"Crafty would he be and a cunning trickster who surpassed thee in
wiles, though it were a god who challenged thee. We know craft
enough, both of us, for thou art by far the best of mortals in speech
and counsel and I among the gods am famed for devices and cunning."
Transformed by her into an old beggar, Odysseus went to the hut of his faithful old swineherd Eumaeus; the dogs set upon him, but Eumaeus scared them away and welcomed him to his dwelling. In spite of Odysseus' assurance that the master would return Eumaeus, who had been often deceived by similar words, refused to believe. Feigning himself to be a Cretan, Odysseus saw for himself that the old servant's loyalty was steadfast; a deft touch brings out his care for his master's substance:
"laying a bed for Odysseus before the fire, he went out and slept
among the dogs in a cave beneath the breath of the winds."
By the intervention of Athena the two leading characters are brought together. She stood beside the sleeping Telemachus in Sparta, warning him of the ambush set for him in Ithaca and bidding him to land on a lonely part of the coast whence he was to proceed to the hut of Eumaeus. On his departure from Sparta an omen was interpreted by Helen to mean that Odysseus was not far from home. As he was on the point of leaving Pylos on the morrow a bard named Theoclymenus appealed to him for protection, for he had slain a man and was a fugitive from justice. Taking him on board Telemachus frustrated the ambush, landing in safety; he proceeded to Eumaeus' hut, where Odysseus had with some difficulty been persuaded to remain.
The dogs were the first to announce the arrival of a friend, gambolling about him. After speaking a word of cheer to Eumaeus Telemachus enquired who the stranger was; hearing that he was a Cretan he lamented his inability to give him a welcome in his home owing to the insolence of his enemies. Remembering the anxiety of his mother during his absence he sent Eumaeus to the town to acquaint her with his arrival. Athena seized the opportunity to reveal Odysseus to his son, transforming him to his own shape. After a moment of utter amazement at the marvel of the change, Telemachus ran to his father and fell upon his neck, his joy finding expression in tears. The two then laid their plans for the destruction of the suitors. By the time Eumaeus had returned Odysseus had resumed his sorry and tattered appearance.
Telemachus went to the town alone, bidding Eumaeus bring the stranger with him. They were met by one Melanthius a goatherd, who covered them with insults. "In truth one churl is leading another, for the god ever bringeth like to like. Whither art thou taking this glutton, this evil pauper, a kill-joy of the feast? He hath learned many a knavish trick and is like to refuse to labour; creeping among the people he would rather ask alms to fill his insatiate maw." Leaping on Odysseus, he kicked at him, yet failed to stir him from the pathway. Swallowing the insult Odysseus walked towards his house. A superb stroke of art has created the next incident. In the courtyard lay Argus, a hound whom Odysseus had once fed. Neglected in the absence of his master he had crept to a dung-heap, full of lice. When he marked Odysseus coming towards him he wagged his tail and dropped his ears, but could not come near his lord. Seeing him from a little distance Odysseus wiped away his tears unnoticed of Eumaeus and asked whose the hound was. Eumaeus told the story of his neglect: "but the doom of death took Argus straightway after seeing Odysseus in the twentieth year". In the palace Telemachus sent his father food, bidding him ask a charity of the wooers. Antinous answered by hurling a stool which struck his shoulder. The noise of the high words which followed brought down Penelope who protested against the godless behaviour of the suitors and asked to interview the stranger in hope of learning some tidings of her husband, but Odysseus put her off till nightfall when they would be less likely to suffer from the insolence of the suitors.
In Ithaca was a beggar named Irus, gluttonous and big-boned but a coward. Encouraged by the winkings and noddings of the suitors he bade Odysseus begone. A quiet answer made him imagine he had to deal with a poltroon and he challenged him to a fight. The proposal was welcomed with glee by the suitors, who promised on oath to see fair play for the old man in his quarrel with a younger. But when they saw the mighty limbs and stout frame of Odysseus, they deemed that Irus had brought trouble on his own head. Chattering with fear Irus had to be forced to the combat. One blow was enough to lay him low; the ease with which Odysseus had disposed of his foe made him for a time popular with the suitors.
Under an inspiration of Athena, Penelope came down once more to chide the wooers for their insolence; she also upbraided them for their stinginess.
"Yours is not the custom of wooers in former days who were wont to
sue for wedlock with the daughter of a rich man and contend among
themselves. Such men offer oxen and stout cattle and glorious gifts;
they will never consume another's substance without payment."
Stung by the taunt, they gave her the accustomed presents, while Odysseus rejoiced that she flattered their heart in soft words with a different intent in her spirit. The insolence of the suitors was matched by the pertness of the serving maids, of whom Melantho was the most impudent. A threat from Odysseus drew down upon him the wrath of the suitors who were with difficulty persuaded by Telemachus to depart home to their beds.