The sun had already warmed the air and my swineherd had me sit down under the shade of a leafy maple. He brought me fresh milk, warm bread and honey from his own beehives.
‘I feel like a boy again!’ I exclaimed. ‘I can’t tell you what joy it gives me to taste these flavours from my childhood.’
I took off my white tunic and put on my beggar’s rags. I threw the worn, soiled rope that closed the sack I carried over my shoulder and grasped my walking stick, the gift of a goddess. Eumeus took a basket with gifts for the queen and we set off walking.
Crossing woods, fields and groves next to the man who had cared for them for so many years, knowing without believing that I’d be back. It filled me with an intense emotion, like when I would go walking with my father and try to catch up my small steps with his long, heavy ones. We chatted about sowing and harvesting, about lambs and goats and about my people. Eumeus had a lot to tell me: who was still alive and who had gone, carried off by the Chaera of death. How far we were from the seaweed-dark cliffs and the livid waves of Cimmeria where the mouth of Hades was! Those images hadn’t vanished from my heart, but what I saw before me was so beautiful that it perfectly matched the dream I used to have in my darkest, most trying hours: this light, these colours. The scents, the look and the sounds of my island.
When we arrived at a fork in the road, Eumeus pointed to the left: ‘The king your father’s farm is that way. Are you sure you don’t want to go and see him? It wouldn’t take long.’
I did want to, with all my heart, but I knew it was better that I didn’t. What I needed to do was quite clear to me and we turned towards the palace instead. ‘When what has to be done is finished,’ I told Eumeus. ‘Not before.’
The palace became visible on the hillside as we made our way out of the woods and began to cross pastures and cultivated fields. My home!
I stopped to gaze at it, almost afraid that it would disappear from one moment to the next like a mirage, without realizing that we were blocking the way, on the narrow path, of a herd of goats. Eumeus motioned for me to join him on the side of the road. ‘That’s Melanthius, the goatherd,’ he told me. ‘He’s a troublemaker. Don’t talk to him if you can avoid it.’
My wise swineherd was right again. Melanthius walked up beside us, spat on the ground and started railing at us. ‘Will you take a look at this. One derelict leading the way for another one. Don’t we have enough of our own, Eumeus, without you bringing in foreigners as well?’
He threw a stone that hit me on the shoulder. It hurt, and I was not used to letting an insult ride. My hand fell to my belt where my dagger was hidden. Eumeus became alarmed and shook his head to warn me not to do what I was thinking. In fact, my first impulse had been to fall on the lout and smash his skull against a rock, but that would surely have attracted unwanted attention. Better to hold my fury in check and wait for the day of vengeance. It was coming, and that day all my scores would be settled. Even with him.
‘He’s their friend,’ hissed Eumeus. ‘He does everything the princes tell him to. Even spying.’
‘Then he’ll get what he deserves. In good time. Everything in good time.’
And so we went on. The road began to climb upwards. We arrived at the walled fountain and I stopped to drink some cool water. The palace was close now, and the din coming from inside could already be heard, along with the squealing of a pig that was being butchered. I could feel my blood boiling. I stopped right in front of the entry to the courtyard and took a deep breath and looked over at Eumeus, who nodded back. It was time to go in.
‘Will you go alone, wanax?’ he said in a low voice.
‘I know this house well,’ I replied.
‘I know. I was wondering if you needed help.’
‘No. Telemachus will be inside.’
‘Then I’ll go to the back door, where the kitchens are, to deliver my gifts for the queen. I found some black figs, I know how much she likes them.’
He walked away and I entered the courtyard with a hood over my head, leaning on my stick. A wave of memories hit me. I saw myself as a child, running through that very place, Eumeus a bit older than I was and Philoetius just a little boy, and Mentor . . . Mentor who, years later, I would see appear and disappear, his features shifting and fading mysteriously into other semblances.
I could hear the scolding of mai Euriclea, could see the hero Laertes my father departing for his adventures on the sea, clad in bronze, shining like a star . . . and my mother, the queen, sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by her maidservants, spinning soft yarn, dyed purple or light blue. A lost world that would never return.
