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Odysseus left the haven by a narrow stony path and took his way to the dwelling of his faithful swineherd, who thought more of the welfare of his master than did all the rest of the servants whom Odysseus had. He found him seated in the yard which he himself had made of stone for the swine of the absent King, and had enclosed with a thick hedge of thorns. He had driven strong posts of oak around it, also. Inside the yard he had made twelve sties, and in each sty there were fifty sows with their little ones. The males were kept outside and were fewer in number, for Eumaios was compelled to send a very fat one to the suitors every day, and therefore there were only eighteen score.
Near them were four large savage dogs as guards. They were more like wolves than dogs. Eumaios was busy making a pair of sandals from an ox-hide, for his own use. The other swineherds had gone on errands, three of them to drive pigs to pasture, while the fourth had taken a hog to the suitors in the city.
When the dogs saw Odysseus they barked and rushed upon him, and they would have torn him to pieces, but Eumaios drove them off with stones and said: "Thou poor old man, the dogs came very near tearing thee limb from limb, and that would have been a great shame and sorrow to me.
"The gods have already sent me trouble enough. Here I sit weeping and mourning for my beloved master, and take care of his swine in order that strangers may eat them. Who knows where he may be wandering as a beggar among people who speak another tongue? But come, old man, let us go into my lodge and eat, and then thou mayest tell me who thou art and what misfortunes thou hast suffered."
Odysseus followed the swineherd into the cabin. Eumaios threw an armful of rushes on the floor and covered it with a rug of goat-skin and bade his guest be seated.
Odysseus was gratified at this kind reception, and said to the swineherd: "May Zeus and all the other immortal gods give thee, my host, all the good of earth for thy hospitality."
The good swineherd answered him: "My guest, I should consider it a great sin not to receive a stranger hospitably, even if he looked more miserable than thou. Strangers and beggars are children of Zeus. The hospitality I can extend to thee is slight but sincere, for servants have little to offer, especially when, like me, they have new masters. Odysseus loved me much. Would that the gods might send him back to us. He would have paid me for my toil. He would have given me a home, a little land, and a wife. But he is dead. May the whole race of Helen be destroyed, for it was she who brought noble men to destruction."
The swineherd drew his belt around him and hastened to the pen where the pigs were shut up. He seized two little pigs and slew them and roasted them on a spit over the fire. He sprinkled salt over the savory meat and brought it to Odysseus. And he brought delicate wine in a wooden cup, as well.
Then he said: "Eat, stranger, for this is the best I have to give. The suitors, who fear neither god nor man, eat the fat hogs. They gorge themselves with the costliest food in the house, both wine and meat, and only these little lean porkers are left for us. Yet there is still an abundance, for my master was very rich. He had twelve herds of horned cattle and as many swine on the mainland, and twelve flocks of sheep and goats. Here, on the island, graze eleven flocks of goats, tended by as many trusty herdsmen, each of whom has to send a fattened goat for the table of the suitors every day. As for myself, I take care of these swine, and each day I choose the best to send to the city."
Odysseus ate the flesh and drank the wine while Eumaios was telling him these things, and could hardly keep from giving vent to his anger. But he kept silence and meditated vengeance on the suitors. When the meal was done he said: "Tell me, I pray thee, all about thy rich and kind master. Thou didst say that he went out with Agamemnon to fight the Trojans. Perhaps I know him and can give thee some information concerning him."
The noble swineherd answered: "Be silent, aged man, for we have ceased to believe the tales told us by wanderers. Every beggar who comes this way calls on my mistress and tells her falsehoods about seeing Odysseus, and tries to make her think that he will come home in a short time. Then she treats him kindly and loads him with gifts.
"How shall we know but thou dost make up just such a story in order to receive a tunic and a mantle? It is a fact that my master does not return. Who knows on what spot of the earth his bones are mouldering, or what dogs and birds have devoured him? I shall never cease to grieve for him. He loved me as he would have loved a son. I shall never find such a kind master again. Even my father and mother were not so good to me. Although he will never be with us any more, I keep on doing his will."
| THE SWINEHERD TELLING HIS STORY TO ODYSSEUS |
| THE SWINEHERD TELLING HIS STORY TO ODYSSEUS |
Odysseus replied: "Thou dost see that I am half naked for want of clothing, but I will never take a reward, even though I am in rags, until Odysseus is really here. I hate the wretch who tells lies to enrich himself as I hate death. I call Zeus to witness, and this hospitable board and the hearth of Odysseus, that what I tell thee will come true. Odysseus will be here at the end of this month, and he will be avenged on those men who have robbed him and insulted his wife and son."
"And yet I will not give thee any reward for thy news, old man," said Eumaios, "for Odysseus is dead. He will never come again. Drink in peace and let us talk of other things. Do not take this great oath, as much as we wish—Laertes, Penelope, Telemachos, and I—that Odysseus might come. But now, as if we had not troubles enough, a new one has come upon us. I know not what evil demon put it into the mind of Telemachos to go to Sparta to inquire about his father. And the ungodly suitors have sent out a ship to watch for him, and kill him on his return. We shall lose him, too, if Zeus does not hold a protecting hand over him.
"But tell me, dear old man, from what country dost thou come? Who are thy parents? Tell me of thy toils and sufferings."
The time had not yet come when Odysseus thought it best to reveal himself. He wanted to stay with the swineherd until his son should return, and he had had the opportunity of making the best plan for ridding his house of the suitors. So he told the swineherd a long string of stories. He said he was a son of the King of Crete; that he went to Troy, where he met Odysseus and fought by his side. Returning, he wandered about, and, after many adventures, met Odysseus again getting ready to return to Ithaca. As for himself, he had been robbed even to his clothing and cast on this island.
He told the tale so well that the swineherd believed him, and even killed a fat hog in his honor. And he made him welcome to his lodge and prepared a good bed for him near the fire, and covered him with goat-skins. The night was cold and damp, and a cutting wind was blowing outside. The other servants lay down near Odysseus to sleep, but Eumaios took a sharp sword and thick mantle and went out near the pens to watch the swine all night. Odysseus saw with gratitude how faithfully this servant attended to his duty.