Book XX

But in the forehall lay divine Odysseus down; he spread an undressed oxhide on the floor, and over it many fleeces of the sheep the Achaeans slaughtered, and Eurynome threw a cloak over him as he slept. There Odysseus, brooding evil for the suitors in his soul, lay wide awake; and the women from the hall went forth, those who had long been wont to mingle with the suitors, giving one another laughter and merriment.

And the heart within his dear breast was stirred; much he debated in mind and in heart, whether to dash after them and work death on each one, or let them lie with the insolent suitors for the last and uttermost time; and his heart within him snarled. As a bitch standing over her tender whelps growls at a man she does not know, eager to fight, so his heart within snarled at their wicked deeds; but he smote his breast and rebuked his heart with a word: “Endure, my heart; a more currish thing than this you once endured, that day when the Cyclops in his ungoverned fury devoured my mighty comrades; you held fast until my cunning led you out of the cave, when you thought you must die.

” So he spoke, chiding the heart within his breast, and the heart remained still in endurance unflinchingly; yet he himself turned this way and that. As when a man before a great fire’s blazing turns a paunch full of fat and blood this way and that, and longs for it to be roasted quickly, so he turned this way and that, pondering how he might lay hands upon the shameless suitors, one man alone against many.

Then close to him came Athena, descending from heaven; she had likened her form to a woman; she stood above his head and addressed him: “Why again are you wakeful, most ill‑fated of all mortals? This is your house, and your wife is here within the house, and your son, such as any man would pray to have.” Then in answer spoke Odysseus of many wiles: “Yes, goddess, all these things you have said in due measure;

yet my heart ponders this in my breast, how I might lay hands upon the shameless suitors, one man alone; they are always gathered here within. And besides this, a greater thing I ponder in mind: even if I should kill them, by the will of Zeus and of you, how could I escape? I bid you consider this.” Then the goddess, gray‑eyed Athena, addressed him again: “Stubborn one, a man will trust a lesser comrade, who is mortal and does not know such counsels;

but I am a god, and I guard you continually in all your toils. And I will tell you plainly: even if fifty companies of mortal men should surround us, eager to kill us with the sword, you might yet drive off their cattle and fat sheep. But let sleep hold you; it is weariness to keep watch all night long awake; you are soon to rise above these evils.

” So she spoke, and poured sleep over his eyelids, and herself returned to Olympus, the divine goddess. When sleep seized him, loosening the cares of his soul, limb‑loosening, his faithful wife awoke; she sat weeping in the soft bed. But when she had wept her fill in her heart, she prayed first to Artemis, divine among women: “Artemis, revered goddess, daughter of Zeus, would that now you might shoot an arrow into my breast and take my life right now, or that a whirlwind might snatch me away and carry me down the mist‑dark ways, and cast me into the streams of backward‑flowing Ocean.

As when the whirlwinds carried off the daughters of Pandareus: their parents the gods had destroyed, and they were left orphans in the halls, and divine Aphrodite nourished them with cheese and sweet honey and pleasant wine; Hera gave them beauty and wisdom beyond all women, and chaste Artemis granted them stature, and Athena taught them to work glorious handiwork.

But when divine Aphrodite went to high Olympus to ask for the girls the fulfillment of blooming marriage— went to Zeus who delights in thunder, for he well knows all, the fate and the unfated lot of mortal men— then the Harpies snatched away those maidens and gave them to the hateful Erinyes to serve. So may the Olympian house‑holders destroy me, or fair‑tressed Artemis strike me, so that with Odysseus before my eyes I might go down under the hateful earth, and not gladden the heart of a lesser man.

Yet this evil is bearable, when a man weeps all day, his heart tightly gripped with grief, but at night sleep holds him, for sleep brings forgetfulness of all things, good and evil, when it covers his eyelids. But upon me a god has sent evil dreams as well. For this very night one lay beside me, looking like him, such as he was when he went with the army; and my heart rejoiced, for I thought it no dream but a waking vision.

” So she spoke, and at once gold‑throned Dawn came forth. But her weeping voice was caught by divine Odysseus; he pondered then, and it seemed in his heart that she already knew him and stood by his head. He gathered up the cloak and fleeces in which he slept, and placed them on a chair in the hall, and the ox‑hide he carried out of doors, and prayed to Zeus with upraised hands: “Father Zeus, if you gods willingly led me over land and sea to my own country, after you have afflicted me so sorely, let someone within speak a word of omen from those waking, and let another sign from Zeus appear outside.

