The fighting at fists of Odysseus with Irus. His admonitions to
Amphinomus. Penelope appears before the wooers, and draws presents from
them.
Then up came a common beggar, who was wont to beg through the town of
Ithaca, one that was known among all men for ravening greed, for his
endless eating and drinking, yet he had no force or might, though he
was bulky enough to look on. Arnaeus was his name, for so had his good
mother given it him at his birth, but all the young men called him
Irus, because he ran on errands, whensoever any might bid him. So now
he came, and would have driven Odysseus from his own house, and began
reviling him, and spake winged words:
“Get thee hence, old man, from the doorway, lest thou be even haled out
soon by the foot. Seest thou not that all are now giving me the wink,
and bidding me drag thee forth? Nevertheless, I feel shame of the task.
Nay get thee up, lest our quarrel soon pass even to blows.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him, and spake
saying: “Sir, neither in deed nor word do I harm thee, nor do I grudge
that any should give to thee, yea though it were a good handful. But
this threshold will hold us both, and thou hast no need to be jealous
for the sake of other men’s goods. Thou seemest to me to be a wanderer,
even as I am, and the gods it is that are like to give us gain. Only
provoke me not overmuch to buffeting, lest thou anger me, and old
though I be I defile thy breast and lips with blood. Thereby should I
have the greater quiet to-morrow, for methinks that thou shalt never
again come to the hall of Odysseus, son of Laertes”.
Then the beggar Irus spake unto him in anger: “Lo now, how trippingly
and like an old cinder-wife this glutton speaks, on whom I will work my
evil will, and smite him right and left, and drive all the teeth from
his jaws to the ground, like the tusks of a swine that spoils the corn.
Gird thyself now, that even these men all may know our mettle in fight.
Nay, how shouldst thou do battle with a younger man than thou?”
Thus did they whet each the other’s rage right manfully before the
lofty doors upon the polished threshold. And the mighty prince Antinous
heard the twain, and sweetly he laughed out, and spake among the
wooers:
“Friends, never before has there been such a thing; such goodly game
has a god brought to this house. The stranger yonder and Irus are
bidding each other to buffets. Quick, let us match them one against the
other.”
Then all at the word leaped up laughing, and gathered round the ragged
beggars, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake among them saying: “Hear
me, ye lordly wooers, and I will say somewhat. Here are goats’ bellies
lying at the fire, that we laid by at supper-time and filled with fat
and blood. Now whichsoever of the twain wins, and shows himself the
better man, let him stand up and take his choice of these puddings. And
further, he shall always eat at our feasts, nor will we suffer any
other beggar to come among us and ask for alms.”
So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well. Then Odysseus of
many counsels spake among them craftily:
“Friends, an old man and foredone with travail may in no wise fight
with a younger. But my belly’s call is urgent on me, that evil-worker,
to the end that I may be subdued with stripes. But come now, swear me
all of you a strong oath, so that none, for the sake of shewing a
favour to Irus, may strike me a foul blow with heavy hand and subdue me
by violence to my foe.”
So he spake, and they all swore not to strike him, as he bade them. Now
when they had sworn and done that oath, the mighty prince Telemachus
once more spake among them:
“Stranger, if thy heart and lordly spirit urge thee to rid thee of this
fellow, then fear not any other of the Achaeans, for whoso strikes thee
shall have to fight with many. Thy host am I, and the princes consent
with me, Antinous and Eurymachus, men of wisdom both.”
So spake he and they all consented thereto. Then Odysseus girt his rags
about his loins, and let his thighs be seen, goodly and great, and his
broad shoulders and breast and mighty arms were manifest. And Athene
came nigh and made greater the limbs of the shepherd of the people.
Then the wooers were exceedingly amazed, and thus would one speak
looking to his neighbour:
“Right soon will Irus, un-Irused, have a bane of his own bringing, such
a thigh as that old man shows from out his rags!”
So they spake, and the mind of Irus was pitifully stirred; but even so
the servants girded him and led him out perforce in great fear, his
flesh trembling on his limbs. Then Antinous chid him, and spake and
hailed him:
“Thou lubber, better for thee that thou wert not now, nor ever hadst
been born, if indeed thou tremblest before this man, and art so
terribly afraid; an old man too he is, and foredone with the travail
that is come upon him. But I will tell thee plainly, and it shall
surely be accomplished. If this man prevail against thee and prove thy
master, I will cast thee into a black ship, and send thee to the
mainland to Echetus the king, the maimer of all mankind, who will cut
off thy nose and ears with the pitiless steel, and draw out thy vitals
and give them raw to dogs to rend.”
