The Axe Challenge: Ulysses Reveals Himself to Eumaeus and Philoetius

Minerva now put it in Penelope’s mind to make the suitors try their skill with the bow and with the iron axes, in contest among themselves, as a means of bringing about their destruction. She went upstairs and got the store-room key, which was made of bronze and had a handle of ivory; she then went with her maidens into the store-room at the end of the house, where her husband’s treasures of gold, bronze, and wrought iron were kept, and where was also his bow, and the quiver full of deadly arrows that had been given him by a friend whom he had met in Lacedaemon—Iphitus the son of Eurytus. The two fell in with one another in Messene at the house of Ortilochus, where Ulysses was staying in order to recover a debt that was owing from the whole people; for the Messenians had carried off three hundred sheep from Ithaca, and had sailed away with them and with their shepherds. In quest of these Ulysses took a long journey while still quite young, for his father and the other chieftains sent him on a mission to recover them. Iphitus had gone there also to try and get back twelve brood mares that he had lost, and the mule foals that were running with them. These mares were the death of him in the end, for when he went to the house of Jove’s son, mighty Hercules, who performed such prodigies of valour, Hercules to his shame killed him, though he was his guest, for he feared not heaven’s vengeance, nor yet respected his own table which he had set before Iphitus, but killed him in spite of everything, and kept the mares himself. It was when claiming these that Iphitus met Ulysses, and gave him the bow which mighty Eurytus had been used to carry, and which on his death had been left by him to his son. Ulysses gave him in return a sword and a spear, and this was the beginning of a fast friendship, although they never visited at one another’s houses, for Jove’s son Hercules killed Iphitus ere they could do so. This bow, then, given him by Iphitus, had not been taken with him by Ulysses when he sailed for Troy; he had used it so long as he had been at home, but had left it behind as having been a keepsake from a valued friend.

Minerva now gave Penelope the idea of making the suitors compete with the bow and iron axes. The contest would bring about their destruction. Penelope went upstairs and fetched the storeroom key, made of bronze with an ivory handle. Then she went with her maids to the storeroom at the end of the house. Her husband’s treasures of gold, bronze, and worked iron were kept there. His bow and quiver full of deadly arrows were also there. They had been gifts from a friend he had met in Lacedaemon, Iphitus, the son of Eurytus. The two had met in Messene at the house of Ortilochus. Ulysses was staying there to collect a debt owed by all the people of Messene. The Messenians had stolen three hundred sheep from Ithaca and sailed away with both the sheep and their shepherds. Ulysses had made the long journey to recover them while he was still quite young. His father and the other chieftains had sent him on the mission. Iphitus had also gone there to recover twelve breeding mares he had lost, along with their mule foals. Those mares eventually cost Iphitus his life. His search took him to the house of Jove’s son, mighty Hercules, who had performed extraordinary feats of courage. To his shame, Hercules killed Iphitus, even though Iphitus was his guest. Hercules neither feared heaven’s vengeance nor respected the bond of sharing the meal he had served Iphitus. Despite everything, Hercules killed his guest and kept the mares himself. It was while seeking the mares that Iphitus met Ulysses and gave him the bow mighty Eurytus had once carried. Eurytus had left the bow to his son when he died. In return, Ulysses gave Iphitus a sword and a spear. These gifts marked the beginning of a close friendship, although the two never visited each other’s homes. Jove’s son Hercules killed Iphitus before they could do so. Ulysses had not taken this bow, Iphitus’s gift, when he sailed for Troy. He had used the bow while he was at home. But he had left it behind as a keepsake from a valued friend.

Penelope presently reached the oak threshold of the store-room; the carpenter had planed this duly, and had drawn a line on it so as to get it quite straight; he had then set the door posts into it and hung the doors. She loosed the strap from the handle of the door, put in the key, and drove it straight home to shoot back the bolts that held the doors;¹⁶¹ these flew open with a noise like a bull bellowing in a meadow, and Penelope stepped upon the raised platform, where the chests stood in which the fair linen and clothes were laid by along with fragrant herbs: reaching thence, she took down the bow with its bow case from the peg on which it hung. She sat down with it on her knees, weeping bitterly as she took the bow out of its case, and when her tears had relieved her, she went to the cloister where the suitors were, carrying the bow and the quiver, with the many deadly arrows that were inside it. Along with her came her maidens, bearing a chest that contained much iron and bronze which her husband had won as prizes. When she reached the suitors, she stood by one of the bearing-posts supporting the roof of the cloister, holding a veil before her face, and with a maid on either side of her. Then she said:

