The speech of Amphinomus was received with a murmur of applause; for most of the wooers were averse to the violent measures proposed by Antinous.  So they arose, and returned to the house.

Penelope had heard of their plotting from the herald, Medon, and obeying a sudden impulse she came down from her chamber, and standing in the doorway began to upbraid Antinous for his wicked purpose.  “Thou hast the name of a wise and eloquent man,” she said, “but thy fame is better than thy deeds.  Wretch, why dost thou lay snares against the life of my son?  Hast thou never heard how thy father came to this house, flying from the wrath of the Ithacans, who would have slain him, because he had joined the Taphian pirates in a raid on the Thesprotians, who were our allies?  But Odysseus stood between him and their fury, and saved his life.  A fair return thou art making for that good service, devouring his substance, paying court to his wife, and compassing the death of his son.”

Antinous sat biting his lips, and made no answer; but Eurymachus, a subtler villain, smooth and specious, but all the more dangerous, spoke for him, and said:  “Sage daughter of Icarius, fear nothing for thy son Telemachus, for while I live no man shall offer him violence.  By this sword I swear it, and I care not who hears me, the man who seeks to harm him shall die by my hand.  I at least have not forgotten the loving-kindness of thy lord, Odysseus, on whose knees I have often sat, and taken food and drink from his hand.  Therefore I love Telemachus as a brother, and I swear to thee that none of the wooers shall do him any harm.”

The Home-coming of Odysseus

I

When Eumaeus came back from his errand, Odysseus, who in the meantime had resumed his disguise, was helping Telemachus to prepare the evening meal.  Telemachus questioned him about the ship which the wooers had sent out to waylay him on his return from Pylos, but Eumaeus had been in such haste to get back to his farm that he had not stopped to inquire about the matter.  “But thus much I can tell thee,” he said:  “as I was crossing the hill which overlooks the town I saw a galley, bristling with spear and helm, entering the harbour; and I believe that this was the ship of which thou speakest”

“No doubt of it,” answered Telemachus, with a significant glance at his father.  Then they all fell to their suppers with hearty appetite, and soon afterwards retired to rest.

The first chill of dawn was still in the air when Telemachus roused the swineherd, and announced his intention of proceeding at once to the town.  “I know,” he said, “that my mother will have no peace until she sees me with her own eyes.  Now as to this stranger, I charge thee to take him with thee into the town, that he may beg his bread from house to house.  Burdened as I am already, and full of care, I cannot provide for him.  If he thinks it hard, all the worse for him.”