💡 This is a chapter from The Wanderings of Odysseus, by C. Witt & F. Younghusband ← Go there to read the full book free online; it is also available in paperback and Kindle editions.
For some time after the departure of Telemachus from Ithaca, he was missed by no one, for he often went for a few days into the country and stayed amongst the faithful old servants and herdsmen of his father. But one day when the suitors were again amusing themselves with games in front of the house, Noemon, the man who had supplied Telemachus with the ship, came and said to Antinous, “Canst thou tell me when Telemachus will return from Pylos? I have lent him my ship, and now I have need of it myself.”
Antinous and the other suitors were thunderstruck at hearing these words, for they had not conceived it possible that Telemachus should, against their will, get a ship in which to go to the friends of his father. Antinous enquired who had accompanied him, and Noemon replied, “The best voting men of the city have gone with him, and the aged Mentor went also as their leader. But it may indeed have been a god who took the form of Mentor, for yesterday I saw him in the city.”
When Noemon had left them, the suitors crowded together in a corner of the courtyard and took counsel one of the other. Antinous said, “Who would have thought that Telemachus could carry out his purpose and get companions, moreover, to go with him? He begins to be dangerous, and, if we do not put him out of the way, it may go hard with us. Give me therefore a ship and some men; I will lie in wait for him in the sea between Ithaca and Samos and kill him as he returns.”
To this the suitors agreed, and Antinous chose twenty of them to go with him. They went down to the shore and pushed a ship out to sea, which they stored with everything that would be useful, and also with arms; then they steered her to a little island, from which they would be able to take the ship of Telemachus by surprise on her return journey.
The suitors made their arrangements with great secrecy, but their designs were discovered by the herald Medon, who was not of their party, and only served them because he was compelled to do so. He stole upstairs to Penelope; but the queen, not knowing for what purpose he had come, received him with words of rebuke. “Herald,” she said, “what new message of insolence hast thou to bring me from the suitors? Shall the maidens leave their work to prepare a meal for them? Oh that they might perish, and today for the last time riot in this house! Have ye not heard from your fathers how that Odysseus was never harsh or unjust towards them? Ill indeed do ye thank him, turning his house to evil uses as if it were your own.”
“Would to the gods that this were the worst,” replied Medon. “But the suitors are planning a grievous sin. They hope to slay thy son as he returns home from Pylos.”
When Penelope heard this, she became almost rigid with terror, and for some time she was unable to speak; but at last she said, “Has my son gone away then? Why has he done this? Shall his name also be banished from among the living?”
“Whether this thing has been put into his mind by a god,” answered Medon, “I know not, or whether he has thought of it himself; but he has gone to Pylos to seek for tidings of his father.”
He went downstairs again, and in her despair the queen sank down upon the threshold and sobbed until all the women of the house heard her and came running to know the cause of her grief.
Penelope told them what Medon had said to her. “Woe is me,” she wailed. “A harder fate has Zeus laid on me than on any other woman. First, he took from me my noble husband, and now will the winds snatch away my beloved son, and I shall never see him again. Faithless ye are, who knew of his going, and did not warn me! I would have held him back or perished in the effort. But now, send quickly to Laertes; he may be able to think of some means of saving his grandson.”
Then replied the aged Eurycleia, “Kill me, lady, if thou wilt; I will hide nothing from thee. I knew all about it. I furnished him also with food and wine for the journey, but Telemachus made me swear to keep it from thee, lest thou shouldst grieve concerning him. Follow now my advice. Send no messenger to Laertes; he cannot help, and why shouldst thou make the sorrowing old man yet more sorrowful? But bathe thyself and put on thy festal robes, and pray to Athena, for she can protect thy son from all danger. Of a surety, the gods will not utterly forsake the house of Odysseus.”
Penelope did as Eurycleia advised. Before long she might have been seen standing, surrounded by all her maidens, in one of the rooms of the upper story, with a basket full of barley in her hand; and thus she prayed to Athena: “Hear me, mighty goddess, for many were the sacrifices with which Odysseus was wont to honor thee. Think of them now and save my dear son. Preserve him from the malice of the suitors.”
That night, Penelope lay sorrowfully upon her couch, filled with thoughts that alternated between fear and hope, and presently she fell asleep. Then Athena created a dream in the form of her sister, who was married and living far away from Ithaca. The dream entered the room through the keyhole of the door and stood at the head of her bed. Penelope was surprised to see her and said in her sleep, “Sister, how earnest, thou hither? Always hitherto thou hast been afraid of the long journey. Alas! Thou findest me in deep affliction. My son has gone away in a ship, who never before has journeyed by sea, and easily he may perish in strange lands or on the sea, where his enemies lie in wait for him!”
The Dream answered, “Be of good courage and fear nothing. Telemachus has by his side a companion whom many might in vain desire, for Athena herself accompanies him. Out of compassion for thee, she has sent me to tell thee this.”
The thoughts of Penelope turned quickly to her beloved Odysseus, and she said, “If thou art come at the bidding of the goddess, tell me of my unhappy husband. Is he yet alive and able to see the light of the sun or dwells he already among the shadows of the Lower World?”
But the Dream answered, “Of him can I tell thee nothing.” With these words she left the room in the same manner that she had entered it and disappeared in the outer air, leaving Penelope strengthened and comforted.