Upon this the old man began to talk of Laertes and the good mother, who had long ago succumbed to sorrow and been laid in the grave. The servants had long since betaken themselves to rest, and when midnight came the host said: “Now we too will sleep a little. But it is sweet to pour out one’s troubles, and thou art a sensible man to whom it is a pleasure to talk. There is always time enough for sleep.”
During this same night the ship which carried Telemachus had approached the island in safety, having escaped the vigilance of the spies, and landed on the northern coast. With the first rays of the rising sun Telemachus disembarked with his companions and offered sacrifice. The good youth little suspected how near his father was. He bound on the shining sandals and took the heavy lance, prepared to separate from his companions whom he ordered to row to the city. He appointed a meeting the next day in his father’s palace to offer them the journey’s meed—a stately banquet of meat and wine.
Telemachus had but one more care. In Pylos a soothsayer from Argos, Theoclymenus, had joined his company and requested passage in the ship. They had gladly brought him to Ithaca, but he wanted to go farther, and Telemachus was so afraid of the suitors that he scarcely dared bring a guest with him to his house. They therefore consulted together as to where the stranger should be entertained. Telemachus proposed Eurymachus, the most insolent of the suitors, as host, as he was the most important man on the island and could best entertain and send him on his way. “He is now, as my father is away,” he continued, “almost the supreme ruler here and is determined to marry my mother, so that he may acquire, together with the property of my family, also the title of king and the principal seat in the folks’ assembly, which of right belongs to our house. Now Jupiter only knows whether or not he will gain his ends.”
As he said this, behold, to their right a vulture, holding a dove in its talons, flew past. It was tearing the dove in its flight, so that its feathers fell to the earth between Telemachus and his ship. Then Theoclymenus took the youth quickly aside and said softly: “Friend, what thou hast just spoken shall never be fulfilled. This token of the gods tells me that rule over the princes of Ithaca shall always remain with thy house.”
The heart of Telemachus was filled with joy at this prophecy. He bade the stranger farewell, and one of his men conducted him to the dwelling of Eurymachus, while Telemachus went to the hut of the swineherd, as Athene had commanded him.
Chapter X
Arrival of Telemachus—Ulysses reveals himself to his Son
When Telemachus reached the enclosure of the chief herder, the sun was already high in the heavens. The shepherds had scattered with their flocks and herds in fields and forest, and the excellent Eumæus was lying with Ulysses before the blazing fire where they had just roasted a piece of meat for their breakfast. “Listen, I hear footsteps,” said Ulysses, “and the dogs do not bark. It must be one of thy comrades or acquaintances.”
Scarcely were the words spoken when Telemachus appeared in the gateway, the dogs leaping about him in joyful welcome. The swineherd was so astonished that he let fall his cup and hurried out to meet the new arrival. He threw his arms about him, wept over him, and gazed upon him in delight as though he had arisen from the dead. It was a long time before he could speak, and then he broke out tenderly: “Hast thou really come, Telemachus? Art thou here, my sweet life? I feared never to see thee again, when I heard that thou hadst sailed for Pylos. But enter, dear son, that I may delight in thee; for not often dost thou visit the shepherd, preferring to mingle with the swarm of suitors in the city.”
“How canst thou talk thus, old man?” interrupted the youth. “But never mind. I have come to thee to find out whether my mother has listened to one of the suitors and left my poor house.”
“No, indeed,” answered Eumæus. “She still sits and weeps away her days and nights in thy palace. Thou wilt find her as thou didst leave her.” The two now entered the hut, and the unknown beggar whose heart was beating with joy at the sight of his handsome son controlled himself with difficulty. With the deference of the poor he arose from his couch to give place to the stranger, but Telemachus prevented him, saying: “Sit still, stranger. I will find a seat somewhere.” Eumæus brought out the remains of the meal and they all sat down to eat and drink. At length Telemachus said: “Now, father Eumæus, do thou go to the city for me and bring the news secretly to Penelope that I am safely returned from Pylos. But take care that no suitor hears it, for many enemies are plotting against me.”