Penelope soon reached the oak threshold of the storeroom. The carpenter had carefully planed the threshold and marked a line on it to make it perfectly straight. He had then fitted the doorposts into it and hung the doors. She untied the strap from the door handle, inserted the key, and pushed it all the way in. This slid back the bolts holding the doors shut.¹⁶¹ The doors flew open with a sound like a bull bellowing in a meadow. Penelope stepped onto the raised platform, where chests held fine linen and clothes stored with fragrant herbs. From there, she reached up and took the bow and its case from the peg where they hung. She sat down with the bow on her knees and wept bitterly as she took it out of its case. When her tears had brought her relief, she went to the covered walkway where the suitors were. She carried the bow and the quiver, with its many deadly arrows. Her maids came with her, carrying a chest containing much iron and bronze her husband had won as prizes. When she reached the suitors, she stood beside one of the posts supporting the walkway’s roof. She held a veil in front of her face, with a maid standing on either side of her. Then she said:

“Listen to me you suitors, who persist in abusing the hospitality of this house because its owner has been long absent, and without other pretext than that you want to marry me; this, then, being the prize that you are contending for, I will bring out the mighty bow of Ulysses, and whomsoever of you shall string it most easily and send his arrow through each one of twelve axes, him will I follow and quit this house of my lawful husband, so goodly, and so abounding in wealth. But even so I doubt not that I shall remember it in my dreams.”

“Listen to me, you suitors. You keep abusing this house’s hospitality because its owner has been away so long. Your only excuse is that you want to marry me. Since marriage to me is the prize you are competing for, I will bring out the mighty bow of Ulysses. Whoever strings it most easily and shoots an arrow through all twelve axes will be the man I follow. I will leave my lawful husband’s house, so beautiful and full of wealth. But even then, I am certain I will remember this house in my dreams.”

As she spoke, she told Eumaeus to set the bow and the pieces of iron before the suitors, and Eumaeus wept as he took them to do as she had bidden him. Hard by, the stockman wept also when he saw his master’s bow, but Antinous scolded them. “You country louts,” said he, “silly simpletons; why should you add to the sorrows of your mistress by crying in this way? She has enough to grieve her in the loss of her husband; sit still, therefore, and eat your dinners in silence, or go outside if you want to cry, and leave the bow behind you. We suitors shall have to contend for it with might and main, for we shall find it no light matter to string such a bow as this is. There is not a man of us all who is such another as Ulysses; for I have seen him and remember him, though I was then only a child.”

As she spoke, she told Eumaeus to place the bow and the pieces of iron before the suitors. Eumaeus wept as he carried them over, following her orders. Nearby, the cattle herder also wept when he saw his master’s bow, but Antinous scolded them. “You country louts,” he said, “you silly fools. Why add to your mistress’s sorrow by crying like this? She already has enough to grieve over with the loss of her husband. So sit still and eat your dinners in silence. Or go outside if you want to cry, and leave the bow behind. We suitors will have to compete with all our strength, because stringing this bow will be no easy task. Not one of us is a man like Ulysses. I saw him and remember him, though I was only a child then.”

This was what he said, but all the time he was expecting to be able to string the bow and shoot through the iron, whereas in fact he was to be the first that should taste of the arrows from the hands of Ulysses, whom he was dishonouring in his own house—egging the others on to do so also.

That was what he said, but all along he expected to string the bow and shoot through the iron. In fact, he would be the first to feel the arrows shot by Ulysses. He was dishonoring Ulysses in Ulysses’ own house and urging the others to do the same.

Then Telemachus spoke. “Great heavens!” he exclaimed, “Jove must have robbed me of my senses. Here is my dear and excellent mother saying she will quit this house and marry again, yet I am laughing and enjoying myself as though there were nothing happening. But, suitors, as the contest has been agreed upon, let it go forward. It is for a woman whose peer is not to be found in Pylos, Argos, or Mycene, nor yet in Ithaca nor on the mainland. You know this as well as I do; what need have I to speak in praise of my mother? Come on, then, make no excuses for delay, but let us see whether you can string the bow or no. I too will make trial of it, for if I can string it and shoot through the iron, I shall not suffer my mother to quit this house with a stranger, not if I can win the prizes which my father won before me.”

