Letting the mask drop

What does it mean to finally come home? Place is one thing, but what of the heart? And should those loved remain distant, or never there? Now, that a much more complicated matter, and for each alone to decide.

The scene has been set, the rehearsals are over, but the characters – sometimes costumed, sometimes not – are ready in the wings; the time approaches to tread the boards, reveal their true selves, and see where fickle Fate may lead.

Book 15: the prince returns

pp. 350-368

Athena in her inimitable way, of deception and persuasion and prophecy, arranges that Telemachus make a quick departure from Sparta and from his host Menalaus. En route, in Pylos, he bids farewell to this new friend, Pisistratus, avoiding King Nestor who would surely demand he stay, before embarking again upon high seas – there is a time to enjoy the fruits of hospitality and a time to make haste.

Back on Ithaca another gifted story teller joins the fray. Eumaeus tells Odysseus his tale of a life robbed from him as a child through wicked circumstance and the avarice of others, and offered to the highest bidder; to be enslaved, but saved from the worst by the generosity of Odysseus’ father, Laertes, and finding favour with his mother and sister. Does Odysseus even wonder why it is that he does not know this story of his noble slave?

Book 16: Father and son

pp. 369-385

I note with interest that on his arrival at Eumaeus’ hut, Telemachus is greeted not only with delight by the loyal swineherd but with calm and familiarity by his dogs; previously, had Eumaeus not intervened, Odysseus would certainly have been mauled by them. This says something I think about time – at least one canine generation has passed since Odysseus left his home shores; these fierce (fiercly loyal) dogs know only his son to be their master’s master. Again, does Odysseus wonder? I say “again” because it sometimes occurs to me that for someone supposedly so clever, Odysseus has a way of overlooking the obvious in his midst. Does his heart swell not just a little with pride and does he not think: “My son has garnered the respect of these beasts, and that is no easy thing; he is the lord they know not I.”?

Telemachus is interested in this “stranger” that he finds in Eumaeus company, accords him courtesy and respect – a noble manner that does impress Odysseus – and when Eumaeus has departed to tell Penelope of her son’s safe return, the opportunity arises for Athena to transform Odysseus once again into some version of his younger self; least ways a version that quickly convinces Telemachus that this is indeed his father. Emotionally charged is an understatement to describe their reunion, but swiftly the mood changes into one of vengeful plotting. At the palace, the target – that pesky band of suitors – peeved at their unsuccessful efforts to date, is also making plans to have another go at ridding themselves of Telemachus (not unanimous granted – Amphinomus is a voice of dissent). Penelope confronts them with her knowledge of their wicked plans, of which they are quick to deny, and Athena must help to bring sleep to this grieving wife and mother that night.

And as if she had nothing else to do, Athena’s busy wand must transform Odysseus back to his old beggar self before Eumaeus return. But now another is privy to his disguise; for he has a co-conspirator (“But what about me?” Athena may well haughtily demand!), and what better person than one’s own flesh and blood. Father and son would surely sleep well this night.