Homer, Odyssey 22 (e-text)

HOMER
ODYSSEY

Translated by Ian Johnston, Vancouver Island University, Nanaimo, British Columbia, Canada.

This document is in the public domain (released January 2024). For a brief publication history see Odyssey: Table of Contents. For an RTF or PDF format of this translation use the following links: Odyssey [RTF]; Odyssey [PDF]

BOOK TWENTY-TWO
THE KILLING OF THE SUITORS

[Odysseus stands in the doorway and shoots arrows at the suitors; he first kills Antinous; Eurymachus offers compensation for what the suitors have done; Odysseus kills him; Telemachus kills Amphinomus, then goes to fetch weapons from the storeroom; Melanthius reveals where the weapons are stored and gets some for the suitors; Eumaeus and Philoetius catch Melanthius and string him up to the rafters; Athena appears in the guise of Mentor to encourage Odysseus; Agelaus tries to rally the suitors; Odysseus, Telemachus, Eumaeus and Philoetius keep killing suitors until Athena makes the suitors panic; Leiodes seeks mercy from Odysseus but is killed; Odysseus spares Phemius and Medon; Odysseus questions Eurycleia about the women servants who have dishonoured him; he gets them to haul the bodies outside and clean up the hall; Telemachus hangs all the unfaithful female slaves; Melanthius is cut up and castrated; Odysseus purifies the house and yard; Odysseus is reunited with the faithful women servants.]

Resourceful Odysseus stripped off his rags, grabbed up
the bow and quiver full of arrows, and sprang up,
moving to the doorway. He dumped his swift arrows
beside his feet and then shouted at the suitors:

“This contest to determine who is best
is over. But there’s another target—
one no man has ever struck—I’ll find out
if I can hit it. May Apollo grant
I get the glory.”

                                       As Odysseus spoke,
he aimed a bitter arrow straight at Antinous,                                         10
who was just about to raise up to his lips
a fine double-handled goblet he was holding                                                [10]
in his hands, so he could drink some wine. In his heart
there was no thought of slaughter. Among those feasting,
who would ever think, in such a crowd of people,
that one man, even if his strength was truly great,
would risk confronting evil death, his own black fate?
Odysseus took aim and hit him with an arrow
right in the neck—its point passed through his tender throat.
He slumped over on his side, and, as he was hit,                                    20
the goblet fell to the ground, and thick spurts of blood
came flowing quickly from his nose. Then, suddenly
he pushed the table from him with his foot, spilling                                    [20]
food onto the floor—the bread and roasted meat
were ruined. When the suitors saw Antinous fall,
they raised an uproar in the house, leaping from their seats,
scurrying in panic through the hall, looking round,
searching in every corner of the well-built walls,
but there were no weapons anywhere, no strong spear
or shield for them to seize. They all began to shout,                              30
yelling words of anger at Odysseus:

“Stranger,
you’ll pay for shooting arrows at this man.
For you there’ll be no contests any more.
It’s certain you’ll be killed once and for all.
You’ve killed a man, by far the finest youth
in all of Ithaca. And now vultures [30]
are going to feast on you.”

Each of them
shouted out words like these. They did not realize
he had killed the man on purpose. In their folly,
they did not understand that they were now enmeshed 40
in destruction’s net. Shrewd Odysseus scowled at them
and gave his answer:

“You dogs, because you thought
I’d not come back from Troy to my own home,
you’ve been ravaging my house, raping women,
and, in devious ways, wooing my wife,
while I was still alive, with no fear of gods
who hold wide heaven, or of any man [40]
who might take his revenge in days to come.
And now a fatal snare has caught you all.”

As Odysseus said this, pale fear seized the suitors. 50
Each man looked around to see how he might flee
complete destruction. Only Eurymachus spoke—
he answered him and said:

                          “If, in fact, it’s true
that you’re Odysseus of Ithaca,
back home again, you’re right in what you say
about the actions of Achaeans here,
their frequent reckless conduct in your home,
their many foolish actions in the fields.
But the man who is responsible for this
now lies dead—I mean Antinous, the one                                 60
who started all this business, not because                                          [50]
he was all that eager to get married—
that’s not what he desired. No. For he had
another plan in mind, which Cronos’ son
did not bring to fulfillment. He wanted
to become the king of fertile Ithaca,
by ambushing your son and killing him.
Now he himself is dead, as he deserved.
At this point, then, you should spare your people.
Later on we’ll collect throughout the land                                   70
payment for what we’ve had to eat and drink
inside your halls, and every man will bring
compensation on his own, in an amount
worth twenty oxen, paying you in gold
and bronze until your heart is mollified.
Until that time, no one is blaming you
for being so angry.”