” So he spoke in prayer, and Zeus the counselor heard him, and at once thundered from gleaming Olympus, high from the clouds; and divine Odysseus rejoiced. And from the house a woman of the mill spoke a word of omen, nearby, where the mills of the shepherd of the people stood, at which twelve women were busied, making barley meal and wheat flour, the marrow of men.

The others were sleeping, for they had ground their wheat, but one had not yet stopped, being the weakest; she paused her mill and spoke a word, a sign for the lord: “Father Zeus, who rule over gods and men, loud you have thundered from starry heaven, and there is no cloud anywhere; you show this as some portent to a person. Now fulfill for wretched me the word I speak: may the suitors this day for the last and uttermost time take their beloved feast in the halls of Odysseus, they who have loosened my knees with soul‑grieving toil as I make their flour; now may they sup their last.

” So she spoke, and divine Odysseus rejoiced at the omen and the thunder of Zeus; for he thought he would punish the transgressors. And the other serving women in the beautiful house of Odysseus gathered and kindled the ever‑burning fire on the hearth. Telemachus rose from his bed, a godlike man, dressed in his clothes;

he hung the sharp sword over his shoulder; beneath his shining feet he bound the beautiful sandals, and took the mighty spear tipped with sharp bronze; he went and stood upon the threshold, and spoke to Eurycleia: “Dear nurse, have you honored the stranger in our house with bed and food, or does he lie neglected? For such is my mother, though she is wise: she rashly honors one among mortal men, the worse, and sends the better away without honor.”

Then in answer prudent Eurycleia said: “Blame him not now, my child, when he is guiltless. He sat and drank wine as long as he wished, but said he was no longer hungry for food; for he was asked. But when he thought of bed and sleep, she indeed ordered the maids to spread the bed, but he, like one utterly wretched and luckless, refused to sleep in a bed and upon blankets, but in an undressed ox‑hide and fleeces of sheep he slept in the forehall; we threw a cloak over him.

” So she spoke, and Telemachus went through the hall with his spear, and two swift hounds followed him. He went to the assembly among the well‑greaved Achaeans. Then she, the divine among women, Eurycleia daughter of Ops son of Peisenor, called to the serving maids: “Up! Some of you quickly sweep the house, sprinkle it, and on the well‑made chairs throw purple coverlets; others wipe all the tables with sponges, and cleanse the mixing‑bowls and the wrought double‑handled cups; and others go to the spring for water, and bring it back quickly. For the suitors will not long be absent from the hall, but will come very early, since it is a holiday for all.

” So she spoke, and they listened well and obeyed. Twenty of them went to the dark‑water spring, and the others worked skillfully there in the house. Then the serving‑men of the Achaeans came in. They neatly and skillfully split the wood, and the women returned from the spring; and to them came the swineherd driving three fatted boars, the best among all. He let them feed in the beautiful pens, and himself addressed Odysseus with gentle words: “Stranger, do the Achaeans look upon you now with more favor, or do they dishonor you in the house, as before?” Then in answer spoke Odysseus of many wiles: “Ah, would that the gods might punish the outrage which these men in their insolence are devising in another’s house, without a share of shame.

” So they spoke such things to one another, and near to them came Melanthius, the goatherd. Driving goats, the choicest of the herds, for the suitors’ feast; two herdsmen followed. He tied them under the echoing portico, and himself addressed Odysseus with mocking words: “Stranger, will you still plague the men here in the house, begging, and not go out the door? I think we two will not part until we taste each other’s fists, since you beg so improperly; there are other feasts among the Achaeans.

” So he spoke, and Odysseus of many wiles answered him nothing, but in silence moved his head, devising evils in the deep. Then third among them came Philoetius, leader of men, bringing a barren cow for the suitors and fat goats. Ferrymen had brought them over, who also carry all other men who come to them. He tied them well under the echoing portico, and himself questioned the swineherd, standing near: “Swineherd, who is this stranger, newly come to our house?