But just as I braced myself to enter the hall full of unfamiliar, arrogant voices, I heard a feeble, but unmistakable sound. I would never forget it. The soft yelping of a dog. I turned and my heart filled with tears. He lay on a dungheap, mangy and tick-ridden, his eyes glassy and nearly spent. Argus! My Argus, my hunting companion, who would race carefree through the woods and among the silvery olive trees. He was dragging himself laboriously towards me. He alone, he before anyone, had recognized me, after twenty years.
He’d waited for me all that time, repelling death as she nipped at his heels, to see me one last time and then to die at my feet.
I hid my tears in my worn hood and went in.
18
I THOUGHT, AS I ENTERED the hall, that Telemachus must have already arrived and had probably already spoken with his mother. Penelope would surely be in her rooms upstairs, with the other women and with my nurse. The thought of being so close to her took my breath away. My heart, long resigned to the immense distances that had kept us apart, was pounding hard. The bad luck and misadventures that had schemed for so long to push me to the ends of the earth had been vanquished at last.
And there I was, crossing the threshold. There was the door of solid ash. Without letting anyone see I brushed my lips against the fragrant cypress jamb. The house was beautiful and solidly built by the generations of kings that had reigned over Ithaca and extended their rule over all the islands. There was no opulence, no lavish display of wealth, but it showed strength, dignity and simplicity, the virtues that I had learned from my father.
At the end of the great hall was a door in solid oak, bolted shut: the Hall of the Argonauts! It was there that we had received wanax Menelaus, lord of Sparta, who had come to decry Helen’s abduction. The walls celebrated the glory of my father, Argonaut and hero, and all of his comrades in arms. Penelope had been wise to make it inaccessible, or Telemachus, if it had been he who made the decision.
But when I’d finally made my way in and looked around me, I wanted badly to close my eyes. Scores of men of different ages, richly garbed, were seated on carved wooden thrones draped with bright woollen cloth and sheepskins. Tables were set in front of them, crowded with trays and cups of bronze and silver, or even gold, and the hearth at the centre of the room crackled under spits laden with big chunks of beef and pork. There was a terrible din. The guests were speaking loudly, boasting, quarrelling, drinking. They must have been armed when they entered, but all their weapons were lined up against the wall at the entrance. Another sign of Penelope’s or Telemachus’ authority. These were the suitors of the queen of Ithaca, my bride, those who wanted to take my place next to her in our wedding bed!
In a corner, sitting on a bench, I recognized Phemius. He had changed greatly. His hair was thinning and going white at the temples and his beard was turning white as well. He was dressed modestly and his head was bowed as if he were slumbering. Between his knees was the same lyre that he’d had when I’d left for Troy.
He didn’t see me then, but Telemachus did, as he descended the stairs from the women’s quarters. We exchanged a look and he gave me an imperceptible nod. Then I went to sit at the threshold of the main door while a carver took the spits from the fire and passed among the princes of Ithaca and the islands so they could choose the pieces they liked best. He was followed by a steward who was filling their cups w
ith wine. They were hungry and there were so many of them! So this was what went on every day, this invasion of my home and the devouring of my herds.
Telemachus walked towards me. He called out to Eumeus: ‘Give our guest a piece of bread, and give him permission to ask for alms in this house.’
Eumeus obeyed. As he handed me the bread, he asked me softly if I’d heard and then, in a loud voice that could be heard by all, said: ‘Telemachus, son of glorious Odysseus and head of this house, gives you permission to ask the princes for something to eat with the bread of hospitality he offers you. Don’t be ashamed to ask. When a man is forced to beg, he has to put his pride aside.’
‘I thank your generous master, good man, and the gods who protect him,’ I replied.
‘Who is this scrounger? What hole did he crawl out of?’ shouted one of the suitors. They were all wolfing down my meat and guzzling my best wine, but I had to take this, and suppress the rage in my heart.
‘I know,’ spoke up Melanthius. ‘He was brought in by the swineherd, Eumeus, the one who just gave him the bread. I saw them coming up this way.’
‘You see?’ said another, the finest-looking among them. ‘We don’t have enough ragged beggars around here. Even the swineherd brings along his own!’