Shrewd Odysseus glared at him [60]
and then replied:

“Eurymachus, if you gave me
all the goods you got from your own fathers,
everything which you now own, and added 80
other assets you could obtain elsewhere,
not even then would I hold back my hands
from slaughter, not until the suitors pay
for all their arrogance. Now you’ve a choice—
to fight here face to face or, if someone
wishes to evade his death and lethal fate,
to run away. But I don’t think there’s one
who will escape being utterly destroyed.”

As Odysseus said this, their knees and hearts went slack
right where they stood. Then Eurymachus spoke once more, 90
calling out to them:

“Friends, this man won’t check [70]
those all-conquering hands of his. Instead,
now he’s got the polished bow and quiver,
from that threshold he’ll just keep on shooting,
until he’s killed us all. So let’s think now
about how we should fight. Pull out your swords,
and set tables up to block those arrows—
they bring on death so fast—and then let’s charge,
go at him all together in a group,
so we can dislodge him from the threshold, 100
clear the door, get down into the city,
and sound the alarm as swiftly as we can.
Then this man should soon take his final shot.”

Once he said this, Eurymachus pulled out his sword,
a sharp two-edged blade of bronze, and then charged out,                       [80]
rushing at Odysseus with a blood-curdling shout.
As he did so, lord Odysseus shot an arrow.
It hit him in the chest, striking near his nipple—
and the swift shaft sped on, straight into his liver.
Eurymachus’s sword slipped down onto the ground.                             110
He bent double, writhing on the table, and collapsed,
knocking food and two-handled cups onto the floor.
His forehead kept hammering the earth, his heart
in agony, as both his feet kicked at the chair
and made it shake. A mist fell over both his eyes.

Then Amphinomus went at glorious Odysseus,
charging straight for him, his sharp sword drawn and ready,                    [90]
to see if he would somehow yield the door to him.
But Telemachus moved in too quickly for him—
he threw a bronze-tipped spear and hit him from behind,                    120
between the shoulder blades. He drove it through his chest.
With a crash, Amphinomus fell, and his forehead
struck hard against the ground. Telemachus jumped back,
leaving his spear in Amphinomus, afraid that,
if he tried recovering the long-shadowed spear,
some Achaean might attack and stab him with a sword
or lunge at him as he was dealing with the corpse.
So he backed off quickly and made his way across
to his dear father. Standing close to him, he spoke—                                 [100]
his words had wings:

“Father, now I’ll bring you 130
a shield, two spears, a helmet made of bronze,
one that fits your temples. When I get back,
I’ll arm myself and hand out other weapons
to the swineherd and keeper of the goats.
It’s better if we fully arm ourselves.”

Quick-witted Odysseus answered him and said:

“Get them here fast, while I still have arrows
to protect myself, in case they push me
from the doors, since I’m here by myself.”

Odysseus spoke. Telemachus obeyed the orders                                    140
of his dear father. He hurried to the storeroom
where they kept their splendid weapons. From there he took
four shields, eight spears, and four helmets made of bronze                      [110]
with thick horsehair plumes. He went out carrying these
and made his way back quickly to his dear father.
First, he armed himself with bronze around his body,
and the two servants did the same, dressing themselves
in dazzling armour. Then they went to take their place
in the doorway beside skilled and shrewd Odysseus,
who, as long as he had arrows to protect him,                                         150
continued shooting at the suitors in his home,
killing them one by one. As his arrows hit them,
they fell down in heaps. But once he’d used his arrows,
the king could shoot no more. So he then propped the bow                        [120]
against the doorpost of the well-constructed wall,
and let it lean beside the shining entrance way.
Standing there alone, he set across his shoulders
his four-layered shield, and on his powerful head
he put a beautifully crafted helmet
with horsehair plumes nodding ominously on top.                                 160
Then in his fists he grabbed two heavy bronze-tipped spears.