From what men does he claim to be? Where are his race and native land? Unfortunate, yet in build he is like a royal lord; but the gods bring troubles to far‑wandering men, when they spin misery for even kings.” He spoke, and with his right hand he greeted him, and addressing him spoke winged words: “Welcome, father stranger;

may happiness be yours hereafter; yet now you are held by many evils. Father Zeus, no other god is more destructive than you: you do not pity men when you yourself bring them to birth, only to mingle them with misery and grievous pains. When I saw him, I sweated, and my eyes filled with tears remembering Odysseus, for I think that he too wanders among men wearing such rags, if he still lives and sees the light of the sun.

But if he is already dead and in the house of Hades, then alas for blameless Odysseus, who set me over his cattle when I was still a boy, in the land of the Cephallenians. Now they have become countless, and in no other way could the breed of broad‑browed cattle increase for a man; but others bid me drive them in for themselves to eat;

they care nothing for the son in the halls, and they tremble at no vengeance of the gods; for they are eager now to divide the possessions of the long‑gone lord. But my heart in my dear breast often turns over this: it is a great evil, while the son lives, to go to another land, with the cattle, among foreign men; yet it is worse to stay here, sitting over another’s cattle and bearing sorrows.

I would long ago have fled to some other mighty king, for things are no longer bearable; but still I think of the wretched man, hoping he might come from somewhere and scatter the suitors throughout the halls.” Then in answer spoke Odysseus of many wiles: “Cowherd, since you seem neither base nor foolish, and I myself perceive that wisdom has entered your mind, so I will tell you, and I will swear a great oath: let Zeus be witness now, first of gods, and the table of hospitality, and the hearth of blameless Odysseus to which I have come: while you are still here, Odysseus will come home;

and with your own eyes you will see, if you wish, the suitors slain who now lord it here.” Then the cowherd, captain of cattle, answered him: “Ah, stranger, may the son of Cronus fulfill this word; then you would know what my strength is, and how my hands follow.” And in the same way Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that wise Odysseus would return home to his own house

. So they spoke such things to one another, but the suitors were plotting death and destruction for Telemachus; then a bird came to them on the left, an eagle flying high, gripping a trembling dove. Then Amphinomus addressed them and said: “Friends, this plan of ours, the murder of Telemachus, will not go as we wish; let us think of the feast.”

So spoke Amphinomus, and his words pleased them. They went into the house of divine Odysseus, laid their cloaks on the seats and chairs, and they sacrificed great sheep and fat goats, and fatted boars and a heifer of the herd. They roasted the entrails and served them, and mixed the wine in the mixing‑bowls; the swineherd passed the cups.

Bread was given them by Philoetius, leader of men, in beautiful baskets, and Melanthius poured the wine. They flung their hands upon the ready feast set before them. Telemachus, steering his craft, seated Odysseus within the well‑built hall, by the stone threshold, placing a lowly stool and a small table; he set before him portions of the entrails, and poured wine in a golden cup, and addressed him: “Sit here now among the men, drinking; I myself will ward off taunts and blows from all the suitors, for this house is not public, but belongs to Odysseus, and he won it for me. And you, suitors, restrain your hearts from insult and violence, that no strife and quarrel arise.

” So he spoke, and they all bit their lips in silence, amazed at Telemachus, how boldly he spoke. Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, addressed them: “Hard though it is, Achaeans, let us accept the word of Telemachus; he speaks in very threatening manner. Zeus, son of Cronus, did not permit it, else we would have already silenced him in the halls, though he is a clear‑voiced speaker.”

So spoke Antinous; but Telemachus paid no heed to his words. Through the city heralds were leading a sacred hecatomb for the gods, and the long‑haired Achaeans gathered in the shady grove of Apollo the far‑shooter. They roasted the outer parts and drew them off, divided the portions and feasted a glorious feast; and to Odysseus those who served set a portion equal, as they themselves received;

for so commanded Telemachus, dear son of divine Odysseus. But Athena would not permit the insolent suitors to hold back their heart‑grieving outrage, so that still more grief might sink into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. There was among the suitors a man who knew lawless things, Ctesippus by name, who lived in Same;

trusting in his boundless wealth, he wooed the wife of Odysseus, long departed. He then addressed the arrogant suitors: “Hear me, proud suitors, while I speak: the stranger has had his portion long, as is fitting, an equal share; for it is not fair nor just to stint the guests of Telemachus who come to this house. Come, let me also give a guest‑gift, so that he too may give a prize to the bath‑woman or to some other servant in the house of divine Odysseus.”

