HOMER: "THE ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIV: RESTLESS SPIRITS.

 HOMER: "THE ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIV:  RESTLESS SPIRITS.

Introduction:

The events which occur in this the final book of Homer's "Odyssey" occur in the 40th day of the actions pertinent to this work. At the beginning of the book, Hermes conducts the souls of the dead suitors (or wooers) to Hades, where the spirit of Agamemnon is conversing with the spirit of Achilles concerning the triumph of Odysseus. Agamemnon hears about the slaying of the suitors from the ghost of one of them, Amphimedon. Agamemnon then praises Odysseus' wife Penelope, contrasting her fidelity with the faithlessness of his own wife, Clytemnestra. Meanwhile in Ithaca, Odysseus is reunited with his father Laertes. Firstly, he tells him a false story about his own identity, but then he reveals himself and is joyfully welcomed by his father. When the Ithacans hear of the killing of the suitors, their relatives gather to take revenge. After a brief engagement, in which Laertes kills the relatives' leader, Eupeithes, Zeus and his daughter Athene intervene and peace is restored. The poem ends with the gods led by Zeus, in complete control, and Athene as his eager agent. 

Sabidius completed his translation of Homer's "Iliad" on 7th July 2025; he now completes his translation of the "Odyssey" as well. The dates of publication on this blog of Sabidius' translations of all its 24 books are set out in the appendix to this text. 

Ll. 1-34. The spirits of the slain wooers meet the spirits of past heroes in the Underworld.

Now, Cyllenian Hermes (i.e. Cyllene was a mountain in Northern Arcadia, and it was the site of Hermes' birth and sacred to the god) called forth the spirits of the suitor-men; and he held in his hands a fair golden wand, with which he casts a spell on the eyes of whatever men he wishes, and he even awakens them from sleep; and with it he aroused and led (the spirits), and they followed him squeaking. And, as when bats flit about squeaking in the innermost part of a wondrous cave, when one of them has fallen off the rock from the chain, in which they cling to one another, so they went gibbering after (him); and so the gracious Hermes led them down the dank passageways. And they went past the streams of Ocean and the Leucadian Rock, and past the Gates of the Sun and the Land of Dreams; and they came quickly down to the field of asphodel, and there dwell the spirits, the phantoms of (men) outworn. And (there) they found the spirit of Achilles, son of Peleus, and of Patroclus (i.e. Achilles' greatest friend), and of the peerless Antilochus (i.e. the eldest son of Nestor and Achilles' favourite comrade after the death of Patroclus), and of Ajax (i.e. the son of Telamon), who in shape and form was the best of all the Danaans after the peerless son of Peleus.

So they were flocking around him; and near to (them) came the spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, in a sorrowful state; and around him others were gathered, those who were slain with him in the house of Aegisthus, and (there) met their fate. The spirit of the son of Peleus (i.e. Achilles) spoke to him (i.e. Agamemnon) first: "Son of Atreus, we thought that you were dear all your days to Zeus, who delights in thunder, above (all other) heroic men, because you were lord of many mighty (men) in the land of the Trojans, where we Achaeans suffered woes. But, in truth, deadly fate would come upon you all too early, (that fate) which not one of us who is born avoids. Would that you, who had the use of that honour of which you were the master, had met your death and doom in the land of the Trojans; then would all the Achaeans have made you a tomb, and for your son too you would have won great glory in the future; but now it were so decreed that you should be seized by a most pitiable death."  

Ll. 35-84. There is overwhelming grief at the death of Achilles.