In that well built wall there was a narrow doorway
and, close to the upper level of the threshold
into the great hall, the entrance to a passage,
blocked off by a close-fitting door. So Odysseus
told the worthy swineherd to stand beside this door
and watch, for there was just one way of reaching it.                                    [130]
Then Agelaus cried, calling all the suitors:

“Friends, can someone climb up to that side door
and tell the men to raise a quick alarm? 170
Then this man won’t be shooting anymore.”

But Melanthius, the goatherd, answered him and said:

“It can’t be done, god-raised Agelaus.
The main gate to the yard is really near,
and the entrance very hard to get through.
One man could block the way for everyone,
if he were brave. But come, let me bring you
armour from the storeroom. You could use it.
It’s in the house, I think—there’s nowhere else [140]
Odysseus and his noble son could stash 180
their weapons.”(1)

Once goatherd Melanthius said this,
he climbed up a flight of stairs inside the palace,
up to Odysseus’ storerooms. There he took twelve shields,
as many spears, and twelve helmets made of bronze
with bushy horsehair plumes. Once he made it back,
carrying the weapons as quickly as he could,
he gave them to the suitors. Odysseus saw them
putting that armour on and their hands brandishing
long spears, and felt his knees and his fond heart go slack.
His task appeared enormous. He quickly called out 190 [150]
to Telemachus—his words had wings:

“Telemachus,
it seems one of the women in the house
has stirred up a nasty fight against us,
or perhaps Melanthius is the one.”

Prudent Telemachus then said in his reply:

“Father, I bear the blame for this myself.
It’s no one else’s fault. I left it open—
the close-fitting door of that storage room.
One of them has keener eyes than I do.
Come, good Eumaeus, shut the storeroom door. 200
Try to find out if it was a woman
who did this, or if it was Melanthius,
Dolius’s son—I suspect it’s him.”

While they were saying these things to one another, [160]
Melanthius the goatherd went back once again,
to carry back more armour from the storage room.
But the diligent swineherd saw him and spoke out,
saying a quick word to Odysseus, who was close by:

“Resourceful Odysseus, Laertes’ son,
raised from Zeus, I can see that man again, 210
the wretch we think is going to the storeroom.
Give me clear instructions—Should I kill him,
if I prove the stronger man, or should I
bring him to you here? He can pay you back
for the many insolent acts he’s done,
those devious schemes he’s thought up in your home.”

Resourceful Odysseus then answered him and said: [170]

“These proud suitors Telemachus and I
will keep penned up in here, inside the hall,
no matter how ferociously they fight. 220
You two twist Melanthius’ feet and arms
behind him, then throw him in the storeroom,
with boards lashed against his back. Tie the man
to a twisted rope and then hoist him up
the lofty pillar till he’s near the beams.
Let him stay alive a while and suffer
in agonizing pain.”

                                                         As Odysseus spoke,
they listened eagerly and did what he advised.
They moved off to the storeroom, without being seen
by the man inside. He was, as it turned out, searching                       230 [180]
in a corner of the room for more bronze weapons.
As Melanthius, the goatherd, made his way out
across the threshold, holding a lovely helmet
in one hand and in the other an old broad shield
covered in mould—one belonging to Laertes,
which he used to carry as a youthful warrior,
but which now was lying in storage, with its seams
unravelling on the straps—the two men jumped out,
grabbed him, hauled him by the hair back inside the room,
and threw him on the ground—the man was terrified.                          240
They tied up his feet and hands with heart-wrenching bonds
and lashed them tight behind his back, as Odysseus,                                [190]
Laertes’ royal son, who had endured so much,
had ordered. They tied him up with a twisted rope,
yanked him up the lofty pillar, and raised him high,
up near the roof beams. And then, swineherd Eumaeus,
you taunted him and said:

“Now, Melanthius,
you can truly remain on watch all night,
stretched out on a warm bed, as you deserve.
You won’t miss early Dawn on her gold throne, 250
as she rises from the streams of Ocean—
the very hour you’ve been bringing goats here,
so the suitors can prepare their banquets
in these halls.”

