Then the bright-eyed goddess Athena put a thought into the heartof Icarius' daughter, the prudent Penelope,to set before the suitors the bow and the grey iron,there in the halls of Odysseus, as a contest and the beginning of slaughter.She climbed the high stairway of her own house,and in her sturdy hand she took a well-curved key,a beautiful one of bronze, with a handle of ivory upon it.And she went with her attendant women to the storeroomat the farthest end of the house, where the master's treasures lay,bronze and gold and laboriously-wrought iron.And there lay the back-sprung bow and the quiverthat held the arrows, and many were the arrows of sorrow within,gifts which a guest-friend had given him, whom he met in Lacedaemon:Iphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like unto the immortals.These two had met one another in Messene,in the house of the wise Ortilochus. Indeed, Odysseushad come to collect a debt which the whole people owed him;for Messenian men had lifted from Ithaca three hundred sheepand their shepherds, carrying them off in their many-benched ships.On account of these, Odysseus had traveled that long road as an envoy,though he was but a boy; for his father and the other elders had sent him forth.Iphitus, for his part, was in search of his mares, which he had lost—twelve mares, and patient mules to run beneath them.But these very mares were to be his murder and his doom,when he came upon the strong-souled son of Zeus,the man Heracles, versed in mighty deeds,
who slew him in his own house, though Iphitus was his guest.The cruel man felt no reverence for the wrath of the gods, nor for the tablethat he had set before him; afterward he killed him, even Iphitus himself,and kept the strong-hoofed mares for himself in his halls.It was while seeking these that he met Odysseus and gave him the bow,which the great Eurytus had carried before him, and which, upon dying,he had left to his son in his lofty halls.And in return Odysseus gave him a sharp sword and a stout spear,as a beginning of fond guest-friendship; yet at the tablethey never came to know one another, for before that, the son of Zeus had slainIphitus, son of Eurytus, a man like unto the immortals,he who had given Odysseus the bow. Yet godlike Odysseus nevertook it with him when he went to war aboard the black ships,but let it lie in his halls as a remembrance of his dear friend,and carried it only upon his own lands.
Now when she, the queenly woman, reached the storeroomand stepped upon the oaken threshold, which a craftsman had onceskillfully planed and squared to the line,fitting the posts within it and setting on it the shining doors,she at once swiftly loosed the strap from the handle,inserted the key, and, aiming straight before her,shot back the bolts of the doors. And they groaned aloud, like a bullgrazing in a meadow; so loud did the beautiful doors groanwhen struck by the key, and they flew open before her.She then stepped onto a high platform, where chestsstood, and in them lay fragrant garments.From there, stretching up, she took down the bow from its pegin its own shining case that was fitted around it.Then sitting down there, she laid it upon her dear knees,and wept with piercing cries as she took out the bow of her lord.And when she had her fill of tearful lamentation,she went to the great hall to face the haughty suitors,holding in her hand the back-sprung bow and the quiverthat held the arrows; and many were the arrows of sorrow within.With her, her attendants carried a casket, in which laymuch iron and bronze, the prizes of her lord.And when she, the queenly woman, reached the suitors,she stood by the doorpost of the strongly-built roof,holding her shining veil before her cheeks,and a trusty attendant stood on either side of her.At once she addressed the suitors and spoke a word to them:
"Hear me, you arrogant suitors, who have plagued this house,eating and drinking always and forever,while its master is long since gone, nor could you devise any otherpretext for your speech,but that you are eager to marry me and take me as your wife.Come then, you suitors, since this contest is revealed:I shall set forth the great bow of godlike Odysseus,and whoever most easily strings the bow in his handsand shoots an arrow through all twelve axes,with him I will go, leaving this house behind,this house of my youth, so very beautiful, so full of substance,which I think I shall remember forever, even in my dreams."
