which are the wings of ships. He said that I
will know I have arrived when I encounter
someone who calls the object on my back
a winnowing fan. Then I must fix my oar
firm in the earth, and make a sacrifice
to Lord Poseidon, of a ram and ox
and stud-boar, perfect animals, then come
back home and give a hecatomb to all
the deathless gods who live above the sky.280
If I do this, I will not die at sea;
I will grow old in comfort and will meet
a gentle death, surrounded by my people,
who will be rich and happy.”
Sensibly
Penelope said, “If the gods allow you
to reach old age in comfort, there is hope
that there will be an end to all our troubles.”
They talked like this. Meanwhile, the slaves were working:
Eurynome and Eurycleia laid
soft blankets on the sturdy bed by torchlight.290
The nurse went off to sleep, and Eurynome
picked up the torch and led them to their bed,
then went to her room. Finally, at last,
with joy the husband and the wife arrived
back in the rites of their old marriage bed.
Meanwhile, the herdsmen and Telemachus
stopped dancing, made the women stop, and went
to bed inside the darkened house.
And when
the couple had enjoyed their lovemaking,
they shared another pleasure—telling stories.300
She told him how she suffered as she watched
the crowd of suitors ruining the house,
killing so many herds of sheep and cattle
and drinking so much wine, because of her.
Odysseus told her how much he hurt
so many other people, and in turn
how much he had endured himself. She loved
to listen, and she did not fall asleep
until he told it all. First, how he slaughtered
the Cicones, then traveled to the fields310
of Lotus-Eaters; what the Cyclops did,
and how he paid him back for ruthlessly
eating his men. Then how he reached Aeolus,
who welcomed him and helped him; but it was
not yet his fate to come back home; a storm
snatched him and bore him off across the sea,
howling frustration. Then, he said, he came
to Laestrygonia, whose people wrecked
his fleet and killed his men. And he described
the cleverness of Circe, and his journey320
to Hades to consult Tiresias,
and how he saw all his dead friends, and saw
his mother, who had loved him as a baby;
then how he heard the Sirens’ endless voices,
and reached the Wandering Rocks and terrible
Charybdis, and how he had been the first
to get away from Scylla. And he told her
of how his crew devoured the Sun God’s cattle;
Zeus roared with smoke and thunder, lightning struck
the ship, and all his loyal men were killed.330
But he survived, and drifted to Ogygia.
He told her how Calypso trapped him there,
inside her hollow cave, and wanted him
to be her husband; she took care of him
and promised she could set him free from death
and time forever. But she never swayed
his heart. He suffered terribly, for years,
and then he reached Phaeacia, where the people
looked up to him as if he were a god,
and sent him in a ship back home again340
to his dear Ithaca, with gifts of bronze
and gold and piles of clothes. His story ended;
sweet sleep released his heart from all his cares.
Athena, bright-eyed goddess, stayed alert,
and when she thought Odysseus had finished
with taking pleasure in his wife and sleep,
she roused the newborn Dawn from Ocean’s streams
to bring the golden light to those on earth.
Odysseus got up and told his wife,
“Wife, we have both endured our share of trouble:350
you wept here as you longed for my return,
while Zeus and other gods were keeping me
away from home, although I longed to come.
But now we have returned to our own bed,
as we both longed to do. You must look after
my property inside the house. Meanwhile,
I have to go on raids, to steal replacements
for all the sheep those swaggering suitors killed,
and get the other Greeks to give me more,
until I fill my folds. But first I will360
go to the orchard in the countryside
to see my grieving father. Then at dawn
the news will spread that I have killed the suitors.
Your orders, wife—though you are smart enough
to need no orders—are, go with your slaves
upstairs, sit quietly, and do not talk
to anyone.”
He armed himself and called
the herdsmen and Telemachus, and told them
to put on armor too—breastplates of bronze.
Odysseus led all of them outside.370
The light was bright across the earth. Athena
hid them with night and brought them out of town.
BOOK 24
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 grief20
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 won30
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 wailing50
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 Muses60
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 suitors100
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 winds110
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 aim180
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 wounds190
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 slept210
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.