Stories from the Odyssey · H. L. Havell
II
Evening was now coming on, and it was time for the herdsmen to return with their charge from the feeding-ground. Presently, with huge commotion, and multitudinous din, the swine were driven home and penned in their styes. Then Eumæus called to his helpers, and bade them bring the best of the herd to make savoury meat for his guest "Spare not," he said, "to bring the fattest and choicest of them all, for why should we be careful, when strangers devour our labour?" So they brought a hog of five years old, exceeding fat, and having slaughtered it they offered sacrifice, not forgetting a prayer for the return of Odysseus. When all rites of religion were duly paid, they roasted the flesh, and served it on wooden platters. Odysseus was honoured by Eumæus with a choice portion of the loin.
When they had finished, night came on, dark and stormy, with furious gusts of rain and wind. Just as they were about to retire to rest, Odysseus, who seldom spoke without a purpose, turned to his kind host and said: "Eumæus, the good wine has loosened my tongue, and moved me to tell thee a story of long ago, when these withered limbs were in their lusty prime, and my heart burned with the fire of youth. Then I was chosen with Menelaus and Odysseus to lead an ambush under the walls of Troy. With a picked company we took up our position in a marshy place, and lay down in our armour among the rushes. It was a bitter night, with snow and frost, and our shields were soon coated with ice. Now it chanced that I had left my cloak in the camp, and while the others lay warm in their thick woollen mantles, I was perishing with cold. At last I could bear it no longer, so I nudged Odysseus, who was lying next to me, with my elbow, and said to him: 'Son of Laertes, the cold is killing me. I came in my folly without a cloak, and I can never hold out until dawn in this cruel frost.' And he, ever ready of wit as he was, instantly contrived means to relieve me. Whispering to me to keep counsel he rose on his elbow, and called to the others, saying: 'Comrades, I have been warned in a dream that our numbers are too weak for the task which has been laid upon us. Will not one of you run down to the camp, and ask Agamemnon to send us further succour?'
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.