Then did the spirit of the son of Atreus answer him: "Blessed son of Peleus, Achilles, like unto the gods, (you) who were slain in (the land of) Troy far from Argos; and around you others were slain, the best of the Trojans and the sons of the Achaeans, fighting for your (body); and you did lie in a whirl of dust, great in your mightiness, forgetful of the art of horsemanship; nor should we ever have ceased fighting, if Zeus had not stopped (us) with a storm. But, when we had borne you from the battle to the ships, we laid (you) on a bier, and cleansed your fair flesh with warm water and an unguent; and many hot tears did the Danaans shed around you, and they tore their hair. And your mother (i.e. Thetis) came out of the sea with her immortal sea(-nymphs), when she heard the news (of your death); and a wondrous cry arose on the deep, and at (this) trembling took hold of all the Achaeans; then would they have sprung up and rushed aboard their hollow ships' if a man, very knowledgeable in his old age, had not held (them) back, Nestor (that is), whose advice had previously seemed best; full of good intentions, he addressed them and said: 'Hold on, (you) Argives, do not flee, (you) youths of the Achaeans; his mother comes from the sea, and she comes with her immortal sea(-nymphs) to look upon the face of her dead son.'

"So he (i.e. Nestor) spoke, and the great-hearted Achaeans ceased their flight; then around you (i.e. Achilles) stood the daughters of the old man of the sea (i.e. the Nereids), piteously wailing, and they put immortal raiment around (you). And the Muses, nine in all, responding in a sweet voice, sang a dirge; there you could not have seen any tearless Argive; for the sweet-voiced Muse gently stirred them up. So, for seventeen (days) did we, immortal gods and mortal men, bewail you, day and night alike; and on the eighteenth (day) we gave (you) to the fire, and we slew many well-fatted sheep and crooked-horned cattle around you. And you were burned in the raiment of the gods and with much ointment and sweet honey; and many Achaean warriors moved speedily around the fire in their armour, when you were burning, both footmen and charioteers, and a great din arose. But, when the flame of Hephaestus had consumed you, in the morning we gathered up your white bones, Achilles, in unmixed wine and unguents; and your mother gave (us) a large golden jar with two handles; and she said it was a gift of Dionysius, and the handiwork of the renowned Hephaestus. In this lie your white bones, glorious Achilles, and mingled (with them the bones) of the dead Patroclus, son of Menoetius, and separately (those) of Antilochus, whom you did honour far above the others of your comrades after the dead Patroclus. And over them we then heaped up a great and splendid mound, (we), the sacred host of Argive spearmen, on a headland projecting out over the broad Hellespont, so that it may be conspicuous to men from the sea, (both) to those who are here now, (and to those) who shall live hereafter. 

Ll. 85-137. The spirit of Amphimedon tells how Penelope tricked the suitors. 

"But your mother asked the gods for very beautiful prizes, and she set them down in the midst of the arena of the Achaeans who excelled in valour. Now you have taken part in the funeral rites of many men (who were) warriors, whenever, on the death of a king, young men did gird up their loins and get ready for the contests; but, especially if you had seen that (sight), you would have marvelled in your heart at those very beautiful prizes that the goddess, the silver-footed Thetis, set down in your (honour); for you were very dear to the gods. For not even in death did you lose your name, but you shall always have a good reputation among men, Achilles. But what pleasure is there for me in this, since (it was) I (who) brought the war to a close? For on my return Zeus devised a woeful death for me at the hands of Aegisthus and my accursed wife (i.e. Clytemnestra)." 

So they spoke such (words) to one another, but the messenger, the guide Argeïphontes (i.e. the Slayer of Argus), came to them, leading down the spirits of the wooers slain by Odysseus, and then the two of them (i.e. the spirits of Achilles and Agamemnon), seized with wonder, went straight towards (them) when they saw (them).  And the spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus, recognised the dear son of Melaneus, the renowned Amphimedon; for he had been his host, dwelling in his home in Ithaca. The spirit of the son of Atreus spoke to him first: "Amphimedon, what has happened (to you), that you have come down to the land of darkness, all (of you) chosen (men) and of similar age? One would have made no other choice, if one had had to pick out the best men across the city. Did Poseidon smite you on board your ships by arousing harsh winds and far-stretching waves? Or did strange men do you harm on the land while you were intercepting their cattle and fair flocks of sheep, or while they were fighting for their city and their women? Tell me what I ask; for I declare that I have been your guest. Or do you not remember when I came there to your house with godlike Menelaus to urge Odysseus to go with us to Ilium in the well-benched ships? We took the whole of a month to go across the wide sea, so hard was it to prevail upon Odysseus, the sacker of cities."

