Restless Spirits
Then Hermes called the spirits of the suitors out of the house. He held the golden wand with which he casts a spell to close men’s eyes or open those of sleepers when he wants.
He led the spirits and they followed, squeaking like bats in secret crannies of a cave,
who cling together, and when one becomes detached and falls down from the rock, the rest flutter and squeak—just so the spirits squeaked,
and hurried after Hermes, lord of healing. 10
On open roads they crossed the Ocean stream, went past the rock of Leucas and the gates
of Helius the Sun, and skittered through the provinces of dreams, and soon arrived in fields of asphodel, the home of shadows who have been worn to weariness by life.
They found Achilles’ ghost there, and Patroclus, and Ajax, the most handsome of the Greeks after unmatched Achilles. Agamemnon
had just arrived to join them, in deep grief 20
for his own death, and with him came the others killed by Aegisthus and his bodyguards.
Achilles’ ghost spoke first.
“O Agamemnon!
Men used to say that out of all the heroes, Zeus, Lord of Lightning, favored you the most, because you had command of a great army
in Troy where Greeks endured the pain of war. But death, which no man living can avoid, was destined to arrive at the wrong time.
If only you had died at Troy and won 30
the glory of your rank as a commander!
All of the Greeks and allies would have built a tomb for you, and afterwards your son would have received great honor. As it is,
it was your fate to die a dreadful death.”
The ghost of Agamemnon answered him, “Achilles, son of Peleus, you were
lucky to die at Troy, away from Argos.
The finest warriors of Greece and Troy
fought round your corpse and died. You lay a hero, 40
magnificent amid the whirling dust, your days of driving chariots forgotten.
We fought all day, and would have fought forever, but Zeus sent winds to stop us. Then we brought you back to our ships, and laid you on a bier,
away from battle, and we bathed your skin in heated water and anointed you
with oil. We wept for you and cut our hair.
Your mother heard the news, and with her nymphs
she came up from the waves. An eerie wailing 50
sounded across the sea. The men began
to tremble, and they would have rushed on board, if wise old Nestor had not made them stop.
He always had the best advice for us,
and said, ‘My lords, stay here. It is his mother, coming with her immortal water nymphs
to find her own dead son.’ At this, the Greeks regained their courage. The old Sea King’s daughters gathered around you weeping, and they dressed you
in clothes of the immortals. All nine Muses 60
sang lamentations in their lovely voices.
No one could keep from crying at the sound, so moving was their song. The gods and men were mourning seventeen long nights and days and then we gave you to the pyre, and killed many fat sheep and cattle for your corpse.
You burned in clothes from gods; you were anointed with oil and honey. Troops of warriors
on foot and horseback, fully armed, went marching around your pyre, and made a mighty din. 70
At last Hephaestus’ flame consumed your flesh. When morning came, we gathered your white bones,
Achilles, and anointed them with oil
and unmixed wine. Your mother gave an urn of gold with double handles, which she said Hephaestus made and Dionysus gave her.
Your white bones lay inside it, Lord Achilles, mixed with the bones of your dead friend Patroclus. We laid the urn beside Antilochus,
the friend you most respected after him. 80
The army of Greek warriors assembled, and with all reverence we heaped a mound out on the headland by the Hellespont, large enough to be visible to those
at sea, both now and in the years to come. Your mother asked the gods for splendid prizes and put them in the midst of an arena,
so the best athletes could compete for them. You have seen many burials of heroes,
when young men tie their tunics to compete. 90
But you would have been startled at the riches that silver-footed Thetis brought for you.
You were so dearly loved by all the gods.
You did not lose your name in death. Your fame will live forever; everyone will know
Achilles. As for me, what good was it
that I wound up the war? When I came home Aegisthus and my wicked, fiendish wife murdered me. Zeus had planned it.”
While they talked, Hermes the guide came near them, with the suitors 100
killed by Odysseus. The two great lords, astonished at the sight, rushed up to them, and Agamemnon’s spirit recognized
the son of his old friend, Menelaus, with whom he stayed in Ithaca. He said,
“Amphimedon! What happened to you all? Why have you all come down here to the land of darkness? You are all so young and strong; you must have been the best boys in your town.
