When he who had lent the ship was departed the suitors left their sports, and drawing close together began to converse in low tones.  They were full of anger against Telemachus because of this journey, which gave the lie to their malicious prophecies, and was not without prospect of danger to themselves.  Accordingly Antinous found ready hearers when he stood up and spoke as follows:—­“This forward boy must be put down, or he will mar our wooing.  It is a great deed which he has done, and he will not stop here, unless we find means to cut short his adventures.  Now hear what I advise:  let us man a ship and moor her in the narrow sea between Ithaca and Samos, and lie in wait for him there.  This cruise of his is like to cost him dear.”

The plan was highly approved, and the whole body rose and entered the house together, resolved to act at once on the advice of Antinous.  Before long news of their wicked designs came to the ears of Penelope, who was still ignorant of her son’s departure; for Eurycleia had kept her counsel well.  The evil tidings were brought by Medon, a servant in the house of Odysseus, who had overheard the suitors plotting together, while he stood concealed behind a buttress of the courtyard fence.  Without delay he went in search of Penelope, whom he found sitting with her handmaids in her chamber.  As soon as he appeared on the threshold Penelope looked at him reproachfully, and said:  “What message bringest thou from thy fair masters?  Is it their pleasure that my maidens should leave their tasks and spread the board for them?  Out on your feasting and your wooing!  May this be the last morsel that ye ever taste!  Ungrateful men, have ye forgotten all the good deeds that were wrought here by the hands of Odysseus, and all the kindness that ye received from him?  Yes, all is forgotten; ye have no thought in your hearts but to grow fat at his cost, and devour his living.”

“Alas! lady,” answered Medon, “would that this were the worst!  But I am the bearer of heavier news than this.  Telemachus has sailed to Pylos, to inquire concerning his father, and the suitors have plotted to slay him on his way home.”  Having delivered his message, Medon left the chamber, and the door was shut.

Long Penelope sat without a word, struck dumb by this cruel blow.  Then, as if seized by a sudden thought, she rose from her seat, and took two paces towards the door.  But her strength failing her she tottered backward, and sank down upon the ground, leaning against the wall.  Her handmaids gathered round her, and would have lifted her up, but she waved them off and at last gave utterance to her feelings in wailing and broken tones: 

“Woeful beyond the lot of all women on earth is my portion!  First, I lost my lion-hearted lord, rich in every excellent gift, a hero among heroes; and now the powers of the air[1] have carried off my child, my well-beloved, without one word of farewell.  Hearts of stone, why did ye not tell me of his going?  Had I known his purpose I would have prevailed on him to stay, or he must have left me dead in these halls.  Go, one of you, and call Dolius, the keeper of my garden and orchard, and send him to tell all to Laertes, if haply he may devise some way to turn the hearts of the people, and save his race from being utterly cut off.”