The Odyssey(Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)

by Robert Fagles

  maybe he’s got bows like it, stored in his house.”

  “That or he’s bent on making one himself.”

  “Look how he twists and turns it in his hands!”

  “The clever tramp means trouble —”

  “I wish him luck,” some cocksure lord chimed in,

  450 “as good as his luck in bending back that weapon!”

  So they mocked, but Odysseus, mastermind in action,

  once he’d handled the great bow and scanned every inch,

  then, like an expert singer skilled at lyre and song —

  who strains a string to a new peg with ease,

  making the pliant sheep-gut fast at either end —

  so with his virtuoso ease Odysseus strung his mighty bow.

  Quickly his right hand plucked the string to test its pitch

  and under his touch it sang out clear and sharp as a swallow’s cry.

  Horror swept through the suitors, faces blanching white,

  460 and Zeus cracked the sky with a bolt, his blazing sign,

  and the great man who had borne so much rejoiced at last

  that the son of cunning Cronus flung that omen down for him.

  He snatched a winged arrow lying bare on the board —

  the rest still bristled deep inside the quiver,

  soon to be tasted by all the feasters there.

  Setting shaft on the handgrip, drawing the notch

  467 and bowstring back, back . . . right from his stool,

  just as he sat but aiming straight and true, he let fly —

  and never missing an ax from the first ax-handle

  470 clean on through to the last and out

  the shaft with its weighted brazen head shot free!

  “Telemachus,”

  Odysseus looked to his son and said, “your guest,

  sitting here in your house, has not disgraced you.

  No missing the mark, look, and no long labor spent

  to string the bow. My strength’s not broken yet,

  not quite so frail as the mocking suitors thought.

  But the hour has come to serve our masters right —

  supper in broad daylight —then to other revels,

  song and dancing, all that crowns a feast.”

  480 He paused with a warning nod, and at that sign

  Prince Telemachus, son of King Odysseus,

  girding his sharp sword on, clamping hand to spear,

  took his stand by a chair that flanked his father —

  his bronze spearpoint glinting now like fire . . .

  BOOK TWENTY-TWO

  Slaughter in the Hall

  Now stripping back his rags Odysseus master of craft and battle

  vaulted onto the great threshold, gripping his bow and quiver

  bristling arrows, and poured his flashing shafts before him,

  loose at his feet, and thundered out to all the suitors:

  “Look —your crucial test is finished, now, at last!

  But another target’s left that no one’s hit before —

  we’ll see if I can hit it —Apollo give me glory!”

  With that he trained a stabbing arrow on Antinous . . .

  just lifting a gorgeous golden loving-cup in his hands,

  10 just tilting the two-handled goblet back to his lips,

  about to drain the wine —and slaughter the last thing

  on the suitor’s mind: who could dream that one foe

  in that crowd of feasters, however great his power,

  would bring down death on himself, and black doom?

  But Odysseus aimed and shot Antinous square in the throat

  and the point went stabbing clean through the soft neck and out —

  and off to the side he pitched, the cup dropped from his grasp

  as the shaft sank home, and the man’s life-blood came spurting

  from his nostrils —

  thick red jets —

  a sudden thrust of his foot —

  he kicked away the table —

  20 food showered across the floor,

  the bread and meats soaked in a swirl of bloody filth.

  The suitors burst into uproar all throughout the house

  when they saw their leader down. They leapt from their seats,

  milling about, desperate, scanning the stone walls —

  not a shield in sight, no rugged spear to seize.

  They wheeled on Odysseus, lashing out in fury:

  “Stranger, shooting at men will cost your life!”

  “Your game is over —you, you’ve shot your last!”

  “You’ll never escape your own headlong death!”

  30 “You killed the best in Ithaca —our fine prince!”

  “Vultures will eat your corpse!”

  Groping, frantic —

  each one persuading himself the guest had killed

  the man by chance. Poor fools, blind to the fact

  that all their necks were in the noose, their doom sealed.

  With a dark look, the wily fighter Odysseus shouted back,

  36 “You dogs! you never imagined I’d return from Troy —

  so cocksure that you bled my house to death,

  ravished my serving-women —wooed my wife

  behind my back while I was still alive!

  40 No fear of the gods who rule the skies up there,

  no fear that men’s revenge might arrive someday —

  now all your necks are in the noose —your doom is sealed!”

  Terror gripped them all, blanched their faces white,

  each man glancing wildly —how to escape his instant death?

  Only Eurymachus had the breath to venture, “If you,

  you’re truly Odysseus of Ithaca, home at last,

  you’re right to accuse these men of what they’ve done —

  so much reckless outrage here in your palace,

  so much on your lands. But here he lies,

  50 quite dead, and he incited it all —Antinous —

  look, the man who drove us all to crime!