Maybe Poseidon raised great waves and winds 110
to wreck your fleet? Or were you all attacked by men on land while you were poaching cows or flocks of sheep, or fighting for a city
and women? You must tell me! We are friends.
Do you remember when I visited
your home, when Menelaus and myself were trying to persuade Odysseus
to join the fleet and sail with us to Troy?
It took a whole damned month to cross the sea;
we had to work so hard to sway that man, 120
who sacked the city.”
Amphimedon’s spirit answered, “Great General, Agamemnon, yes,
I do remember everything you say.
And I will tell, in every gruesome detail, the manner of our death. Odysseus
was gone for many years. We came to court his wife, who had no wish to marry us,
but would not tell us no or make an end.
She planned black death for us, and tricked us, too. She set a mighty loom up in the hall, 130
and wove a wide fine cloth, and said to us, ‘Young suitors, now Odysseus is dead.
I know that you are eager for the wedding, but wait till I am finished with this cloth, so that my weaving will not go to waste.
It is a shroud for when Laertes dies, so that the women in the town do not
blame me because a man who gained such wealth was buried with no winding-sheet.’ Her words
convinced us. So by day she wove the cloth, 140
and then at night by torchlight, she unwove it.
For three long years she fooled us; when the hours and months had passed, the fourth year rolled around, and then a girl who knew the truth told us;
and we found her unraveling her work.
We made her finish it. When she had washed the marvelous huge sheet, she showed it to us, bright as the sun or moon. And then some spirit of ruin brought Odysseus from somewhere
to Ithaca; he went out to the fields, 150
to where the swineherd lived. His own dear son sailed in his black ship back from sandy Pylos. The two of them made plans to murder us.
They showed up at the palace—first the boy, and then Odysseus propped on a stick
and dressed in dirty rags. He seemed to be a poor old homeless man, who suddenly
appeared, led by the swineherd. None of us could recognize him, even those of us
who were a little older than myself. 160
We hurled insulting words and missiles at him, and for a while he patiently endured
abuse in his own home. But when the will of Zeus awakened him, with his son’s help,
he put the splendid weapons in the storeroom
and locked the door. Then came his cunning plan: he told his wife to set for us the axes
and bow. The competition meant our doom, the start of slaughter. None of us could string
the mighty bow—we all were far too weak. 170
But when it was his turn, we shouted out that nobody should give the bow to him, no matter what he said. Telemachus alone insisted that he ought to have it.
At last Odysseus, with calm composure, took it and strung it easily, and shot
all through the iron axes. Then he stood astride the threshold with a fearsome scowl, and started shooting fast. His arrow struck
Antinous, our leader. With sure aim 180
he shot his deadly arrows at more men; those nearest to him fell. It was apparent
some god was helping them. Impelled by rage, they rushed around the palace killing us
in turn. There was a dreadful noise of screaming and broken skulls; the whole floor ran with blood.
So, Agamemnon, we were killed. Our bodies still lie unburied in our killer’s house.
Our families at home do not yet know.
They need to wash the black blood from our wounds 190
and weep for us and lay our bodies out. This is the honor due the dead.”
The ghost of Agamemnon answered, “Lucky you, cunning Odysseus: you got yourself
a wife of virtue—great Penelope.
How principled she was, that she remembered her husband all those years! Her fame will live forever, and the deathless gods will make
a poem to delight all those on earth about intelligent Penelope. 200
Not like my wife—who murdered her own husband!
Her story will be hateful; she will bring bad reputation to all other women, even the good ones.”
So they spoke together, standing in Hades, hidden in the earth.
Meanwhile, Odysseus and his companions
had left the town and quickly reached the farm, won by Laertes long ago—he fought
hard for it, and his house was there; the slaves,
who had to do his wishes, lived and slept 210
and ate their food in quarters that surrounded the central house. One was from Sicily,
the old slave woman who took care of him out in the countryside. Odysseus
spoke to his slaves and to his son.
“Go in, choose the best pig and kill it for our dinner.
And I will test my father, to find out if he will know me instantly on sight,
or not—I have been absent for so long.”
