 waste away! I will call on the ever‑living gods, 144 if ever Zeus grants that deeds of requital be done, 145 you shall be destroyed in these halls, unrequited.”

146 So spoke Telemachus. Then Zeus, the far‑thunderer, 147 sent forth two eagles flying down from a mountain peak. 148 For a while they flew on the blast of the wind, 149 close together, wing‑tip to wing‑tip. 150 But when they reached the middle of the crowded assembly, 151 they halted, beating their wings thick and fast, 152 glaring down at the heads of all, with death in their eyes; 153 then they tore each other’s cheeks and necks with their talons, 154 and sped away to the right, over the roofs of the town. 155 All were astonished at the birds as they saw them, 156 and pondered in their hearts what would come to pass. 157 Then the old lord Halitherses, Mastor’s son, addressed them, 158 for he excelled all his age‑mates in knowledge of birds 159 and in declaring omens. He spoke with kind intent: 160 “Hear me now, Ithacans, what I say; 161 most of all I speak to the suitors, for a great doom 162 rolls toward them: Odysseus shall not long be away 163 from his friends, but already, I think, he is near 164 and sows death and doom for all these men. 165 And to many others of us who dwell in sunny Ithaca 166 grief will come. Long before that, let us consider 167 how we might stop them, or let them stop themselves 168 if they will be persuaded; that way would be better. 169 I am no untried prophet, but one who knows full well. 170 For to Odysseus I declare, all I foretold him 171 is being fulfilled, when the Argives sailed for Ilios 172 and the great‑minded Odysseus went with them: 173 I said that after many sorrows, losing all his comrades, 174 unknown to all, in the twentieth year he would come home. 175 And now all this is coming true.”

176 Then Eurymachus, Polybus’ son, retorted: 177 “Go home, old man, and prophesy to your children, 178 lest they suffer some evil hereafter. I myself 179 am a far better prophet than you. Many birds there are 180 that dart under the rays of the sun, not all are fateful. 181 Odysseus has perished far away; how I wish 182 you too had perished with him—then you would not 183 utter such oracles, nor urge Telemachus so, 184 stirred to anger, hoping he might give some gift to your house. 185 But I will speak out, and it will be a thing fulfilled: 186 if you, an old man, with your cunning, fill a younger man 187 with empty words and rouse him to anger, 188 first of all it will go harder for him, 189 and he will not manage to accomplish anything 190 because of these men. And on you, old man, we will lay 191 a penalty that will grieve your heart to pay, 192 and the pain will be bitter. But to Telemachus 193 among all the suitors I give this counsel: 194 send your mother back to her father’s house; they there 195 will prepare a marriage and arrange abundant gifts, 196 as many as should follow a dear daughter. 197 For before then, I think, the sons of the Achaeans 198 will not cease their harsh wooing, for in truth we fear 199 no one—not Telemachus, though he talks much— 200 nor any prophecy that you, old man, proclaim 201 to no purpose; and you are the more hated. 202 His goods will be devoured as before, with no recompense, 203 as long as she keeps putting off the Achaeans 204 in her wit. We suitors, meanwhile, waiting day by day, 205 will wrangle over her excellence and never go 206 to other women, each of whom is proper to wed.”

207 Then thoughtful Telemachus spoke to them: 208 “Eurymachus and you other proud suitors, 209 no longer do I entreat or speak of this, 210 for now the gods and all the Achaeans know. 211 Only give me a swift ship and twenty comrades 212 who will attend me on a journey here and there. 213 For I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos, 214 to seek news of my long‑lost father’s return, 215 if any mortal can tell me or I hear a rumour 216 from Zeus, which most often brings glory to men. 217 If I learn that my father is alive and will return, 218 then truly, though I am worn down, I could wait one more year. 219 But if I learn that he is dead and gone, 220 then I will come home to my dear native land, 221 heap a barrow for him and pay him many funeral rites, 222 as is fitting, and give my mother to a husband.”

223 So he spoke and sat down. Then among them rose 224 Mentor, who had been a comrade of noble Odysseus; 225 to him, on setting out with the ships, he entrusted all his house, 226 to obey the old man and to keep all safe. 227 With kind intent he addressed them and said: 228 “Hear me now, Ithacans, what I say: 229 Let no sceptered king henceforth be gentle in his heart, 230 nor be mindful of right, but let him be harsh and unjust, 231 since no one remembers godlike Odysseus, 232 of the people he ruled, though he was kind as a father. 233 Yet I do not so much blame the overbearing suitors 234 for doing deeds of violence through their wicked thoughts, 235 for they stake their own lives when they violently consume 236 the house of Odysseus, thinking he will never return. 237 But I do hold it against the rest of the people, 238 how you all sit silent, and never, though many, 239 rebuke the suitors or stop them, few as they are.”

