se winds, and he was afraid he and his crew would run out of food. But he was saved by Proteus' daughter Eidothee, to whom he explained that they must have been marooned there through having offended against some god. Could she--whichever all-knowing goddess she was--tell him what god had done it, and how he could get home? (351-81) She replied: Since you ask, I'll explain. My father is Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, servant of Poseidon. He comes here regularly. If you can catch him, he'll show you how to get home and relate all the good and bad that's been done there while you were away. Menelaos said: It's hard for a mortal to catch a god! Can you tell me a way to do it? The goddess said: Yes! The Old Man comes here from the sea about noon, to sleep, and with him a pack of malodorous seals. I'll take you to the spot at daybreak, with three of your best men, and lay you down there (382-409).
410-80: Now, she went on, about the Old Man: he'll count the seals, and then lie down among them. When he's asleep, seize hold of him and hang on however hard he struggles to escape--he can assume all sorts of shapes! But hold him firm, and when he returns to his own form and questions you, then release him, and ask him what god is angry with you and how you're to get home (410-24). With that she plunged back into the sea, and Menelaos went back to his ships. Next morning, he says, I took my three chosen comrades and returned. She meanwhile came back with the new-flayed skins of four seals, and scooped out four pits in the sand, and made us lie in them, covered with the sealskins. The smell was horrible, but she overcame it by placing ambrosia under our noses (425-46). Later seals emerged from the sea in droves, and at noon came Proteus. He counted them--including us and our sealskins in his tally--and lay down to sleep. We then rushed him and held him down while he changed to wild beasts, water, a tree, and so on; but presently he wearied and asked me which god had told us how to ambush him and what it was we wanted. I said: You're a god, you know how long I've been here, the whole story! So, tell me, what god keeps me here, and how can I get back home? Well, said Proteus, you should have made proper offerings to Zeus and the rest before you set out! Now, before you can reach home you have to make another trip to Egypt and offer the gods rich sacrifices: only then will they grant you a safe homecoming (447-80).
481-569: Heartbroken, Menelaos said: I'll do all this. But tell me, did the Achaians whom Nestor and I left all make it home? Or did some perish? Proteus said: Why ask such questions? It's not your business to know, and you won't be happy knowing, for many were killed and many left behind, though only two leaders died on the homeward journey, and there's one who may be alive still but is held back somewhere far off across the sea (481-98). Aias [2] was lost on the voyage, driven onto the rocks by Poseidon and drowned, because he boasted he'd escaped shipwreck despite the gods. As for your brother, [Agamemnon,] he got safely home with Here's help. But his arrival was told to his cousin Aigisthos by a watchman who'd been well paid to look out for him; Aigisthos chose twenty men to kill him at a feast welcoming him home, and he was slaughtered like an ox in the stall (499-537). At this news Menelaos wept and wanted to die, but Proteus said to him: Don't weep; just get home as soon as you can. You may find Aigisthos alive still, or Orestes may have got ahead of you and killed him, and you'll just be in time for the funeral feast. Comforted by this despite his grief, Menelaos now said: So, I now know about these two, but who's the third one, who may be alive somewhere overseas and unable to return? Proteus answered him: That's Ithakan Laertes' son! I saw him on an island, kept there by the nymph Kalypso: he's got no comrades, no ships. But you yourself, Menelaos, are destined not to die in Argos but to be conveyed by the immortals to the peaceful haven of the Elysian Fields, since as Helen's husband you're son-in-law to Zeus (538-69).
570-624: With that Proteus dove into the sea, and Menelaos went back with his comrades to the ships and to sleep. Next morning they relaunched the ships in a sunny sea, restepped the masts, set the sails, and rowed back to Egypt. After appeasing the gods with sacrifices, Menelaos set up a burial mound for Agamemnon and set out for home. The gods gave him an easy voyage.
This concluded his reminiscence to Telemachos, to whom he now said: Stay another twelve days or so, and then I'll send you home with splendid gifts, horses and a chariot, and a fine cup, for you to pour libations from and remember me by (570-92). Telemachos said: I'd love to stay on with you, but my comrades in Pylos are anxious to be moving; and as for gifts, Ithake's not good terrain for horses and chariots. Menelaos smiled and said: The way you talk shows you're well bred. I'll change the gifts. I'll give you my best and richest treasure--a beautifully made silver and gold mixing bowl, the work of Hephaistos. While they talked, dinner guests were coming to Menelaos' abode with contributions of sheep and wine and bread (593-624).
