Scroll 19
Odysseus was left in the room,
pondering on the means whereby with Athena's help he might be
able to kill the suitors. Presently he said to Telemakhos,
"Telemakhos, we must get the armor together and take it down inside.
Make some excuse when the suitors ask you why you have removed it.
Say that you have taken it to be out of the way of the smoke,
inasmuch as it is no longer what it was when Odysseus went away, but
has become soiled and begrimed with soot. Add to this more
particularly that you are afraid a daimôn may set them
on to quarrel over their wine, and that they may do each other some
harm which may disgrace both banquet and wooing, for the sight of
arms sometimes tempts people to use them."
Telemakhos approved of what his
father had said, so he called nurse Eurykleia and said, "Nurse, shut
the women up in their room, while I take the armor that my father
left behind him down into the store room. No one looks after it now
my father is gone, and it has got all smirched with soot during my
own boyhood. I want to take it down where the smoke cannot reach
it."
"I wish, child," answered
Eurykleia, "that you would take the management of the house into your
own hands altogether, and look after all the property yourself. But
who is to go with you and light you to the store room? The maids
would have so, but you would not let them.
"The stranger," said Telemakhos,
"shall show me a light; when people eat my bread they must earn it,
no matter where they come from."
Eurykleia did as she was told, and
bolted the women inside their room. Then Odysseus and his son made
all haste to take the helmets, shields, and spears inside; and Athena
went before them with a gold lamp in her hand that shed a soft and
brilliant radiance, whereon Telemakhos said, "Father, my eyes behold
a great marvel: the walls, with the rafters, crossbeams, and the
supports on which they rest are all aglow as with a flaming fire.
Surely there is some god here who has come down from
heaven."
"Hush," answered Odysseus, "hold
your noos in peace and ask no questions, for this is the
manner [dikê] of the gods. Get you to your bed,
and leave me here to talk with your mother and the maids. Your mother
in her grief will ask me all sorts of questions."
On this Telemakhos went by
torch-light to the other side of the inner court, to the room in
which he always slept. There he lay in his bed till morning, while
Odysseus was left in the room pondering on the means whereby with
Athena's help he might be able to kill the suitors.
Then Penelope came down from her
room looking like Aphrodite or Artemis, and they set her a seat
inlaid with scrolls of silver and ivory near the fire in her
accustomed place. It had been made by Ikmalios and had a footstool
all in one piece with the seat itself; and it was covered with a
thick fleece: on this she now sat, and the maids came from the
women's room to join her. They set about removing the tables at
which the wicked suitors had been dining, and took away the bread
that was left, with the cups from which they had drunk. They emptied
the embers out of the braziers, and heaped much wood upon them to
give both light and heat; but Melantho began to rail at Odysseus a
second time and said, "Stranger, do you mean to plague us by hanging
about the house all night and spying upon the women? Be off, you
wretch, outside, and eat your supper there, or you shall be driven
out with a firebrand."
Odysseus scowled at her and
answered, "My good woman, why should you be so angry with me? Is it
because I am not clean, and my clothes are all in rags, and because I
am obliged to go begging about the dêmos after the
manner of tramps and beggars general? I too was a rich
[olbios] man once, and had a fine house of my own; in
those days I gave to many a tramp such as I now am, no matter who he
might be nor what he wanted. I had any number of servants, and all
the other things which people have who live well and are accounted
wealthy, but it pleased Zeus to take all away from me; therefore,
woman, beware lest you too come to lose that pride and place in which
you now wanton above your fellows; have a care lest you get out of
favor with your mistress, and lest Odysseus should come home, for
there is still a chance that he may do so. Moreover, though he be
dead as you think he is, yet by Apollo's will he has left a son
behind him, Telemakhos, who will note anything done amiss by the
maids in the house, for he is now no longer in his
boyhood."
Penelope heard what he was saying
and scolded the maid, "Impudent baggage," said she, "I see how
abominably you are behaving, and you shall smart for it. You knew
perfectly well, for I told you myself, that I was going to see the
stranger and ask him about my husband, for whose sake I am in such
continual sorrow."
Then she said to her head waiting
woman Eurynome, "Bring a seat with a fleece upon it, for the stranger
to sit upon while he tells his story, and listens to what I have to
say. I wish to ask him some questions."
Eurynome brought the seat at once
and set a fleece upon it, and as soon as Odysseus had sat down
Penelope began by saying, "Stranger, I shall first ask you who and
whence are you? Tell me of your town and parents."
