4.625–674

ὣς οἱ μὲν περὶ δεῖπνον ἐνὶ μεγάροισι πένοντο.
μνηστῆρες δὲ πάροιθεν Ὀδυσσῆος μεγάροιο
δίσκοισιν τέρποντο καὶ αἰγανέῃσιν ἱέντες
ἐν τυκτῷ δαπέδῳ, ὅθι περ πάρος, ὕβριν ἔχοντες.

So they [servers in Menelaus’s palace] busied themselves preparing dinner.
Meanwhile, in front of the palace of Odysseus
the suitors amused themselves, with discs and throwing spears
on the level ground, arrogant, as they had always been.

Odyssey 4.624–27

“Meanwhile” is perhaps too mild in this case for the μὲν...δὲ construction. “At that very moment” might be better. The poet is done with Sparta for now and will not return to see Telemachus home until Book Fifteen. Odysseus is soon to appear for the first time, and the poet wants us thinking about the dire situation in Ithaka, which only his return can fix. We have been traveling in distant, mythic spaces, the Trojan past with its legendary—and in some cases doomed—heroes, the cosmic reach of Proteus’s power, the mysteries of Egypt. Now we land back in the overcrowded confines of Odysseus’s home, full of all-too-human contenders for Penelope’s hand, sweating in the front yard while she hides upstairs. The transition leaves us no time to adjust, and the effect is jarring. From now on until the end of the Book, we will be back in Ithaka with the queen and her beleaguered household, in an anxious world full of menace.

Noëmon, an innocent bystander to the depredations of the suitors, now delivers troubling news to the suitors. He is wondering about the ship he loaned to Telemachus to travel to Pylos. Does Antinous know when the young prince might be back? The suitors, busy with partying, have not missed Telemachus, and this news stirs up panic. Antinous wants to know why Noëmon would lend the ship, and prompts a small but a telling exchange: Was Noëmon bullied? Well, no, he gave it to Telemachus freely. He’s a young man with a lot of troubles, after all. Why wouldn’t he help? We are reminded that however jovial they might appear at times, the suitors are not friends of Telemachus. How serious their enmity toward him is, we will soon learn. The best young men on the island sailed with Telemachus, we hear from Noëmon, led by someone who appeared to be Mentor, but might have been a god.  

This news hits Antinous hard:

τοῖσιν δ᾽ Ἀντίνοος μετέφη Εὐπείθεος υἱός,
ἀχνύμενος: μένεος δὲ μέγα φρένες ἀμφιμέλαιναι
πίμπλαντ᾽, ὄσσε δέ οἱ πυρὶ λαμπετόωντι ἐίκτην:

Antinous, son of Eupeitheos, spoke to them,
raging, his wits black all around with anger
and both eyes flaring like fire.

Odyssey 4.660–62

Blackened wits and blazing eyes appear only once elsewhere in Homeric poetry, describing the titanic rage of Agamemnon when Calchas the seer sides with Achilles over him in the argument that eventually leads to the deaths of countless Greeks and Trojans in the Iliad:

ἤτοι ὅ γ᾽ ὣς εἰπὼν κατ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἕζετο: τοῖσι δ᾽ ἀνέστη
ἥρως Ἀτρεΐδης εὐρὺ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων
ἀχνύμενος: μένεος δὲ μέγα φρένες ἀμφιμέλαιναι
πίμπλαντ᾽, ὄσσε δέ οἱ πυρὶ λαμπετόωντι ἐΐκτην:

Then having spoken thus, he [Calchas] sat down, and before them
the hero, son of Atreus, wide-ruling powerful Agamemnon
raging, his wits black all around with anger
and both eyes flaring like fire.

Iliad 1.101–04

Fun and games are over now for the suitors. No more frisbee on the lawn. It’s time to deal with Telemachus. After our lengthy detour through Pylos and Sparta, we are reminded of the deadly seriousness of the suitors’ mission and the real danger that will await the young prince when he returns.

Homer shifts our attention again, this time to Penelope, sequestered in her rooms upstairs. Medon, a herald, has been eavesdropping on the suitors and comes to deliver the bad news. The poet ratchets up the painful impact of what the queen will learn by having her lead off with her own questions. What now? Are you here to tell me that the suitors want dinner? She goes on to complain about the suitors eating up the food that ought to belong to Telemachus, and their ungrateful attitude toward Odysseus, who always treated them well. Sarcasm might make her feel a little better but sets her up to be yet more devastated when Medon reveals that Telemachus has sailed to Pylos in search of news about his father and the suitors are plotting to murder him when he returns. The news stuns her:

ὣς φάτο, τῆς δ᾽ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατα καὶ φίλον ἦτορ,
δὴν δέ μιν ἀμφασίη ἐπέων λάβε: τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε
δακρυόφι πλῆσθεν, θαλερὴ δέ οἱ ἔσχετο φωνή.

So he spoke, and her knees gave way and her heart within her.
Words deserted her for a long time, and her eyes
filled with tears, and her swelling voice was stilled within her.

Odyssey 4.703–5

The poet imagines her struck like a warrior on the battlefield, knees buckling. A more elaborate version of this tableau occurs when Andromache first sees Hector’s corpse being dragged behind Achilles’s chariot:

τὴν δὲ κατ᾽ ὀφθαλμῶν ἐρεβεννὴ νὺξ ἐκάλυψεν,
ἤριπε δ᾽ ἐξοπίσω, ἀπὸ δὲ ψυχὴν ἐκάπυσσε.
τῆλε δ᾽ ἀπὸ κρατὸς βάλε δέσματα σιγαλόεντα,
ἄμπυκα κεκρύφαλόν τε ἰδὲ πλεκτὴν ἀναδέσμην
κρήδεμνόν θ᾽, ὅ ῥά οἱ δῶκε χρυσῆ Ἀφροδίτη
ἤματι τῷ ὅτε μιν κορυθαίολος ἠγάγεθ᾽ Ἕκτωρ
ἐκ δόμου Ἠετίωνος, ἐπεὶ πόρε μυρία ἕδνα.
ἀμφὶ δέ μιν γαλόῳ τε καὶ εἰνατέρες ἅλις ἔσταν,
αἵ ἑ μετὰ σφίσιν εἶχον ἀτυζομένην ἀπολέσθαι.
ἣ δ᾽ ἐπεὶ οὖν ἔμπνυτο καὶ ἐς φρένα θυμὸς ἀγέρθη
ἀμβλήδην γοόωσα μετὰ Τρῳῇσιν ἔειπεν.

Dark night covered over her eyes,
and she fell backward and breathed out her life’s breath,
and far away from her head she threw the shining headgear,
the frontlet and hairnet, and plaited head band,
and the veil, which golden Aphrodite gave her
on that day when Hector with his shining helmet led her
out of Eëtion’s home, when he brought countless bride gifts.
And all around her stood her husband’s sisters and her brothers’ wives,
who held her up, stunned as if dead.

Iliad 22.466–74

For Penelope, losing both Odysseus and Telemachus is a form of death.