The OdysseyAge-adapted version

Sing to me, Muse, of that clever man Odysseus, who wandered far and wide after helping to bring down the mighty city of Troy. He saw many cities and came to know the ways of many peoples. He suffered terribly on the sea, struggling to save his own life and bring his comrades home. But save them he could not, no matter how much he wanted to. They brought ruin upon themselves through their own foolishness, when they slaughtered the sacred cattle of the sun god Helios. And so they never saw their homeland again.

All the other Greeks who survived the war and the sea had reached their homes long ago. Only Odysseus remained missing. He longed for the island of Ithaka, for his house, for his old father, for the son he had barely watched grow up, and for Penelope, the wife who waited for him. But the nymph Kalypso kept him captive on her distant island of Ogygia. She wanted him to stay with her forever and become her husband.

One day the gods gathered with Zeus on Mount Olympos. Poseidon, god of the sea, was not there. He was still furious at Odysseus for blinding his son, the Cyclops Polyfemos. But Athene, the wise goddess, spoke up for Odysseus.

"Father Zeus," she said, "you must not forget that man. He has always honored the gods, and now he sits alone on an island, weeping by the shore. Kalypso tries to make him forget Ithaka, but all he wants is to see the smoke rising from his own house."

Zeus answered that he had not forgotten Odysseus. "Poseidon pursues him," he said. "But now the time has come. Hermes shall go to Kalypso and tell her that Odysseus must be allowed to leave. And you, Athene, shall go to Ithaka. Give courage to his son Telemakos. Make him seek news of his father."

Athene flew down to Ithaka disguised as a foreign prince. At the gate of Odysseus' house she found a crowd of young men sitting on ox hides, playing games, drinking wine, and waiting for dinner. They were the suitors. For years they had camped in the house, demanding that Penelope choose a new husband. Every day they slaughtered Odysseus' animals, drank his wine, and behaved as though the house already belonged to them.

Telemakos sat among them, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was no longer a small child, though he often felt like one. He thought of his father, who had gone to Troy when Telemakos was a baby. If Odysseus suddenly returned, he thought, the suitors would flee from the house like frightened birds. Then he noticed the stranger standing at the door. He felt ashamed that no one had welcomed a guest, and he went over at once.

"Welcome," he said. "Come in. Eat first, and later tell us who you are."

He led Athene inside, placed her spear among his father's many weapons, and seated her far from the suitors' noise. Servants washed their hands, set out bread, meat, and wine, and soon the singer Phemios began to play for the suitors.

Telemakos leaned toward his guest. "This house should belong to my father," he whispered. "If he had died with honor at Troy, the Greeks could have raised a grave mound for him, and I could have carried his name with pride. But now no one knows whether he lives or is dead. The suitors are destroying everything. My mother will not marry, but she cannot drive them away either."

Athene answered in a warm voice: "Odysseus was a man who always found a way out. Even if he were bound in iron, he would think his way to freedom. But you too must do your part. Call the people together tomorrow. Tell the suitors to go home and eat their own food. Then you shall sail to Nestor at Pylos and to Menelaos at Sparta. Perhaps they know something of your father. If you hear that he is dead, you can mourn him and let your mother marry. But if he lives, you must hold on. And remember—one day you must find a way to stop the suitors."

Telemakos promised to follow her advice. Athene vanished like a bird, and he understood that his guest had been a goddess.

When Phemios sang about the Greeks' difficult journey home from Troy, Penelope came down from her room. She held a veil before her face and wept. "Phemios," she said, "sing another song. This one tears my heart apart."

But Telemakos answered, with surprising firmness: "Mother, let the singer sing what he wishes. It is not he who created this sorrow. Many went to Troy and never came home, not just my father. Go upstairs and tend to your weaving and your work. Speech belongs to the men of this house—and I am its master now."

Penelope looked at him in wonder. He was still her son, but something had changed. She returned to her room, while the suitors muttered and laughed. Telemakos told them they would meet in assembly the next morning. Antinous, the most arrogant of them, mocked him.

"Perhaps you think you will be king over us?" he said.

"I do not know who will rule Ithaka," Telemakos replied. "But I will rule my own house."

The next day Telemakos rose early. He put on his sandals, strapped his sword at his shoulder, and walked with his spear in hand to the meeting place. Two dogs followed him. The people gathered, for no assembly had been held since Odysseus left for Troy.

An old man named Aigyptios asked who had called them together. Telemakos rose and took the floor. At first his voice trembled a little, but then it grew clear.

"I have two sorrows," he said. "One is that my father is gone. The other is that your sons are destroying his house. They eat our cattle, our sheep, and our goats. They drink our wine. They want my mother, but they will not ask her father to choose a husband for her in the proper way. They live here like robbers. Help me, or be ashamed that you let this happen."

He threw his staff to the ground and began to weep. Many felt pity for him, but no one dared to stop the suitors.

