Just after Eumæus had left, a huge, ungainly fellow came slouching up
to the place where Odysseus was sitting, and eyed him with a look of
great disfavour. He was the town beggar, known far and wide in Ithaca
as the greediest and laziest knave in the whole island. His real name
was Arnæus, but from being employed to run errands about the place he
had received the nickname of Irus. Highly indignant at finding his
rights usurped by a new-comer, and thinking to find in that battered
old man an easy victim, he began to rate his supposed rival in a big,
blustering voice: "Give place, old man, to thy betters, and force me
not to use my hands upon thee. Begone, and that quickly, or it shall
be the worse for thee; out of the way, I say!"
With a stern look Odysseus answered him, and said: "What possesses
thee, fellow, that thou seekest a quarrel with me? Thou art, as I
perceive, a beggar like me, and I grudge thee not anything which thou
mayest receive in the way of alms from those who sit here. There is
room on this threshold for us both. But I warn thee not to provoke me
to blows, for old as I am I will set a mark upon thee which thou wilt
carry to thy death."
Trusting in his size, and encouraged by the nods and winks of the
wooers who sat near, Irus was only too ready to take up the challenge.
"Hark to the old starveling cur!" he shouted. "How glib of tongue he
is, like any scolding hag! Get thee to thy fists then, since thou wilt
have it so, and I will knock all thy teeth out, if thou hast any
left"; and he thrust Odysseus with his foot.
All the wooers now came running up, and crowded round the exasperated
beggars, hoping to see fine sport. Antinous took the lead, such a
scene being exactly to his taste. "Here is matter for mirth," he
cried, laughing, "for many a day. Make a ring quickly, and let them
fight it out."
In the courtyard there was a red smouldering fire, on which two huge
sausages were roasting, a sort of haggis made by filling the belly of
a goat with fat and blood. It was determined to give one of these
messes to the winner in the fight; and he also was henceforth to have
the sole right to receive the broken meats at the wooers' feasts.
Odysseus now pretended to draw back, as if he feared an encounter with
a man younger than himself; but at last he consented to the match, on
condition that the wooers would swear an oath not to strike him a foul
blow while he was fighting with Irus. To this they all agreed, and
forthwith Odysseus stripped to the waist, and girded his rags about
his loins. By some strange magic his limbs seemed to have filled out;
and when the wooers saw his mighty chest and broad shoulders they
cried out in amazement "Methinks Irus will pay dearly for his ire,"[1]
said one. "Look what a brawny thigh the old carle shows under his
rags!"
[Footnote 1: The pun is an attempt to reproduce a similar word-play in
the original.]
Irus himself was not less astonished than dismayed, so that they were
obliged to use force to make him face his opponent; and as he stood
there quaking with fear Antinous reviled him bitterly, and threatened,
if he were defeated, to carry him to the mainland, and hand him over
to a robber chieftain, nicknamed the Mutilator, and notorious for his
cruelties. "He will carve thee into collops and fling them to his
dogs," said the ferocious prince.
Little encouraged, as may be supposed, this prospect, Irus in his
despair aimed a blow at Odysseus, and struck him on the right
shoulder. Then Odysseus, who had resolved to put forth but half his
force, lest he should betray himself to the wooers, struck the
wretched man under the ear. There was a crash of broken bones, and
down went Irus in the dust, spitting blood, and beating the ground
with his heels. The wooers hailed his fall with shouts of laughter,
and Odysseus, seizing the prostrate beggar by the foot, dragged him
through the courtyard gate, and propped him against the wall. "Sit
there," he said, placing his staff in his hand, "and keep off dogs and
swine. Methinks thou hast had enough of playing the tyrant among
strangers and beggars."
When he returned to his place on the threshold he found the wooers in
high good humour at the defeat of Irus. "May heaven fulfil all thy
heart's desire!" cried one who sat near, "seeing that thou hast rid us
of that hungry, brawling rogue." His words had a meaning which he
little guessed, and Odysseus rejoiced when he heard them. Then
Antinous brought the pudding, all steaming from the fire, and set it
by him; and Amphinomus gave him two loaves, and filled a cup with
wine. "Hail, old friend!" he said, offering the cup, "and mayest thou
live to see happier days."
This Amphinomus differed in character from the other suitors, being a
prudent and fair-minded man. Odysseus knew him and his father well,
and being willing to save him, if possible, he looked earnestly at
him, and said: "Amphinomus, thou seemest to be a man of understanding,
and therefore I will give thee a word of warning. Hark, in thine ear!
Quit this company at once! The day of doom is very near to them all,
and I would not that thou shouldst perish with them."
These words, spoken in a low and solemn tone, so that none besides
might hear, sent a chill to the heart of Amphinomus. Slowly and sadly
he went back to his seat, his mind full of dark foreboding.
Nevertheless, he did not profit by the warning; for he had thrown in
his lot with that guilty band, and had to drink of the same cup.