  Not that he needed marriage, craved it so;

  he’d bigger game in mind —though Zeus barred his way —

  he’d lord it over Ithaca’s handsome country, king himself,

  once he’d lain in wait for your son and cut him down!

  But now he’s received the death that he deserved.

  So spare your own people! Later we’ll recoup

  your costs with a tax laid down upon the land,

  covering all we ate and drank inside your halls,

  60 and each of us here will pay full measure too —

  twenty oxen in value, bronze and gold we’ll give

  until we melt your heart. Before we’ve settled,

  who on earth could blame you for your rage?”

  But the battle-master kept on glaring, seething.

  65 “No, Eurymachus! Not if you paid me all your father’s wealth —

  all you possess now, and all that could pour in from the world’s end —

  no, not even then would I stay my hands from slaughter

  till all you suitors had paid for all your crimes!

  Now life or death —your choice —fight me or flee

  70 if you hope to escape your sudden bloody doom!

  I doubt one man in the lot will save his skin!”

  His menace shook their knees, their hearts too

  but Eurymachus spoke again, now to the suitors: “Friends!

  This man will never restrain his hands, invincible hands —

  now that he’s seized that polished bow and quiver, look,

  he’ll shoot from the sill until he’s killed us all!

  So fight —call up the joy of battle! Swords out!

  Tables lifted —block his arrows winging death!

  Charge him, charge in a pack —

  80 try to rout the man from the sill, the doors,

  race through town and sound an alarm at once
—

  our friend would soon see he’s shot his bolt!”

  Brave talk —

  he drew his two-edged sword, bronze, honed for the kill

  and hurled himself at the king with a raw savage cry

  in the same breath that Odysseus loosed an arrow

  ripping his breast beside the nipple so hard

  it lodged in the man’s liver —

  out of his grasp the sword dropped to the ground —

  over his table, head over heels he tumbled, doubled up,

  90 flinging his food and his two-handled cup across the floor —

  he smashed the ground with his forehead, writhing in pain,

  both feet flailing out, and his high seat tottered —

  the mist of death came swirling down his eyes.

  Amphinomus rushed the king in all his glory,

  charging him face-to-face, a slashing sword drawn —

  if only he could force him clear of the doorway, now,

  but Telemachus —too quick —stabbed the man from behind,

  plunging his bronze spear between the suitor’s shoulders

  and straight on through his chest the point came jutting out —

  100 down he went with a thud, his forehead slammed the ground.

  Telemachus swerved aside, leaving his long spearshaft

  lodged in Amphinomus —fearing some suitor just might

  lunge in from behind as he tugged the shaft,

  impale him with a sword or hack him down,

  crouching over the corpse.

  He went on the run, reached his father at once

  and halting right beside him, let fly, “Father —

  now I’ll get you a shield and a pair of spears,

  a helmet of solid bronze to fit your temples!

  110 I’ll arm myself on the way back and hand out

  arms to the swineherd, arm the cowherd too —

  we’d better fight equipped!”

  “Run, fetch them,”

  the wily captain urged, “while I’ve got arrows left

  to defend me —or they’ll force me from the doors

  while I fight on alone!”

  Telemachus moved to his father’s orders smartly.

  Off he ran to the room where the famous arms lay stored,

  took up four shields, eight spears, four bronze helmets

  ridged with horsehair crests and, loaded with these,

  120 ran back to reach his father’s side in no time.

  The prince was first to case himself in bronze

  and his servants followed suit —both harnessed up

  and all three flanked Odysseus, mastermind of war,

  and he, as long as he’d arrows left to defend himself,

  kept picking suitors off in the palace, one by one

  and down they went, corpse on corpse in droves.

  Then, when the royal archer’s shafts ran out,

  he leaned his bow on a post of the massive doors —

  where walls of the hallway catch the light —and armed:

  130 across his shoulder he slung a buckler four plies thick,

  over his powerful head he set a well-forged helmet,

  the horsehair crest atop it tossing, bristling terror,

  and grasped two rugged lances tipped with fiery bronze.

  134 Now a side-door was fitted into the main wall —

  right at the edge of the great hall’s stone sill —

  and led to a passage always shut by good tight boards.

  But Odysseus gave the swineherd strict commands

  to stand hard by the side-door, guard it well —

  the only way the suitors might break out.

  140 Agelaus called to his comrades with a plan:

  “Friends, can’t someone climb through the hatch? —

  tell men outside to sound the alarm, be quick —

  our guest would soon see he’d shot his last!”

  The goatherd Melanthius answered, “Not a chance,

  my lord —the door to the courtyard’s much too near,

  dangerous too, the mouth of the passage cramped.

  One strong man could block us, one and all!

  No, I’ll fetch you some armor to harness on,

  out of the storeroom —there, nowhere else, I’m sure,

  150 the king and his gallant son have stowed their arms!”