So saying, he seized an ox‑foot from the basket and slung it with his heavy hand; but Odysseus dodged it, inclining his head lightly, and smiled in his heart a most bitter, sardonic smile; it struck the well‑built wall. Then Telemachus rebuked Ctesippus with a word: “Ctesippus, this is far better for your heart: you did not hit the stranger;

he dodged the missile himself. Truly I would have struck you in the middle with my sharp spear, and your father would have been busy with your funeral here instead of a wedding. Therefore let no one show shameful deeds in my house; now I perceive and know all things, both good and bad; before I was still a child. But still we have endured such things as we have watched, sheep slaughtered and wine drunk and food consumed; for one man can hardly restrain many. But come, no longer do me harm with hostile mind; if now you are eager to kill me even with the bronze, I would wish it, and it would be far better to die than forever to see these shameful deeds, guests maltreated and serving women dragged shamefully through the beautiful halls.

” So he spoke, and they all fell silent, completely hushed; after a while Damastor’s son Agelaus spoke: “Friends, let no one in anger answer with hostile words to what has been rightfully spoken; neither strike the stranger nor any other of the servants in the house of divine Odysseus. But to Telemachus and his mother I would speak a gentle word, if it might please the hearts of both.

So long as the spirit in your breasts hoped that wise Odysseus would return home to his own house, there was no cause to chide, to wait and to hold back the suitors in the halls, for that was better, if Odysseus had returned and come back to his home. But now it is clear: he will never return. Come then, sit by your mother and tell her to marry whoever is the best man and offers the most, so that you may joyfully enjoy all your patrimony, eating and drinking, and she may care for another’s house.”

Then in answer wise Telemachus spoke to him: “By Zeus, Agelaus, and the sorrows of my father, who somewhere far from Ithaca has perished or wanders, I do not delay my mother’s marriage; I urge her to marry whom she will, and offer endless gifts. But I am ashamed to drive her unwilling from the house by a harsh word; may a god not bring this to pass.”

So spoke Telemachus; and Pallas Athena stirred unceasing laughter among the suitors, and turned their wits awry. They laughed with the jaws of strangers now, and they ate flesh stained with blood; their eyes filled with tears, and their spirits foresaw wailing. Then godlike Theoclymenus spoke among them: “Ah, wretched ones, what is this evil you suffer? Your heads, your faces, and your knees below are shrouded in night. Lamentation blazes, cheeks are wet with tears, the walls and the beautiful beams are spattered with blood. The porch is full of ghosts, the courtyard full, hastening to Erebus beneath the gloom; the sun has perished from heaven, and a foul mist has overrun us.

” So he spoke, and all of them laughed sweetly at him. Then Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak: “The stranger is raving, newly come from elsewhere. But quickly, young men, send him out of the house to go to the assembly, since he thinks this is night.” And godlike Theoclymenus answered him: “Eurymachus, I do not ask you to give me escorts;

I have my own eyes, and ears, and both my feet, and a mind in my breast not ill‑fashioned. With these I will go out, for I perceive evil coming upon you, which not one of the suitors may escape or flee, all who in the house of godlike Odysseus mistreat men and plot reckless deeds.” So speaking, he went out of the well‑dwelt halls, and came to Peiraeus, who received him kindly.

Then the suitors, all looking at one another, provoked Telemachus, laughing at his guests; and thus would say one of the haughty young men: “Telemachus, no one has worse guests than you: you keep a wandering beggar like this, needy for bread and wine, unfit for any work or strength, just a burden of the earth. Then this other one stood up to prophesy.

But if you would listen to me, it would be far better: let us throw the strangers into a many‑benched ship and send them to the Sicels, where they might fetch a worthy price.” So spoke the suitors; but Telemachus paid no heed to their words, and in silence looked toward his father, waiting always for the moment when he would lay hands on the shameless suitors. And she, the daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope, had placed her beautiful chair opposite and heard the words of each man in the hall. For they had prepared their dinner with laughter, pleasant and satisfying, since they had sacrificed so much; but no supper could be more ungracious than the one a goddess and a mighty man would soon prepare; for they were contriving shameful deeds first.