The Odyssey, Page 52

  looking all round at the solid walls, but nowhere

  was there a shield or strong spear that they could grab.

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  So they abused Odysseus in furious words, declaring:

  "It's an outrage, stranger, for you to shoot men! You'll never

  compete in another contest! Now you've sealed your fate!

  The man you killed was by far the noblest of the youths

  on Ithake: because of that the vultures shall eat you here."

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  So said each of them, for indeed they supposed he'd not

  killed the man on purpose: poor fools, they had no notion

  that over them all the bonds of destruction were set.

  Then, with an angry glance, resourceful Odysseus replied:

  "You dogs, you thought that I'd never come home again

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  from the Trojans' land, the way you ravaged my house,

  and forcibly bedded my women servants, and while

  I was still alive, underhandedly courted my wife,

  with no fear of the gods who own broad heaven,

  or of any human reproof that might come hereafter!

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  Now over you all the bonds of destruction are set!"

  So he spoke. Pale dread possessed them all: each man

  looked round for a way to escape from sheer destruction.

  Only Eurymachos now responded to him, saying:

  "If you indeed are Odysseus, come home to Ithake, then

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  what you say about all the Achaians have done is just--

  many their wanton acts, here in the house, out afield!

  But the man lies dead who was to blame for it all--

  Antinoos! He it was who instigated these deeds,

  not so much out of desire or need for the marriage,

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  but with a different aim, not fulfilled by Kronos' son:

  that over well-ordered Ithake he might himself

  be king--and lie in wait for your son and kill him!

  Now he's been fairly slain, spare these people: they are

  your own! And hereafter we'll collect you reparation

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  for all that's been drunk or eaten here in this hall,

  each man providing you with the worth of twenty oxen!

  We'll requite you in bronze and gold until your heart is softened;

  but until that time comes no man could blame you for your anger."

  Then. with an angry glance, resourceful Odysseus responded:

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  "Eurymachos, were you to give me all you had from your fathers,

  all that you now possess, plus what you could find elsewhere,

  not even so would I stay my hands from slaughter

  until the suitors had paid the full price for their wrongdoing!

  Now it's your choice whether you'll stand and fight me

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  or run--if anyone here can dodge death and its spirits;

  but none of you, I think, will escape from sheer destruction."

  So he spoke: there and then their knees and hearts gave way.

  But Eurymachos now spoke again, and addressed them, saying:

  "Friends, this man won't restrain his invincible hands!

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  Now he's got control of the polished bow and its quiver

  he'll shoot from the smooth-worn threshold until he's killed

  every last one of us! We must think about how to fight him!

  So draw your swords now, hold the tables in front of you

  against his swift deadly arrows, and then let's all go for him

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  in a body, try to shift him from the threshold and doorway,

  then get to the city, raise a quick hue and cry. Do that,

  and this fellow will soon have shot his last shaft."

  So saying,

  he now unsheathed his sharp sword, fashioned of bronze,

  with its double edge, and made for Odysseus, yelling out

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  his fearsome war cry. At the same instant noble Odysseus

  let fly another arrow. The swift shaft struck his breast

  under the nipple, drove into his liver. He dropped his sword

  on the ground, and fell, doubled up and sprawling, over

  the table: the food all went flying to the ground, along with

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  his two-handled cup. His forehead smashed agonizingly

  into the ground; both feet kicked out at his chair,

  dislodging it. A mist closed down over his eyes.

  Amphinomos next attacked renowned Odysseus, charging

  straight at him, keen-edged sword ready and drawn, to see

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  if he could force him back from the doorway. Telemachos

  was too quick, aimed from behind with his bronze-tipped spear,

  and hit him between the shoulders, drove right through

  his breast. He fell with a thud, hit the ground forehead first.

  But Telemachos sprang back, left his far-shadowing spear

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  there in Amphinomos, much afraid that some Achaian--

  while he was busy prising that long spear loose--might rush up

  and give him a sword thrust, catch him still stooping. So he

  set off at a run, quickly reached his dear father, stood close

  and addressed him with winged words, saying: "Father,

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  I'll go now and fetch you a shield and a couple of spears,

  and an all-bronze helmet, close-fitting at the temples.

