Summary: Book 23
Eurycleia goes upstairs to call Penelope, who has slept
through the entire fight. Penelope doesn’t believe anything that
Eurycleia says, and she remains in disbelief even when she comes
downstairs and sees her husband with her own eyes. Telemachus rebukes
her for not greeting Odysseus more lovingly after his long absence,
but Odysseus has other problems to worry about. He has just killed
all of the noble young men of Ithaca—their parents will surely be
greatly distressed. He decides that he and his family will need
to lay low at their farm for a while. In the meantime, a minstrel
strikes up a happy song so that no passers-by will suspect what has
taken place in the palace.
Penelope remains wary, afraid that a god is
playing a trick on her. She orders Eurycleia to move her bridal
bed, and Odysseus suddenly flares up at her that their bed is immovable,
explaining how it is built from the trunk of an olive tree around
which the house had been constructed. Hearing him recount these
details, she knows that this man must be her husband. They get reacquainted
and, afterward, Odysseus gives his wife a brief account of his wanderings.
He also tells her about the trip that he must make to fulfill the
prophecy of Tiresias in Book 11. The next
day, he leaves with Telemachus for Laertes’ orchard. He gives Penelope
instructions not to leave her room or receive any visitors. Athena
cloaks Odysseus and Telemachus in darkness so that no one will see
them as they walk through the town.
Summary: Book 24
The scene changes abruptly. Hermes leads the
souls of the suitors, crying like bats, into Hades. Agamemnon and
Achilles argue over who had the better death. Agamemnon describes
Achilles’ funeral in detail. They see the suitors coming in and
ask how so many noble young men met their end. The suitor Amphimedon, whom
Agamemnon knew in life, gives a brief account of their ruin, pinning
most of the blame on Penelope and her indecision. Agamemnon contrasts
the constancy of Penelope with the treachery of Clytemnestra.
Back in Ithaca, Odysseus travels to Laertes’ farm. He
sends his servants into the house so that he can be alone with his
father in the gardens. Odysseus finds that Laertes has aged prematurely
out of grief for his son and wife. He doesn’t recognize Odysseus,
and Odysseus doesn’t immediately reveal himself, pretending instead that
he is someone who once knew and befriended Odysseus. But when Laertes
begins to cry at the memory of Odysseus, Odysseus throws his arms
around Laertes and kisses him. He proves his identity with the scar
and with his memories of the fruit trees that Laertes gave him when
he was a little boy. He tells Laertes how he has avenged himself
upon the suitors.
Laertes and Odysseus have lunch together. Dolius,
the father of Melanthius and Melantho, joins them. While they eat,
the goddess Rumor flies through the city spreading the news of the massacre
at the palace. The parents of the suitors hold an assembly at which
they assess how to respond. Halitherses, the elder prophet, argues
that the suitors merely got what they deserved for their wickedness,
but Eupithes, Antinous’s father, encourages the parents to seek
revenge on Odysseus. Their small army tracks Odysseus to Laertes’
house, but Athena, disguised again as Mentor, decides to put a stop
to the violence. Antinous’s father is the only one killed, felled
by one of Laertes’ spears. Athena makes the Ithacans forget the
massacre of their children and recognize Odysseus as king. Peace
is thus restored.
Analysis: Books 23–24
The scene in which Penelope tests her husband’s
knowledge of the bed neatly brings together several ideas that the
epic has touched on before. This subtle test reveals Penelope’s
clever side—the side we have seen in her ploy to use a never-to-be-finished
burial shroud to put off remarriage for four years. This test not
only admits Odysseus to Penelope’s arms but also sheds some light
on why their love for each other is so natural in the first place.
They are united by the commonality of their minds, by their love
of scheming, testing, and outmaneuvering. They are kindred spirits
because they are kindred wits. None of the suitors could ever replace
Odysseus, just as Circe or Calypso could never replace Penelope.
Literally and metaphorically, no one can move their wedding bed.
