Book XIII

So he spoke, and they all fell into silence, hushed, spellbound in the shadowy halls. And Alcinous in turn answered him, saying: "Odysseus, since you have come to my bronze-floored house, my high-roofed hall, I think you will not be driven back, baffled and wandering again, for all that you have suffered. Now to each man among you I speak this charge— all who in my great hall ever drink the elders' fiery wine and listen to the singer: Clothing for the stranger lies already in a polished chest, and gold of intricate work, and all the other gifts the Phaeacian counselors brought here. But come, let each man give him a great tripod and a cauldron, and we in turn will gather the cost from the people to repay ourselves; it is hard for one man to give freely without recompense."

So spoke Alcinous, and his word pleased them all. Then each man went to his own house to take his rest. But when early-born Dawn appeared, rosy-fingered, they hurried to the ship, bearing the strength-giving bronze. And the sacred might of Alcinous stowed it carefully, going himself through the ship beneath the benches, lest any comrade be hindered at the oar when they strained to row. Then they went to Alcinous' halls and prepared the feast.

For them the sacred might of Alcinous sacrificed an ox to Zeus, the cloud-dark son of Cronus, who rules over all. They burned the thigh-pieces and feasted the glorious feast in joy; and among them sang the divine bard, Demodocus, honored by the people. But Odysseus turned his head again and again toward the blazing sun, eager for it to set—for he yearned beyond all to be on his way. As when a man longs for his supper, for whom all day two wine-dark oxen have dragged the jointed plow through fallow land, and welcome to him the sun sinks down, and he goes to his meal with knees that buckle beneath him as he stumbles on— so welcome to Odysseus the sunlight sank. At once he spoke among the oar-loving Phaeacians, directing his words especially to Alcinous:

So he spoke, and they all applauded and urged that the stranger be sent on his way, since he had spoken fittingly. Then the might of Alcinous commanded the herald: "Pontonous, mix a bowl of wine and serve it to all throughout the hall, that when we have prayed to father Zeus we may send the stranger off to his own native land."

So he spoke, and Pontonous mixed the honey-hearted wine and passed it among them, going man to man. And they poured libations to the blessed gods, who hold wide heaven, right from their seats. Then godlike Odysseus rose, placed the two-handled cup in Arete's hand, and spoke winged words to her: "Fare well, my queen, forever, until old age and death come upon you, which await all humankind. Now I am leaving; may you take joy in this house with your children, your people, and Alcinous the king."

With that, godlike Odysseus stepped over the threshold, and the might of Alcinous sent a herald along with him to lead him to the swift ship and the sea strand. And Arete sent handmaids with him as well: one bearing a freshly washed cloak and a tunic; another she charged to carry a well-made chest; and yet another brought food and red wine.

When they had come down to the ship and the sea, the noble escort quickly received and stowed everything in the hollow vessel—all the drink and food. For Odysseus they spread a rug and linen sheet on the afterdeck of the hollow ship, so he might sleep unwaking, at the stern. He himself stepped aboard and lay down in silence; the rowers sat each at his oar, in order, and cast off the stern-cable from the pierced stone.

Then they leaned back and tossed up the sea with their oar-blades, and upon his eyelids fell a deep, deep sleep— unwaking, sweetest, most like to death itself. And as when four stallions yoked together in a chariot all spring forward under the lash, surge up and swiftly devour the road, so the ship's stern lifted, and behind her the purple wave of the loud-resounding sea rose and roared. She ran on, steadfast and utterly sure; not even a hawk, the lightest of all birds, could have kept pace with her. So swiftly she sped, cutting the waves of the sea, bearing a man whose wisdom was like the gods'— who before in his heart had suffered many pains, enduring men's wars and the bitter waves, but now slept in peace, forgetful of all he had suffered.

When that brightest star rose, which above all comes to announce the light of early-born Dawn, then the seafaring ship drew near to the island. There is a harbor of Phorcys, the Old Man of the Sea, in the land of Ithaca: two jutting headlands, sheer-faced and falling to the water, lean in from either side and ward off the great waves of harsh-blowing winds outside; but within, well-benched ships may ride without mooring once they reach anchorage. At the head of the harbor stands an olive with spreading leaves, and near it a lovely, shadowy cave sacred to the nymphs called the Naiads. Within are stone mixing-bowls and two-handled jars; there the bees store their honey. Within are looms of stone, very long, where the nymphs weave sea-purple cloth, a wonder to behold. Within are ever-flowing waters. It has two entrances: one toward the North Wind, a way down for mortals, the other toward the South, more divine; and by that no men enter, but it is the path of the immortals.

