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Now, though, Poseidon was visiting the distant Ethiopians, the most remote of all, a divided people, some of whom live where Hyperion sets the others where he rises, to accept a hecatomb of sacrificial bulls and rams, and there he sat, enjoying the feast: but the rest of the gods had gathered in the halls of Olympian Zeus. The Father of gods and men was first to address them, for he was thinking of flawless Aegisthus, whom far-famed Orestes, Agamemnon’s son had killed. And, thinking of him, he spoke to the immortals.

‘How surprising that men blame the gods, and say their troubles come from us, though they, through their own un-wisdom, find suffering beyond what is fated. Just as Aegisthus, beyond what was fated, took the wife of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, and murdered him when he returned, though he knew the end would be a complete disaster, since we sent Hermes, keen-eyed slayer of Argus, to warn him not to kill the man, or court his wife, as Orestes would avenge Agamemnon, once he reached manhood and longed for his own land. So Hermes told him, but despite his kind intent he could not move Aegisthus’ heart: and Aegisthus has paid the price now for it all.’

Moved to anger, Pallas Athene spoke: ‘Ah, you have dire need of lost Odysseus, to set hands on these shameless Suitors. If only he were standing at the palace gates now, with his helmet and shield and twin spears, just as when I first saw him at my house, drinking joyously, on his way home from Ephyre, after his visit to Ilus, Mermerus’ son. Odysseus went there as well, in his swift ship, in search of a deadly poison to smear on the tips of his bronze-headed arrows. Ilus was in awe of the deathless gods and refused him, but my father who loved him dearly did not. If only Odysseus, I say, as he was, could confront the Suitors: they would meet death swiftly, and a dark wedding. But, indeed, it lies in the lap of the gods whether he will return and take vengeance in his palace, or not: but I urge you yourself to plan how to drive these Suitors from the house.

Come, listen, and note my words. Call the Achaean lords together tomorrow: speak to them all, with the gods for witness. Tell the Suitors to disperse, each to his home: and if your mother’s heart urges her to marry, let her go back to her great father’s house, where they will ready a wedding feast, and a wealth of gifts, fitting for a well-beloved daughter. And I will give you good advice, if you will hear me. Man the best ship you have with twenty oarsmen, go and seek news of your absent father. Some mortal may tell you, or perhaps a rumour sent by Zeus to bring news to men. Go to Pylos first, and question the noble Nestor: then to Sparta to yellow-haired Menelaus, last of the bronze-clad Achaeans to reach home. If you hear your father is living, and sailing home, then however troubled you are, endure for another year. But if you hear he is dead, return to your own land, build a mound, with all the funeral rites, generous ones as is fitting, and give your mother away to a new husband. When you have settled and done all this, use heart and mind to plan how to kill the Suitors in your palace, openly or by guile: since it is not right for you to follow childish ways, being no more a child. Perhaps you have not heard what fame Orestes won among men, destroying his father’s murderer, cunning Aegisthus, for killing his noble father? You too take courage, my friend, since I see you are tall and fine, so that many a man unborn will praise you. But now I must go to my swift ship, and my crew who will be weary of waiting. Take note yourself of my words, and consider them.

But throughout the shadowy hall the Suitors created uproar, with each man praying he might bed her. Wise Telemachus was then the first to speak: ‘My mother’s Suitors, proud in your insolence, let us enjoy the feast for now, but without disturbance, since it is a lovely thing to listen to such a bard as this, with his godlike voice. Then, in the morning, let us take our seats in the assembly, so I can declare to you all you must leave the palace. Feast elsewhere, move from house to house, and eat your own provisions. If it seems preferable, more profitable to you, to waste one man’s estate without restitution, then do so, but I meanwhile will call on the eternal gods hoping that Zeus might grant a day of reckoning. Then you will be wasted in my halls, without restitution.’

So he spoke, and they bit their lips, amazed at Telemachus’ bold speech. Then Antinous, Eupeithes’ son, replied: ‘Telemachus, the gods themselves must have taught you this bold, high style. May the son of Cronos never make you king of Ithaca’s isle, though it is your heritage by birth.’

Then wise Telemachus answered him: ‘Will it anger you, Antinous, if I say that I should be pleased to accept it from Zeus’ hand. Do you think, in truth, it is the worst fate for a man? It is no bad thing to be a king. At once your house grows rich, and you are held in higher honour. But there are many other kings for the Achaeans, young and old, in Ithaca’s isle. Perhaps one of them will have the honour, since noble Odysseus is dead. But I will be master of my own house, and of the servants noble Odysseus gathered for me.’

Then Eurymachus, Polybus’ son, replied: ‘Surely, Telemachus, the question of who will be king, in Ithaca’s isle, is in the lap of the gods: and as for your possessions, keep them, and be master in your own house. While men live in Ithaca, let no man come and snatch your possessions from you, violently, or against your will. But I am prompted to ask, dear sir, where has that stranger come from? What country does he claim as his? Where are his kin, and native land? Does he bring news of your father’s arrival, or did he come here on his own account? How he leapt up and vanished! He would not wait to be known, though he seemed no common man.’

Wise Telemachus answered him, saying: ‘Eurymachus, surely my father has lost his chance to return. I no longer put my faith in rumours, wherever they come from, nor do I note the prophecies my mother may hear, from some diviner she has called to the palace. The stranger is a friend of my father’s from Taphos. He announced he is Mentes, the son of wise Anchialus, lord of the sea-going Taphians.’

So Telemachus spoke, yet in his heart he knew it was the deathless goddess.