"Lady;" answered Odysseus, "who
on the face of the whole earth can dare to chide with you? Your fame
[kleos] reaches the firmament of heaven itself; you
are like some blameless king, who upholds righteousness, as the
monarch over a great and valiant nation: the earth yields its wheat
and barley, the trees are loaded with fruit, the ewes bring forth
lambs, and the sea abounds with fish by reason of his virtues, and
his people do good deeds under him. Nevertheless, as I sit here in
your house, ask me some other question and do not seek to know my
race and family, or you will recall memories that will yet more
increase my sorrow. I am full of heaviness, but I ought not to sit
weeping and wailing in another person's house, nor is it well to
be thus grieving continually. I shall have one of the servants or
even yourself complaining of me, and saying that my eyes swim with
tears because I am heavy with wine."
Then Penelope answered,
"Stranger, the immortal gods robbed me of all aretê,
whether of face or figure, when the Argives set sail for
Troy and my
dear husband with them. If he were to return and look after my
affairs I should be both more respected [kleos] and
should show a better presence to the world. As it is, I am oppressed
with care, and with the afflictions which a daimôn has
seen fit to heap upon me. The chiefs from all our islands -
Dulichium, Same, and
Zacynthus, as also from
Ithaca itself, are
wooing me against my will and are wasting my estate. I can therefore
show no attention to strangers, nor suppliants, nor to people who say
that they are skilled artisans, but am all the time brokenhearted
about Odysseus. They want me to marry again at once, and I have to
invent stratagems in order to deceive them. In the first place a
daimôn put it in my mind to set up a great tambour-frame
in my room, and to begin working upon an enormous piece of fine
needlework. Then I said to them, ‘Sweethearts, Odysseus is
indeed dead, still, do not press me to marry again immediately; wait
- for I would not have my skill in needlework perish unrecorded -
till I have finished making a shroud for the hero
Laertes, to be
ready against the time when death shall take him. He is very rich,
and the women of the dêmos will talk if he is laid out
without a shroud.’ This was what I said, and they assented;
whereon I used to keep working at my great web all day long, but at
night I would unpick the stitches again by torch light. I fooled them
in this way for three years without their finding it out, but as time
[hôra] wore on and I was now in my fourth year,
in the waning of moons, and many days had been accomplished, those
good-for-nothing hussies my maids betrayed me to the suitors, who
broke in upon me and caught me; they were very angry with me, so I
was forced to finish my work whether I would or no. And now I do not
see how I can find any further shift for getting out of this
marriage. My parents are putting great pressure upon me, and my son
chafes at the ravages the suitors are making upon his estate, for he
is now old enough to understand all about it and is perfectly able to
look after his own affairs, for heaven has blessed him with an
excellent disposition. Still, notwithstanding all this, tell me who
you are and where you come from - for you must have had father and
mother of some sort; you cannot be the son of an oak or of a
rock."
Then Odysseus answered, "Lady,
wife of Odysseus, since you persist in asking me about my family, I
will answer, no matter what it costs me: people must expect to be
pained [akhos] when they have been exiles as long as I
have, and suffered as much among as many peoples. Nevertheless, as
regards your question I will tell you all you ask. There is a fair
and fruitful island in mid-ocean called
Crete; it is thickly peopled
and there are nine cities in it: the people speak many different
languages which overlap one another, for there are Achaeans, brave
Eteocretans, Dorians of three-fold race, and noble Pelasgi. There is
a great town there,
Knossos, where Minos reigned who every nine years
had a conference with Zeus himself. Minos was father to Deukalion,
whose son I am, for Deukalion had two sons Idomeneus and myself.
Idomeneus sailed for
Troy, and I, who am the younger, am called
Aithon; my brother, however, was at once the older and the more
valiant of the two; hence it was in
Crete that I saw Odysseus and
showed him hospitality, for the winds took him there as he was on his
way to
Troy, carrying him out of his course from cape Malea and
leaving him in
Amnisos off the cave of Eileithuia, where the harbors
are difficult to enter and he could hardly find shelter from the
winds that were then raging. As soon as he got there he went into the
town and asked for Idomeneus, claiming to be his old and valued
friend, but Idomeneus had already set sail for
Troy some ten or
twelve days earlier, so I took him to my own house and showed him
every kind of hospitality, for I had abundance of everything.
