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The next morning, at dawn of day, Telemachos rose from his bed and put on his garments. He hung his sword over his shoulder and fastened his sandals on his feet and strode bravely forth. He summoned his heralds at once and bade them call a council of the Ithacans. The people came at the appointed time, and Telemachos, sceptre in hand, took his place before the assembly and called it to order.
"I have not summoned you, my friends," he said, "in order that ye may see some entertaining show, but out of dire necessity. I bring no news of war and I have nothing to say that concerns the public good. You all know the grief which has befallen me on account of my father, your king and leader, who loved you as a parent loves his children. But Odysseus is gone and there is no hope of his return. This misfortune is not enough, for every day the young men of the leading families of Ithaca and the surrounding isles meet in my house and vex my mother with unseemly and importunate offers of marriage.
"There they are now installed, eating our food, drinking our wine, and wasting our money, for Odysseus is not here to drive them out. I have no way of expelling them from my home. My friends, consider these wrongs and help me to drive these robbers from the house of your king. It would be a shame to the people of Ithaca if it were noised around that they left the son of their chief in the hands of plunderers without giving him help."
Thus spoke Telemachos, the tears running down his cheeks, and he threw the sceptre on the ground. The people were greatly moved, and felt pity for the youth who had to suffer such wrongs, but they were silent. Only Antinoös, the most insolent of the suitors, took up the word and said: "Shameless Telemachos, how dost thou dare to chide us for this state of things! Thy mother is the one to blame. She has been leading us on for three whole years. She is skilful and crafty. She promised, three years ago, to choose one of us for a husband as soon as she should finish the winding-sheets for old Laertes in case of his death.
"Then she began to weave upon her loom a dainty web of vast length and width. And she said to each one of us: 'Do not urge me to marry, I pray, until I finish these shrouds for the hero Laertes, when his hour of death shall come. I have spun an abundance of fine thread, and it must not be wasted. Besides that, the dames of Greece would speak ill of me if I should leave my husband's father without a shroud, for he has had great wealth all his life.' In this way Penelope gave us hope, and we were too generous to persist in forcing her to choose at once.
"She went on in this way, weaving the great web by day, and every night she unravelled by torchlight all that she had woven by sunlight. She has deceived us long enough. We have discovered her fraud; for a woman who has seen her unravelling the web has told us all about it. She must finish the work and make her choice among her suitors. If thou dost wish us to leave thy house, thou shalt send thy mother to her parents and let her father command her to marry one of us, according to her choice. When this is done no one will disturb thee any longer.
"If, however, Penelope prefers to treat the noble sons of Greece with such malice and craft, we will go right on consuming thy goods. She will thus make a great name for herself, but she will impoverish thee."
"I shall never send my mother away from her husband's house," rejoined Telemachos. "Living or dead, my father is in distant lands, and if I should dismiss his wife of my own will, I should invite the hatred of the gods on my guilty head. She would call upon the Furies to haunt me; all men would curse me; and her father would demand ample satisfaction of me. I will never speak the word to send her forth. Now, get you gone and cease squandering my riches or I will call down the wrath of the gods on you."
Having said this, Telemachos sat down, and Zeus sent two eagles flying over the heads of the wooers, close to each other. They looked down upon the crowd of people and tore each other's heads and vanished. The Ithacans saw the deadly omen, and a venerable prophet among them stood up and said: "Noble youths, I advise you seriously to depart from this royal house, for this is a sign that Odysseus is coming home. Woe to you if he finds you in his palace. You will all meet a direful end."
Eurymachos answered him: "Old man, keep thy advice and thy forebodings for thine own children. We do not need them. Advise Telemachos to change his mind and send his mother home to her father, instead of prating foolishly to us. As long as he keeps her here we shall continue to consume his wealth, until he has nothing left. And we will punish thee severely if thou dost incite this young man to violence."
Telemachos, thinking it best to be discreet, replied: "Now hear me, Eurymachos, and all ye suitors. Give me a good ship and twenty men, that I may go from land to land in search of my father. If I find that he lives and may return, I will wait one year longer for him to reach home. But if I hear that he is not alive, I will come back and build a mound to his memory and give him a funeral worthy of such a king. Then shall my mother make her choice and wed."
Mentor, the stanch friend and adviser of Odysseus, sat among the Ithacans in the assembly. When he saw how Telemachos was put to shame, he grew angry. He rose to his feet, and addressed the people: "No king ever again should be wise and good. He should be hard and unjust, since no one of you has enough love for Odysseus to stand by his son. I am less ashamed of the impudent suitors, than I am of the weaklings who see what they are doing and who dare not interfere."
"Foolish old Mentor," said one of the suitors, "what art thou saying! If Odysseus, himself, should come hither, he would not be able to drive us out. If anyone thinks himself strong enough to do it, let him try it. Ye Ithacans disperse to your homes, and leave Mentor to provide the boy with a ship." So saying he dispersed the crowd, and the wooers all went into the palace to continue their revelry.