So she spoke, and ordered Eumaeus, the noble swineherd,to set the bow and the grey iron before the suitors.Weeping, Eumaeus took them and set them down,and the cattleherd wept in another part of the hall when he saw his master's bow.But Antinous rebuked them, and spoke a word and called them by name:
"Foolish rustics, whose minds dwell only on the day!Ah, you wretched pair, why do you let your tears fall and stir upthe heart in this lady's breast? For her heart alreadylies in sorrow, since she lost her dear husband.But sit and feast in silence, or else go outsideand weep there, leaving the bow here where it is,a grim contest for the suitors. For I do not thinkthis polished bow will be easily strung.For there is no man among all these presentsuch as Odysseus was. I myself saw him,and I remember it well, though I was then but a witless child."
So he spoke, but the heart in his breast was hopingto string the bowstring and shoot an arrow through the iron.In truth, he was to be the first to taste an arrowfrom the hands of blameless Odysseus, whom he was now dishonoringas he sat in the halls, and urging on all his companions.
And among them spoke the sacred might of Telemachus:"Oh, what a strange thing! Surely Zeus, son of Cronos, has made me a fool.My own dear mother, wise though she is, saysshe will follow another man and leave this house behind,yet I laugh and take delight in my senseless heart.But come, you suitors, since this is the prize revealed to you—such a woman as there is not now in the Achaean land,not in sacred Pylos, nor in Argos, nor in Mycenae,not in Ithaca itself, nor on the dark mainland.You know this yourselves, why should I need to praise my mother?Come then, do not delay with excuses, nor any longershrink from the stringing of the bow, so that we may see.And I myself might make a trial of this bow.If I can string it and shoot an arrow through the iron,then my lady mother would not leave this house to my sorrow,going with another man, while I am left behind,being now a man able to win my father's fine prizes."
He spoke, and springing to his feet, he cast his crimson cloak from his shoulders,and from his shoulders he set down his sharp sword.First he set up the axes, having dug a trench,one long trench for them all, and trued them to the line,and he stamped the earth down around them. Wonder seized all who sawhow orderly he set them, though he had never seen it done before.Then he went and stood on the threshold and began to try the bow.Three times he made it tremble, striving to draw it,and three times he slackened his strength, hoping in his heartto string the bowstring and shoot an arrow through the iron.And he would indeed have drawn it with his strength on the fourth attempt,but Odysseus gave a sign to check him, though he was eager still.
Then again among them spoke the sacred might of Telemachus:"Oh, strange! It seems I shall be a coward and a weakling hereafter,or else I am too young and cannot yet trust my handsto defend myself against a man, when one is first to provoke me.But come, you who are stronger in might than I,try the bow, and let us bring this contest to an end."
So saying, he set the bow from him on the ground,leaning it against the joined and well-planed doors,and leaned the swift arrow against the bow's beautiful tip,and then sat down again on the chair from which he had risen.
And Antinous, son of Eupheithes, spoke among them:"Rise up, all my companions, in order, from left to right,beginning from the place where the wine is poured."
So spoke Antinous, and his word was pleasing to them.And the first to stand was Leodes, son of Oenops,who was their diviner, and by the beautiful mixing-bowlhe always sat, in the farthest corner. He alonehated their reckless deeds, and he was indignant with all the suitors.He it was who then first took the bow and the swift arrow.He went and stood on the threshold and began to try the bow,but could not string it; for his unworn and tender hands grew wearyfrom drawing it. And he spoke among the suitors:
"My friends, I cannot string it; let another take it.For this bow will bereave many chieftainsof spirit and of life, since it is far betterto die than to live on and fail in the quest for which we alwaysgather here, waiting day after day.Even now, a man hopes in his heart and desiresto marry Penelope, the wife of Odysseus;but when he has tried the bow and seen his failure,—then let him woo some other fair-robed Achaean womanwith his gifts, and seek her hand. And she might thenmarry whoever offers the most and comes as her fated man."
So he spoke, and set the bow from him,leaning it against the joined and well-planed doors,and leaned the swift arrow against the bow's beautiful tip,and then sat down again on the chair from which he had risen.
But Antinous rebuked him, and spoke a word and called him by name:"Leodes, what a word has escaped the barrier of your teeth,a dreadful and grievous one! It angers me to hear it,that this bow will indeed bereave chieftainsof spirit and of life, just because you cannot string it.For your lady mother surely did not bear you
to be a drawer of a bow and of arrows.But other haughty suitors will string it soon enough."