Moreover, I fed the men who were with him with barley meal from the
public store, and got subscriptions of wine and oxen for them to
sacrifice to their heart's content. They stayed with me twelve
days, for there was a gale blowing from the North so strong that one
could hardly keep one's feet on land. I suppose some unfriendly
daimôn had raised it for them, but on the thirteenth day
the wind dropped, and they got away."
Many a plausible tale did
Odysseus further tell her, and Penelope wept as she listened, for her
heart was melted. As the snow wastes upon the mountain tops when the
winds from South East and West have breathed upon it and thawed it
till the rivers run bank full with water, even so did her cheeks
overflow with tears for the husband who was all the time sitting by
her side. Odysseus felt for her and was for her, but he kept his eyes
as hard as or iron without letting them so much as quiver, so
cunningly did he restrain his tears. Then, when she had relieved
herself by weeping, she turned to him again and said: "Now, stranger,
I shall put you to the test and see whether or not you really did
entertain my husband and his men, as you say you did. Tell me, then,
how he was dressed, what kind of a man he was to look at, and so also
with his companions."
"Lady," answered Odysseus, "it is
such a long time ago that I can hardly say. Twenty years are come and
gone since he left my home, and went elsewhere; but I will tell you
as well as I can recollect. Odysseus wore a mantle of purple wool,
double lined, and it was fastened by a gold brooch with two catches
for the pin. On the face of this there was a device that showed a dog
holding a spotted fawn between his fore paws, and watching it as it
lay panting upon the ground. Every one marveled at the way in which
these things had been done in gold, the dog looking at the fawn, and
strangling it, while the fawn was struggling convulsively to escape.
As for the shirt that he wore next his skin, it was so soft that it
fitted him like the skin of an onion, and glistened in the sunlight
to the admiration of all the women who beheld it. Furthermore I say,
and lay my saying to your heart, that I do not know whether Odysseus
wore these clothes when he left home, or whether one of his
companions had given them to him while he was on his voyage; or
possibly some one at whose house he was staying made him a present of
them, for he was a man of many friends and had few equals among the
Achaeans. I myself gave him a sword of bronze and a beautiful purple
mantle, double lined, with a shirt that went down to his feet, and I
sent him on board his ship with every mark of honor. He had a servant
with him, a little older than himself, and I can tell you what he was
like; his shoulders were hunched, he was dark, and he had thick curly
hair. His name was Eurybates, and Odysseus treated him with greater
familiarity than he did any of the others, as being the most
like-minded with himself."
Penelope was moved still more
deeply as she heard the indisputable proofs
[sêmata] that Odysseus laid before her; and when
she had again found relief in tears she said to him, "Stranger, I was
already disposed to pity you, but henceforth you shall be honored and
made welcome in my house. It was I who gave Odysseus the clothes you
speak of. I took them out of the store room and folded them up
myself, and I gave him also the gold brooch to wear as an ornament.
Alas! I shall never welcome him home again. It was by an ill fate
that he ever set out for that detested city whose very name I cannot
bring myself even to mention."
Then Odysseus answered, "Lady,
wife of Odysseus, do not disfigure yourself further by grieving thus
bitterly for your loss, though I can hardly blame you for doing so. A
woman who has loved her husband and borne him children, would
naturally be grieved at losing him, even though he were a worse man
than Odysseus, who they say was like a god. Still, cease your tears
and listen to what I can tell. I will hide nothing from you, and can
say with perfect truth that I have lately heard of Odysseus as being
alive and on his way home [nostos]; he is in the
district [dêmos] of the Thesprotians, and is
bringing back much valuable treasure that he has begged from one and
another of them; but his ship and all his crew were lost as they were
leaving the Thrinacian island, for Zeus and the sun-god were angry
with him because his men had slaughtered the sun-god's cattle,
and they were all drowned to a man. But Odysseus stuck to the keel of
the ship and was drifted on to the land of the Phaeacians, who are
near of kin to the immortals, and who treated him as though he had
been a god, giving him many presents, and wishing to escort him home
safe and sound. In fact Odysseus would have been here long ago, had
he not thought better to go from land to land gathering wealth; for
there is no man living who is so wily [kerdos] as he
is; there is no one can compare with him. Pheidon king of the
Thesprotians told me all this, and he swore to me - making
drink-offerings in his house as he did so - that the ship was by the
water side and the crew found who would take Odysseus to his own
country. He sent me off first, for there happened to be a Thesprotian
ship sailing for the wheat-growing island of Dulichium, but he showed
me all the treasure Odysseus had got together, and he had enough
lying in the house of king Pheidon to keep his family for ten
generations; but the king said Odysseus had gone to
Dodona that he
might learn Zeus’ mind from the high oak tree, and know whether
after so long an absence he should return to
Ithaca openly or in
secret. So you may know he is safe and will be here shortly; he is
close at hand and cannot remain away from home much longer;
nevertheless I will confirm my words with an oath, and call Zeus who
is the first and mightiest of all gods to witness, as also that
hearth of Odysseus to which I have now come, that all I have spoken
shall surely come to pass. Odysseus will return in this self same
year; with the end of this moon and the beginning of the next he will
be here."