They left Melanthius there, [200]
roped up and dangling in bonds which would destroy him.
The two picked up their weapons, closed the shining door,
and made their way to wise and crafty Odysseus.
Filled with fighting spirit, they stood there, four of them
on the threshold, facing many brave men in the hall.

Then Athena, Zeus’s daughter, came up to them, 260
looking just like Mentor and with his voice, as well.
Odysseus saw her and rejoiced. He cried:

“Mentor,
help fight off disaster. Remember me,
your dear comrade. I’ve done good things for you.
You’re my companion, someone my own age.”

Odysseus said this, thinking Mentor was, in fact, [210]
Athena, who incites armed warriors to fight.
From across the hall the suitors yelled:

                                                                         “Mentor,
don’t let what Odysseus says convince you
to fight the suitors and to stand by him.                                       270
For this is how it will end up, I think,
when our will prevails. Once we’ve killed these men,
father and son, then you’ll be slaughtered, too.
You may be eager to win glory now,
here in the hall, but you will have to pay
with your own head. Once our swords slice away
that strength of yours, we’ll put your property,                                   [220]
all the fine things you have inside your home
and in the fields, with what Odysseus owns
and refuse to let your sons and daughters                                     280
live in your house or your beloved wife
remain in Ithaca, not in the city.”

After they made this threat, Athena in her heart
grew very angry, and she rebuked Odysseus
with heated words:

                          “Odysseus, you no longer have
that firm spirit and force you once possessed
when for nine years you fought against the Trojans
over white-armed Helen, who was nobly born.
You never stopped. You slaughtered many men
in fearful combat. Through your stratagems                                 290
Priam’s city of broad streets was taken.                                                 [230]
So how come now, when you are in your home
with your own possessions, you are moaning
about acting bravely with these suitors?
Come on now, my friend, stand here beside me,
see what I do, so you can understand
the quality of Mentor, Alcimus’ son—
he may be surrounded by his enemies,
but he repays those who have honoured him.”

Athena spoke. But she did not give him the strength                            300
to win that fight decisively. She was still testing
the power and resolution of Odysseus
and his splendid son. So she flew up to the roof
inside the smoky hall, and sat there, taking on                                              [240]
the appearance of a swallow.

                               Meanwhile, the suitors
were being urged to action by Agelaus,
Damastor’s son, by Eurynomus, Amphimedon,
Demoptolemus, Peisander, Polyctor’s son,
and shrewd Polybus. Among the suitors still alive
these were the finest men by far. Odysseus’ bow                                     310
and his swift arrows had brought down all the others.
Agelaus spoke out, addressing all the suitors:

“Friends, this man’s hands have been invincible,
but now they’ll stop. Mentor has moved away,
once he uttered some empty boast. And now,
they’re left alone before the outer gates. [250]
So don’t throw those long spears of yours at them,
not all at once. Come, you six men throw first,
to see if Zeus will let us strike Odysseus
and win glory. Those others over there 320
will be no trouble after he’s collapsed.”

Agelaus spoke these words, and in their eagerness
to follow what he said, the suitors hurled their spears.
But Athena made sure their spear throws missed the mark.
One suitor hit a doorpost in the well-built hall.
Another struck the closely fitted door. One ash spear,
weighted down with its bronze tip, fell against the wall.
When they’d escaped the suitor’s spears, lord Odysseus, [260]
who had suffered so much pain, was the first to speak:

“Friends, now I’ll give the word—let’s hurl our spears 330
into all those suitors trying to kill us
and adding to the harm they did before.”

Once Odysseus said this, they all took steady aim
and threw their pointed spears. Odysseus struck down
Demoptolemus, Telemachus hit Euryades,
the swineherd struck Elatus, and the cattle herder
killed Peisander. As these three men lay dying,
their teeth chewed up the dirt. The suitors then pulled back                     [270]
to the inner section of the hall. The others
rushed up quickly to pull the spears out of the dead.                          340
The suitors kept on throwing spears with frantic haste,
but, though there were a lot, Athena made them miss.
One suitor struck the doorpost of the well-built hall.
Another hit the closely fitted door. One ash spear,
weighted down with its bronze tip, was hurled into the wall.
But Amphimedon did hit Telemachus’s hand
a glancing blow across the wrist. The bronze spear point
sliced the surface of his skin. And with his long spear
Ctessipus grazed the swineherd’s shoulder above his shield,
but the spear veered off and fell down onto the ground.                       350   [280]
Then the group surrounding sly and shrewd Odysseus
once more threw sharp spears into the crowd of suitors,
and once again Odysseus, sacker of cities,
hit a man—Eurydamas—while Telemachus
struck Amphimedon, and the swineherd Eumaeus
hit Polybus. The cattle herder Philoetius
struck Ctesippus in the chest and then cried these words,
shouting above the body:

                                            “Son of Polytherses,
you love to jeer—but don’t yield anymore
to your stupidity and boast so much.                                              360
Leave that sort of bragging to the gods,
for they are far more powerful than you.
This is your guest gift—something to pay back                                    [290]
the ox hoof you gave godlike Odysseus
back when he was a beggar in his home.”

That’s what the herder of the bent-horned cattle said.
At close range Odysseus wounded Damastor’s son
with his long spear, and Telemachus managed to hit
Leocritus, son of Evenor—he struck him
with his spear right in the groin and drove the bronze point                370
right through the body. Leocritus fell forward,
his entire face and forehead hammering the ground.
Athena held up her man-destroying aegis
from high up in the roof.(2) The suitors’ minds panicked,
and they fled through the hall, like a herd of cattle
when a vicious gadfly goads them to stampede,                                            [300]
once spring season starts and days begin to lengthen.
Just as falcons with hooked talons and curving beaks
fly down from the mountains, chasing birds, driving them
well below the clouds, as they swoop along the plain,                           380
then pounce on them and kill, for there is no defence,
no flying away, while men get pleasure from the chase,
that’s how Odysseus and his men pursued the suitors
and struck them down, one by one, all through the hall.
As their heads were smashed in, horrific cries arose,
and the whole floor in the hall was awash with blood.

Then Leiodes ran out, grabbed Odysseus’s knee,                                           [310]
and begged him—his words had wings:

“Odysseus,
I implore you at your knee—respect me
and have pity. I tell you I’ve never 390
injured a single woman in these halls
by saying or doing something reckless.
Instead I tried to stop the other suitors
when they did those things. They did not listen
or restrain their hands from acting badly.
So their own wickedness now brings about
their wretched fate. Among them I’m a prophet
who has done no wrong, and yet I will lie dead,
since there’s no future thanks for one’s good deeds.”

Shrewd Odysseus glared at him and answered: [320]

“If, in fact, 400
you claim to be a prophet with these men,
no doubt here in these halls you’ve often prayed
that my goal of a sweet return would stay
unrealized, so my dear wife could go
back to your own home and bear you children.
That’s why you won’t escape a bitter death.”

As he said this, Odysseus picked up in his fist
a sword that lay nearby—Agelaus had dropped it
and left it on the ground when he was killed—with it
Odysseus struck Leiodes right across his neck.                                       410
His head was rolling in the dust as he was speaking.

And then the minstrel Phemius, son of Terpes,                                             [330]
who had been compelled to sing before the suitors,
attempted to evade his own disastrous fate.
He stood holding his clear-toned lyre by the side door,
his mind divided—should he slip out from the hall
and take a seat close to the altar of great Zeus,
god of the courtyard, where Laertes and Odysseus
had burned many thighs from sacrificial oxen,
or should he rush up to Odysseus’s knee                                                 420
and beg him for his life. As his mind thought it through,
the latter course of action seemed the better choice,
to clasp the knee of Laertes’ son, Odysseus.
He set down the hollow lyre, left it on the ground,                                       [340]
between the mixing bowl and silver-studded chair,
rushed out in person to clasp Odysseus’s knee,
and addressed him with this plea—his words had wings:

“I implore you, Odysseus, show respect
and pity. There’ll be sorrow for you later,
if you kill me, a minstrel, for I sing 430
to gods and men. I am self-taught. The god
has planted in my heart all kinds of songs,
and I’m good enough to sing before you,
as to a god. Don’t be too eager then
to cut my throat. Your son Telemachus [350]
could tell you that it wasn’t my desire
nor did I need to spend time at your house,
singing for the suitors at their banquets.
But their greater power and their numbers
brought me here by force.”

