The Adventures of Ulysses the Wanderer Part 11

And this was the first welcome the king had to his palace, and as he went in through the gates his eyes were wet with tears.

When Telemachus saw the steward he beckoned him to the table and sat beside him while he ate. But Ulysses crouched down by the threshold.

Telemachus gave bread and meat to the swineherd.

"Go, Eumaeus," he said aloud, "give these broken meats to that poor old beggar man by the gate, and tell him from me that if he lacks he should be bold and go to the princes and ask them for alms. By Zeus!

he will never grow fat if he crouches by the door there!"

Ulysses took the food with a low bow and packed it away in his wallet.

He rose up grasping his staff, and went tottering among the suitors.

His lean arms and furrowed, wrinkled face were so piteous, his whining appeal full of such misery, that many of the princes tossed him something.

At the head of the table a tall and splendid young man was sitting. He was richly dressed in a showy, ostentatious manner. His florid, handsome face wore a perpetual and evil sneer. His grey eyes were ill-tempered and quarrelsome.

"By the G.o.ds, my friends," he cried, with a sneer, "how tender-hearted and compa.s.sionate you are grown! With what lavishness do you bestow the wealth of Ulysses, or rather of the queen, upon this old scarecrow. Such old beasts are no use in this world. Get you gone, you old dog!"

With that he hurled a three-legged stool at Ulysses. The stool struck him a heavy blow on his side.

For a moment the black turmoil in the hero's heart was almost irrepressible. But with an enormous effort of will he overcame it. He stood quite still, with his head sunk upon his breast in humility.

Now came the girls from out of the house carrying great jars of fresh wine, and copper bowls of water for the mixing, which they put upon the table.

Here was better sport than an old beggar and his woes, and Ulysses moved aside and was forgotten.

But one of the girls touched him on the shoulder. "Wanderer," said she, "the Queen Penelope has seen how Antinous used you from her room within the hall, and she sends me to summon you to her, for she would speak to you."

Then, with beating heart and footsteps which trembled with no simulated age, the king followed the girl over the threshold of his own palace.

As he was walking towards the chamber of the queen an old woman came towards them, a very old woman with a lined brown face and little, brilliant twinkling eyes.

"Poor old man," she said, "it is a shame that they should use your grey hairs so, and abuse the hospitality which is the sacred right of strangers. My lady Penelope sends me to you, and bids me wash your feet in this bowl of water, so that we may purge our house of the stain the prince without has cast upon it. Sit on this stool and I will lave ye."

So the old nurse Euryclea bathed the feet of her master whom she had dandled in her arms as a child. Suddenly Ulysses made as though he would draw away his foot. He remembered that on his leg he bore a strange-shaped scar made by a savage boar when he was a boy, and he feared the wise old woman would know him by that mark.

But as she pa.s.sed her hand along his ankle she touched the mark and turned his foot towards the light and saw it. She dropped his foot quickly, and the basin was overturned and the water ran away over the marble floor. She looked up into the king's face and knew him for all his disguise.

In a fierce, hurried whisper he bade her be silent for her life and his and the queen's safety. As she vowed, trembling, by Zeus and the G.o.ds, to do his bidding, a trumpet snarled suddenly outside on the steps of the palace.

The riot without died into silence.

The clear cold voice of a herald began to speak.

Thus says the Queen Penelope: "To-morrow will I make an end of all. In the forenoon I will choose from among the princes whom I will wed. Too long have ye rioted within the palace and eaten up the substance of myself and my son. I am aweary. And since there is no other way, to-morrow I will choose. Ye shall take the great bow of the King Ulysses from its cover. And he who can shoot an arrow through twelve axes in a row--even as Ulysses was wont to do--him will I wed."

"Nurse!" whispered Ulysses, "the king will be here before any can bend that bow. Now go into the queen and tell her that the old man is sick and begs leave to wait upon her another time. And comfort her with an omen that you have seen, but tell her nothing. And now farewell. There is much to do ere dawn."

There was a silence of consternation in the great banqueting hall of the palace.

Penelope from her seat upon the raised steps beneath the richly-decorated wall at the end smiled faintly to herself.

The twelve axes stood in a row, driven into sockets in the pavement.

The suitors stood in two long rows on either side.

Antinous, the strongest of them all, held a great polished bow. His face blazed with anger and was red with shame.

All eyes were centred on him. No one saw old Eumaeus steal out into the porch and silently lower the heavy bars of the door and lash them tight with cords.

"Ah!" cried Antinous, "I know now why neither any of you nor I myself can bend this bow. It is not the great strength of Ulysses, for I am stronger than he ever was. This is Apollo's festival, the Archer-G.o.d, and it is useless to strive to bend this bow to-day. Let us sacrifice to Helios to-day, and then to-morrow come again to the trial."

Then the old beggar man came forward.

"My lords," he said, "I pray you give me the bow, since you have done your trial for to-day. I was once strong in my youth. Let me have this honour."

Antinous scowled at him, and stepped toward him to strike such insolence, but the clear voice of Penelope called sharply down the lane of men,--

"Who insults even the meanest in my palace? Have more regard, sir, for I am still queen here. Give the old man the bow since that is his whim."

Antinous was cowed, but still murmured, when Telemachus stepped quickly up to him. The boy seemed taller, his eyes shone with a cold, fierce light they had never seen in them before. His voice rang with a new authority.

"Be silent, sir!" he said in a keen, threatening voice. "The bow is mine, and mine alone, to give or refuse as I decide. Mother, the trial is over for to-day. Go with your maidens into your own chamber. I will see to this old man, and I am master here and will be so."

With a frightened pride and wonder the queen withdrew.

The suitors began to whisper to each other, wondering what this might mean. Their confidence seemed to be slipping away from them. Each and all felt uneasy. There was some strange influence in the air which sapped their courage and silenced the loud insolent words which were ever on their lips.

The shadow of death was creeping into the hall.

The great marble room suddenly grew cold. The old beggar came up to the splendid Antinous and took the bow from his unresisting hand.

As he plucked the string the G.o.ds spake at last. A crash of thunder pealed among them. There was a moment's silence, and then the bow-string rang beneath the hero's touch as clear as the note of a swallow.

And in a strange light, which glowed out from the walls and great pillars of bronze, the princes saw no beggar, but a n.o.ble form with bronzed face and flas.h.i.+ng eyes, and they knew the king had come home again.

Ulysses motioned to his son, and Telemachus drew his sword and with a great shout rushed up the hall after his father.

They turned and stood on the steps.

An arrow sang like a flying wasp, and Antinous lay dying on the floor.

Then the princes rushed to the walls where their armour and swords were wont to hang, but all the pegs were bare.

Only above the steps where Ulysses stood were three spears and three s.h.i.+elds, and as they gazed in cold fear Eumaeus leapt upon the steps and the three girded on the armour.

Again the great bow sang, and Amphinomus lay dead.

Then Telemachus with a great shout drove his spear through the fat Ctessipus, and he fell gurgling his life away.