And then, the spirit of Amphimedon answered him: "Most glorious son of Atreus, Agamemnon, king of men, I remember all these (things), just as you say (them, O you who are) cherished by Zeus; and I will you precisely absolutely everything about how the evil ending of our death was brought about. We wooed the wife of Odysseus, who had been gone for a long while; she (i.e. Penelope) neither refused the hateful marriage, nor did she reach a decision (about it), while planning death and a black fate for us, but she devised this other trick in her mind: she set up a great web in her hall, refined and immense in size (it was), and she began to weave; and straightway she spoke among us: '(You) young men (who are) my suitors, since godlike Odysseus is dead, eager for my wedding though you are, be patient, until I complete my web, lest my thread should be vainly destroyed; a shroud for lord Laertes (it is), against the time when the deadly fate of woeful death shall strike him down, lest any one of the Achaean women across the land shall be angry with me, if (he) who had won such great possessions should lie without a garment.'

Ll. 138-190. The spirit of Amphimedon goes on to tell how the suitors were killed by Odysseus and Telemachus. 

"So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and then our manly hearts persuaded us. Then by day she would weave at her great web, and at night she would unravel (it), when she had placed torches beside (her). So for three years she escaped notice and persuaded the Achaeans by this trick, but, when the fourth year came round and the seasons came upon us, and the months waned and many days were completely finished, then one of her women, who plainly knew of it, told (us), and we discovered her unravelling her splendid work. So she finished it unwillingly, perforce. When she had woven the great web, and, after washing (it), she had shown us the shroud gleaming like the sun or the moon, then some evil demon brought Odysseus from somewhere to the border of the land where the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) dwelt in his hut. There (too) came the dear son of divine Odysseus, returning from sandy Pylos with his black ship. And these two, when thy had contrived an evil death for the wooers, came to the famous city, Odysseus certainly later, but Telemachus led the way before (him). And the swineherd brought him (i.e. Odysseus), his body clad in mean raiment, in the likeness of a sad and elderly beggar, supported by a staff; and wretched (was) the raiment (that) he wore around his body; and not one of us could have known it was he, when he appeared so suddenly, (no) not even those (who) were older (men), but we assailed (him) with wicked words and with missiles. But for a while he with his patient heart endured being pelted and taunted in his own halls; but then, when the will of Zeus, who bears the aegis, roused him, with (the help of) Telemachus he took the very fine armour, and put it in his store-room and shut the bolts, but then, in his great cunning, he bade his wife set his bow and grey iron before the wooers as a contest for us (who were) doomed to a sad end and the beginning of death. But not one of us was able to stretch the string of that mighty bow, and we were greatly lacking in strength. But, when the great bow came to the hands of Odysseus, then we all shouted out in loud words not to give (him) the bow, not even if he demanded (it) very strongly; but Telemachus alone urged him on, and told (him to take it). Then, the long-suffering godlike Odysseus took the bow in his hand, and strung (it) with ease, and shot (an arrow) through the iron (rings), and then he went and stood on the threshold, and poured forth his swift arrows, while glaring terribly around (him), and he struck lord Antinous. And then he let fly his groan-causing shafts upon the others, aiming straight before (him); and they fell in heaps. Then was it known that one of the gods was their helper; for rushing on straightway through the halls in their fury, they slew (men) left and right, and from them there arose a hideous groaning, as heads were smitten and the whole of the floor swam with blood. Thus we perished, Agamemnon, and even now out bodies lie uncared for in the halls of Odysseus; for our friends in each home know nothing as yet, those (friends) who might wash the black gore from our wounds, but wail while laying out (our bodies); for that is the dead men's gift of honour."   