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At that he gave his weapons to the slaves. |
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They quickly went inside. Odysseus |
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walked to the fruitful orchard on his quest. |
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He did not find old Dolius, the steward, |
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nor any of his slaves or sons—he had |
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led them to gather rocks to build dry-walls. |
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Odysseus’ father was alone, |
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inside the well-built orchard, digging earth |
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to make it level round a tree. He wore |
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a dirty ragged tunic, and his leggings |
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had leather patches to protect from scratches. |
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He wore thick gloves because of thorns, and had |
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a cap of goatskin. He was wallowing |
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in grief. The veteran, Odysseus, |
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seeing his father worn by age and burdened |
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by desperate, heartfelt sorrow, stopped beneath |
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whether to kiss his father, twine around him, |
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and tell him that he had come home again, |
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and everything that happened on the way— |
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or question him. He thought it best to start |
240 |
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by testing him with teasing and abuse. |
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With this in mind, Odysseus approached him, |
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as he was digging round the plant, head down. |
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His famous son stood at his side and said, |
“Old man, you know your trade and take good care of this neat garden. Every plant and vine,
and tree—the figs, the pears, the olive trees— and bed of herbs is nicely tended. But
I have to say something—please do not get
angry at me—you do not take good care 250
of your own self. You are unkempt, old man. Your skin is rough and dirty and your clothes are rags. Your master is neglecting you, although you are not lazy. In your height
and face, you seem a leader, not a slave.
You look like someone who would bathe and eat and sleep on fluffy pillows and fine sheets,
as is appropriate for older people.
But tell me this: whose slave are you? Whose garden do you take care of? Also, have I come 260
to Ithaca, as somebody I met
was telling me just now? But he was not a helpful man: when I was asking him
about a friend of mine, an old guest-friend, whether he is alive or dead in Hades,
this fellow would not say, or even listen. A while ago, in my own native land,
I had a guest to stay with me, who was my dearest friend of all my visitors.
He said he was from Ithaca, and that 270
Laertes was his father. I had brought him
into my house, and welcomed him with warmth; I can afford to be quite generous.
I gave him seven heaps of golden treasure, a bowl made all of silver and inlaid
with flowers, twelve unfolded cloaks, and twelve thick blankets, twelve fine mantles, and twelve tunics. Also I gave him four well-trained slave women, beautiful ones, whom he picked out himself.”
His father answered through his tears, “Yes, stranger, 280
you have reached Ithaca. But cruel men have taken over here. You will receive
nothing for all those gifts. If you had found him still living in this land, he would have matched your gifts and welcomed you with open arms before he sent you home. Initial kindness deserves due recompense. But tell me now, how long is it since that unlucky man
visited you? Your guest was my own son! Perhaps fish ate him out at sea, so far 290
from home and family; or birds and beasts ate him on land. His mother did not lay his body out and weep for him; nor I,
his father; nor Penelope his wife,
a wise and wealthy woman. She has not closed her own husband’s eyes or given him a funeral. The dead deserve this honor.
But tell me now, who are you? From what city?
Who are your parents? Do you have a ship
docked somewhere, which conveyed you here with friends 300
and crew? Or did you sail as passenger
on someone else’s ship, which now is gone?”
Lying Odysseus replied, “I will
tell you the truth completely. I am from Alybas, and I have a palace there.
My name is Eperitus; I am son
of King Apheidas, son of Polypemon. An evil spirit struck me and I came from Sicily against my will. My ship
is docked away from town. It is five years 310
since poor, unfortunate Odysseus
came to my home. As he was setting out
we saw good omens—birds towards the right— so we were hopeful we would meet again
as friends, and share more gifts.”
At this, a cloud of black grief wrapped itself around Laertes.
He poured two handfuls of the ashy dust over his gray old head, and started sobbing.
Odysseus felt heart-wrenched to see his own beloved father in this state; sharp pain 320
pierced through his nostrils. He rushed up to him and threw his arms around him, kissing him,
and saying,
“Father! It is me! I have
been gone for twenty years, and now am home, in my own father’s country. Stop your tears.
I will explain, though we do not have long. I killed the suitors in my house; I took revenge for all the pain they caused.”
Laertes
answered, “If you are really my own son
Odysseus come home, show me a sign; 330
let me be sure of it.”