So he spoke, and commanded Melanthius, the goatherd:"Come now, Melanthius, light a fire in the hall,and beside it place a great stool with a fleece upon it,and bring out a great wheel of tallow from what is within,so that we young men may warm the bow, and anoint it with fat,and make our trial and bring the contest to an end."
So he spoke, and Melanthius quickly kindled the tireless fire,and bringing a stool, he placed it near with a fleece upon it,and brought out a great wheel of tallow from what was within.With this the young men warmed the bow and made their trial, but they could notstring it, for they were greatly lacking in strength.But Antinous still held back, and godlike Eurymachus,the leaders of the suitors, who were by far the best in prowess.
Then the two of them went out of the house together,the cattleherd and the swineherd of godlike Odysseus;and godlike Odysseus himself came out of the house after them.But when they were outside the doors and the courtyard,he spoke and addressed them with gentle words:
"Cattleherd, and you, swineherd, shall I speak a word,or shall I keep it to myself? My heart bids me to speak.What sort of men would you be to defend Odysseus, if he should come from somewhere,so very suddenly, and some god should bring him here?Would you defend the suitors, or Odysseus?Speak, as your heart and spirit command you."
To him in answer spoke the master cattleherd:"Father Zeus, if only you would fulfill this wish,that that man might come, and a god might guide him home!Then you would know what my strength is, and what hands follow my will."
And in the same way Eumaeus prayed to all the godsthat wise Odysseus might return to his own home.And when he knew their true intent for a certainty,he spoke again and addressed them in answer with words:
"I am that man, here in your midst, I myself, after suffering many evils,have come in the twentieth year to my native land.And I know that I come to you who alone of my servantslonged for my return; for of the others I have heard not onepraying that I might come home again.To you two, then, I will tell the truth of what shall be.If a god subdues the haughty suitors beneath my hand,I will find wives for you both and grant you possessionsand houses built near my own; and to me you shall then becompanions and brothers to Telemachus.But come, let me show you another, manifest sign,so that you may know me well and be assured in your hearts:the scar, which a boar once dealt me with his white tuskwhen I went to Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus."
So saying, he drew back the rags from the great scar.And when the two of them had looked and marked every feature well,they wept and threw their arms around wise Odysseus,and kissed him fondly on his head and shoulders.And in the same way Odysseus kissed their heads and hands.And the light of the sun would have set on their weeping,had not Odysseus himself restrained them and spoken:
"Cease from your weeping and lamentation, lest someone seecoming out from the hall, and tell of it within.But go you inside one by one, not all together;I first, and you after me. And let this be the signal:all the others, all the haughty suitors,will not allow the bow and quiver to be given to me.But you, noble Eumaeus, carrying the bow through the house,are to place it in my hands, and tell the womento lock the close-fitting doors of their hall.And if any of them should hear a groaning or a crash of menwithin our walls, let her not venture out,but remain there in silence at her work.And to you, noble Philoetius, I entrust the doors of the courtyard:lock them with the key, and swiftly cast a rope upon the bolt."
So saying, he entered the well-appointed house,and went and sat on the stool from which he had risen.And the two servants of godlike Odysseus also went inside.
Eurymachus was now handling the bow,warming it here and there in the fire's glow; but not even socould he string it, and his proud heart groaned mightily.And greatly vexed, he spoke a word and called out by name:
"Oh, what sorrow for myself and for everyone!It is not for the marriage that I grieve so much, pained though I am—for there are many other Achaean women, some in Ithaca itself,that is girdled by the sea, and some in other cities—but that we are so greatly wanting in the mightof godlike Odysseus that we cannot string hisbow. This will be a disgrace for men yet to come to hear."