Ll. 191-231. Odysseus finds his father Laertes alone in his vineyard.                                                                                                                                                                        

Then, the spirit of the son of Atreus replied to this: "Blessed son of Laertes, ever-ready Odysseus, you certainly acquired a wife of great virtue. Of such good understanding was peerless Penelope, daughter of Icarius; so well did she keep the memory of Odysseus, her lawfully wedded husband; therefore, the fame of her virtue shall never perish, but the immortals shall make a lovely song among men on earth about shrewd Penelope; not on this basis did the daughter of Tyndareus (i.e. Clytemnestra) devise evil deeds, and slay her lawfully wedded husband (i.e. Agamemnon), and hateful shall the song (about her) be among men, and a bad reputation shall she bestow upon women of the female sex, even she who shall be upright (in character)."                                                                                                                                  

So they spoke such (words) to one another, as they stood in the house of Hades beneath the depths of the earth.

But, when they went down from the city, then they quickly came to the fair and well-wrought farm of Laertes, which Laertes himself had once acquired, since he had toiled very greatly (in doing so) (i.e. he had acquired it as his own private property by reclaiming it from uncultivated land). Here was his dwelling, and outhouses ran around it on all sides, in which the constrained slaves who worked for him were fed, and sat and slept. And in (it) there was an old Sicilian woman, who took care of the old man in a kindly manner (there) at the farm far from the city. Then, Odysseus spoke these words to the servants and to his son: "Now do you go into the well-built house, and straightway slaughter for our dinner (those) who (are) the very best of the pigs; but I shall put my father to the test, (to see) whether he shall recognise me and know me by sight, or whether he shall fail to recognise (me), as I have been way for such a long time."

So saying, he gave his battle-gear to the slaves. Then, they went swiftly homeward, but Odysseus drew nearer to the fruitful vineyard in his quest. Now, he did not find Dolius as he went down into the great orchard, nor any of his slaves or his sons, but then it happened that they had gone to pick loose stones for the wall of the vineyard, and yet the old man led the way for them. But he found his father alone in the well-made vineyard, digging round a plant; and he was dressed in a dirty tunic, patched and shabby (it was), and around his shins he had tied stitched greaves, in order to avoid scratches, and (he wore) gloves on his hands on account of brambles; and he had a goatskin cap on the top of his head, so as to emphasise his grief. 

Ll. 232-279.  Odysseus spins his father a yarn.

And so, when the long-suffering godlike Odysseus saw him worn out with old age and with great grief in his heart, he stood beneath a tall pear-tree, and let the tear-drops fall. Then he debated in his mind and in his heart (whether) to kiss and throw his arms around his father, and tell (him) everything, how he had returned and had come to his native land, or whether he should question (him) first, and put (him) to the test with regard to everything. And, as he pondered, this seemed to be the better (course), to firstly put him to the test with words that would arouse (him). With this in mind, godlike Odysseus went straight towards him. In truth, he was holding down his head, digging round a plant; and his illustrious son came up to him, and spoke (as follows): "O old man, you show no lack of skill in tending a garden, but your care is good, and (there is) nothing at all, neither plant, nor fig-tree, nor vine, nor olive-tree, nor pear-tree, nor garden plot across the plantation that lacks your care. But I will tell you something else, and do not establish wrath in your heart, there is no good care of yourself, but in your woeful old age you are squalid and unkempt, and you are meanly clad. Surely (it is) not on account of your sloth that your master does not take care of you, nor do you seem in any way like a slave (either) in shape or in stature; for you have the look of a royal man. And you are like one, who, when he has bathed and eaten, should sleep softly; for that is the way of old men. But come, tell me this, and declare it honestly, of whom are you the slave of men? And whose orchard do you tend? And tell me this truly also, so that I may know (it) full well, whether this (is) indeed Ithaca (to which) I have come, as that man told me just now, when he met (me) on my way here, (but he was) not very obliging at all, since he did not have the heart to tell me each (thing), or to listen to my words when I questioned (him) about a friend of mine, whether he is still alive, or whether he is now dead and in the house of Hades. For I will tell you about (him), and do you take heed and listen to me: I once entertained in my dear native land a man who came to our house, and no other man ever came to my house as a dear guest from a foreign land; and he declared that he was from Ithaca by lineage, and he said that Laertes, son of Arcesius, was father to him. And I took him to the house, and entertained (him) well from the many (stores) that were within the house, and I gave him gifts of friendship such as were fitting. I gave him seven talents of well-wrought gold, and I gave him a mixing-bowl all of silver, embossed with flowers, and twelve cloaks as single garments, and as many rugs, and as many fair mantles, and as many tunics as these, and then apart from these, four comely women, skilled in goodly handicraft, whom he himself wished to choose." 