Odysseus
was quick to answer. “First, look here: the scar made by the boar’s white tusk when I had gone to Mount Parnassus. You and Mother sent me, to see my grandfather, Autolycus,
and get the gifts that he had promised me. Next I will tell you all the trees that grow in this fine orchard, which you gave to me.
When I was little, I would follow you
around the garden, asking all their names. 340
We walked beneath these trees; you named them all and promised them to me. Ten apple trees,
and thirteen pear trees, forty figs, and fifty grapevines which ripen one by one—their clusters change as the weather presses from the sky,
sent down by Zeus.”
At that, Laertes’ heart and legs gave way; he recognized the signs Odysseus had given as clear proof.
He threw both arms around his ruthless son,
who caught him as he fainted. When his breath 350
and mind returned, he said,
“O Father Zeus, you gods are truly rulers of Olympus,
if it is true the suitors have been punished for all the monstrous things they did. But I am terrified the Ithacans may soon
attack us here, and spread the news around to all the towns of Cephallenia.”
Scheming Odysseus said, “Do not fear.
Come to the farmhouse, where I sent my boy
to go with the two herdsmen, to prepare 360
dinner as fast as possible.”
With this, the son and father walked towards the house.
They found them serving generous plates of meat and mixing wine. The slave from Sicily
washed brave Laertes, and she rubbed his skin with olive oil, and wrapped a handsome cloak around him. Then Athena, standing near, made him grow taller and more muscular.
When he emerged, Odysseus was shocked
to see him looking like a god. His words 370
flew fast.
“Oh, Father! You look different!
A god has made you taller and more handsome.”
Thoughtful Laertes said, “O Father Zeus,
Athena, and Apollo! If I were
as strong as when I took the sturdy fortress of Nericus, out on the mainland shore, when I was king of Cephallenia,
I would have stood beside you yesterday,
with weapons on my back, and fought with you against the suitors who were in our house! 380
I would have brought so many of them down, you would have been delighted!”
So they spoke.
The work of cooking dinner was complete,
and they sat down on chairs and stools, and reached to take the food. The old slave Dolius
approached them with his sons, who had been working. Their mother, the Sicilian old woman,
had gone to call them. She took care of them, and also the old man, made weak by age.
They saw Odysseus and stared, then stopped, 390
astonished. But he spoke to reassure them.
“Old man, sit down and eat. The rest of you, put your surprise entirely out of mind.
We have been waiting ages; we are eager to have our dinner here.”
But Dolius
ran straight to him with arms outstretched, and took Odysseus’ wrist and kissed his hand,
and let his words fly out.
“My friend! You have come home! We are so very glad to see you!
We never thought this day would come! The gods 400
have brought you here! A heartfelt welcome to you! I pray the gods will bless you!—Does your wife know you have come back home? Or should I send a message?”
But Odysseus said coolly, “Old man, she knows already. Do not bother.”
So Dolius sat back down on his chair. His sons were also clustering around their famous owner, Lord Odysseus,
to welcome him and hold him in their arms.
Then they sat down in turn beside their father. 410
They had their meal together in the farmhouse.
Meanwhile, swift Rumor spread the news all through the city, of the suitors’ dreadful murder.
When people heard, they rushed from all directions towards the palace of Odysseus,
with shouts and lamentations. Then they brought the bodies from the house and buried them.
The ones from distant towns were sent back home by ship. The mourners gathered in the square,
heartbroken. When the people were assembled, 420
Eupeithes first stood up and spoke to them.
This man was inconsolable with grief for his dead son Antinous, the boy Odysseus killed first. His father wept, tears falling as he spoke.
“This scheming man, my friends, has done us all most monstrous wrongs.
First, he took many good men off to sail
with him, and lost the ships, and killed the men!
Now he has come and murdered all the best of Cephallenia. Come on, before 430
he sneaks away to Pylos or to Elis,
we have to act! We will be shamed forever unless we take revenge on him for killing our sons and brothers. I would have no wish to live; I would prefer to die and join
the boys already dead. We have to stop them escaping overseas! Come on, right now!”
