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a cap of goatskin. He was wallowing

in grief. The veteran, Odysseus,

seeing his father worn by age and burdened

by desperate, heartfelt sorrow, stopped beneath

a towering pear tree, weeping. Then he wondered

whether to kiss his father, twine around him,

and tell him that he had come home again,

and everything that happened on the way—

or question him. He thought it best to start240

by testing him with teasing and abuse.

With this in mind, Odysseus approached him,

as he was digging round the plant, head down.

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 care250

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 come260

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 that270

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 far290

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 friends300

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 years310

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 pain320

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 breath350

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 prepare360

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 words370

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,