As Phemius said this, 440
royal Telemachus, who was standing near him,
heard his words and spoke up, calling to his father:

“Hold on. Don’t let your sword injure this man.
He’s innocent. We should save Medon, too,
the herald, who always looked out for me
inside the house when I was still a child,
unless Philoetius has killed him,
or the swineherd, or he ran into you
when you were on a rampage in the hall.” [360]

Telemachus spoke. Medon, whose mind was clever, 450
heard him, for he was cowering beneath a chair,
his skin covered by a new-flayed ox-hide, trying
to escape his own black fate. He quickly jumped out
from underneath the chair, threw aside the ox-hide,
rushed up to clasp Telemachus’s knee, and begged—
his words had wings:

                                       “Here I am, my friend.
Stop! Tell your father to restrain himself,
in case, as he exults in his great strength,
he slaughters me with that sharp bronze of his,
in his fury with the suitors, those men                                           460
who consumed his goods here in his own hall,                                    [370]
those fools who did not honour you at all.”

Resourceful Odysseus then smiled at him and said:

“Don’t worry! This man here has saved your life.
He’s rescued you, so you know in your heart
and can tell someone else how doing good
is preferable by far to acting badly.
But move out of the hall and sit outside,
in the yard, some distance from the killing,
you and the minstrel with so many songs, 470
until I finish all I need to do.”

After Odysseus spoke, the two men went away,
outside the hall, and sat down there, by the altar
of great Zeus, peering around in all directions,                                              [380]
always thinking that they might be killed.

                                                   Odysseus then
began to search the house to check if anyone
was hiding there, still alive, trying to escape
his own murky fate. But every man he looked at—
and there were many—had fallen in blood and dust,
like fish which, in the meshes of a net, sailors                                         480
have pulled from the gray sea up on the curving beach,
lying piled up on the sand, longing for sea waves,
while the bright sun drains away their life—that is how
the suitors were heaped up, piled on one another.

Resourceful Odysseus then said to Telemachus:                                           [390]

“Telemachus, go and call the nurse here,
Eurycleia, so I can speak to her.
Something’s on my mind—I want to tell her.”

After Odysseus spoke, Telemachus obeyed
what his dear father said. He shook the door and called 490
to Eurycleia, saying:

“Get up, old woman,
born many years ago—the one in charge
of female household servants in our home.
Come on out. My father’s calling for you.
He has something in mind and wants to talk.”

He spoke. But Eurycleia’s words could find no wings.
She opened up the door of the well-furnished hall
and came out.(3) Telemachus went first and led the way.                            [400]
There she found Odysseus with the bodies of the dead,
spattered with gore and blood, like a lion moving on                            500
from gorging on a farmyard ox, his entire chest
and both sides of his muzzle caked with fresh-spilt blood,
a terrifying sight, that’s how Odysseus looked,
with bloodstained feet and upper arms. Eurycleia,
once she saw the bodies and huge amounts of blood,
was ready to cry out for joy now that she’d seen
such a mighty act. But Odysseus held her back
and checked her eagerness. He challenged her and said—                        [410]
his words had wings:

“Old woman, you can rejoice
in your own heart—but don’t cry out aloud. 510
Restrain yourself. For it’s a sacrilege
to boast above the bodies of the slain.
Divine Fate and their own reckless actions
have killed these men, who failed to honour
any man on earth who came among them,
bad or good. And so through their depravity
they’ve met an evil fate. But come now,
tell me about the women in these halls,
the ones who disrespect me and the ones
who bear no blame.”

His dear nurse Eurycleia 520
then answered him and said:

“All right my child, [420]
I’ll tell you the truth. In these halls of yours,
there are fifty female servants, women
we have taught to carry out their duties,
to comb out wool and bear their slavery.
Of these, twelve women in all have acted
without a sense of shame and no respect
for me or even for Penelope.
Telemachus has only just grown up.
His mother hasn’t yet let him control 530
our female servants. But come, let’s go now
to that bright upstairs room and tell your wife.
Some god has made her sleep.”

Resourceful Odysseus [430]
then answered her and said:

“Don’t wake her up.
Not yet. Those women who before all this
behaved so badly, tell them to come here.”

