She bound on her golden sandals that carry her over water and earth with the wind, took her strong bronze-tipped spear, and darted down from Olympus. She stood at Odysseus’s outer gate in the likeness of Mentes, leader of the Taphians, bronze spear in hand.
There she found the proud suitors at draughts on cattle-hides they had killed, while heralds mixed wine, wiped tables, and carved meat. Telemachus saw her first. He sat among them heavy-hearted, seeing his father in his mind — if he should come and scatter the suitors through the house.
Angry that a stranger should wait at the gate, he went to her, took her hand and the spear, and said, “Welcome, stranger. Taste food with us, then tell what need has brought you.” He led her in, set the spear in the stand among Odysseus’s many spears, and seated her on a fine chair with a footstool, himself apart from the suitors so the guest would not be troubled by their noise, and so he might ask about his father.
A maid poured water for their hands. Bread and meats and golden cups were set. The suitors came in and sat. When they had eaten, they turned to song and dance. A herald put a lyre in Phemius’s hands; he sang under compulsion. Telemachus leaned close to Athena so the others would not hear.
“Dear stranger,” he said, “these men care for lyre and song — easy, when they eat another’s livelihood without payment, the wealth of a man whose bones rot somewhere in rain or roll in the waves. If they saw him return, they would pray to be faster on their feet than richer in gold. As it is he has died by an evil fate, and no comfort comes even if someone says he will return. Tell me exactly: who are you? From where? What ship brought you? Are you a first-time guest, or a friend of my father’s? Many used to come here, for he went about much among men.”