Then Telemachus spoke. “Great heavens!” he exclaimed, “Jove must have made me lose my senses. My dear, wonderful mother says she will leave this house and marry again. Yet I am laughing and enjoying myself as though nothing were happening. But, suitors, since we have agreed on the contest, let it go ahead. You are competing for a woman with no equal in Pylos, Argos, Mycene, Ithaca, or on the mainland. You know her worth as well as I do. Why do I need to praise my mother? Come on, then, make no excuses to delay. Let us see whether you can string the bow. I too will try. For if I can string the bow and shoot through the iron, I will not let my mother leave with a stranger. Not if I can win the prizes my father won before me.”

As he spoke he sprang from his seat, threw his crimson cloak from him, and took his sword from his shoulder. First he set the axes in a row, in a long groove which he had dug for them, and had made straight by line.¹⁶² Then he stamped the earth tight round them, and everyone was surprised when they saw him set them up so orderly, though he had never seen anything of the kind before. This done, he went on to the pavement to make trial of the bow; thrice did he tug at it, trying with all his might to draw the string, and thrice he had to leave off, though he had hoped to string the bow and shoot through the iron. He was trying for the fourth time, and would have strung it had not Ulysses made a sign to check him in spite of all his eagerness. So he said:

As he spoke, he sprang from his seat, threw off his crimson cloak, and took his sword from his shoulder. First he set the axes in a row in a long groove he had dug and straightened using a line.¹⁶² Then he stamped the earth tight around the axes. Everyone was surprised to see how neatly he arranged them, though he had never seen anything like this before. Once the axes were ready, he stepped onto the pavement to try the bow. Three times he pulled with all his strength, trying to draw the string. Three times he had to stop, though he had hoped to string the bow and shoot through the iron. He was trying a fourth time and would have strung the bow if Ulysses had not signaled him to stop. Despite his eagerness, he stopped. So he said:

“Alas! I shall either be always feeble and of no prowess, or I am too young, and have not yet reached my full strength so as to be able to hold my own if any one attacks me. You others, therefore, who are stronger than I, make trial of the bow and get this contest settled.”

“Alas! Either I will always be weak and powerless, or I am too young and have not reached my full strength. I am not yet strong enough to hold my own if anyone attacks me. So the rest of you, who are stronger than I am, try the bow and settle this contest.”

On this he put the bow down, letting it lean against the door [that led into the house] with the arrow standing against the top of the bow. Then he sat down on the seat from which he had risen, and Antinous said:

With that, he set the bow down, leaning it against the door [that led into the house]. The arrow stood against the top of the bow. Then he sat back down in the seat he had left, and Antinous said:

“Come on each of you in his turn, going towards the right from the place at which the cupbearer begins when he is handing round the wine.”

“Come forward, each of you in turn, moving to the right. Start where the cupbearer begins when passing around the wine.”

The rest agreed, and Leiodes son of Oenops was the first to rise. He was sacrificial priest to the suitors, and sat in the corner near the mixing-bowl. ¹⁶³ He was the only man who hated their evil deeds and was indignant with the others. He was now the first to take the bow and arrow, so he went on to the pavement to make his trial, but he could not string the bow, for his hands were weak and unused to hard work, they therefore soon grew tired, and he said to the suitors, “My friends, I cannot string it; let another have it, this bow shall take the life and soul out of many a chief among us, for it is better to die than to live after having missed the prize that we have so long striven for, and which has brought us so long together. Some one of us is even now hoping and praying that he may marry Penelope, but when he has seen this bow and tried it, let him woo and make bridal offerings to some other woman, and let Penelope marry whoever makes her the best offer and whose lot it is to win her.”

The others agreed, and Leiodes son of Oenops was the first to stand. He was the suitors’ sacrificial priest and sat in the corner near the mixing bowl. ¹⁶³ He alone hated their evil deeds and was angry with the others. Now he was the first to take the bow and arrow, so he stepped onto the pavement to try. But he could not string the bow because his hands were weak and unused to hard work. His hands soon tired, and he said to the suitors, “My friends, I cannot string the bow. Let someone else try. This bow will drain the life and spirit from many a chief among us. For it is better to die than to live after losing the prize we have sought for so long. That prize has kept us gathered here all this time. Even now, some man among us hopes and prays to marry Penelope. But once he has seen this bow and tried to string it, let him court another woman and offer her wedding gifts. Let Penelope marry whoever makes her the best offer and is destined to win her.”