  With that the goatherd clambered up through smoke-ducts

  high on the wall and scurried into Odysseus’ storeroom,

  bundled a dozen shields, as many spears and helmets

  ridged with horsehair crests and, loaded with these,

  rushed back down to the suitors, quickly issued arms.

  Odysseus’ knees shook, his heart too, when he saw them

  buckling on their armor, brandishing long spears —

  here was a battle looming, well he knew.

  He turned at once to Telemachus, warnings flying:

  160 “A bad break in the fight, my boy! One of the women’s

  tipped the odds against us —or could it be the goatherd?”

  “My fault, father,” the cool clear prince replied,

  “the blame’s all mine. That snug door to the vault,

  I left it ajar —they’ve kept a better watch than I.

  Go, Eumaeus, shut the door to the storeroom,

  check and see if it’s one of the women’s tricks

  or Dolius’ son Melanthius. He’s our man, I’d say.”

  And even as they conspired, back the goatherd

  climbed to the room to fetch more burnished arms,

  170 but Eumaeus spotted him, quickly told his king

  who stood close by: “Odysseus, wily captain,

  there he goes again, the infernal nuisance —

  just as we suspected —back to the storeroom.

  Give me a clear command!

  Do I kill the man —if I can take him down —

  or drag him back to you, here, to pay in full

  for the vicious work he’s plotted in your house?”

  Odysseus, master of tactics, answered briskly,

  “I and the prince will keep these brazen suitors

  180 crammed in the hall, for all their battle-fury.

  You two wrench Melanthius’ arms and legs behind him,

  fling him down in the storeroom —lash his back to a plank

  and strap a twisted cable fast to the scoundrel’s body,

  hoist him up a column until he hits the rafters —

  let him dangle in agony, still alive,

  for a good long time!”

  They hung on his orders, keen to do his will.

  Off they ran to the storeroom, unseen by him inside —

  Melanthius, rummaging after arms, deep in a dark recess

  190 as the two men took their stand, either side of the doorposts,

  poised till the goatherd tried to cross the doorsill . . .

  one hand clutching a crested helmet, the other

  an ample old buckler blotched with mildew,

  the shield Laertes bore as a young soldier once

  but there it lay for ages, seams on the handstraps split —

  Quick, they rushed him, seized him, haled him back by the hair,

  flung him down on the floor, writhing with terror, bound him

  hand and foot with a chafing cord, wrenched his limbs

  back, back till the joints locked tight —

  200 just as Laertes’ cunning son commanded —

  they strapped a twisted cable round his body,

  hoisted him up a column until he hit the rafters,

  then you mocked him, Eumaeus, my good swineherd:

  “Now stand guard through the whole night, Melanthius —

  stretched out on a soft bed fit for you, your highness!

  You’re bound to see the Morning rising up from the Ocean,

  mounting her golden throne —at just the hour you always

  drive in g
oats to feast the suitors in the hall!”

  So they left him, trussed in his agonizing sling;

  210 they clapped on armor again, shut the gleaming doors

  and ran to rejoin Odysseus, mastermind of war.

  And now as the ranks squared off, breathing fury —

  four at the sill confronting a larger, stronger force

  arrayed inside the hall —now Zeus’s daughter Athena,

  taking the build and voice of Mentor, swept in

  and Odysseus, thrilled to see her, cried out,

  “Rescue us, Mentor, now it’s life or death!

  Remember your old comrade —all the service

  I offered you! We were boys together!”

  So he cried

  220 yet knew in his bones it was Athena, Driver of Armies.

  But across the hall the suitors brayed against her,

  Agelaus first, his outburst full of threats:

  “Mentor, never let Odysseus trick you into

  siding with him to fight against the suitors.

  Here’s our plan of action, and we will see it through!

  Once we’ve killed them both, the father and the son,

  we’ll kill you too, for all you’re bent on doing

  here in the halls —you’ll pay with your own head!

  And once our swords have stopped your violence cold —

  230 all your property, all in your house, your fields,

  we’ll lump it all with Odysseus’ rich estate

  and never let your sons live on in your halls

  or free your wife and daughters to walk through town!”

  Naked threats —and Athena hit new heights of rage,

  she lashed out at Odysseus now with blazing accusations:

  236 “Where’s it gone, Odysseus —your power, your fighting heart?

  The great soldier who fought for famous white-armed Helen,

  battling Trojans nine long years —nonstop, no mercy,

  mowing their armies down in grueling battle —

  240 you who seized the broad streets of Troy

  241 with your fine strategic stroke! How can you —

  now you’ve returned to your own house, your own wealth —

  bewail the loss of your combat strength in a war with suitors?

  Come, old friend, stand by me! You’ll see action now,

  245 see how Mentor the son of Alcimus, that brave fighter,