  I'll arm myself too while I'm gone, and get arms for the swineherd

  and the cowherd too: for sure, to be in armor is better."

  Then resourceful Odysseus responded to him, saying:

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  "Run, fetch them, while I still have arrows for my defense,

  lest they force me away from the doors, all alone as I am."

  So he spoke, and Telemachos, in obedience to his father,

  made his way to the storeroom where their fine arms were kept,

  and from there collected four shields, eight spears, and four

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  bronze-plated helmets, decked with thick crests of horsehair.

  Carrying these, he quickly returned to his dear father.

  Then, first, he armored his own body in bronze,

  and the two servants likewise put on their splendid gear,

  and stood there flanking clever, subtle-minded Odysseus.

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  He, while he still had arrows for his defense, went after

  the suitors, one by one, never stopping, there in his house,

  aiming, then shooting. They kept falling, thick and fast.

  But when the master had no more arrows to shoot,

  the bow he propped up against the pleasantly sited hall's

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  doorpost, to stand by the bright inner walls. He now

  slung from his shoulders a fourfold shield, and on

  his powerful head next settled a well-made helmet

  with a horsehair plume nodding fearsomely up above,

  and took two sturdy spears, both tipped with bronze.

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  There existed a side postern set in the solid wall,

  flush with the top of the pleasantly sited hall's threshold,

  that led into a corridor and had a close-fitting door.1

  On this corridor Odysseus ordered the noble swineherd

  to keep a close watch (one man only could rush it at a time),

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  since Agelaos had called out to all the suitors, saying:

  "Friends, won't one of you now slip out by that side postern,

  get word to the people, raise a quick hue and cry? Do that,

  and this fellow will soon have taken his last shot."

  Then Melanthios, herder of goats, responded to him, saying:

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p; 135

  "That won't work, Agelaos, Zeus' nursling: the fine courtyard

  doors are dangerously close, and the corridor is narrow:

  one man, if a good fighter, could hold off all comers. So let me

  go fetch armor for us to put on, from his private storeroom;

  for that, I'm certain, and no place else, is where

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  Odysseus and his illustrious son have stowed their gear."

  So saying, Melanthios, herder of goats, went up

  by the steps of the hall to the storerooms of Odysseus.2

  From there he took twelve shields, and a dozen spears,

  and as many bronze helmets with thick horsehair crests,

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  and made his way back, and quickly gave them to the suitors.

  Then Odysseus' knees and courage both wilted as he saw them

  girding themselves in armor and brandishing long spears

  in their hands, and huge his task now appeared to him,

  and at once he addressed Telemachos with winged words, saying:

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  "Telemachos, it must be one of the women in the halls

  is backing this bad fight against us--or maybe Melanthios."

  Sagacious Telemachos responded to him, saying:

  "I myself, father, made the mistake here--no one else

  is to blame! It was I who left the close-fitting door

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  of the storeroom ajar: they kept a sharper watch than I did!

  You go now, noble Eumaios, and shut that storeroom door,

  and see if it's one of the women who's behind this, or,

  as I suspect, Melanthios, Dolios' son."

  Such was

  the conversation between them, one to the other.

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  But Melanthios, herder of goats, went back to the storeroom

  to fetch more fine armor. The noble swineherd saw him,

  and at once addressed Odysseus, close by him, saying:

  "Scion of Zeus, Laertes' son, resourceful Odysseus,

  there's that dangerous busybody--the one we ourselves

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  suspect--off back to the storeroom! So tell me truthfully,

  am I to kill the man, if I prove the better fighter,

  or bring him here to you, to pay for the misdemeanors,

  all of them, that he's committed here in your house?"

  To him

  Resourceful Odysseus then responded, saying: "For sure,

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  I and Telemachos will hold off these haughty suitors,

  keep them shut in the hall here, however hard they struggle!