"May it be even so," answered
Penelope; "if your words come true you shall have such gifts and such
good will from me that all who see you shall congratulate you; but I
know very well how it will be. Odysseus will not return, neither will
you get your escort hence, for so surely as that Odysseus ever was,
there are now no longer any such masters in the house as he was, to
receive honorable strangers or to further them on their way home. And
now, you maids, wash his feet for him, and make him a bed on a couch
with rugs and blankets, that he may be warm and quiet till morning.
Then, at day break wash him and anoint him again, that he may sit in
the room and take his meals with Telemakhos. It shall be the worse
for any one of these hateful people who is uncivil to him; like it or
not, he shall have no more to do in this house. For how, sir, shall
you be able to learn whether or no I am superior to others of my sex
both in goodness of heart and understanding [noos], if
I let you dine in my cloisters squalid and ill clad? Men live but for
a little season; if they are hard, and deal hardly, people wish them
ill so long as they are alive, and speak contemptuously of them when
they are dead, but he that is righteous and deals righteously, the
people tell of his praise [kleos] among all lands, and
many shall call him blessed."
Odysseus answered, "Lady, I have
foresworn rugs and blankets from the day that I left the snowy ranges
of
Crete to go on shipboard. I will lie as I have lain on many a
sleepless night hitherto. Night after night have I passed in any
rough sleeping place, and waited for morning. Nor, again, do I like
having my feet washed; I shall not let any of the young hussies about
your house touch my feet; but, if you have any old and respectable
woman who has gone through as much trouble as I have, I will allow
her to wash them."
To this Penelope said, "My dear
sir, of all the guests who ever yet came to my house there never was
one who spoke in all things with such admirable propriety as you do.
There happens to be in the house a most respectable old woman - the
same who received my poor dear husband in her arms the night he was
born, and nursed him in infancy. She is very feeble now, but she
shall wash your feet. Come here," said she, "Eurykleia, and wash your
master's age-mate; I suppose Odysseus’ hands and feet are
very much the same now as his are, for trouble ages all of us
dreadfully fast."
On these words the old woman
covered her face with her hands; she began to weep and made
lamentation saying, "My dear child, I cannot think whatever I am to
do with you. I am certain no one was ever more god-fearing than
yourself, and yet Zeus hates you. No one in the whole world ever
burned him more thigh bones, nor gave him finer hecatombs when you
prayed you might come to a green old age yourself and see your son
grow up to take after you; yet see how he has prevented you alone
from ever getting back to your own home. I have no doubt the women in
some foreign palace which Odysseus has got to are gibing at him as
all these sluts here have been gibing you. I do not wonder at your
not choosing to let them wash you after the manner in which they have
insulted you; I will wash your feet myself gladly enough, as Penelope
has said that I am to do so; I will wash them both for
Penelope's sake and for your own, for you have raised the most
lively feelings of compassion in my mind; and let me say this
moreover, which pray attend to; we have had all kinds of strangers in
distress come here before now, but I make bold to say that no one
ever yet came who was so like Odysseus in figure, voice, and feet as
you are."
"Those who have seen us both,"
answered Odysseus, "have always said we were wonderfully like each
other, and now you have noticed it too.
Then the old woman took the
cauldron in which she was going to wash his feet, and poured plenty
of cold water into it, adding hot till the bath was warm enough.
Odysseus sat by the fire, but ere long he turned away from the light,
for it occurred to him that when the old woman had hold of his leg
she would recognize a certain scar which it bore, whereon the whole
truth would come out. And indeed as soon as she began washing her
master, she at once knew the scar as one that had been given him by a
wild boar when he was hunting on Mount Parnassus with his excellent
grandfather Autolykos - who was the most accomplished thief and
perjurer in the whole world - and with the sons of Autolykos. Hermes
himself had endowed him with this gift, for he used to burn the thigh
bones of goats and kids to him, so he took pleasure in his
companionship. It happened once that Autolykos had gone to the
dêmos of
Ithaca and had found the child of his daughter
just born. As soon as he had done supper Eurykleia set the infant
upon his knees and said, "You must find a name for your grandson; you
greatly wished that you might have one."