There they rowed in, knowing the harbor beforehand. The ship ran half her length up onto the shore, so swiftly did the hands of the rowers drive her. And they stepped out of the well-benched ship onto the land. First they lifted Odysseus out of the hollow ship, linen and shining blanket and all, and laid him down on the sand, deep in sleep. Then they brought out the gifts the noble Phaeacians had given him, moved by great-hearted Athena, as he departed for home. These they piled together beside the olive's trunk, off the road, lest some passerby come before Odysseus awoke and plunder them. Then they themselves turned back and went home.

But the Earth-Shaker did not forget the threats he had first made against godlike Odysseus; and he consulted Zeus's will, saying: "Father Zeus, no longer shall I be honored among the immortal gods, since mortals do not honor me now— the Phaeacians, who are after all of my own lineage. For I said Odysseus would come home after many woes, but I never meant to rob him of his return entirely, since you first promised and nodded assent. But they, while he slept in the swift ship, carried him over the sea, set him down in Ithaca, and gave him countless gifts— bronze and gold in abundance and woven garments— so many that Odysseus could never have brought such treasure from Troy, even if he had come home unhurt and with his share of the spoil."

And Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him: "Ah, Earth-Shaker, wide in power, what a thing you have said! It is not that the gods dishonor you; hard would it be to cast dishonor on the eldest and noblest. But if any man, yielding to his own might and strength, fails to honor you, you can always have vengeance afterward. Do as you will, and whatever pleases your heart."

And Poseidon the Earth-Shaker answered him: "Dark-clouded one, I would act at once, as you say, but I always revere your will and hold back. Now I intend to shatter that beautiful Phaeacian ship as it returns from its convoy on the misty deep, so that they may stop, and cease from escorting men ever again, and to hem their city in with a great mountain."

Then Zeus the cloud-gatherer answered him: "Ah, brother, in my mind the best course seems to be this: when all the people from the city are watching her sail in, turn her into a stone close to the shore, a stone in the likeness of a swift ship, so that all men marvel, and then hem their city in with a great mountain."

When Poseidon the Earth-Shaker heard this, he went to Scheria, where the Phaeacians are born. He waited there; and the seafaring ship came speeding very near. Near her came the Earth-Shaker, and he turned her into stone and rooted her beneath the sea, striking with the flat of his hand; and he departed. And the long-oared Phaeacians, men famed for their ships, spoke winged words to one another. Thus one would say, turning to his neighbor: "Ah me, who has pinned our swift ship on the sea as she was driving homeward? She was showing clear in sight!" So they spoke, for they did not know what had happened.

Then Alcinous addressed the assembly and said: "Ah me, now the ancient oracles my father told are coming true. He said Poseidon was full of resentment against us because we give safe escort to everyone. He said that someday a beautiful ship of the Phaeacians, returning from a convoy, would be shattered on the misty sea, and a great mountain would be cast around our city. So the old man spoke, and now it all comes to pass. But come, let us all obey what I say: Cease from giving escort to mortals when any come to our city; and let us sacrifice to Poseidon twelve chosen bulls, if perhaps he will have mercy and not hem our city in with a massive mountain."

So he spoke, and they were afraid, and made ready the bulls. So the leaders and lords of the Phaeacian people prayed to lord Poseidon, standing around the altar.

Meanwhile, godlike Odysseus awoke on his native land, but he did not know it, having been so long away; for the goddess had poured a mist around him—Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus— to make him unrecognizable and to explain everything to him herself, lest his wife or townsmen or friends should know him before he made the suitors pay for all their insolence. Therefore everything seemed strange to the lord: the long, winding paths, the well-moored harbors, the sheer cliffs and the thriving trees. Starting up, he stood and looked upon his native land, then groaned and struck both thighs with his flat hands and in grief spoke aloud: "Ah me, to what mortals' land have I come now? Are they arrogant and wild, without justice, or hospitable, with minds that fear the gods? Where shall I carry all these treasures? Where am I myself wandering? I wish I had stayed there with the Phaeacians, and then I could have gone to some other mighty king who would have welcomed me and sent me on my way. But now I know not where to put these things, nor can I leave them here, lest they become some other's spoil. Alas, then the Phaeacian leaders and lords were not wise or just after all, since they brought me to a strange land. They said they would carry me to clear-seen Ithaca, but did not. May Zeus the suppliant god pay them back, who watches over all men and punishes whoever does wrong. But come, let me count the goods and see, in case they took something away in the hollow ship."

So speaking, he counted the beautiful tripods and cauldrons, the gold and the finely woven garments. Nothing was missing; but he wept for his homeland, crawling along the shore of the loud-roaring sea, mourning.