625-95: Meanwhile the suitors were sporting with discus and javelin outside Odysseus' house. Their leaders, Antinoos and Eurymachos, sitting there, were now approached by Phronios' son Noemon, who asked Antinoos if he knew when Telemachos was getting back from Pylos, since he, Noemon, had lent him a ship and now needed it back to go over to Elis. This surprised them: they had no idea that Telemachos had gone to Pylos; they thought he was somewhere out on his estate. Antinoos said: When did he go? With whom? Friends or servants? And did he commandeer the ship, or did you lend it him freely? Noemon said: I lent it him freely, and it was some of the best young men in Ithake who went with him. And I saw either Mentor, or a god who resembled him exactly, boarding with them as their leader--and that was odd, because he was also here yesterday at sunup, though by that time he'd already sailed for Pylos. That said, he left (625-57). The other two, angry, called the suitors together, and Antinoos addressed them in a fury, saying: We never thought Telemachos would actually do it, but now he has, and taken good men with him! He'll soon start making trouble for us. May Zeus destroy him before he reaches full manhood! So give me a ship and a score of men, and I'll ambush him in the strait between Ithake and Same! They all approved what he said, and went to the house. Now Medon the herald heard what they were plotting and at once took the news to Penelope. As he approached, she asked him why the suitors had sent him: Was it to tell the maidservants to drop their work and prepare a feast for them? Oh, may they do no more wooing and feasting! she cried. All of you! Wasting my son's wealth! None of you listened when told by your fathers what a just and virtuous king Odysseus was, never treating any man outrageously! Oh, your improper deeds are in plain view, and today good conduct earns no thanks! (658-95)
696-757: Medon replied: I wish there was nothing worse than that! But these suitors are plotting a vile action, something I pray Zeus never lets happen! Telemachos went to Pylos and Sparta after news of his father, and they're planning to murder him on his return journey. Penelope was shocked into tearful speechlessness but finally said: Why did my son do this? There was no need! Won't even his name be remembered? Medon said: I don't know whether he himself had the idea of finding out his father's fate, or if maybe a god drove him to it. He then left, and Penelope sank down on the floor in misery, and said, sobbing, to her handmaids: Zeus has visited more grief on me than on any other woman of my age. I lost, long ago, my lion-hearted husband, of great fame; and now the storm winds have swept away my son too, without my knowledge (696-728). None of you thought of waking me, though you all knew he was leaving! Had I known his intentions, I'd have stopped him or died in the attempt! Now find and send me Dolios, my gardener--he must go and tell Laertes, who may have some plan, may go and make a weeping plea to the people who are determined to destroy this family, his and that of Odysseus (729-41). At this point the old nurse, Eurykleia, spoke up, saying: You may kill me, but I must tell you: I knew about this; I gave him food and wine for the trip. He made me swear not to tell you for twelve days, or till you missed him yourself--didn't want you to spoil your beauty by weeping! Now, you go bathe, and put on clean clothes, and go upstairs with your maidservants, and pray to Athene to save him from death. And don't lay more burdens on that overburdened old man: I don't think the gods so hate his family line that they'll wipe it out! (742-57)
758-847: So she comforted Penelope and stopped her weeping. Penelope bathed, put on clean clothes, went upstairs with her maids, and prayed thus to Athene: Hear me, goddess! If Odysseus ever burned rich offerings for you, remember that now! Save my dear son, protect him from these evil suitors! The goddess heard her prayer. Meanwhile the suitors were in an uproar, saying things like: Oh, the much-courted queen is busy about our marriage; she's no idea that her son's death has been ordered. But it was they who had no idea how things would turn out. Antinoos now reprimanded them, saying: Don't talk so openly or confidently! Someone inside the house may hear you. Rather, keep silent, and let's carry out the action we've planned and are all agreed on (759-77). With that he chose twenty reliable men, and they went down to the shore, launched their ship, rigged her, armed themselves, moored her in the channel, disembarked, and waited till evening. Meanwhile Penelope lay upstairs, not eating or drinking, wondering till she fell asleep whether her son would be killed by the suitors or escape. Then Athene had another idea. She made a phantom in the likeness of Penelope's sister, Iphthime, and sent it to her. It entered her bedroom, stood over her, and said: Are you asleep, sister? The gods don't want you to weep or be distressed: Your son will come back; in no way do they see him as a wrongdoer (778-807). Penelope answered her as she slept: Why are you here, sister? You've not come before; you live too far away. And now you tell me to stop lamenting, despite all that I suffer. I've lost my lion-hearted husband, and now my son's sailed away--a mere child still, who knows nothing about the ways of grown men. It's for him I'm most concerned, in case he's either killed or drowned: there's a plot to murder him on his way home. The phantom responded: Cheer up, for he has a guide such as men pray for: Pallas Athene! She pities your grief, and it is she who sent me to you. Penelope said: If you're a god, and have heard the goddess' word, tell me about that other sorrowful man: Is he alive? or dead? But the phantom answered: No, of him I shall not speak openly: windy talk is worthless. With that the phantom vanished, and Penelope woke, comforted by so plain a vision. Meanwhile the suitors embarked and set sail, murder on their minds. Between Ithake and Same is a small, rocky islet, Asteris, with a good harbor. It was here they waited in ambush for Telemachos (808-47).