So he spake, and yet greater trembling gat hold of the limbs of Irus,
and they led him into the ring, and the twain put up their hands. Then
the steadfast goodly Odysseus mused in himself whether he should smite
him in such wise that his life should leave his body, even there where
he fell, or whether he should strike him lightly, and stretch him on
the earth. And as he thought thereon, this seemed to him the better
way, to strike lightly, that the Achaeans might not take note of him,
who he was. Then the twain put up their hands, and Irus struck at the
right shoulder, but the other smote him on his neck beneath the ear,
and crushed in the bones, and straightway the red blood gushed up
through his mouth, and with a moan he fell in the dust, and drave
together his teeth as he kicked the ground. But the proud wooers threw
up their hands, and died outright for laughter. Then Odysseus seized
him by the foot, and dragged him forth through the doorway, till he
came to the courtyard and the gates of the gallery, and he set him down
and rested him against the courtyard wall, and put his staff in his
hands, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:
“Sit thou there now, and scare off swine and dogs, and let not such an
one as thou be lord over strangers and beggars, pitiful as thou art,
lest haply some worse thing befal thee.”
Thus he spake, and cast about his shoulders his mean scrip all
tattered, and the cord therewith to hang it, and he gat him back to the
threshold, and sat him down there again. Now the wooers went within
laughing sweetly, and greeted him, saying:
“May Zeus, stranger, and all the other deathless gods give thee thy
dearest wish, even all thy heart’s desire, seeing that thou hast made
that insatiate one to cease from his begging in the land! Soon will we
take him over to the mainland, to Echetus the king, the maimer of all
mankind.”
So they spake, and goodly Odysseus rejoiced in the omen of the words.
And Antinous set by him the great pudding, stuffed with fat and blood,
and Amphinomus took up two loaves from the basket, and set them by him
and pledged him in a golden cup, and spake saying:
“Father and stranger, hail! may happiness be thine in the time to come;
but as now, thou art fast holden in many sorrows.”
And Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying: “Amphinomus, verily
thou seemest to me a prudent man enough; for such too was the father of
whom thou art sprung, for I have heard the fair fame of him, how that
Nisus of Dulichium was a good man and a rich, and his son they say thou
art, and thou seemest a man of understanding. Wherefore I will tell
thee, and do thou mark and listen to me. Nought feebler doth the earth
nurture than man, of all the creatures that breathe and move upon the
face of the earth. Lo, he thinks that he shall never suffer evil in
time to come, while the gods give him happiness, and his limbs move
lightly. But when again the blessed gods have wrought for him sorrow,
even so he bears it, as he must, with a steadfast heart. For the spirit
of men upon the earth is even as their day, that comes upon them from
the father of gods and men. Yea, and I too once was like to have been
prosperous among men, but many an infatuate deed I did, giving place to
mine own hardihood and strength, and trusting to my father and my
brethren. Wherefore let no man for ever be lawless any more, but keep
quietly the gifts of the gods, whatsoever they may give. Such infatuate
deeds do I see the wooers devising, as they waste the wealth, and hold
in no regard the wife of a man, who, methinks, will not much longer be
far from his friends and his own land; nay he is very near. But for
thee, may some god withdraw thee hence to thy home, and mayst thou not
meet him in the day when he returns to his own dear country! For not
without blood, as I deem, will they be sundered, the wooers and
Odysseus, when once he shall have come beneath his own roof.”
Thus he spake, and poured an offering and then drank of the honey-sweet
wine, and again set the cup in the hands of the arrayer of the people.
But the other went back through the hall, sad at heart and bowing his
head; for verily his soul boded evil. Yet even so he avoided not his
fate, for Athene had bound him likewise to be slain outright at the
hands and by the spear of Telemachus. So he sat down again on the high
seat whence he had arisen.
Now the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, put it into the heart of the
daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, to show herself to the wooers, that
she might make their heart all flutter with hope, and that she might
win yet more worship from her lord and her son than heretofore. To she
laughed an idle laugh, and spake to the nurse, and hailed her, saying:
“Eurynome, my heart yearns, though before I had no such desire, to show
myself to the wooers, hateful as they are. I would also say a word to
my son, that will be for his weal, namely, that he should not for ever
consort with the proud wooers, who speak friendly with their lips, but
imagine evil in the latter end.”