And near him came Athena, in the likeness of a young man, a shepherd of flocks, delicate, like the sons of kings, wearing a fine double-folded cloak about her shoulders, shining sandals on her feet, and a spear in her hands. Odysseus was glad to see her and came to meet her, and spoke winged words: "Friend, since you are the first I meet in this place, welcome! Do not come against me with wicked intent, but protect these goods and protect me. I pray to you as to a god, and come to your dear knees as a suppliant. Tell me this truly, so that I may know well: what land, what people, what men are born here? Is it some clear-seen island, or a headland sloping into the sea, part of the rich-soiled mainland?"

And the goddess gray-eyed Athena answered him: "You are foolish, stranger, or have come from very far away, if you truly ask about this land. It is by no means so nameless; many men know it, all who dwell toward the dawn and the sun, and those who live behind us toward the misty darkness. It is rough ground, not fit for driving horses, but not utterly barren, though not very broad either. For in it grow boundless grain and wine, and rain is always there, and the young dew. Good pasture for goats and cattle; there is woodland of every kind, and the watering places never fail. So, stranger, the name of Ithaca has even reached Troy, which they say is far from Achaean land."

So she spoke, and much-enduring godlike Odysseus rejoiced, glad in his native land, as Pallas Athena, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, told him. And he answered her with winged words— but he did not speak the truth, pulling back his words, always turning a cunning mind in his breast: "I heard of Ithaca, even in broad Crete, far across the sea; and now I have come here myself with these goods. I left as much again to my sons, fleeing because I killed the dear son of Idomeneus—Orsilochus, swift of foot, who in broad Crete could outrun all men who eat bread— because he wished to rob me of all my Trojan booty, for which I had suffered pains in my heart, enduring men's wars and the bitter waves, because I would not gratify his father by serving under him in the Trojan land, but led my own company of comrades. He, coming from the field, I struck with my bronze-tipped spear, lying in wait with a comrade near the road; night pressed black upon the sky, and no man saw us; I took his life in secret. But after I had killed him with the sharp bronze, at once I went to a ship and begged the noble Phoenicians, and gave them booty to their satisfaction. I asked them to land me at Pylos, or to put me ashore in bright Elis, where the Epeians hold sway. But the force of the wind drove them away from there, much against their will—they would not be cheated of their hire. Blown off course from there, we came here by night. We rowed hard into a harbor, and no thought of supper came to us, though we were in need; but just as we were, we disembarked and lay down there by the ship. Then sweet sleep came over me in my weariness, and they took my goods from the hollow ship and set them down where I lay on the sands myself. And they embarked for well-inhabited Sidon and departed; but I was left behind, sick at heart."

So he spoke, and the goddess gray-eyed Athena smiled and stroked him with her hand, taking the form of a woman beautiful and tall and skilled in glorious handiwork; and she spoke winged words to him: "Shrewd and cunning would be the man who could outdo you in all kinds of wiles, even if he were a god. Stubborn one, weaver of schemes, never sated with guile, you would not even on your own soil give up the deceptions and crafty tales you love from the ground up. But come, let us speak no more of this, since both of us know how to craft advantage. You are far the best of all mortals in counsel and in speech, and I among all gods am famed for wisdom and cunning. And you did not recognize Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus, who always stands by you and guards you in every trial, and who made you beloved by all the Phaeacians. Now I have come here again to weave a plan with you, and to hide the treasure the noble Phaeacians gave you when you left for home by my will and design, and to tell you of all the troubles you are fated to endure in your well-built house. You must bear up under necessity, and tell no one—neither man nor woman— that you have come back from your wanderings, but in silence suffer many pains, submitting to the violence of men."

And Odysseus, the man of many wiles, answered her: "It is hard, goddess, for a mortal who meets you to know you, even if he is very well learned; for you liken yourself to everything. But this I know well, that you were kindly to me before, as long as we sons of the Achaeans were fighting in Troy. But after we sacked the steep city of Priam and went away in our ships, and a god scattered the Achaeans, I never saw you again, daughter of Zeus, nor noticed you boarding my ship to keep some pain from me. No, always with a heart torn in my breast I wandered, until the gods released me from my misery; only when, in the rich land of the Phaeacians, you encouraged me with your words and yourself led me into the city. But now, by your father I beseech you—for I do not think I have come to clear-seen Ithaca, but am wandering in some other land; and I think you said these things in mockery, to deceive my mind—tell me truly, have I come to my own dear native country?"