‘Son-in-law and daughter,"
replied Autolykos, "call the child thus: I am highly displeased with
a large number of people in one place and another, both men and
women; so name the child ‘Odysseus,’ or the child of anger.
When he grows up and comes to visit his mother's family on Mount
Parnassus, where my possessions lie, I will make him a present and
will send him on his way rejoicing."
Odysseus, therefore, went to
Parnassus to get the presents from Autolykos, who with his sons shook
hands with him and gave him welcome. His grandmother Amphithea threw
her arms about him, and kissed his head, and both his beautiful eyes,
while Autolykos desired his sons to get dinner ready, and they did as
he told them. They brought in a five year old bull, flayed it, made
it ready and divided it into joints; these they then cut carefully up
into smaller pieces and spitted them; they roasted them sufficiently
and served the portions round. Thus through the livelong day to the
going down of the sun they feasted, and every man had his full share
so that all were satisfied; but when the sun set and it came on dark,
they went to bed and enjoyed the boon of sleep.
When the child of morning,
rosy-fingered Dawn, appeared, the sons of Autolykos went out with
their hounds hunting, and Odysseus went too. They climbed the wooded
slopes of Parnassus and soon reached its breezy upland valleys; but
as the sun was beginning to beat upon the fields, fresh-risen from
the slow still currents of Okeanos, they came to a mountain dell. The
dogs were in front searching for the tracks of the beast they were
chasing, and after them came the sons of Autolykos, among whom was
Odysseus, close behind the dogs, and he had a long spear in his hand.
Here was the lair of a huge boar among some thick brushwood, so dense
that the wind and rain could not get through it, nor could the
sun's rays pierce it, and the ground underneath lay thick with
fallen leaves. The boar heard the noise of the men's feet, and
the hounds baying on every side as the huntsmen came up to him, so
rushed from his lair, raised the bristles on his neck, and stood at
bay with fire flashing from his eyes. Odysseus was the first to raise
his spear and try to drive it into the brute, but the boar was too
quick for him, and charged him sideways, ripping him above the knee
with a gash that tore deep though it did not reach the bone. As for
the boar, Odysseus hit him on the right shoulder, and the point of
the spear went right through him, so that he fell groaning in the
dust until the life went out of him. The sons of Autolykos busied
themselves with the carcass of the boar, and bound Odysseus’
wound; then, after saying a spell to stop the bleeding, they went
home as fast as they could. But when Autolykos and his sons had
thoroughly healed Odysseus, they made him some splendid presents, and
sent him back to
Ithaca with much mutual good will. When he got back,
his father and mother were rejoiced to see him, and asked him all
about it, and how he had hurt himself to get the scar; so he told
them how the boar had ripped him when he was out hunting with
Autolykos and his sons on Mount Parnassus.
As soon as Eurykleia had got the
scarred limb in her hands and had well hold of it, she recognized it
and dropped the foot at once. The leg fell into the bath, which rang
out and was overturned, so that all the water was spilt on the
ground; Eurykleia's eyes between her joy and her grief filled
with tears, and she could not speak, but she caught Odysseus by the
beard and said, "My dear child, I am sure you must be Odysseus
himself, only I did not know you till I had actually touched and
handled you."
As she spoke she looked towards
Penelope, as though wanting to tell her that her dear husband was in
the house, but Penelope was unable to look in that direction and
observe what was going on, for Athena had diverted her attention
[noos]; so Odysseus caught Eurykleia by the throat
with his right hand and with his left drew her close to him, and
said, "Nurse, do you wish to be the ruin of me, you who nursed me at
your own breast, now that after twenty years of wandering I am at
last come to my own home again? Since it has been borne in upon you
by heaven to recognize me, hold your tongue, and do not say a word
about it any one else in the house, for if you do I tell you - and it
shall surely be - that if heaven grants me to take the lives of these
suitors, I will not spare you, though you are my own nurse, when I am
killing the other women."
"My child," answered Eurykleia,
"what are you talking about? You know very well that nothing can
either bend or break me. I will hold my tongue like a stone or a
piece of iron; furthermore let me say, and lay my saying to your
heart, when heaven has delivered the suitors into your hand, I will
give you a list of the women in the house who have been ill-behaved,
and of those who are guiltless."
