“Examine this scar which the boar gave me upon Parnassus,” answered Ulysses gayly. “Thou and my loving mother didst send me to grandsire Autolycus to fetch the gifts which he had promised me.” The old man’s knees trembled when he recognized the mark. Quickly he embraced his beloved son, who covered his face with kisses. And then Ulysses told his whole story down to the killing of the suitors. When he had finished, Laertes cried: “Now I see that you still reign, ye immortal gods. For at last these horrid deeds have been avenged. But, my son, how wilt thou escape the vengeance which such a bloody exploit will bring upon thee?” “Let not that trouble thee,” answered Ulysses. “If the love of the people does not protect me, the spirit of Tiresias has promised me a place of refuge in the interior of the mainland, where a peaceful and happy old age awaits me. But now let us go down to the palace, where Telemachus and my faithful servants await us, and thou shalt clothe thyself as befits a king.” When all was in readiness, the happy company sat down to eat together. In the meanwhile rumors of the terrible fate which had overtaken the suitors spread through the city. Their fathers and relatives hastened to the crowded market place to inflame the people. Eupithes, father of Antinous, who had cherished the hope above all others that his son was to be the successful wooer of the beautiful Penelope and ruler over all Ithaca, was the leader. He gained over many of the people by his eloquent pleadings, but others held back, especially after listening to Medon and Halitherses. “Friends,” said the former, “believe me, Ulysses did not do this tremendous deed without the help of the gods. I myself saw the divinity in Mentor’s form standing beside him and turning aside the spears. Even before the shaking of her shield, numbers fell before him. Do not oppose him or ye will fight against offended gods.” “No, ye Ithacans, do not take up arms against him. Let him alone,” said the cautious old Halitherses. “He has but fulfilled the vengeance of the gods.” Many agreed with this and went quietly home. But the friends of the suitors and followers of Eupithes armed themselves and hastened from the palace to Laertes’ gardens, where they found the household under arms and ready to receive them. “Ah, this is a happy day,” cried the valiant Laertes, “when I may fight together with my son and grandson.” Now the goddess Pallas Athene, in Mentor’s shape, approached and breathed courage into him. “Come, noble Laertes,” cried the goddess, “thou shalt open this illustrious battle and cast the first lance at the enemy.” With a prayer to Jupiter he hurled the first spear, and see! it pierces the bronze armor and enters Eupithes’ breast. At the same moment a fiery bolt sent by Jove and accompanied by a roar of thunder struck the earth between the combatants. This terrible omen, together with the fall of their leader, robbed the enemy of their courage and reason.