On this he put the bow down, letting it lean against the door,¹⁶⁴ with the arrow standing against the tip of the bow. Then he took his seat again on the seat from which he had risen; and Antinous rebuked him saying:

Then he set the bow down, leaning it against the door,¹⁶⁴ with the arrow standing against the bow’s tip. He sat back down in the same seat he had left. Antinous scolded him, saying:

“Leiodes, what are you talking about? Your words are monstrous and intolerable; it makes me angry to listen to you. Shall, then, this bow take the life of many a chief among us, merely because you cannot bend it yourself? True, you were not born to be an archer, but there are others who will soon string it.”

“Leiodes, what are you talking about? Your words are outrageous and unacceptable. Hearing them makes me angry. Will this bow kill many of our chiefs just because you can’t bend it yourself? True, you weren’t born to be an archer, but others will soon string the bow.”

Then he said to Melanthius the goatherd, “Look sharp, light a fire in the court, and set a seat hard by with a sheep skin on it; bring us also a large ball of lard, from what they have in the house. Let us warm the bow and grease it—we will then make trial of it again, and bring the contest to an end.”

Then he said to Melanthius the goatherd, “Hurry, light a fire in the courtyard. Put a seat nearby with a sheepskin on it. Also bring us a large ball of lard from the house’s supplies. Let us warm the bow and grease it. Then we will try the bow again and bring the contest to an end.”

Melanthius lit the fire, and set a seat covered with sheep skins beside it. He also brought a great ball of lard from what they had in the house, and the suitors warmed the bow and again made trial of it, but they were none of them nearly strong enough to string it. Nevertheless there still remained Antinous and Eurymachus, who were the ringleaders among the suitors and much the foremost among them all.

Melanthius lit the fire and placed a seat covered with sheepskins beside it. He also brought a large ball of lard from the supplies in the house. The suitors warmed the bow and tried again, but none of them was nearly strong enough to string it. Still, Antinous and Eurymachus had yet to try. They were the suitors’ ringleaders and by far the most powerful among them all.

Then the swineherd and the stockman left the cloisters together, and Ulysses followed them. When they had got outside the gates and the outer yard, Ulysses said to them quietly:

Then the pig herder and the cattle herder left the covered walkways together, and Ulysses followed them. Once all three were past the gates and the outer yard, Ulysses spoke quietly to the two herders:

“Stockman, and you swineherd, I have something in my mind which I am in doubt whether to say or no; but I think I will say it. What manner of men would you be to stand by Ulysses, if some god should bring him back here all of a sudden? Say which you are disposed to do—to side with the suitors, or with Ulysses?”

“Cattle herder, and you, swineherd, I have something on my mind, but I’m unsure whether to say it. Still, I think I will. How willing would you be to stand by Ulysses if some god suddenly brought him back here? Tell me whose side you would take, the suitors’ or Ulysses’?”

“Father Jove,” answered the stockman, “would indeed that you might so ordain it. If some god were but to bring Ulysses back, you should see with what might and main I would fight for him.”

“Father Jove,” the stockman replied, “I wish you would make it so. If some god brought Ulysses back, you would see how fiercely I would fight for him.”

In like words Eumaeus prayed to all the gods that Ulysses might return; when, therefore, he saw for certain what mind they were of, Ulysses said, “It is I, Ulysses, who am here. I have suffered much, but at last, in the twentieth year, I am come back to my own country. I find that you two alone of all my servants are glad that I should do so, for I have not heard any of the others praying for my return. To you two, therefore, will I unfold the truth as it shall be. If heaven shall deliver the suitors into my hands, I will find wives for both of you, will give you house and holding close to my own, and you shall be to me as though you were brothers and friends of Telemachus. I will now give you convincing proofs that you may know me and be assured. See, here is the scar from the boar’s tooth that ripped me when I was out hunting on Mt. Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus.”

Eumaeus prayed in similar words to all the gods for Ulysses to return. So, once Ulysses knew for certain how the two men felt, he said, “I am Ulysses, here before you. I have suffered greatly, but at last, in the twentieth year, I have returned to my own country. I find that you two alone among all my servants are glad to have me back. I have heard none of the others praying for my return. So I will tell you two the truth about what is to come. If heaven puts the suitors in my hands, I will find wives for both of you. I will give you homes and land close to my own. I will regard you as brothers and friends of Telemachus. Now I will give you convincing proof so you can recognize me and be sure. Look, here is the scar from the boar’s tusk that tore my skin. I was hunting on Mt. Parnassus with the sons of Autolycus when the boar wounded me.”