Then the housewife, Eurynome, spake to her saying: “Yea my child, all
this thou hast spoken as is meet. Go then, and declare thy word to thy
son and hide it not, but first wash thee and anoint thy face, and go
not as thou art with thy cheeks all stained with tears. Go, for it is
little good to sorrow always, and never cease. And lo, thy son is now
of an age to hear thee, he whom thou hast above all things prayed the
gods that thou mightest see with a beard upon his chin.”
Then wise Penelope answered her, saying: “Eurynome, speak not thus
comfortably to me, for all thy love, bidding me to wash and be anointed
with ointment. For the gods that keep Olympus destroyed my bloom, since
the day that he departed in the hollow ships. But bid Autonoe and
Hippodameia come to me, to stand by my side in the halls. Alone I will
not go among men, for I am ashamed.”
So she spake, and the old woman passed through the chamber to tell the
maidens, and hasten their coming.
Thereon the goddess, grey-eyed Athene, had another thought. She shed a
sweet slumber over the daughter of Icarius, who sank back in sleep, and
all her joints were loosened as she lay in the chair, and the fair
goddess the while was giving her gifts immortal, that all the Achaeans
might marvel at her. Her fair face first she steeped with beauty
imperishable, such as that wherewith the crowned Cytherea is anointed,
when she goes to the lovely dances of the Graces. And she made her
taller and greater to behold, and made her whiter than new-sawn ivory.
Now when she had wrought thus, that fair goddess departed, and the
white-armed handmaidens came forth from the chamber and drew nigh with
a sound of voices. Then sweet sleep left hold of Penelope, and she
rubbed her cheeks with her hands, and said:
“Surely soft slumber wrapped me round, most wretched though I be. Oh!
that pure Artemis would give me so soft a death even now, that I might
no more waste my life in sorrow of heart, and longing for the manifold
excellence of my dear lord, for that he was foremost of the Achaeans.”
With this word she went down from the shining upper chamber, not alone,
for two handmaidens likewise bare her company. But when the fair lady
had now come to the wooers, she stood by the pillar of the well-builded
roof, holding her glistening tire before her face, and on either side
of her stood a faithful handmaid. And straightway the knees of the
wooers were loosened, and their hearts were enchanted with love, and
each one uttered a prayer that he might be her bed-fellow. But she
spake to Telemachus, her dear son:
“Telemachus, thy mind and thy thoughts are no longer stable as they
were. While thou wast still a child, thou hadst a yet quicker and more
crafty wit, but now that thou art great of growth, and art come to the
measure of manhood, and a stranger looking to thy stature and thy
beauty might say that thou must be some rich man’s son, thy mind and
thy thoughts are no longer right as of old. For lo, what manner of deed
has been done in these halls, in that thou hast suffered thy guest to
be thus shamefully dealt with. How would it be now, if the stranger
sitting thus in our house, were to come to some harm all through this
evil handling? Shame and disgrace would be thine henceforth among men.”
Then wise Telemachus answered her: “Mother mine, as to this matter I
count it no blame that thou art angered. Yet have I knowledge and
understanding of each thing, of the good and of the evil; but
heretofore I was a child. Howbeit I cannot devise all things according
to wisdom, for these men in their evil counsel drive me from my wits,
on this side and on that, and there is none to aid me. Howsoever this
battle between Irus and the stranger did not fall out as the wooers
would have had it, but the stranger proved the better man. Would to
Father Zeus and Athene and Apollo, that the wooers in our halls were
even now thus vanquished, and wagging their heads, some in the court,
and some within the house, and that the limbs of each man were loosened
in such fashion as Irus yonder sits now, by the courtyard gates wagging
his head, like a drunken man, and cannot stand upright on his feet, nor
yet get him home to his own place, seeing that his limbs are loosened!”
Thus they spake one to another. But Eurymachus spake to Penelope,
saying:
“Daughter of Icarius, wise Penelope, if all the Achaeans in Iasian
Argos could behold thee, even a greater press of wooers would feast in
your halls from to-morrow’s dawn, since thou dost surpass all women in
beauty and stature, and within in wisdom of mind.”