Ll. 280-326. Odysseus gives up his story-telling, and reveals himself to Laertes. 

Then, his father answered him, with tears trickling down: "Visitor, you have certainly come to the land that you are seeking, but wanton and reckless men (now) possess it; and those countless gifts you gave were granted in vain; for, if you had found him still alive in the land of Ithaca, then would he have sent you on your way with a good exchange of gifts, for that (is) the due of the man who initiates such kind hospitality. But come, tell me this, and recount (it) exactly, how many years have passed, since you entertained that unfortunate guest of yours, my son, an ill-fated (man), if ever there was (one)? Perhaps the fishes have devoured him far from his friends and his native land, in the deep maybe, or on the shore he has perhaps become the prey of beasts and birds; neither did his mother weep over him as she dressed him for burial, nor (did) his father, we who gave him birth; nor did his well-endowed wife, shrewd Penelope, bewail her husband on the bier, as was fitting when she closed his eyes; for that is the privilege of the dead. And tell me this truly also, so that I may know (it) full well. Who are you among men, and from where (do you come)? (And) where (is) your city and your parents? And where is the swift ship moored that brought you here with your godlike companions? Or did you come here as a passenger on board someone else's ship, and did they depart, when they had dropped (you) off?" 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to him in reply: "Well then, I will truly tell you absolutely everything. I come from Alybas, where I dwell in a splendid house, (and I am) the son of king Apheidas, the son of Polypemon; now my own name is Eperitus (i.e. 'Picked' or 'Chosen'); but, as I wandered from Sicania, some god drove me here against my will; and my ship is moored over there on farmland away from the city. But, as for Odysseus, it is now the fifth year since he went from there, and departed from my country, hapless (man that he was); yet he had birds of good omen when he went forth, (birds) on the right (they were), and I was glad of them as I sent him on his way, and he went forth happily; and our hearts were hopeful that we should still meet in hospitality, and give (one another) glorious gifts." 

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and a dark cloud of grief enwrapped him (i.e. Laertes), and he took the sooty dust in both of his hands, and strewed (it) over his grey head, groaning loudly. Then his (i.e. Odysseus') heart was stirred, and now a keen pang shot up through his nostrils as he beheld his dear father. And he sprang towards (him), and clasped (him) in his arms and kissed him, and said: "Let me tell you, I myself (am) that very (man), father, of whom you are asking, and I have come in the twentieth year to my native land. But do you abstain from grieving and tearful lamentation. For I will tell you (this): but great is the need to hasten all the same; I have slain the suitors in our halls, having taken vengeance on their grievous insolence and evil deeds."  

Ll. 327-364. Laertes is persuaded that the visitor is his son Odysseus. 

Then, Laertes answered him and said: "If you have really come here as my son Odysseus, now give me some very clear sign in order to persuade (me)." 

Then, astute Odysseus spoke to him in reply: "Do you first perceive with your eyes this scar, which a boar dealt me with his white tusk on Parnassus, when I had gone (there); and it was you and my queenly mother (i.e. Anticleia) who sent me forth to my mother's dear father Autolycus, so that I might get the gifts which, when he came here, he promised and agreed (to give) me. But come, (what) if I told you also of the trees in the well-made garden, which you once gave me, and I, who was but a child, was following (you) across the garden and asking you about everything; and (it was) through these very (trees) that we came, and you named (them) and told (me) about each one. You gave me thirteen pear-trees and ten apple-trees and forty fig-trees, and you thus promised to give me fifty rows of vines, and each one of them was ready for the vintage; and there upon (them) there are all sorts of clusters - whenever the seasons of Zeus weighed (them) down from above."   