And the goddess gray-eyed Athena answered him: "Always such a thought is in your breast, and that is why I cannot abandon you, wretched though you are, because you are courteous, sharp-witted, and prudent. Any other man, returning from long wandering, would be eager to see his children and his wife in his halls. But it is not your pleasure yet to learn or to inquire until you have put your wife to the test. She, as ever, sits in the halls, and her miserable nights and days waste away as she weeps. Yet I never doubted this, but knew in my heart that you would return, though you lost all your comrades. But I was not willing to fight against Poseidon, my own father's brother, who stored up wrath in his heart, raging because you blinded his dear son. But come now, I will show you the seat of Ithaca, so you will believe. This is the harbor of Phorcys, the Old Man of the Sea, and here at the head of the harbor is the olive with spreading leaves. Near it is the lovely, shadowy cave sacred to the nymphs called the Naiads. This is the vaulted cavern where you have often offered the nymphs perfect hecatombs. And this is Neritus, the mountain mantled with woods."

So saying, the goddess scattered the mist, and the land appeared. Then much-enduring godlike Odysseus rejoiced, glad in his land, and kissed the grain-giving earth. And at once he prayed to the nymphs, raising his hands: "Naiad nymphs, daughters of Zeus, I never thought I would look on you again. Now, be glad in my gentle prayers; and I will give you gifts as before, if only the daughter of Zeus, the driver of spoil, graciously allows me to live and to see my dear son grown to manhood."

And the goddess gray-eyed Athena answered him: "Take heart; let not these things weigh on your mind. But let us at once stow the treasure deep in the wondrous cave, where it will remain safe for you. Then let us plan together how best to proceed."

So speaking, the goddess entered the shadowy cave, searching out the recesses within; and Odysseus brought everything close beside her—the gold and the stubborn bronze, the well-wrought garments the Phaeacians had given him. And Pallas Athena, daughter of aegis-bearing Zeus, laid them all away and set a stone against the entrance. Then the two of them sat down by the trunk of the sacred olive and plotted destruction for the arrogant suitors.

Among them the goddess gray-eyed Athena began to speak: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus of many wiles, consider how you will lay hands on the shameless suitors, who now for three years have been masters in your halls, wooing your godlike wife and offering bride-gifts. But she, always mourning in her heart for your return, holds out hope to all and makes promises to each man, sending out messages, but her mind is set on other things."

And Odysseus of many wiles answered her: "Ah me, then I was surely about to perish in my halls with the miserable fate of Agamemnon, Atreus' son, if you, goddess, had not told me all this in due order. But come, weave your plan, how I may take vengeance on them. Stand beside me yourself, and breathe into me bold courage, such as when we loosed the shining head-dress of Troy. If you would stand by me so eagerly, gray-eyed goddess, I would fight against three hundred men, with you, my lady goddess, when you graciously aid me."

And the goddess gray-eyed Athena answered him: "Indeed, I will be with you; you will not escape my notice when we set ourselves to this task. And I think that some of the suitors who devour your substance will spatter the boundless earth with their blood and brains. But come, I will make you unknown to all mortals: I will wither the fair skin on your supple limbs, destroy the tawny hair from your head, and clothe you in rags such that any man would shudder to see them worn, and I will dim your eyes, once so beautiful, so that you appear a wretched creature to all the suitors, to your wife and the son you left in your halls. Go first to the swineherd, the keeper of your swine, who also holds you in kindness. He loves your son and prudent Penelope. You will find him sitting by the swine; they are feeding near the Raven’s Rock and the spring Arethusa, eating heart-satisfying acorns and drinking black water, which nourish the rich fat in swine. There remain and, sitting with him, ask about everything, while I go to Sparta of the lovely women to summon Telemachus, your dear son, Odysseus. For he went to spacious Lacedaemon, to Menelaus, to learn tidings of your fame, whether you still lived anywhere."

And Odysseus of many wiles answered her: "Why did you not tell him, you who know all things in your mind? Was it so that he too, wandering over the barren sea, might suffer pains, while others devour his livelihood?"

And the goddess gray-eyed Athena answered him: "Let not that boy weigh too heavily on your heart. I myself escorted him, so that by going there he might win good fame; and he has no hardship, but sits at ease in the halls of Atreus' son, with boundless wealth around him. True, young men lie in wait for him with a black ship, wanting to kill him before he reaches his native land. But I think that first the earth will cover many of the suitors who devour your substance."

So saying, Athena touched him with her wand. She withered the fair skin on his supple limbs, destroyed the tawny hair from his head, and about all his limbs she draped the skin of an old, old man. And she dimmed his eyes, once so beautiful. Then she threw about him a ragged cloak and a tunic, tattered and filthy, stained with foul smoke. And she cast over him the great bare skin of a swift deer, gave him a staff and a miserable pouch, all tattered and torn, with a twisted strap as its sling.

So they, having planned, parted. The goddess then went to bright Lacedaemon after the son of Odysseus.