Then wise Penelope answered him: “Eurymachus, surely my excellence,
both of face and form, the gods destroyed in the day when the Argives
embarked for Ilios, and with them went my lord Odysseus. If but he
might come and watch over this my life, greater thus would be my fame
and fairer! But now am I in sorrow; such a host of ills some god has
sent against me. Ah, well do I remember, when he set forth and left his
own country, how he took me by the right hand at the wrist and spake,
saying:
“‘Lady, methinks that all the goodly-greaved Achaeans will not win a
safe return from Troy; for the Trojans too, they say, are good men at
arms, as spearsmen, and bowmen, and drivers of fleet horses, such as
ever most swiftly determine the great strife of equal battle. Wherefore
I know not if the gods will suffer me to return, or whether I shall be
cut off there in Troy; so do thou have a care for all these things. Be
mindful of my father and my mother in the halls, even as now thou art,
or yet more than now, while I am far away. But when thou seest thy son
a bearded man, marry whom thou wilt and leave thine own house.’
“Even so did he speak, and now all these things have an end. The night
shall come when a hateful marriage shall find me out, me most luckless,
whose good hap Zeus has taken away. But furthermore this sore trouble
has come on my heart and soul; for this was not the manner of wooers in
time past. Whoso wish to woo a good lady and the daughter of a rich
man, and vie one with another, themselves bring with them oxen of their
own and goodly flocks, a banquet for the friends of the bride, and they
give the lady splendid gifts, but do not devour another’s livelihood
without atonement.”
Thus she spake, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus rejoiced because she
drew from them gifts, and beguiled their souls with soothing words,
while her heart was set on other things.
Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, answered her again: “Daughter of
Icarius, wise Penelope, the gifts which any of the Achaeans may choose
to bring hither, do thou take; for it were ill to withhold a gift. But
we for our part will neither go to our lands nor otherwhere, before
thou art wedded to the best man of the Achaeans.”
So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well, and each man sent
a henchman to bring his gifts. For Antinous his henchman bare a
broidered robe, great and very fair, wherein were golden brooches,
twelve in all, fitted with well bent clasps. And the henchman
straightway bare Eurymachus a golden chain of curious work, strung with
amber beads, shining like the sun. And his squires bare for Eurydamas a
pair of ear-rings, with three drops well wrought, and much grace shone
from them. And out of the house of Peisander the prince, the son of
Polyctor, the squire brought a necklet, a very lovely jewel. And
likewise the Achaeans brought each one some other beautiful gift.
Then the fair lady went aloft to her upper chamber, and her attendant
maidens bare for her the lovely gifts, while the wooers turned to
dancing and the delight of song, and therein took their pleasure, and
awaited the coming of eventide. And dark evening came on them at their
pastime. Anon they set up three braziers in the halls, to give them
light, and on these they laid firewood all around, faggots seasoned
long since and sere, and new split with the axe. And midway by the
braziers they placed torches, and the maids of Odysseus, of the hardy
heart, held up the lights in turn. Then the prince Odysseus of many
counsels himself spake among them saying:
“Ye maidens of Odysseus, the lord so long afar, get ye into the
chambers where the honoured queen abides, and twist the yarn at her
side, and gladden her heart as ye sit in the chamber, or card the wools
with your hands; but I will minister light to all these that are here.
For even if they are minded to wait the throned Dawn, they shall not
outstay me, so long enduring am I.”
So he spake, but they laughed and looked one at the other. And the fair
Melantho chid him shamefully, Melantho that Dolius begat, but Penelope
reared, and entreated her tenderly as she had been her own child, and
gave her playthings to her heart’s desire. Yet, for all that, sorrow
for Penelope touched not her heart, but she loved Eurymachus and was
his paramour. Now she chid Odysseus with railing words:
“Wretched guest, surely thou art some brain-struck man, seeing that
thou dost not choose to go and sleep at a smithy, or at some place of
common resort, but here thou pratest much and boldly among many lords
and hast no fear at heart. Verily wine has got about thy wits, or
perchance thou art always of this mind, and so thou dost babble idly.
Art thou beside thyself for joy, because thou hast beaten the beggar
Irus? Take heed lest a better man than Irus rise up presently against
thee, to lay his mighty hands about thy head and bedabble thee with
blood, and send thee hence from the house.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on her, and said: “Yea,
straight will I go yonder and tell Telemachus hereof, thou shameless
thing, for this thy speech, that forthwith he may cut thee limb from
limb.”
So he spake, and with his saying scared away the women, who fled
through the hall, and the knees of each were loosened for fear, for
they deemed that his words were true. But Odysseus took his stand by
the burning braziers, tending the lights, and gazed on all the men: but
far other matters he pondered in his heart, things not to be
unfulfilled.