240 Then Leocritus, Euenor’s son, answered him: 241 “Mentor, stubborn fool, crazed in mind, what are you saying, 242 urging the people to stop us? It would be hard, 243 even for more men, to fight concerning a feast; 244 for if Odysseus of Ithaca himself were to come 245 and yearned in his heart to drive the haughty suitors 246 out of his hall, his return would not bring joy 247 to his wife, much as she longs for him coming; 248 not he, against so many, would suffer cruel death 249 if he fought; you have spoken to no purpose. 250 But come now, you people disperse, each to his own place. 251 Mentor and Halitherses, who are his father’s 252 comrades from the beginning, will speed his journey. 253 Though I think he will sit long in Ithaca, waiting for word, 254 and will never make this journey.”

255 So he spoke, and quickly broke up the assembly. 256 The men scattered, each to his own house, 257 while the suitors went into the palace of noble Odysseus. 258 Telemachus, going apart to the sea‑shore, 259 washed his hands in the gray salt water, 260 and prayed to Athena: 261 “Hear me, you who yesterday, a god, came to my house 262 and bade me go in a ship over the misty sea 263 to seek news of my long‑lost father’s return, 264 now all this the Achaeans hinder, especially the suitors, 265 in their wicked arrogance.”

266 So he prayed. Athena drew near him, 267 taking the shape of Mentor in voice and appearance, 268 and spoke, addressing him with winged words: 269 “Telemachus, you shall not be base hereafter nor witless, 270 if truly the fine spirit of your father has been instilled in you, 271 to accomplish both deed and word, as he once did. 272 Then this journey will not be vain or unfulfilled. 273 But if you are not the seed of him and Penelope, 274 I do not think you will bring to pass what you plan. 275 Few sons prove equal to their father; most are worse, 276 and only a few better than their fathers. 277 But since you will not be base nor witless in future, 278 nor has the wisdom of Odysseus entirely failed you, 279 there is hope you will bring these things to fulfilment. 280 Now let the suitors’ counsels and plans be; 281 they are fools, for they have no sense of justice 282 and do not think of death or black fate, 283 which already draws near them, to destroy them all in a day. 284 But the journey you long for will no longer be put off, 285 for I am your father’s close companion, and I will equip 286 a swift ship and come with you myself. 287 Go now back to the house and mingle with the suitors; 288 prepare provisions, put wine in jars, 289 and barley meal, the marrow of men, in stout skins. 290 I will gather willing comrades through the town. 291 There are many ships in sea‑girt Ithaca, 292 both new and old; of these I will choose the best, 293 and quickly, when she is fitted, we will launch her on the open sea.”

294 So spoke Athena, daughter of Zeus. Telemachus 295 did not delay long after hearing the goddess’ voice, 296 but turned to go to the house, heavy at heart. 297 He found the haughty suitors in the hall, 298 skinning goats and singeing fat hogs in the court. 299 Antinoüs laughed and came straight to Telemachus, 300 grasped his hand, spoke his name and said: 301 “Telemachus, great in speech and unbridled in spirit, 302 have no anxious thought in your heart, either of word or deed, 303 but eat and drink with me, as you did before. 304 The Achaeans will provide all this for you, 305 a ship and chosen oarsmen, so you may soon reach 306 sacred Pylos and learn of your noble father.”

307 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered him: 308 “Antinoüs, there is no way I should dine with you, arrogant men, 309 at ease and be glad, with untroubled heart. 310 Is it not enough that you suitors destroyed my noble goods 311 when I was still a child? But now that I am grown 312 and learn the words of men by listening to others, 313 and the heart within me builds strength, 314 I will try to loose evil fates upon you, 315 whether I go to Pylos or stay here in this land. 316 I will depart—the journey will be no vain thing—though a passenger, 317 for I possess no ship nor oarsmen of my own, 318 which, I suppose, was more to your liking in your hearts.”

319 He spoke, and pulled his hand from the hand of Antinoüs, 320 with no gentleness. Meanwhile the suitors, busy in the house, 321 taunted him openly with cutting words. 322 One of the arrogant youths would say: 323 “Telemachus truly plans to kill us; he will bring 324 allies back from sandy Pylos, or from holy Sparta, 325 so fiercely he yearns. Or he means to go to Ephyra, 326 rich in soil, and bring back death‑dealing poisons 327 to cast into the wine bowl and destroy us all.” 328 Another of the arrogant youths would answer: 329 “Who knows whether he too, when he goes in the hollow ship, 330 will perish far from his friends, wandering like Odysseus? 331 Then he would cause us even more toil—we would have to 332 divide all his possessions, but give the house to his mother 333 to keep, along with whomever she marries.”