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and his (i.e. Laertes') knees were loosened and his heart (melted), as he well knew the sure tokens that Odysseus had brought to his attention. and he flung his arms around his dear son; and the much-enduring godlike Odysseus caught hold of him as he was fainting. but, when he revived, and the spirit returned again to his breast, he spoke these words once more in reply: "Father Zeus, (you) gods are still there on high Olympus, if the suitors have indeed paid the price of their wanton insolence. But now I have a dreadful fear in my heart, lest all the men of Ithaca come quickly upon (us) here, and incite messages everywhere among the cities of the Cephallenians (i.e. all the subjects of Odysseus' realms)."

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, said to him in reply: "Be of good cheer, and do not, let me tell you, let these things cause your heart regret. But let us go to the house that lies near the orchard; and to there I sent forward Telemachus and the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus), so that they might prepare our dinner as quickly as possible." 

So speaking, the two of them went on their way to the lovely dwelling. And, when they came to the well-inhabited house, (there) they found Telemachus and the herdsman and the swineherd, carving meat in abundance and mixing the flaming wine.    

Ll. 365-411. Odysseus is welcomed home by his servant Dolius and his sons. 

Meanwhile, his Sicilian handmaid bathed the great-hearted Laertes in his house, and anointed (him) with oil, and then she cast a fine cloak around (him); but Athene drew near and increased the size of the limbs of the shepherd of the people, and made (him) taller than before and stouter to behold. Then, he came out of his bath-tub; and his beloved son marvelled at him, as he saw that he resembled the immortal gods in his appearance; and he spoke and addressed these winged words to him: "O father, one of the gods that are forever has certainly made you better to behold in appearance and stature."

Then, thoughtful Laertes spoke directly to him once more: "(O) father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo, if only I was the man I was when I took Nericus, that well-built citadel on the shore of the mainland when I was lord of the Cephallenians, or I had been strong enough to stand by your side yesterday in our house with my armour on my shoulders, and had beaten back the suitor-men; so should I have loosened the knees of many of them in the halls, and you would have been glad in your heart."

So they said such (things) to each other. But then, when they had ceased from their labour and had prepared the meal, they sat down in order on the couches and high chairs; then, as they were about to lay their hands on the food, the old man Dolius came near, and with him the old man's sons, wearied from their work (in the fields), since their mother, the old Sicilian woman, had gone out and summoned (them), (she) who fed them and took care of the old man (i.e. Dolius) in a kindly manner, since old age had taken hold of him. And they, when they saw Odysseus, and realised in their minds (it was him), stood in the halls in amazement; but Odysseus accosted them with gentle words and said: "O old man, do sit down to your dinner and forget your amazement entirely; for we have stood in these halls for a long time, yearning to set our hands on the food, and always expecting you."  

So he spoke, and Dolius ran straight towards (him) with both his hands outstretched, and he clasped the hand of Odysseus and kissed (him) on the wrist, and addressed these winged words to him, saying: "O my dear (master), since you have returned to us who have longed for you so sorely, but did not yet expect (to see you), and the gods themselves have brought you, good health and a good welcome to you, and may the gods grant you happiness. And tell me this in truth, so that I may know (it) full well, does wise Penelope already really know that you have returned here, or shall we arrange for a messenger?" 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to him in reply: "O old man, she already knows; why do you need to be burdened with this?"

So he spoke, and the (other one) (i.e. Dolius) sat down again on his polished stool. And so in like manner the sons of Dolius (gathered) around Odysseus, and greeted him with words and tightly clasped his hands, and then they sat down in order beside their father Dolius. 

Ll. 412-449. Eupeithes, the father of Antinous, exhorts the citizens of Ithaca to take their revenge on Odysseus. 