As he spoke he drew his rags aside from the great scar, and when they had examined it thoroughly, they both of them wept about Ulysses, threw their arms round him, and kissed his head and shoulders, while Ulysses kissed their hands and faces in return. The sun would have gone down upon their mourning if Ulysses had not checked them and said:

As he spoke, he pulled his rags aside to reveal the large scar. After examining the scar closely, both men wept, put their arms around Ulysses, and kissed his head and shoulders. Ulysses kissed their hands and faces in return. Their weeping would have lasted until sunset if Ulysses had not stopped them and said:

“Cease your weeping, lest some one should come outside and see us, and tell those who are within. When you go in, do so separately, not both together; I will go first, and do you follow afterwards; let this moreover be the token between us; the suitors will all of them try to prevent me from getting hold of the bow and quiver; do you, therefore, Eumaeus, place it in my hands when you are carrying it about, and tell the women to close the doors of their apartment. If they hear any groaning or uproar as of men fighting about the house, they must not come out; they must keep quiet, and stay where they are at their work. And I charge you, Philoetius, to make fast the doors of the outer court, and to bind them securely at once.”

“Stop crying, or someone may come outside, see us, and tell the people inside. When you go in, go separately, not together. I will go first, and you will follow afterward. Let this be our signal: the suitors will all try to stop me from getting the bow and quiver. So, Eumaeus, hand them to me as you carry them around. Tell the women to close the doors to their rooms. If the women hear groaning or an uproar like men fighting in the house, they must not come out. They must stay quiet and keep working where they are. And Philoetius, I order you to shut the outer courtyard doors and tie them securely at once.”

When he had thus spoken, he went back to the house and took the seat that he had left. Presently, his two servants followed him inside.

After saying this, he went back to the house and sat in the seat he had left. Soon after, his two servants followed him inside.

At this moment the bow was in the hands of Eurymachus, who was warming it by the fire, but even so he could not string it, and he was greatly grieved. He heaved a deep sigh and said, “I grieve for myself and for us all; I grieve that I shall have to forgo the marriage, but I do not care nearly so much about this, for there are plenty of other women in Ithaca and elsewhere; what I feel most is the fact of our being so inferior to Ulysses in strength that we cannot string his bow. This will disgrace us in the eyes of those who are yet unborn.”

At that moment, Eurymachus held the bow and was warming it by the fire. But even so, he could not string it, and he was deeply upset. He sighed heavily and said, “I feel sorrow for myself and for us all. I am sorry I will have to give up the marriage. But losing the marriage matters far less to me, since there are plenty of other women in Ithaca and elsewhere. What hurts most is that we are so much weaker than Ulysses that we cannot string his bow. Our failure will disgrace us in the eyes of people not yet born.”

“It shall not be so, Eurymachus,” said Antinous, “and you know it yourself. Today is the feast of Apollo throughout all the land; who can string a bow on such a day as this? Put it on one side—as for the axes they can stay where they are, for no one is likely to come to the house and take them away: let the cupbearer go round with his cups, that we may make our drink-offerings and drop this matter of the bow; we will tell Melanthius to bring us in some goats tomorrow—the best he has; we can then offer thigh bones to Apollo the mighty archer, and again make trial of the bow, so as to bring the contest to an end.”

“That won’t happen, Eurymachus,” said Antinous, “and you know it yourself. Today is Apollo’s feast day throughout all the land. Who can string a bow on a day like this? Set the bow aside. As for the axes, leave them where they are, since no one is likely to come here and take them. Let the cupbearer bring the cups around so we can pour out offerings and put aside the bow contest. We’ll tell Melanthius to bring us some goats tomorrow, the best he has. Then we can offer the thigh bones to Apollo, the mighty archer. We can try the bow again to bring the contest to an end.”

The rest approved his words, and thereon men servants poured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the mixing-bowls with wine and water and handed it round after giving every man his drink-offering. Then, when they had made their offerings and had drunk each as much as he desired, Ulysses craftily said:—

The others agreed with his words. Then male servants poured water over the guests’ hands, while pages filled the mixing bowls with wine and water. The pages gave each man wine for a drink-offering before passing the wine around. Once the guests had made their offerings and drunk as much as each wanted, Ulysses said slyly:

“Suitors of the illustrious queen, listen that I may speak even as I am minded. I appeal more especially to Eurymachus, and to Antinous who has just spoken with so much reason. Cease shooting for the present and leave the matter to the gods, but in the morning let heaven give victory to whom it will. For the moment, however, give me the bow that I may prove the power of my hands among you all, and see whether I still have as much strength as I used to have, or whether travel and neglect have made an end of it.”