To him in turn spoke Antinous, son of Eupheithes:"Eurymachus, it will not be so, and you know it yourself.For today throughout the land is the sacred feast of the god;who would be drawing bows? No, put it asidein peace. As for the axes, what if we let them allstand? I do not think anyone will take them away,by coming to the hall of Odysseus, Laertes' son.Come then, let the wine-pourer begin the libations to the gods,so that after we have poured, we may set down the curved bow.And at dawn, bid Melanthius, the goatherd,to bring goats that are by far the best in all his flocks,so that we may lay the thigh-pieces on the altar of Apollo, the famed archer,and make trial of the bow and bring this contest to an end."
So spoke Antinous, and his word was pleasing to them.Then the heralds poured water over their hands,and youths filled the mixing-bowls to the brim with drink,and served to all, beginning the libations with the cups.Then when they had poured libations and had drunk as much as their hearts desired,with crafty intent Odysseus of many wiles spoke among them:
"Hear me, you suitors of the renowned queen,so that I may say what the heart in my breast commands me.To Eurymachus I make my plea above all, and to godlike Antinous,since he has spoken this word so fittingly,to cease from the bow for now and leave it to the gods;and at dawn a god will grant the victory to whomever he wishes.But come, give me the polished bow, so that in your companyI may try my hands and my strength, to see if I still havethe force that was once in my supple limbs,or if my wandering and want of care have already destroyed it."
So he spoke, and they were all exceedingly angered,fearing that he might string the polished bow.And Antinous rebuked him, and spoke a word and called him by name:
"Ah, you wretched stranger, you have not a shred of sense!Are you not content to feast in peace in our high company,lacking for no part of the feast, but hearingour words and our speech? No otherstranger and beggar hears our words.It is the honey-sweet wine that addles you, as it does otherswho gulp it down and do not drink in measure.It was wine that crazed the Centaur, the renowned Eurytion,in the hall of the great-hearted Peirithous,when he had gone to the Lapiths. And when wine had clouded his senses,in his madness he did evil in the house of Peirithous.Sorrow seized the heroes, and springing up, they dragged him through the forecourt and out the door,and with pitiless bronze they sheared off his earsand his nose. And he, with his wits thus crazed,went on his way, bearing his ruin in his witless heart.From this, the feud between Centaurs and men arose,but he was the first to find his bane, heavy with wine.So too do I foretell great harm for you, if you string this bow.You will find no courtesy from anyoneamong our people, and at once in a black shipto King Echetus, the maimer of all mortals,we will send you; from there you will in no way be saved. So drinkin peace, and do not strive with younger men."
To him in turn spoke the prudent Penelope:"Antinous, it is neither good nor just to mistreatthe guests of Telemachus, whoever comes to this house.Do you suppose that if this stranger, trusting in the might of his hands,were to string the great bow of Odysseus,he would lead me to his home and make me his wife?Not even he himself, I imagine, hopes for such a thing in his heart.
Let none of you feast here with a troubled heart on that account,for it is not in any way seemly."
To her in turn Eurymachus, son of Polybus, replied:"Daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope,we do not think he will lead you away; that would not be seemly.But we are ashamed of the talk of men and of women,lest some other, baser Achaean should one day say:'Truly, far lesser men are wooing the wife of a blameless man,and cannot string his polished bow.But some other, a wandering beggar, came alongand easily strung the bow, and shot it through the iron.'So they will say, and this would become a reproach to us."
To him in turn spoke the prudent Penelope:"Eurymachus, it is in no way possible to have a good name among the peoplefor those who dishonor and consume the houseof a great man. Why do you make this a matter of reproach?This stranger is very tall and well-built,and he declares himself the son of a noble father.Come then, give him the polished bow, so that we may see.For I will speak this word, and it shall be fulfilled:if he strings it, and Apollo grants him the glory,I will clothe him in a cloak and a tunic, beautiful garments,and I will give him a sharp javelin, a defense against dogs and men,and a two-edged sword. I will give him sandals for his feet,and send him wherever his heart and spirit command him."
To her in turn the wise Telemachus replied:"My mother, as to the bow, no Achaean has a better rightthan I to give it or to deny it, to whomever I wish,neither of those who rule in rocky Ithaca,nor of those on the islands towards horse-pasturing Elis.Not one of them will force me against my will, if I should wishto give this bow to the stranger once and for all, to carry away.But you, go to your chambers and attend to your own work,the loom and the distaff, and bid your handmaidsto go about their tasks. The bow shall be the concern of men,of all men, but most of all for me; for mine is the authority in this house."