BOOK 5
1-174: At a council of the gods, Athene reminds Zeus that Odysseus is being constrained by the nymph Kalypso on her remote island; and not only is he not on his way home, but there's a plot being hatched by the suitors to kill his only son. Zeus replies that she herself already has a plan for Odysseus to come home and revenge himself on the suitors, and has his, Zeus', approval for a scheme to take care of Telemachos and frustrate the suitors' plot (1-27). Zeus now recaps the plan for Odysseus' return to Hermes: he's to reach the land of the Phaiakians on a raft on the twentieth day; they will show him all honor and convey him home together with more gold, bronze, and clothes than he'd ever have been awarded as spoils at Troy. All this Hermes is to repeat to Kalypso, who is to do nothing to hinder his return, and indeed must facilitate it in every way. Hermes takes off; his flight is described, as are the delightful amenities of Kalypso's home when he arrives at her island (28-74).
75-147: Hermes confronts Kalypso, but Odysseus is away on the seashore, gazing out miserably and resenting his (very comfortable) fate. Kalypso greets Hermes, is curious about his visit: he doesn't often come her way. Hermes gives her a quick rundown on the unfortunate returns of the Achaians from Troy, with a peremptory order from Zeus that she's to release the one that's ended up with her (75-115). Kalypso complains, with examples, about the way the gods resent it when any female divinity makes out with a mortal, and says what a good time she's given Odysseus. But she knows Zeus can't be crossed; however, she has no ships or crews for Odysseus. He's got to figure out a way himself. She can only advise him. With a warning to her not to do anything to provoke Zeus' wrath, Hermes takes off on his homeward journey (116-47).
148-268: Kalypso now goes to Odysseus with the news. Odysseus is desperate for his return, since (as H. snidely points out in an aside) "the nymph no longer pleased him." Cheer up, she tells him. I'm going to send you on your way. You make a raft, and I'll give you supplies, and off you go! But Odysseus is suspicious of this (unexplained!) change of heart, and won't act unless she swears a great oath that she's not planning some kind of mischief against him. Fine, she says, and swears the oath, saying it's advice that she herself would follow. They go back to her cave and have a meal: mortal food for him, ambrosia and nectar for her. She makes a last sad bid for his company. (Surely I'm as attractive as your wife? Don't you want to be immortal?) Odysseus replies: Don't be cross. I know a mortal woman can't compete with a goddess. I'm just homesick. And if some god shipwrecks me again, I'll just have to put up with it. It gets dark. They go to bed and make love. (There's something very realistic about this sequence.) (148-227) Next day the work of building a raft starts. Odysseus is given an axe, an adze, and augers (probably also a saw, though that we aren't told). Over the next three days, he fells twenty trees (!!) and trims them. He's obviously skilled. He equips the raft with gunwales, a sail, sheets, and halyards, and a steering oar. On the fourth day, all is done. Kalypso now bathes him and dresses him and gives him his supplies, and, finally, orders up a good tailwind for him. He sets sail (228-68).
