Ulysses of Ithaca · Karl Friedrich Becker
Chapter VI Ulysses among the Phæacians
“One should not despise any guest, oh stranger, however humble,” answered the swineherd, “for all strangers are under the protection of Jupiter. In my house the hospitality is very scanty, for, as thou knowest, a servant has not much to give. To be sure, were my old master living and at home I should be better off. He would have taken good care of me and have made provision for my old age in return for my long and faithful service. But my good master is gone. O that Helen’s race might be destroyed root and branch for bringing death to so many brave men!” With these words he tucked up his long garment, went to one of the sties, and took out two sucking pigs. After killing them he slowly roasted them on the spit at the fire, laid the pieces before Ulysses, mixed wine in a wooden tankard, and set it before him. “There, stranger,” said he, “eat and drink of the best we shepherds have. The suitors who fear neither gods nor men eat the fattened pork. The gods have always been displeased at deeds of violence. Even robbers often fear the gods, but these fear and reverence nothing, and the divinities have delayed their punishment thus far. The cursed ones must have secret information that Ulysses has perished miserably, else would they not waste his substance so recklessly. No king hereabouts was so richly blessed with property as Ulysses. He owned twelve herds of cattle and as many of sheep and goats. Each of the shepherds must now send a daily contribution from the fattened flocks to the palace, and soon all will be dissipated.”
The listener was indignant at what he had heard, but concealed his feelings, and when he had finished eating he said: “What would you think, friend, if I should bring thee good news? Tell me the name of thy rich and powerful master. I have travelled so far that perchance I can tell thee somewhat of him.” “Spare thyself the trouble,” answered the swineherd. “He will not return. Who knows on what rocky coast his bones are bleaching? Woe, woe is me! Neither father nor mother was as dear to me as my kind master.” “Listen, my dear fellow,” answered Ulysses. “I will swear to thee a sacred oath that Ulysses shall return. When he has come thou shalt give me a fine tunic and a cloak in return for my good news. I do not ask for them now, needy as I am, for I despise the wretch who lies for gain, even though want incites him. But hear me. All that I now foretell shall come to pass. When the present moon has waned and the new one begins to increase, Ulysses will be at home and shall have punished all who have not respected his wife and son.” “Silence, old man,” interrupted the swineherd. “Drink and talk of something else, and may the gods forgive thee the oath. Sadness fills my heart. I am troubled about the son also, the splendid Telemachus, whom an evil spirit has persuaded to wander abroad to seek news of his father. I hear that the shameless suitors are lying in wait for him to kill him on his return, that the race of Arkisios may perish. But now, old man, tell me of thy own troubles.”
“It would take me a year to unfold my tale of woe,” answered the artful Ulysses, and began to tell many stories of his adventures and feats of bravery. When he had finished, “Unhappy man,” said the swineherd, “thou hast touched my heart. But why dost thou tell me lies about Ulysses who never will return? Thou wilt not thus acquire my favor; for if I show thee honor and kindness I do it only in honor of Jupiter and for sympathy for thy troubles.” “Thou hast an incredulous heart in thy breast,” cried Ulysses angrily; “for thou dost not even believe my oath. But listen to me; we will make a bargain. I will stay here until Ulysses comes, and when he is here thou shalt send me home to Dulichium, well fitted out with cloak and tunic. If he cometh not, then shalt thou and thy grooms bind me and throw me down from this rock.” “The gods forbid that I should ever do such a thing,” answered the swineherd. “Never could I pray to Jupiter again should I thus abuse the laws of hospitality.” During this conversation evening had descended, and the under herders came in with their beasts. There was a tremendous grunting, and it was a long time before all the bristly creatures were safe in their sties. When they were taken care of, the swineherd ordered the men to bring in a fatted five-year-old to regale the guest.
While the men were outside he chopped wood and laid it on the fire and made all ready. When the meal was prepared, the good swineherd made a fair division. He divided each part seven times. The first part was taken out for the nymphs and Hermes; the others were for his guest, his four servants, and himself. The old man received a large piece of the fat back, the piece of honor which is generally given to the guest. Ulysses was delighted and said: “Good Eumæus, mayest thou be as beloved of Jupiter as thou art of me, whom thou hast so honorably entertained.” “Eat, my unhappy friend,” answered the kindly man, “and make the most of what thou hast, for the gods give and take as it pleases them.” After supper was over and night had fallen, an awful west wind whistled through the hut. The rain fell in torrents. Ulysses shivered miserably in his rags and it did not seem to occur to the swineherd to offer him a warm cloak. The hero contrived a jest to see if he could not get it by craft. “Listen, Eumæus and ye shepherds,” said he. “The wine has made me merry and I must tell ye an amusing tale. Perhaps it is not fitting that I should tell it, but as I have begun I will finish it. I have just been wishing that I were as young and strong as when I lay with your master before Troy. And then I recollected a trick by which Ulysses once helped me in great straits.
“One night we had planned an ambush close to the city wall—Menelaus, Ulysses, and I—but we had taken but a few men with us. Night was approaching and we lay down in a thicket amongst reeds and swamp grass. All at once the sky became overcast and a cruel north wind began to blow. Snow fell, and our shields were soon encrusted with ice. I was worse off than the others, for they had their cloaks in which to wrap themselves and were covered with their shields. Thus they slept without feeling the storm. I alone had not brought my cloak, and was obliged to lie in the rain in my thin tunic. My teeth chattered and I shook as though in a fever. “At length, past midnight, when I could no longer endure it, I nudged Ulysses who lay beside me, and said: ‘Noble Ulysses, I am nearly dying of cold, for I left my cloak behind. Do thou devise something for me.’ ‘Keep quiet,’ he said softly. Then raising his voice he awakened the others. ‘Listen, friends,’ he said, ‘I have just had a memorable dream. There are so few of us and we are so far from the ships, someone should run to Agamemnon and tell him to send us aid.’ Thoas, Andræmon’s son, obligingly set out, leaving his purple cloak upon the ground. Ulysses tossed it to me and I laughingly wrapped myself therein and slept till morning. You see, friends, I was thinking that were I now as young and strong as then that perhaps someone would give me a robe for the night, either out of good-will or for fear of my strength. But of course the humble man in beggar’s garb is despised.”
The men laughed and the swineherd praised the stranger’s cunning. “Thou hast spoken well,” he said, “and hast drawn a very good comparison. Therefore I will give thee what thou desirest. Take this cloak, but in the morning thou must give it back, for we shepherds have few clothes. If Telemachus should return he will doubtless give thee garments and send thee back to thy home.” While speaking he prepared a couch of sheep and goat skins by the hearth for the guest and placed a cloak over it to cover him. The servants lay down beside Ulysses, but the swineherd did not sleep within, but carefully guarding his herds he bivouacked nightly in a cleft by the rock which sheltered him from the north wind. Ulysses was much pleased with the good man’s faithful service.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.