She, astonished, went back to her own chambers,for she took to heart the wise words of her son.And going up to her upper room with her attendant women,she then wept for Odysseus, her dear husband, until upon her eyelidssweet sleep was cast by the bright-eyed goddess Athena.
Then the noble swineherd took up the curved bow and began to carry it;but the suitors all cried out in the halls,and thus would one of the arrogant young men say:
"Where are you carrying the curved bow, you wretched swineherd,you vagabond? Soon, among your own swine, the swift dogs you bredwill devour you, alone and away from men, if Apolloand the other immortal gods are gracious to us."
So they spoke, and he set the bow down where he stood,in fear, because many cried out at him in the halls.But Telemachus from the other side shouted a threat:
"Father, bring the bow forward! Soon you will find it is not good to obey everyone!Take care, lest I, though I am younger, chase you to the fieldspelting you with stones. For I am superior in strength.If only I were as much superior in the strength of my handsto all the suitors who are in this house!Then I would soon send one of them on a sorry journeyout of our house, since they devise evil things."
So he spoke, and all the suitors laughed sweetly at him,and let go of their bitter angeragainst Telemachus. And the swineherd, carrying the bow through the hall,came up to wise Odysseus and placed it in his hands.And calling the nurse Eurycleia, he spoke to her:
"Telemachus commands you, prudent Eurycleia,to lock the close-fitting doors of the hall.And if any of you should hear a groaning or a crash of menwithin our walls, let her not venture out,but remain there in silence at her work."
So he spoke, and the word was to her unwinged;she locked the doors of the well-appointed hall.
And silently from the house Philoetius sprang outside,and at once locked the doors of the well-fenced courtyard.Under the portico lay the cable of a curved ship,made of papyrus reed, with which he fastened the doors, and then went inside himself.He went and sat on the stool from which he had risen,his eyes fixed on Odysseus. And he was now handling the bow,turning it every which way, testing it here and there,lest worms had eaten the horn while its master was away.And thus would one say, with a glance to his neighbor:
"This man must be a connoisseur and a thief of bows!Either he has such a one lying at home himself,or he is keen to make one, the way he turns it overin his hands, here and there, this vagabond versed in mischief."
And another of the arrogant young men would say:"May he meet with as much good fortuneas he will ever have power to string this bow!"
So spoke the suitors; but Odysseus of many wiles,as soon as he had lifted the great bow and inspected it all over,just as a man skilled in the lyre and in songeasily stretches a string around a new peg,fastening at both ends the well-twisted sheep-gut,so without effort did Odysseus string the great bow.Then with his right hand he took and tried the string,and it sang sweetly beneath his touch, with a voice like a swallow.Great sorrow came upon the suitors, and the color of all their faceschanged. And Zeus thundered mightily, showing his signs.And the much-enduring, godlike Odysseus rejoicedthat the son of crooked-counseling Cronos had sent him a portent.He took a swift arrow, which lay beside him on the table,uncovered; the others lay inside the hollow quiver,which the Achaeans were soon to try.Taking it, he set it on the bow's bridge and drew the string and the arrow-notches,sitting right there on his stool, and he sent the arrow forth,aiming straight, and he did not miss a single one of the axes,from the first handle-hole; and the heavy-bronzed arrow went right through and out.And he spoke to Telemachus:
"Telemachus, the guest who sits in your halls does not shame you.I have not missed the mark, nor did I toil longin stringing the bow. My strength is still firm,not as the suitors scornfully taunt me.But now it is time for the Achaeans' supper to be preparedin the daylight, and after that, to make our pleasure in other ways,with song and with the lyre, for these are the graces of the feast."
He spoke, and nodded with his brow. And he girded on his sharp sword,Telemachus, the dear son of godlike Odysseus;and he cast his dear hand about his spear, and close by his father,by the high seat, he stood, armed in gleaming bronze.