269-364: For seventeen days Odysseus sails peacefully, steering by the Bear, as Kalypso had instructed him. On the eighteenth day, he actually sights the Phaiakian coastline. But then he is spotted by Poseidon, on his way back to Olympos from his visit to the Aithiopians. He knows that Phaiakia is where Odysseus is fated to arrive eventually on his destined homecoming. But, muttering that the gods must have had a change of heart in his absence, Poseidon decides that, nearing home though Odysseus is, he, Poseidon, can still give him plenty of trouble before he actually gets there, and unleashes a great storm on him. Odysseus wishes he'd died at Troy; at least he'd have gotten a proper funeral then (269-322). A huge wave now flings him off the raft, breaks his mast, and washes away his steering oar. He manages to get back on what's left of the raft, but he and it are now mere playthings of the winds, which toss them about every which way. The sea nymph Ino (Leukothea, "white goddess") takes pity on him, tells him to leave the raft and swim for it, and gives him her magic veil to keep him afloat. He has to return it to the sea when he's safely ashore. Even now Odysseus suspects a possible trap. So he decides to stick with the raft till it breaks up, and only then to swim for it (323-64).
366-493: Poseidon now sends an ultra-powerful wave that does indeed break up the raft. Odysseus bestrides one plank as though riding a horse, strips off his waterlogged clothes, and binds on Leukothea's veil, ready to swim. Poseidon shakes his head, tells Odysseus to go on wandering till he gets where Zeus has ordained: he'll still have plenty of trouble en route! He then whips up his horses and drives off to his domain at Aigai. Athene promptly moves in and dissipates the storm. Even so the waves still buffet Odysseus about for two days and nights (365-89). On the third day the gale ceases, and Odysseus scans the shore. Dangerous crags and crashing breakers: he might be killed trying to land. But if he swims on he may be carried out to sea again by the storm. He makes an unsuccessful attempt to land and skins his hands. Prompted by a suggestion put into his head by Athene, he retreats from the surge, and swims on till he sees the outflow of a river. He prays to the river god, who creates calm for him. He struggles ashore and lies there, crushed by seawater, breathless, exhausted (390-457). When he recovers he returns the magical veil to the sea. But what to do? If he stays where he is, frost and dew may finish him off. But if he goes inland and hides under bushes, wild beasts may get him. In the end, he decides this last is the lesser of two evils. He finds a hollow under two bushes, thick with fallen leaves, digs himself in, covers himself snugly with leaves, and Athene puts him into a deep sleep (458-93). He has reached Scheria, as he was fated to do.
BOOK 6
1-109: While Odysseus sleeps, Athene goes to the Phaiakians' city (briefly described) and enters the house of the king, Alkinoos, in furtherance of Odysseus' eventual homecoming. She chooses the bedroom of his young daughter, Nausikaa, goes through the closed doors "like a breath of wind," and stands over the girl in the likeness of a local shipwright's daughter, a close friend of Nausikaa's, and proceeds to reproach her for not having bothered to do the laundry lately--the kind of thing, she says, that gets you a good reputation, makes you marriageable! You have suitors, good ones, already! So ask your father this morning for a wagon to go to the washing troughs! I'll come with you! (1-40). This said, Athene goes back to Olympos, which gets a brief, unexpected, and striking tribute as a kind of radiant, windless and cloudless Shangri-la. Nausikaa wakes, is impressed by her "dream," and asks her father for a wagon to do the laundry, but modestly says nothing about marriage, only what an amount of dirty clothes her bachelor brothers get through. No sooner said than done; the wagon is set up with mules, mama packs a picnic lunch, with oil for after bathing, Nausikaa takes the whip and drives, and she and her handmaids set off (41-84).They arrive at the troughs, do the laundry, and spread the clothes out to dry. While the clothes are drying, they bathe, rub themselves with oil, and eat their lunch. Then they play ball: Nausikaa looks like Artemis (85-109).
110-250: When the girls are packing the dry laundry to go home, Athene decides to wake Odysseus and bring him into their presence, intending that Nausikaa will lead him home to her parents. The ball goes into a deep eddy, the girls all shout, and Odysseus wakes, recognizes the voices as those of girls. He decides to investigate, and emerges, naked except for a leafy branch held in front of his private parts, looking like a wild mountain lion (110-34). The girls are scared and run: only Nausikaa holds her ground. Should he clasp her knees or stay apart and supplicate her