“Suitors of the famous queen, listen while I speak my mind. I appeal especially to Eurymachus and to Antinous, who has just spoken so reasonably. Stop shooting for now and leave the matter to the gods. In the morning, let heaven give victory to whoever it chooses. But for now, give me the bow so I can test my strength before you all. Let me see whether I am still as strong as I used to be. Or have travel and neglect robbed me of my strength?”

This made them all very angry, for they feared he might string the bow, Antinous therefore rebuked him fiercely saying, “Wretched creature, you have not so much as a grain of sense in your whole body; you ought to think yourself lucky in being allowed to dine unharmed among your betters, without having any smaller portion served you than we others have had, and in being allowed to hear our conversation. No other beggar or stranger has been allowed to hear what we say among ourselves; the wine must have been doing you a mischief, as it does with all those who drink immoderately. It was wine that inflamed the Centaur Eurytion when he was staying with Peirithous among the Lapithae. When the wine had got into his head, he went mad and did ill deeds about the house of Peirithous; this angered the heroes who were there assembled, so they rushed at him and cut off his ears and nostrils; then they dragged him through the doorway out of the house, so he went away crazed, and bore the burden of his crime, bereft of understanding. Henceforth, therefore, there was war between mankind and the centaurs, but he brought it upon himself through his own drunkenness. In like manner I can tell you that it will go hardly with you if you string the bow: you will find no mercy from any one here, for we shall at once ship you off to king Echetus, who kills every one that comes near him: you will never get away alive, so drink and keep quiet without getting into a quarrel with men younger than yourself.”

This made them all very angry, because they feared he might string the bow. So Antinous angrily scolded him, saying, “You miserable creature, you haven’t a grain of sense in your whole body. You should count yourself lucky to dine unharmed among your betters, with portions as large as ours. You’re even allowed to hear our conversation. No other beggar or stranger has been allowed to hear what we say among ourselves. The wine must have gone to your head, as it does to everyone who drinks too much. “It was wine that drove the Centaur Eurytion wild while he was staying with Peirithous among the Lapithae. When the wine went to his head, he went mad and did terrible things in Peirithous’s house. His behavior angered the heroes gathered there, so they rushed at him and cut off his ears and nostrils. Then they dragged him out of the house through the doorway. So he went away crazed and senseless, bearing the consequences of his crime. From then on, mankind and the centaurs were at war. But Eurytion brought his punishment on himself through his own drunkenness. “In the same way, I can tell you that things will go badly for you if you string the bow. You’ll find no mercy from anyone here. We’ll immediately ship you off to king Echetus, who kills everyone who comes near him. You’ll never escape alive, so drink and keep quiet. Don’t get into a quarrel with men younger than yourself.”

Penelope then spoke to him. “Antinous,” said she, “it is not right that you should ill-treat any guest of Telemachus who comes to this house. If the stranger should prove strong enough to string the mighty bow of Ulysses, can you suppose that he would take me home with him and make me his wife? Even the man himself can have no such idea in his mind: none of you need let that disturb his feasting; it would be out of all reason.”

Penelope then spoke to him. “Antinous,” she said, “you should not mistreat any guest of Telemachus who comes to this house. Suppose the stranger proves strong enough to string the mighty bow of Ulysses. Do you imagine he would take me home with him and make me his wife? Even the stranger himself cannot imagine such a thing. None of you should let that thought spoil your feasting. The idea would be completely unreasonable.”

“Queen Penelope,” answered Eurymachus, “we do not suppose that this man will take you away with him; it is impossible; but we are afraid lest some of the baser sort, men or women among the Achaeans, should go gossiping about and say, ‘These suitors are a feeble folk; they are paying court to the wife of a brave man whose bow not one of them was able to string, and yet a beggarly tramp who came to the house strung it at once and sent an arrow through the iron.’ This is what will be said, and it will be a scandal against us.”