I didn’t say a word, but Eumeus walked up to him and spoke without fear: ‘Does it surprise you, noble Antinous, that I’ve invited a mendicant here? Everyone is eager to host great lords, singers or artists, as long as it’s not some poor wretch, someone who destiny has reduced to penury. No one wants them. And yet they’re the ones who are most needy. What trouble is he causing you anyway? What’s more, I don’t have to account to you for my actions. Only the queen and Prince Telemachus can tell me what I can or can’t do. You’re no one to me.’
Antinous . . . so he was the one at their head. He obviously thought he could act the master in my house. There was Telemachus, trying to patch up the quarrel between them; he didn’t want it to degenerate into something worse. I understood him, my boy. He was alone, without the support of anyone but his two herdsmen. So this is what the son of Odysseus – famous the world over for the feats he’d achieved! – was reduced to. My heart swelled with bitterness, but I couldn’t let anything out. I addressed Antinous, the chief suitor, the one who was sure he had the vigour and the means to win over the reluctance of my Penelope.
‘You truly seem better to me than any of the other men here, more noble and handsome by far. Set an example to the others, then, I pray you: give me the best morsel! Be as benevolent as your kingly appearance would suggest and let me taste for once what a king enjoys. I’ll tell everyone how generous and magnanimous you are. Look at me. I may be penniless, but I can teach you a precious lesson. One day, not so long ago, I was like you. I lived in a palace, I had servants and women, but that wasn’t enough for me, I wanted more. And in the end I lost everything, even myself. I was sold as a slave to the lord of Cyprus. I escaped and since then I’ve been drifting from land to land, from village to village, until my wanderings brought me here to you. All I’m begging for is a meal fit for a man and not for a dog.
‘You know something, great prince? You are like I once was and one day you could end up like I am now. Or even worse . . . By doing good to me, you do good to yourself. Can’t you understand that?’
I stared into his eyes and he could feel that I was the stronger. I, the beggar, the derelict, was the hunter and he was the prey. I could smell his fear, sense it coursing under his skin.
He rankled at my words, and couldn’t bear up under my gaze. ‘Get out of my sight, you lousy tramp, there are plenty of others here to beg from. See if they’ll feed you. You disgust me!’
All at once silence settled over the hall like a black cloud. ‘So be it,’ I answered him. ‘That’s your kind, the kind that won’t part with a crumb, won’t give up a grain of salt. You’ve refused to give me even a piece of the bread that isn’t yours and that you haven’t earned. With all the abundance spilling here before you!’ I turned my back to him and went off to carry on my begging somewhere else.
‘How dare you!’ he shouted. He grabbed a stool and hurled it at me. It hit me hard on the back just under my neck. Pain shot through me but I didn’t move, not a hair’s breadth. The young braggart must have realized that it wasn’t a decrepit old man he’d hit, but a rock.
When the stool had fallen to the ground, I turned and looked straight into his eyes. ‘You are nothing but a coward, noble prince. If a man is struck down while he’s trying to rob livestock or precious objects from another’s home, he can well expect it, but you hit me because I’m hungry. If among the gods there is one who protects the poor and needful, you will pay dearly for what you have done.’
I said nothing else, but went over to sit down at the threshold.
I looked up at Telemachus. He was overwhelmed at what he had seen: his father smitten and humiliated on the day of his return. But he didn’t say a word. All he did was shake his head in disapproval. He was waiting, too. Waiting for the day of vengeance.
I stayed at my place at the threshold and watched everything that was going on, including Eumeus and his movements. Every now and then I’d turn to look out at the still body of my poor Argus. He’d finished his suffering! How I longed to pick up his sad remains and give them a proper burial in the woods, under an oak tree . . . but I couldn’t let anyone see me doing such a thing, it would have aroused suspicion. Instead I ate the bread my son had given me, the bread that Eumeus had brought to court in his basket. Melanthius, the goatherd who had cast a stone at me while I walked up the trail, passed very close to me on his way out and it was all I could do not to jump to my feet and tear him to shreds. I repressed the ire in my heart . . . the time would come. His time would come.
