When evening came on, the wooers ordered three braziers to be set up
in the hall, to give them light as they sat at their pastimes. The
braziers were fed with dry chips of pine-wood, and the maid-servants
relieved each other from time to time in the duty of keeping up the
fires. Presently Odysseus drew near to the handmaids, and said: "Go ye
and attend the queen in her chamber, I will serve the fires, and give
light to the company. Yea, though they sit here all night they shall
not tire me out, for I am a much-enduring man."
The women laughed, and glanced at one another; and one of them, whose
name was Melantho, spoke bitterly to Odysseus, and reviled him,
saying: "Thou wretched old man, why goest thou not to find a bed in
the smithy, or wherever else thou canst, instead of loitering here,
and vexing us with thy prate? Either thou hast drunk a cup too much,
or else thou art stricken in thy wits. Get thee gone, lest a stronger
than Irus lay his hand upon thee and break thy bones."
"Now will I go straightway to Telemachus," answered Odysseus fiercely,
"yonder where he sits, and tell him what thou sayest, thou vixen, that
he may hew thee in pieces on the spot."
So menacing were his looks and his tones that the women fled quaking
from the hall and left him to tend the fires. So there he stood in
view of the whole company, to their eyes a poor outcast, intent on his
menial task; but thoughts other than of the fires filled his heart.
As he stooped over one of the braziers and stirred the fuel into a
blaze, Eurymachus noticed the red gleam which was reflected from the
smooth, bald crown of the supposed beggar. "Look!" he cried, laughing
and pointing at Odysseus, "surely this man is a favourite of heaven;
for see how the light shines like a crown of glory on his hairless
pate!"
Then he called to Odysseus, and said: "How sayest thou, friend, wilt
thou be my thrall, and work on my farm among the hills for a fixed
wage? Thy business would be to repair the stone fences and work on the
plantation; thou wouldst have a whole coat to thy back, and shoes to
thy feet, and thy penny fee, and bread to eat all the year round. But
I can read thine answer in thy face: thou wouldst rather crouch and
whine for bread than do aught useful to earn thy living."
"Eurymachus," answered Odysseus firmly, "I would that I could prove my
manhood against thine in any trial of strength and endurance. Let it
be a match of mowing, in a rich meadow-land, on the longest day in
spring, and let us ply the scythe together, fasting, from dawn till
eve. Or give me a stout pair of oxen, mighty beasts, equal in
strength, and both well filled with fodder, and set me to plough a
field of four acres, of rich, deep soil--then wouldst thou see if I
could drive a straight furrow. Or stand by my side on the perilous
edge of battle, with equal arms, and try whether I would flinch sooner
than thou. A great man and a mighty thou seemest to thyself, having
never learnt what true manhood is. Poor windy braggart, if Odysseus
set foot in this house again, the doors would seem too narrow to thee
in thy haste to escape."
"Thou saucy knave!" cried Eurymachus, incensed by this daring speech,
"I will teach thee respect for thy betters"; and seizing a footstool
he prepared to hurl it at the offender's head. But Odysseus sprang
aside and ran to Amphinomus for protection; the heavy missile flew
hurtling through the air, and struck one of the servants, who was just
crossing the room, on the arm. Down went the man with a cry of pain,
and the wooers raised an uproar throughout the hall. "A murrain on
this begging loon!" exclaimed one. "Why came he hither to bring strife
among us?"
"Ye are mad, my masters!" said Telemachus, raising his voice; "verily
ye are flown with insolence and wine.[1] Ye had better go home and
sleep off your liquor before worse comes of it."
[Footnote 1: Milton, "Paradise Lost," i. 502.]
The wooers were indeed in a dangerous mood, and they began to finger
their weapons, and utter fierce threats against Telemachus. But
Amphinomus interposed, and by exerting all his influence induced them
to forgo their murderous purpose and disperse quietly to their homes.