But in the midst of his sorrow a freakish whim came into the head of Odysseus, characteristic of his subtle and tortuous nature.  Approaching his father, who was still stooping over his work, he said to him in a disguised voice:  “Old man, I perceive that thou art well skilled in the gardener’s art:  never saw I a garden better tended—­not a tree, not a shrub, but bears witness to thy fostering care.  And be not wroth with me if I say that is a wonder to see the keeper of so fair a garden himself so squalid and unkempt.  Surely he whom thou servest must be an ungrateful master.  Tell me his name, if thou wilt, and answer me truly if this be indeed the land of Ithaca to which I am come, as I heard from a man whom I met by the way.  He seemed a churlish fellow, and would not stay to answer my questions; for I was fain to ask him concerning a friend whom I once entertained in my house, a native of Ithaca, as he told me, and a son of one Laertes.  Many days he dwelt with me, eating and drinking of the best, and I sent him away laden with rich gifts, gold and silver, and costly raiment.”

“Friend,” answered Laertes, shedding tears, “to Ithaca indeed art thou come, but he of whom thou askest is no longer here.  In vain were thy gifts bestowed, for he who would have repaid thee richly for all thy kindness hath perished long ago, and his bones lie bleaching on the bare earth, or at the bottom of the sea.  Tell me, how long is it since thou didst receive him, and who art thou, and where is thy home?”

“I am a man of Alybas,” replied Odysseus, “the son of Apheidas the son of Polypemon, and Eperitus is my name; and it is now five years since Odysseus departed from my home.  Fair omens attended him on his starting, and we parted in high hopes that we should meet again in his own land.”

At these words of Odysseus the poor old man was overwhelmed with sorrow, and he heaped dust upon his grey head, groaning in bitterness of spirit.  Odysseus was moved with pity at the sight of his distress, and thinking that he had now tried him enough, he revealed himself, pointing as proofs to the scar above his knee, and to certain trees which Laertes had allowed him to call his own when he walked with him, hand-in-hand, as a little child, through the garden.

The sudden shock of joyful recognition was too much for the old man, and he fell fainting into his son’s arms.  When he was somewhat recovered they went back together towards the house, and on the way Odysseus spoke of the slaying of the wooers, and of the danger which threatened him from the vengeance of their friends.

II

Meanwhile the news of the wooers’ violent death had spread like wildfire through the island, and their kinsmen went with loud clamour to the house of Odysseus to carry away the dead bodies.  When this was done they gathered together at the place of assembly to devise some plan of vengeance; and Eupeithes, the father of Antinous, made violent outcry against Odysseus for his great act of savage justice.