I watched the princes. They were arrogant, noisy, disrespectful and reckless. There were a lot of them and they were all quite vigorous. I looked at their weapons lined up against the wall at the entrance: swords, spears, polished shields. I was almost certain that they were ornamental, a mark of prestige rather than truly offensive arms. I didn’t think they’d ever been used in battle. It was the killing, running a man through from side to side, that made you different, forever. The ferociousness of that act never left your gaze, your heart.
My Telemachus had never killed a man, either. I knew that he would soon take part in the bloody fray to be fought here, in the palace, and I feared for him. It’s too easy for a man who has never known combat to die.
I watched Phemius, our court poet. He ate alone, without speaking to the princes; there was no mingling with them. What songs would they bid him to sing? The sad story of the kings’ return from the war? I wondered if he still remembered me. Did he remember how he would tell me stories when I was a little boy tucked into my bed, or outdoors, in the fruit orchard, sitting under a tree? Had he agreed to submit to this travesty? Did he still remember how my father had treated him? Did he ever go to visit him? Did he ever rise up to defend the queen’s honour? I thought not. Singers have other talents, but rarely the gift of courage.
I’d lost Eumeus from sight. Where had he gone?
I still hadn’t seen mai, my nurse. Nor Penelope . . . did she ever come down to the great hall? Knowing that she was so close and not being able to see her created a huge sense of anxiety in me. At the same time, I never would have wanted her to see me in the state I was in.
I had never asked myself so many questions in so short a time. I was afraid of confusing the dreams I’d had over twenty years of separation with a reality that I no longer knew anything about.
Eumeus appeared as suddenly as he had disappeared. He walked through the hall towards me. The princes were no longer interested in us.
He crouched at my side. ‘I’ve seen the queen.’
‘How is she?’
‘Much better, since Telemachus has returned. I haven’t seen her so light-hearted in a very long time. She even ate one of the figs I brought her.’
??
?That hasn’t changed. She’s always liked figs.’
‘I told her there was a newcomer to the palace . . .’
‘And?’ I asked in alarm.
‘She wanted to know where you come from, if you had news that might interest her. I told her yes, our guest brings news of Odysseus your husband. He has heard that Odysseus has landed in Thesprotia and that he travels with great riches.’
‘Well? What did she say to that?’ I asked at once, agitated as a young boy hoping to meet a girl for the first time.
‘She answered: “Tell the guest I’d like to talk with him.” And she promised that if you told her the truth about what you know and have seen, she will give you a new tunic and a cloak so you can walk among other people without feeling ashamed. I’d mentioned how badly off you were. What shall I tell her?’
I was confused, suddenly struck by doubts and fears. I replied: ‘After sunset, as soon as it starts to get dark.’
‘You may have to wait much longer than that. She can’t receive you in the women’s quarters. She has to wait until the suitors go home and the house is empty.’
‘I have nothing else to do. I can wait.’
‘Good. I’ll tell the queen. You’ll see her come down as soon as the hall is empty and quiet. She’ll sit next to the fire. At that point you can approach her and she’ll speak to you. Wanax, I must ask you something. If you can, don’t hurt her. She has suffered so much.’
I nodded.
‘Good. I have to return to my pigs, to make sure everything is as it should be. You can never depend on the stable boys, not unless you keep a close eye on them. I’ll let Telemachus know I’m going. I’ll come back tomorrow morning as soon as I can. I can see you are controlling your actions and your words, wanax, so I leave with an easy mind.’
‘Don’t use that word – what if someone heard you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He gave me a slight nod and left.
I watched as he approached Telemachus, who had appeared at the other end of the hall. He moved his lips to the boy’s ear and whispered something. He went out of the rear door and I hunkered down at the threshold. The suitors were still feasting and the clamour was only increasing. They had no worries. But I was the king of Ithaca and I’d already passed sentence on them. They were laughing but soon they would be crying and begging. They were shouting but soon they would be silenced forever. I turned towards the atrium and noticed the figure of a tall, thin man who was gripping a stick as though it were a spear. Behind him a black shadow fluttered in the air.