“Queen Penelope,” Eurymachus answered, “we do not think this man will take you away with him. That is impossible. But we fear that some lower-class men or women among the Achaeans will spread gossip and say, ‘These suitors are weaklings. They are courting the wife of a brave man, yet not one of them could string his bow. But a beggar who wandered into the house strung the bow at once and shot an arrow through the iron.’ That is what people will say, and their words will disgrace us.”

“Eurymachus,” Penelope answered, “people who persist in eating up the estate of a great chieftain and dishonouring his house must not expect others to think well of them. Why then should you mind if men talk as you think they will? This stranger is strong and well-built, he says moreover that he is of noble birth. Give him the bow, and let us see whether he can string it or no. I say—and it shall surely be—that if Apollo vouchsafes him the glory of stringing it, I will give him a cloak and shirt of good wear, with a javelin to keep off dogs and robbers, and a sharp sword. I will also give him sandals, and will see him sent safely wherever he wants to go.”

“Eurymachus,” Penelope answered, “people who keep consuming a great chieftain’s wealth and dishonoring his house must not expect respect. So why should you care if people talk as you expect them to? This stranger is strong and well-built. He also says he is of noble birth. Give him the bow, and let us see whether he can string it. I promise that if Apollo grants him the glory of stringing the bow, I will reward him. I will give him a sturdy cloak and shirt, a javelin to ward off dogs and robbers, and a sharp sword. I will also give him sandals and make sure he reaches wherever he wants to go safely.”

Then Telemachus said, “Mother, I am the only man either in Ithaca or in the islands that are over against Elis who has the right to let any one have the bow or to refuse it. No one shall force me one way or the other, not even though I choose to make the stranger a present of the bow outright, and let him take it away with him. Go, then, within the house and busy yourself with your daily duties, your loom, your distaff, and the ordering of your servants. This bow is a man’s matter, and mine above all others, for it is I who am master here.”

Then Telemachus said, “Mother, I alone, in Ithaca or the islands facing Elis, have the right to decide who may use the bow. No one can force me to give or refuse permission. That remains true even if I choose to give the stranger the bow outright and let him take it away. So go inside the house and attend to your daily duties. Work at your loom, spin with your distaff, and direct your servants. This bow is men's business, and mine above all, because I am the master here.”

She went wondering back into the house, and laid her son’s saying in her heart. Then going upstairs with her handmaids into her room, she mourned her dear husband till Minerva sent sweet sleep over her eyelids.

She went back into the house, wondering, and took her son’s words to heart. Then she went upstairs to her room with her maids. She mourned her dear husband until Minerva sent her into a sweet sleep.

The swineherd now took up the bow and was for taking it to Ulysses, but the suitors clamoured at him from all parts of the cloisters, and one of them said, “You idiot, where are you taking the bow to? Are you out of your wits? If Apollo and the other gods will grant our prayer, your own boarhounds shall get you into some quiet little place, and worry you to death.”

The swineherd now picked up the bow and was about to take it to Ulysses. But the suitors shouted at him from all parts of the covered walkways. One of them said, “You idiot, where are you taking the bow? Are you out of your mind? If Apollo and the other gods grant our prayer, your own boarhounds will corner you somewhere quiet. Then your dogs will tear you to death.”

Eumaeus was frightened at the outcry they all raised, so he put the bow down then and there, but Telemachus shouted out at him from the other side of the cloisters, and threatened him saying, “Father Eumaeus, bring the bow on in spite of them, or young as I am I will pelt you with stones back to the country, for I am the better man of the two. I wish I was as much stronger than all the other suitors in the house as I am than you, I would soon send some of them off sick and sorry, for they mean mischief.”

Eumaeus was frightened by the outcry they all raised, so he put the bow down on the spot. But Telemachus shouted at him from across the covered walkway and threatened him. “Father Eumaeus, bring the bow over despite their shouting. Otherwise, young as I am, I’ll throw stones at you and drive you back to the country. I’m stronger than you. I wish I were stronger than all the other suitors in the house by as much as I outmatch you. Then I’d soon send some of them away hurt and sorry, because they mean trouble.”

Thus did he speak, and they all of them laughed heartily, which put them in a better humour with Telemachus; so Eumaeus brought the bow on and placed it in the hands of Ulysses. When he had done this, he called Euryclea apart and said to her, “Euryclea, Telemachus says you are to close the doors of the women’s apartments. If they hear any groaning or uproar as of men fighting about the house, they are not to come out, but are to keep quiet and stay where they are at their work.”

