Stories from the Odyssey | Page 7

out
a ship, with twenty rowers, and get thee to Pylos, where the aged
Nestor dwells, and inquire of him concerning thy father. From Pylos
proceed to Sparta, the kingdom of Menelaus; he was the last of the
Greeks to reach home, after the fall of Troy; and perchance thou mayest
learn something from him. And if thou hearest sure tidings of thy
father's death, then get thee home, and raise a tomb to his memory, and
keep his funeral feast. Then let thy mother wed whom she will; and if
these men still beset thee, thou must devise means to slay them, either
by guile or openly. Thou art now a man, and must play a man's part.
Hast thou not heard of the fame which Orestes won, when he slew the
murderer of his sire? Be thou valiant, even as he; tall thou art, and fair,
and shouldst be a stout man of thy hands. But 'tis time for me to be
going; my ship awaits me in the harbour, and my comrades will be tired
of waiting for me."
"Stay yet awhile," answered Telemachus, "until thou hast refreshed
thyself with the bath; and I will give thee a costly gift to bear with thee
as a memorial of thy visit." But even as he spoke Mentes rose from his
seat and, gliding like a shadow through the sunlit doorway, disappeared.
Telemachus followed, in wonder and displeasure; but no trace of the
strange visitor was to be seen. Looking upward he saw a great sea-eagle
winging his way towards the shore; and a voice seemed to whisper in

his ear: "No mortal was thy guest, but the great goddess Athene,
daughter of Zeus, and ever thy father's true comrade and faithful ally."
III
With a strange elation of spirits Telemachus returned to the hall, and
sat down among the suitors. Hitherto he had shown a certain weakness
and indecision of character, natural in a young lad, who had grown up
without the strong guiding hand of a father, and who, since the first
dawn of his manhood, had been surrounded by a host of subtle foes.
But the words of Athene have gone home, and he resolves that from
this hour he will take his proper place in the house as his mother's
guardian and the heir of a great prince.
There was an unwonted stillness among that lawless troop, and they sat
silent and attentive in the great, dimly lighted chamber. For the minstrel
was singing a sweet and solemn strain, which told of the home-coming
of the Greeks from Troy, and of all the disasters which befell them on
the way. Suddenly the singer paused in the midst of his lay, for his fine
ear had caught the sound of a sobbing sigh. Looking round, he saw a
tall and stately lady standing in the doorway which led to the women's
apartments at the back of the house. She was closely veiled, but he
instantly recognised the form of Penelope, his beloved mistress.
"Phemius," said Penelope, in a tone of gentle reproach, "hast thou no
other lay to sing, but must needs recite this tale of woe, which fills my
soul with tears, by calling up the image of him for whom I sorrow night
and day?"
Phemius stood abashed, and ventured no reply; but Telemachus
answered for him. "Mother," he said, "blame not the sweet minstrel for
his song. The bard is not the author of the woes of which he sings, but
Zeus assigns to each his portion of good and ill; and thou must submit
to his ordinance, like many another lady who has lost her lord. Thou
hast thy province in the house, and I mine; thine is to govern thy
handmaids, and mine to take the lead where the men are gathered
together. And I say that the minstrel has chosen well."
There was a new note of command in the voice of Telemachus as he
uttered these words. Penelope heard it, and wondered what change had
come over her son; but a hundred bold eyes were gazing insolently at
her, and without another word she turned away, and ascended the steep
stairs which led to her bower. There she reclined on a couch, and her

tears flowed freely; for the song of Phemius had reopened the fountain
of her grief. Presently the sound of sobbing died away, and she drew
her breath gently in a sweet and placid sleep.
The sudden appearance of Penelope had excited the suitors, and they
began to brawl noisily among themselves. Presently Telemachus raised
his voice, commanding silence for the minstrel. "And I have something
else to say unto you," he added. "To-morrow at dawn I bid you come to
the place of assembly, that we may