Once he said this, the old woman went through the house
to tell the slaves the news and urge them to appear.
Odysseus then summoned Telemachus to him,
together with Eumaeus and Philoetius. 540
He spoke to them—his words had wings:

                                                       “You three men,
start carrying these corpses outside now,
then punish those shameless servant women.
Have them clean these splendid chairs and tables,
and wipe them with sponges soaked in water.
Once you’ve put the entire house in order,                                        [440]
then take those servants from the well-built hall
to a spot outside between the roundhouse
and the sturdy courtyard wall and kill them.(4)
Slash them with long swords, until life is gone                             550
from all of them, and they cannot recall
Aphrodite and how they loved the suitors
when they enjoyed sex with them in secret.”

Odysseus spoke. The crowd of women servants came,
wailing plaintively and shedding many tears.
First they gathered up the bodies of the dead
and laid the corpses out beneath the portico,
leaning them on one another in the well-fenced yard.                                  [450]
Odysseus himself told them what they had to do
and hurried on the work. The women were compelled                           560
to carry out the dead. Once that was done, they cleaned
the splendid chairs and tables, wiping off the gore
with porous sponges soaked in water. Telemachus,
along with Philoetius and Eumaeus,
with shovels scraped the floor inside the well-built hall,
and women took the dirt and threw it in the yard.
Once they had restored due order in the hall,
they led the servant women from the sturdy home
to a place between the courtyard wall and roundhouse,
herding those household slaves into a narrow space                              570   [460]
where there was no way to escape. Shrewd Telemachus
began by speaking to the others:

“I don’t want
to take these women’s lives with a clean death.
They poured insults on my head, on my mother,
and were always sleeping with the suitors.”

He spoke, then tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship
to a large pillar, threw one end above the roundhouse,
then pulled it taut and high, so that no woman’s foot
could reach the ground. Just as doves or long-winged thrushes
charge into a snare set in a thicket, as they seek                                    580
their roosting place, only to find they have been welcomed                         [470]
by a dreadful bed, that is how those women stood
all in a row, with nooses fixed around their necks,
so they might have a pitiful death. For some time,
their feet kept twitching, but that did not last long.

Then they brought Melanthius out through the doorway
into the yard. With pitiless bronze they sliced off
his nose and ears, then ripped off his cock and balls
as raw meat for dogs to eat, and in their fury
hacked off his hands and feet. After they’d done that,                           590
they washed their hands and feet and went inside the house,
returning to Odysseus. Their work was finished.                                           [480]
But he called Eurycleia, his dear nurse:

“Old woman,
bring sulphur here to purify the house.
And fetch me fire so I can purge the hall.
Ask Penelope to come here with her slaves,
and get the women in the house, as well.”

His dear nurse Eurycleia answered him:

“My child,
what you say is all well and good, but come,
I’ll fetch you clothing, a cloak and tunic, 600
so you don’t stand like this in your own hall
with nothing but rags on your wide shoulders.
That would be the cause of some dishonour.”

Resourceful Odysseus then answered her and said: [490]

“Yes, but first make me a fire in the hall.”

Dear nurse Eurycleia then followed what he said.
She brought fire and sulphur, so lord Odysseus
purged the house and yard completely. Eurycleia
went back through Odysseus’s splendid home to tell
the women what had happened and to order them 610
to reappear. They all came out, holding torches,
and gathered around Odysseus, embracing him.
They clasped and kissed his head, his hands, his shoulders,
in loving welcome. A joyful longing seized him [500]
to sigh and weep, for in his heart he knew them all.

ENDNOTES

(1) To understand the architectural details of the palace, please consult the diagram at the following site (scroll down the page for a bit until you see the blueprint: Odysseus's Palace. Agelaus wants someone to get through the side door by the entrance to the main hall, go out through passage into the yard, and raise the alarm. Melanthius objects, saying that the passage leading from the side door, which is guarded by Eumaeus, is very narrow and the courtyard gate is still close enough for Odysseus to reach with an arrow from the main doorway. [Back to Text]

(2) The aegis is a divine shield which, when held up in battle, has the power of terrifying human beings and making them run away. [Back to Text]

(3) The doorway here is the entrance to the women’s quarters. At the start of the slaughter Eurycleia had locked it to prevent any of the women coming into the great hall. [Back to Text]

(4) Roundhouse: The roundhouse is in one corner of the courtyard. [Back to Text]

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