After he spoke, they all laughed heartily, putting them in a better mood toward Telemachus. So Eumaeus brought the bow over and placed it in Ulysses’ hands. Then Eumaeus called Euryclea aside and said to her, “Euryclea, Telemachus says you must close the doors to the women’s rooms. If the women hear groaning or a commotion as if men are fighting in the house, they must not come out. Instead, the women must stay quiet and keep working where they are.”

Euryclea did as she was told and closed the doors of the women’s apartments.

Euryclea did as she was told and closed the doors to the women’s rooms.

Meanwhile Philoetius slipped quietly out and made fast the gates of the outer court. There was a ship’s cable of byblus fibre lying in the gatehouse, so he made the gates fast with it and then came in again, resuming the seat that he had left, and keeping an eye on Ulysses, who had now got the bow in his hands, and was turning it every way about, and proving it all over to see whether the worms had been eating into its two horns during his absence. Then would one turn towards his neighbour saying, “This is some tricky old bow-fancier; either he has got one like it at home, or he wants to make one, in such workmanlike style does the old vagabond handle it.”

Meanwhile, Philoetius slipped quietly out and secured the gates of the outer court. A ship’s cable made of byblus fibre lay in the gatehouse, so he used the cable to fasten the gates. Then he came back inside and returned to his seat, keeping an eye on Ulysses. Ulysses now held the bow, turning it in every direction and examining every part. He was checking whether worms had eaten into its two horn tips while he was away. Then one man would turn to his neighbour and say, “This old fellow is a crafty bow expert. Either he has a bow like this at home, or he wants to make one. Just look how expertly the old vagabond handles the bow.”

Another said, “I hope he may be no more successful in other things than he is likely to be in stringing this bow.”

Another said, “I hope he does no better at anything else than he’s likely to do at stringing this bow.”

But Ulysses, when he had taken it up and examined it all over, strung it as easily as a skilled bard strings a new peg of his lyre and makes the twisted gut fast at both ends. Then he took it in his right hand to prove the string, and it sang sweetly under his touch like the twittering of a swallow. The suitors were dismayed, and turned colour as they heard it; at that moment, moreover, Jove thundered loudly as a sign, and the heart of Ulysses rejoiced as he heard the omen that the son of scheming Saturn had sent him.

But Ulysses picked up the bow, examined it all over, and strung it with ease. He did so as easily as a skilled bard fits a string to a new peg on his lyre. The bard secures the twisted gut string at both ends. Then Ulysses held the bow in his right hand to test the string. Under his touch, the string sang sweetly like a swallow’s twittering. The suitors were dismayed and turned pale at the sound. At that moment, Jove also thundered loudly as a sign. Ulysses rejoiced when he heard the omen sent to him by the son of scheming Saturn.

He took an arrow that was lying upon the table¹⁶⁵—for those which the Achaeans were so shortly about to taste were all inside the quiver—he laid it on the centre-piece of the bow, and drew the notch of the arrow and the string toward him, still seated on his seat. When he had taken aim he let fly, and his arrow pierced every one of the handle-holes of the axes from the first onwards till it had gone right through them, and into the outer courtyard. Then he said to Telemachus:

He took an arrow lying on the table¹⁶⁵. The arrows the Achaeans would soon taste were all inside the quiver. He set the arrow on the middle of the bow. Still seated, he drew the arrow’s notched end and the bowstring toward him. He took aim and let the arrow fly. The arrow passed through every axe’s handle-hole, starting with the first, and flew into the outer courtyard. Then he said to Telemachus:

“Your guest has not disgraced you, Telemachus. I did not miss what I aimed at, and I was not long in stringing my bow. I am still strong, and not as the suitors twit me with being. Now, however, it is time for the Achaeans to prepare supper while there is still daylight, and then otherwise to disport themselves with song and dance which are the crowning ornaments of a banquet.”

“Your guest has not disgraced you, Telemachus. I did not miss my target, and I did not take long to string my bow. I am still strong, not weak as the suitors taunt me for being. But now the Achaeans should prepare supper while there is still daylight. Then they can enjoy song and dance, the crowning pleasures of a banquet.”

As he spoke he made a sign with his eyebrows, and Telemachus girded on his sword, grasped his spear, and stood armed beside his father’s seat.

As he spoke, he signaled with his eyebrows. Telemachus strapped on his sword, gripped his spear, and stood armed beside his father’s seat.