  You two should force both that man's hands and feet

  behind his back, lash them to boards there, dump him

  into the storeroom, attach a braided rope to his body,

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  hoist him up the tall column until he's near the roof beams:

  that way he'll stay alive longest and suffer real agony."

  So he spoke. They listened carefully and obeyed him.

  To the storeroom they went, unnoticed by the man inside,

  who was searching for armor far in the back. The two

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  lay in wait for him, standing on either side of the doorway.

  When Melanthios, herder of goats, was crossing the threshold--

  in one hand a splendid helmet, and in the other

  an old broad shield, that was all befouled with mildew

  and belonged to the hero Laertes, who'd carried it when young,

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  but it had long been laid up, the seams of its straps were rotted--

  the two sprang, seized him, dragged him in by his hair,

  flung him down, sore anguished at heart, on the ground.

  They lashed his hands and feet tight with agonizing bonds,

  forcing them right behind his back, exactly the way

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  that Laertes' son, much-enduring noble Odysseus

  had told them to do. They attached a braided rope to his body,

  and hauled him up the tall column until he was near the roof beams.

  Then, swineherd Eumaios, you made mock of him, saying:

  "This way, Melanthios, you'll keep watch the whole night,

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  lying there on the kind of soft bed that's proper for you;

  nor shall Dawn, early risen, coming up from Ocean's streams

  in gold-throned splendor escape your notice as you

  bring the suitors your she-goats to set up a feast in the hall."

  So he was left there, stretched tight in his deadly bonds,

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  while the two put on their armor, closed the bright door,

  and made their way back to clever, subtle-minded Odysseus.

  There they stood on the threshold, breathing courage,

  four men against a crowd of good fighters in the feast hall.

  Then Zeus' daughter Athene came up close to them,

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  assuming the likeness of Mentor, in both voice and person.

  Odysseus rejoiced at the sight of her, and addressed her, saying:

  "Mentor, defend us from harm, remember your dear comrade

  who used to do you good turns: you and I are the same age."

  So he spoke: but he guessed it was Athene the host-rallier.

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  The suitors across from him made an uproar in the hall

  and the first to rebuke Athene was Damastor's son Agelaos:

  "Mentor, don't let Odysseus sidetrack you with his glib talk

  into fighting against the suitors and giving aid to him!

  For this is how I think our purpose will be accomplished:

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  when we kill these men, both father and son, you too

  will be slain along with them, for the deeds you're so eager

  to perform in these halls: with your own head you'll pay for them!

  And when with the bronze we've stripped you of your violence,

  all the possessions you have, whether indoor or outside,

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  we'll add to those of Odysseus! We won't let your sons live

  in your halls, nor grant your daughters or your good wife

  the right to move freely about Ithake."

  So he spoke,

  and Athene grew even more furious at heart,

  and upbraided Odysseus with angry words: "No longer

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  is your courage steadfast, Odysseus, nor that fine prowess

  you showed when over Helen--high-born, white-armed--

  for nine years you fought the Trojans unceasingly,

  and many fighters you killed in that dread conflict--

  it was your advice brought down Priam's broad-wayed city!

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  Why then now, when you're back to home and possessions,

  do you wail at the thought of facing up to the suitors?

  So come here, my friend, stand beside me, watch me at work,

  and see the way, when up against hostile fighters,

  that Alkimos' son Mentor repays your good services!"

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  She spoke, yet still did not give him enough strength to prevail

  in his battle, was still making trial of the might and valor

  both of Odysseus himself and of his illustrious son.

  And now she flew up to a roof beam of the smoky hall

  and perched there in plain view, in the likeness of a swallow.

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  Agelaos, Damastor's son, was now urging the suitors on,

  with Eurynomos, Amphimedon, Demoptolemos,

  Peisandros, Polyktor's son, and skillful Polybos;

  for these were by far the most valiant of the suitors

  who were still alive and fighting for their survival: the pick

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  of the rest had already fallen to the bow and constant arrows.3

&nbs
p; Agelaos then spoke among them, addressing them all: "My friends,

  this man by now must surely hold up his invincible hands!