Thus did they converse in the
house of Hades deep down within the bowels of the earth. Meanwhile
Odysseus and the others passed out of the town and soon reached the
fair and well-tilled farm of Laertes, which he had reclaimed with
infinite labor. Here was his house, with a lean-to running all round
it, where the slaves who worked for him slept and sat and ate, while
inside the house there was an old Sicel woman, who looked after him
in this his country-farm. When Odysseus got there, he said to his son
and to the other two:
"Go to the house, and kill the
best pig that you can find for dinner. Meanwhile I want to see
whether my father will know me, or fail to recognize me after so long
an absence."
He then took off his armor and
gave it to Eumaios and Philoitios, who went straight on to the house,
while he turned off into the vineyard to make trial of his father. As
he went down into the great orchard, he did not see Dolios, nor any
of his sons nor of the other bondsmen, for they were all gathering
thorns to make a fence for the vineyard, at the place where the old
man had told them; he therefore found his father alone, hoeing a
vine. He had on a dirty old shirt, patched and very shabby; his legs
were bound round with thongs of oxhide to save him from the brambles,
and he also wore sleeves of leather; he had a goat skin cap on his
head, and was looking very woe-begone [penthos]. When
Odysseus saw him so worn, so old and full of sorrow
[penthos], he stood still under a tall pear tree and
began to weep. He doubted whether to embrace him, kiss him, and tell
him all about his having come home, or whether he should first
question him and see what he would say. In the end he deemed it best
to be crafty with him, so in this mind he went up to his father, who
was bending down and digging about a plant.
"I see, sir," said Odysseus,
"that you are an excellent gardener - what pains you take with it, to
be sure. There is not a single plant, not a fig tree, vine, olive,
pear, nor flower bed, but bears the trace of your attention. I trust,
however, that you will not be offended if I say that you take better
care of your garden than of yourself. You are old, unsavory, and very
meanly clad. It cannot be because you are idle that your master takes
such poor care of you, indeed your face and figure have nothing of
the slave about them, and proclaim you of noble birth. I should have
said that you were one of those who should wash well, eat well, and
lie soft at night as old men have a right [dikê]
to do; but tell me, and tell me true, whose laborer are you, and in
whose garden are you working? Tell me also about another matter. Is
this place that I have come to really Ithaca? I met a man just now
who said so, but he was a dull fellow, and had not the patience to
hear my story out when I was asking him about an old friend of mine,
whether he was still living, or was already dead and in the house of
Hades. Believe me when I tell you that this man came to my house once
when I was in my own country and never yet did any stranger come to
me whom I liked better. He said that his family came from Ithaca and
that his father was Laertes, son of Arceisius. I received him
hospitably, making him welcome to all the abundance of my house, and
when he went away I gave him all customary presents. I gave him seven
talents of fine gold, and a cup of solid silver with flowers chased
upon it. I gave him twelve light cloaks, and as many pieces of
tapestry; I also gave him twelve cloaks of single fold, twelve rugs,
twelve fair mantles, and an equal number of shirts. To all this I
added four good looking women skilled in all useful arts, and I let
him take his choice."
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