Now Athene would in no wise suffer the lordly wooers to abstain from
biting scorn, that the pain might sink yet the deeper into the heart of
Odysseus, son of Laertes. So Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak
among them, girding at Odysseus, and so made mirth for his friends:
“Hear me ye wooers of the queen renowned, that I may say that which my
spirit within me bids me. Not without the gods’ will has this man come
to the house of Odysseus; methinks at least that the torchlight flares
forth from[33] that head of his, for there are no hairs on it, nay
never so thin.”
[33] Accepting the conjecture κὰκ = κατὰ for the MSS. καὶ.
He spake and withal addressed Odysseus, waster of cities: “Stranger,
wouldest thou indeed be my hireling, if I would take thee for my man,
at an upland farm, and thy wages shall be assured thee, and there shalt
thou gather stones for walls and plant tall trees? There would I
provide thee bread continual, and clothe thee with raiment, and give
thee shoes for thy feet. Howbeit, since thou art practised only in
evil, thou wilt not care to go to the labours of the field, but wilt
choose rather to go louting through the land, that thou mayst have
wherewithal to feed thine insatiate belly.”
Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him and said: “Eurymachus,
would that there might be a trial of labour between us twain, in the
season of spring, when the long days begin! In the deep grass might it
be, and I should have a crooked scythe, and thou another like it, that
we might try each the other in the matter of labour, fasting till late
eventide, and grass there should be in plenty. Or would again, that
there were oxen to drive, the best there may be, large and tawny, both
well filled with fodder, of equal age and force to bear the yoke and of
strength untiring! And it should be a field of four ploughgates, and
the clod should yield before the ploughshare. Then shouldest thou see
me, whether or no I would cut a clean furrow unbroken before me. Or
would that this very day Cronion might waken war whence he would, and
that I had a shield and two spears, and a helmet all of bronze, close
fitting on my temples! Then shouldest thou see me mingling in the
forefront of the battle, nor speak and taunt me with this my belly.
Nay, thou art exceeding wanton and thy heart is hard, and thou thinkest
thyself some great one and mighty, because thou consortest with few men
and feeble. Ah, if Odysseus might but return and come to his own
country, right soon would yonder doors full wide as they are, prove all
too strait for thee in thy flight through the doorway!”
Thus he spake, and Eurymachus waxed yet the more wroth at heart, and
looking fiercely on him spake to him winged words:
“Ah, wretch that thou art, right soon will I work thee mischief, so
boldly thou pratest among many lords, and hast no fear at heart. Verily
wine has got about thy wits, or perchance thou art always of this mind,
and so thou dost babble idly. Art thou beside thyself for joy, because
thou hast beaten the beggar Irus?”
Therewith he caught up a footstool, but Odysseus sat him down at the
knees of Amphinomus of Dulichium, in dread of Eurymachus. And
Eurymachus cast and smote the cup-bearer on the right hand, and the
ladle cup dropped to the ground with a clang, while the young man
groaned and fell backwards in the dust. Then the wooers clamoured
through the shadowy halls, and thus one would say looking to his
neighbour:
“Would that our wandering guest had perished otherwhere, or ever he
came hither; so should he never have made all this tumult in our midst!
But now we are all at strife about beggars, and there will be no more
joy of the good feast, for worse things have their way.”
Then the mighty prince Telemachus spake among them:
“Sirs, ye are mad; now doth your mood betray that ye have eaten and
drunken; some one of the gods is surely moving you. Nay, now that ye
have feasted well, go home and lay you to rest, since your spirit so
bids; for as for me, I drive no man hence.”
Thus he spake, and they all bit their lips and marvelled at Telemachus,
in that he spake boldly. Then Amphinomus made harangue, and spake among
them, Amphinomus, the famous son of Nisus the prince, the son of
Aretias:
“Friends, when a righteous word has been spoken, none surely would
rebuke another with hard speech and be angry. Misuse ye not this
stranger, neither any of the thralls that are in the house of godlike
Odysseus. But come, let the wine-bearer pour for libation into each cup
in turn, that after the drink-offering we may get us home to bed. But
the stranger let us leave in the halls of Odysseus for a charge to
Telemachus: for to his home has he come.”
Thus he spake, and his word was well-pleasing to them all. Then the
lord Mulius mixed for them the bowl, the henchman out of Dulichium, who
was squire of Amphinomus. And he stood by all and served it to them in
their turn; and they poured forth before the blessed gods, and drank
the honey-sweet wine. Now when they had poured forth and had drunken to
their hearts’ content, they departed to lie down, each one to his own
house.