He spoke in tears, and pity seized them all. But Medon and the bard had woken up;
they came outside and stood among the crowd. 440
They all were terrified, and Medon said,
“Now listen, Ithacans. Odysseus
could not have done such things without the help of gods. I saw a god myself, disguised
as Mentor, sometimes standing at his side, giving him will to fight, and sometimes rushing all through the hall to make the suitors scatter. They fell like flies.”
Pale terror seized them all.
Then Halitherses, an old warrior,
the only one to know both past and future, 450
stood up; he wished them well. He said to them,
“Now hear me, Ithacans. My friends, it was because of your own cowardice this happened. You did not listen to me, or to Mentor,
when we were telling you to stop your sons from acting stupidly. They did great wrong,
through their impulsiveness; they skimmed the wealth of an important man, and disrespected
his wife, believing he would never come.
But listen now. We must not go and fight, 460
or we will bring more ruin on our heads.”
At that, some stayed there, huddling together,
but more than half jumped up with shouts. They thought Eupeithes had the right idea. They rushed
to arms, and strapped their gleaming armor on, and gathered in a mass before the town.
Eupeithes was their leader—to his cost.
He thought he would avenge his murdered son. In fact, he would not come back home; it was his fate to die out there.
And then Athena 470
spoke to the son of Cronus.
“Father Zeus, highest of powers! Tell what hidden thoughts lie in you. Will you now make yet more war and bitter strife, or join the sides in friendship?”
The Gatherer of Clouds replied, “My child, why ask me this? The plan was your idea, to have Odysseus come take revenge.
Do as you wish. But here is my advice. He has already punished all the suitors,
so let them swear an oath that he will be 480
the king forever, and let us make sure
the murder of their brothers and their sons will be forgotten. Let them all be friends, just as before, and let them live in peace and in prosperity.”
Athena was already eager; at these words she swooped down from Olympus.
Meanwhile, they had finished dinner, and battle-scarred Odysseus
said, “Somebody must go and see if they
are coming near.” A son of Dolius 490
obeyed and went. As he stepped out, he stood across the threshold, and he saw them all
near to the house. At once his words took wings. He told Odysseus,
“Those men are near!
We have to arm, and fast!”
They quickly armed.
Odysseus, his son and their two slaves made four, and Dolius had his six sons.
Laertes and old Dolius were also
needed as fighters, though they had gray hair.
When all of them were dressed in gleaming bronze, 500
they opened up the gates and went outside;
Odysseus was leading them. Athena
came near, disguised as Mentor. When he saw her, weathered Odysseus was glad and turned
towards Telemachus and said,
“Now, son, soon you will have experience of fighting
in battle, the true test of worth. You must not shame your father’s family; for years
we have been known across the world for courage and manliness.”
Telemachus inhaled, 510
then said, “Just watch me, Father, if you want to see my spirit. I will bring no shame
onto your family. You should not speak of shame.”
Laertes, thrilled, cried out, “Ah, gods!
A happy day for me! My son and grandson are arguing about how tough they are!”
With glinting eyes, Athena stood beside him and said, “You are my favorite, Laertes.
Pray to the bright-eyed goddess and her father, then lift and hurl your spear.”
As she said this, 520
Athena breathed great energy inside him. Laertes quickly raised and hurled the spear,
and struck Eupeithes through his bronze-cheeked helmet, which did not stop the weapon; it pierced through.
Then with a thud he fell; his armor clanged around him on the ground. Odysseus
charged the front line, his radiant son beside him;
they hacked with swords and curving spears. They would have killed them all and made sure none of them
could go back home—but then Athena spoke. 530
Her voice held back the fighters.
“Ithacans! Stop this destructive war; shed no more blood, and go your separate ways, at once!”
Her voice struck them with pale green fear and made them drop their weapons. They were desperate to save
their lives, and they turned back towards the city.
Unwavering Odysseus let out
a dreadful roar, then crouched and swooped upon them, just like an eagle flying from above.
But Zeus sent down a thunderbolt, which fell 540
in front of his own daughter, great Athena. She looked at him with steely eyes and said,
“Odysseus, you are adaptable;
you always find solutions. Stop this war, or Zeus will be enraged at you.”
He was
glad to obey her. Then Athena made
the warring sides swear solemn oaths of peace for future times—still in her guise as Mentor.