334 So they spoke. Telemachus went down into his father’s 335 high‑roofed treasure‑chamber, wide, where gold 336 and bronze lay heaped, and clothing in chests, 337 and fragrant oil in plenty. There stood jars 338 of old sweet wine, holding a divine and unmixed drink, 339 ranged in order along the wall, in case ever 340 Odysseus should come home after many grievous toils. 341 Folding doors fitted closely, with double leaves, 342 shut the room; a woman was steward there night and day, 343 guarding all things with the wisdom of her heart, 344 Eurycleia, daughter of Ops, Peisenor’s son. 345 Telemachus called her to the chamber and said: 346 “Nurse, come, draw me wine in jars, sweet wine, 347 the choicest after that which you keep in store 348 for the wretched king, if ever Odysseus 349 escapes death and doom and comes home. 350 Fill twelve jars and fit each with a lid. 351 Then pour barley meal into well‑stitched skins; 352 let there be twenty measures of ground barley. 353 Keep it to yourself alone; get all this ready, 354 for this evening, when my mother goes up 355 to her upper chamber and thinks of rest, 356 I will take it. I am going to Sparta and to sandy Pylos, 357 to seek news of my dear father’s return, if I might hear any.”

358 So he spoke. Eurycleia, his dear nurse, shrieked, 359 and weeping, spoke winged words: 360 “Why, dear child, has such a plan come into your mind? 361 Where will you be going over the wide earth, 362 who are an only child and cherished? Godlike Odysseus 363 has perished far from his land, in some unknown place, 364 and when you are gone they will plot evil against you, 365 how to kill you by treachery and divide all this. 366 No, stay here, among your own; there is no need 367 for you to suffer wandering and hardship on the unharvested sea.”

368 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered her: 369 “Take heart, nurse, for this plan has not been set without a god. 370 But swear to tell my mother nothing 371 until the eleventh or twelfth day comes, 372 or until she herself misses me and hears of my departure, 373 lest she mar her beauty with weeping and lamentation.”

374 So he spoke, and the old woman swore a great oath by the gods 375 that she would keep silence; and when she had sworn and completed it, 376 straightway she drew wine into jars for him, 377 and poured barley meal into well‑stitched skins. 378 Telemachus went back into the house and joined the suitors.

379 Then the goddess, bright‑eyed Athena, had another thought: 380 taking the likeness of Telemachus, she went through all the town, 381 and approaching each man she spoke her word, 382 telling them to gather by the swift ship in the evening. 383 Next she asked Noëmon, the splendid son of Phronius, 384 for a swift ship; he promised it with eager heart.

385 The sun set, and all the ways grew dark. 386 Then she drew the swift ship down to the sea, 387 and put into it all the gear that well‑benched vessels carry. 388 She moored it at the harbour’s edge; around her the goodly comrades 389 gathered, and the goddess stirred each man’s courage.

390 Then bright‑eyed Athena had another thought: 391 she went to the house of noble Odysseus, and there 392 she poured sweet sleep on the suitors, made them droop as they drank, 393 and knocked the cups from their hands. They rose to go through the town 394 to their beds, and slept, for the sleep fell on their eyelids. 395 Athena, bright‑eyed goddess, called Telemachus out 396 from the well‑walled hall, taking the form of Mentor 397 in voice and appearance, and spoke winged words: 398 “Telemachus, your well‑greaved comrades 399 already sit at the oar and wait for you to give the word. 400 Let us go; let us no longer delay our journey.”

401 So speaking, Pallas Athena led the way 402 swiftly; he followed in the goddess’ footsteps. 403 When they reached the ship and the sea, 404 on the shore they found the long‑haired comrades. 405 Among them the holy might of Telemachus spoke: 406 “Come, friends, bring the provisions; already they are gathered 407 inside the hall. My mother knows nothing, nor the serving women; 408 only one has heard my plan.”

409 So he spoke and led the way; they followed. 410 They carried all down and stowed it in the well‑benched ship, 411 as the dear son of Odysseus commanded. 412 Then Telemachus boarded the ship; Athena went first 413 and sat down in the stern; next to her 414 Telemachus seated himself. The crew cast off the stern‑hawsers, 415 climbed aboard themselves, and sat at the oarlocks. 416 Bright‑eyed Athena sent them a following wind, 417 fresh Zephyrus, singing strong over the wine‑dark sea. 418 Telemachus urged his comrades to lay hold of the tackle; 419 they obeyed his command. They raised the fir‑wood mast, 420 set it upright in the hollow mast‑box, 421 made it fast with forestays, and hauled up the white sail 422 with twisted ox‑hide ropes. The wind bellied the sail’s belly, 423 and the dark wave hissed loud around the keel 424 as she ran; she sped over the swell, cutting through the sea. 425 When they had made fast the tackle throughout the dark ship, 426 they set up mixing bowls brimming with wine, 427 and poured libations to the immortal gods, 428 most of all to the bright‑eyed daughter of Zeus. 429 All night long, and into the dawn, the ship held her way.