Antinous rose. "The blame lies with Penelope," he said. "She has deceived us for years. She said she must first weave a burial shroud for Laertes, Odysseus' old father. By day she wove before our eyes, but by night she unraveled everything she had done. That is how she tricked us for three years. Now she must choose a husband, or we will stay here forever."

Telemakos answered: "How can I drive away my own mother? She gave me life, and this is her home. If you want to eat, then eat at your own houses. But if you stay here and keep plundering us, Zeus will one day demand payment."

At that moment two eagles flew over the assembly. They circled above the people, beat their wings, and clawed at each other before flying off to the right over the city. The old prophet Halitherses read the sign.

"Odysseus is closer than you think," he said. "He will soon return and punish the suitors. I said before the Trojan War that he would suffer much, lose all his men, and come home in the twentieth year, unrecognized. That time is now drawing near."

Eurymakos, another of the suitors, laughed at him. "Old man, go home and prophesy to your own children. Birds fly around the sky all the time. Odysseus is dead. We fear neither Telemakos nor your signs."

The assembly broke up without help for Telemakos. He walked down to the sea, washed his hands in the waves, and prayed to Athene for aid. She came to him in the shape of Mentor, an old friend of Odysseus.

"Do not be afraid," she said. "If you have something of your father's cleverness and your mother's strength, your journey will succeed. Prepare your ship. Get wine, water, and barley meal. I will find men who will sail with you."

Telemakos went home and asked the old nurse Eurykleia to fill twelve jars with the best wine and pack barley meal in leather bags. She began to cry when she heard he was going to sea.

"My child," she said, "your father is gone, and now these men will kill you as soon as you leave Ithaka."

"Do not be afraid," said Telemakos. "This is the gods' counsel. But promise me you will not tell my mother anything until I have been gone many days."

Eurykleia swore. In the evening Athene made the suitors heavy with sleep and wine. She found a ship, and Telemakos went aboard with twenty young men. The sail filled with a gentle west wind, and the ship vanished over the dark sea.

When the sun rose, they reached Pylos. On the beach stood hundreds of men sacrificing black bulls to Poseidon. Telemakos felt unsure of himself. "How shall I dare to speak with the old king Nestor?" he asked Mentor.

"Some things you will think of yourself," Athene answered. "And some things the gods will put into your heart."

Nestor's son welcomed them and gave them places at the sacrificial feast. After they had eaten, Nestor asked who they were. Telemakos told him that he was Odysseus' son and begged for the truth.

Nestor looked at him for a long time. "You speak just like your father," he said. "No one was wiser than Odysseus when we made our plans at Troy. But after the city fell, the Greeks became divided. Agamemnon and Menelaos quarreled. Some went one way, some another. I sailed home early and know little of Odysseus. But I do know that Agamemnon was murdered by Aigisthos when he came home, and that his son Orestes took revenge. Remember that, Telemakos. A son can carry on his father's name."

Athene, still disguised as Mentor, said that the gods could help even those who hoped for little. Nestor was struck by how divine the stranger seemed. When Athene flew away as an eagle, he understood who she was. He sacrificed to her and sent his son Peisistratos to accompany Telemakos on to Sparta.

In Sparta they came to the splendid house of Menelaos. A wedding feast was being held for his children. Gold, silver, ivory, and bronze gleamed everywhere. Telemakos stared at the riches, but Menelaos said: "No mortal can compare with Zeus. I have seen many lands and gathered much, but I would rather have less wealth if all those who died at Troy were alive."

He spoke especially of Odysseus, and when tears filled Telemakos' eyes, Helen recognized him. "He resembles Odysseus," she said. "The hands, the eyes, the shape of the head."

Peisistratos explained who he was. Menelaos took Telemakos' hand. "Son of my dear friend," he said. "If Odysseus had come home, I would have given him land and a house near my own. But the gods have kept him away."

Everyone began to weep. Helen mixed a herb into the wine, a herb that stilled sorrow for a while. Then she told them about Odysseus at Troy. Once he had disguised himself as a beggar, beaten himself bloody, and entered the city as a spy. Helen had recognized him, but after he made her swear silence, she did not betray him.

Menelaos also told of the great wooden horse. When the Greeks sat hidden inside it, Helen walked around it, calling to them with the voices of their wives. Several men wanted to answer, but Odysseus held his hand over the mouth of one who almost revealed them all.

The next morning Telemakos told why he had come. Menelaos grew furious at the suitors. "They behave as though a doe had laid her young in a lion's den," he said. "When the lion comes home, he will make short work of them."

Then he told what the sea god Proteus had said to him in Egypt. Menelaos had been stranded on an island without wind. Proteus' daughter had taught him to hide among the seals and hold fast to the old sea god while he changed into lion, serpent, water, and tree. At last Proteus had to speak the truth.

"I saw Odysseus alive," Proteus had said. "He weeps on an island with Kalypso. She keeps him there, and he has no ship."