With these words she made her mistress leave off crying, and dried the tears from her eyes.  Penelope washed her face, changed her dress, and went upstairs with her maids.  She then put some bruised barley into a basket and began praying to Minerva.

“Hear me,” she cried, “Daughter of Aegis-bearing Jove, unweariable.  If ever Ulysses while he was here burned you fat thigh bones of sheep or heifer, bear it in mind now as in my favour, and save my darling son from the villainy of the suitors.”

She cried aloud as she spoke, and the goddess heard her prayer; meanwhile the suitors were clamorous throughout the covered cloister, and one of them said: 

“The queen is preparing for her marriage with one or other of us.  Little does she dream that her son has now been doomed to die.”

This was what they said, but they did not know what was going to happen.  Then Antinous said, “Comrades, let there be no loud talking, lest some of it get carried inside.  Let us be up and do that in silence, about which we are all of a mind.”

He then chose twenty men, and they went down to their ship and to the sea side; they drew the vessel into the water and got her mast and sails inside her; they bound the oars to the thole-pins with twisted thongs of leather, all in due course, and spread the white sails aloft, while their fine servants brought them their armour.  Then they made the ship fast a little way out, came on shore again, got their suppers, and waited till night should fall.

But Penelope lay in her own room upstairs unable to eat or drink, and wondering whether her brave son would escape, or be overpowered by the wicked suitors.  Like a lioness caught in the toils with huntsmen hemming her in on every side she thought and thought till she sank into a slumber, and lay on her bed bereft of thought and motion.

Then Minerva bethought her of another matter, and made a vision in the likeness of Penelope’s sister Iphthime daughter of Icarius who had married Eumelus and lived in Pherae.  She told the vision to go to the house of Ulysses, and to make Penelope leave off crying, so it came into her room by the hole through which the thong went for pulling the door to, and hovered over her head saying,

“You are asleep, Penelope:  the gods who live at ease will not suffer you to weep and be so sad.  Your son has done them no wrong, so he will yet come back to you.”

Penelope, who was sleeping sweetly at the gates of dreamland, answered, “Sister, why have you come here?  You do not come very often, but I suppose that is because you live such a long way off.  Am I, then, to leave off crying and refrain from all the sad thoughts that torture me?  I, who have lost my brave and lion-hearted husband, who had every good quality under heaven, and whose name was great over all Hellas and middle Argos; and now my darling son has gone off on board of a ship—­a foolish fellow who has never been used to roughing it, nor to going about among gatherings of men.  I am even more anxious about him than about my husband; I am all in a tremble when I think of him, lest something should happen to him, either from the people among whom he has gone, or by sea, for he has many enemies who are plotting against him, and are bent on killing him before he can return home.”