And Odysseus answered, "Nurse,
you ought not to speak in that way; I am well able to form my own
opinion about one and all of them; hold your tongue and leave
everything to heaven."
As he said this Eurykleia left
the room to fetch some more water, for the first had been all spilt;
and when she had washed him and anointed him with oil, Odysseus drew
his seat nearer to the fire to warm himself, and hid the scar under
his rags. Then Penelope began talking to him and said:
"Stranger, I should like to speak
with you briefly about another matter. It is indeed nearly bed time -
for those, at least, who can sleep in spite of sorrow. As for myself,
a daimôn has given me a life of such unmeasurable woe
[penthos], that even by day when I am attending to my
duties and looking after the servants, I am still weeping and
lamenting during the whole time; then, when night comes, and we all
of us go to bed, I lie awake thinking, and my heart becomes prey to
the most incessant and cruel tortures. As the dun nightingale,
daughter of Pandareus, sings in the early spring from her seat in
shadiest covert hid, and with many a plaintive trill pours out the
tale how by mishap she killed her own child Itylos, son of king
Zethos, even so does my mind toss and turn in its uncertainty whether
I ought to stay with my son here, and safeguard my substance, my
bondsmen, and the greatness of my house, out of regard to the opinion
of the dêmos and the memory of my late husband, or
whether it is not now time for me to go with the best of these
suitors who are wooing me and making me such magnificent presents. As
long as my son was still young, and unable to understand, he would
not hear of my leaving my husband's house, but now that he is
full grown he begs and prays me to do so, being incensed at the way
in which the suitors are eating up his property. Listen, then, to a
dream that I have had and interpret it for me if you can. I have
twenty geese about the house that eat mash out of a trough, and of
which I am exceedingly fond. I dreamed that a great eagle came
swooping down from a mountain, and dug his curved beak into the neck
of each of them till he had killed them all. Presently he soared off
into the sky, and left them lying dead about the yard; whereon I wept
in my room till all my maids gathered round me, so piteously was I
grieving because the eagle had killed my geese. Then he came back
again, and perching on a projecting rafter spoke to me with human
voice, and told me to leave off crying. ‘Be of good
courage,’ he said, ‘daughter of Ikarios; this is no dream,
but a vision of good omen that shall surely come to pass. The geese
are the suitors, and I am no longer an eagle, but your own husband,
who am come back to you, and who will bring these suitors to a
disgraceful end.’ On this I woke, and when I looked out I saw my
geese at the trough eating their mash as usual."
"This dream, lady," replied
Odysseus, "can admit but of one interpretation, for had not Odysseus
himself told you how it shall be fulfilled? The death of the suitors
is portended, and not one single one of them will escape."
And Penelope answered, "Stranger,
dreams are very curious and unaccountable things, and they do not by
any means invariably come true. There are two gates through which
these insubstantial fancies proceed; the one is of horn, and the
other ivory. Those that come through the gate of ivory are fatuous,
but those from the gate of horn mean something to those that see
them. I do not think, however, that my own dream came through the
gate of horn, though I and my son should be most thankful if it
proves to have done so. Furthermore I say - and lay my saying to your
heart - the coming dawn will usher in the ill-omened day that is to
sever me from the house of Odysseus, for I am about to hold a
tournament [athlos] of axes. My husband used to set up
twelve axes in the court, one in front of the other, like the stays
upon which a ship is built; he would then go back from them and shoot
an arrow through the whole twelve. I shall make the suitors try to
perform the same feat [athlos], and whichever of them
can string the bow most easily, and send his arrow through all the
twelve axes, him will I follow, and quit this house of my lawful
husband, so goodly and so abounding in wealth. But even so, I doubt
not that I shall remember it in my dreams."
Then Odysseus answered, "my lady
wife of Odysseus, you need not defer your tournament
[athlos], for Odysseus will return ere ever they can
string the bow, handle it how they will, and send their arrows
through the iron."
To this Penelope said, "As long,
sir, as you will sit here and talk to me, I can have no desire to go
to bed. Still, people cannot do permanently without sleep, and heaven
has appointed us dwellers on earth a time for all things. I will
therefore go upstairs and recline upon that couch which I have never
ceased to flood with my tears from the day Odysseus set out for the
city with a hateful name."
She then went upstairs to her own
room, not alone, but attended by her maidens, and when there, she
lamented her dear husband till Athena shed sweet sleep over her
eyelids.