So they toiled around their meal in the halls; but, in the meantime, the messenger Rumour went swiftly through the city everywhere, telling of the dreadful death and fate of the suitors. And the (people) heard of it at one and the same moment, and they came together one after another, with moaning and groaning, in front of the palace of Odysseus, and they each brought the corpses from the buildings and buried (them), and those from other cities they sent each to his own house, putting them on the swift ships for the seamen to bear; but they themselves went to the place of assembly sad at heart. Now, when they had assembled and met together, then Eupeithes stood up and spoke to them; for insufferable grief for his son lay heavy on his heart, Antinous (he was), whom godlike Odysseus had slain first; shedding tears for him, he spoke in the assembly and said to (them): "My friends, in truth this man has contrived a monstrous deed against the Achaeans; he led men forth on his ships, many and noble (they were), and he lost his hollow ships and utterly lost his men; and others has he slain on his return, (and these were) by far the best of the Cephallenians, but come (now), before he goes swiftly to Pylos, or to sacred Elis where the Epeians hold sway, let us go forth; or even in the days to come we shall always be downcast; for shameful it is, even for (men), who are yet to be, to hear of, if we do not take revenge on the slayers of our sons and brothers. For me it would not then be sweet in our hearts to live, but I would rather die at once and be among the dead. But let us go forth, lest they go across the sea before (us)."

So he spoke, shedding tears, and pity took hold of all the Achaeans. Then near to them came Medon and the divine minstrel from the halls of Odysseus, for sleep had let go of them, and they stood in the midst (of the assembly); and amazement seized hold of each man. Then, Medon, with his knowledge of wise (things), spoke to them: "Now listen to me, (you) men of Ithaca, for Odysseus did not contrive these deeds contrary to the will of the immortal gods; I myself saw an immortal god, who stood close to Odysseus, and seemed to be like Mentor in all respects. Then, he appeared as an immortal god in front of Odysseus, encouraging (him), and then did he rush through the hall, scaring the suitors; and they fell in droves."  

Ll. 450-495. Civil war appears likely to break out in Ithaca, but Zeus seeks to arrange for peace.

So he (i.e. Medon) spoke, and pale fear took hold of all of them. Then, the old warrior Halitherses, son of Mastor, spoke to them; for he alone saw (what was) before and after; with good intentions towards them, he addressed the assembly and said to (them): "Listen now, men of Ithaca, to what I shall say; through your own cowardice, my friends, have these deeds been brought to pass; for you would not obey me, nor Mentor, shepherd of the people, to make your sons cease from their follies; they performed a monstrous deed in the baseness of their blind folly, devouring the property and dishonouring the wife of a valiant man; and they said that he would no longer return. Now then let it be thus. Do you obey me as I bid (you); let us not go, lest perhaps one shall find (something) bad, which one has brought upon oneself."

So he (i.e. Halitherses) spoke, but they sprang up, more than half (of them), with a loud shout; but quite a few of them remained where they were; for his speech was not pleasing to their minds, but they hearkened to Eupeithes; and quickly thereafter they rushed for their arms. But, when they had put gleaming bronze around their bodies, they gathered in throngs in front of the spacious city. And Eupeithes led them in his folly; for he thought he would avenge the slaying of his son, but he was not destined to come back again, but to meet his doom.    

But Athene spoke to Zeus, son of Cronos, (saying): "O (you,) our father, son of Cronos, highest of (all) lords, tell me who is asking you, what (purpose) is your mind now hiding within you? Will you further bring about evil warfare and the dread din of battle, or will you establish friendship between the two sides?" 

Then, Zeus the cloud-gatherer spoke to her in reply: "Why are you questioning me closely and inquiring about this? For did you not yourself devise this plan that Odysseus should indeed take vengeance on these (men) at his coming? Do as you will; but I will tell you what is fitting. Since godlike Odysseus has taken his vengeance on the wooers, let them swear trustworthy oaths that he will always be their king, and let us bring about a forgetting and forgiving of the slaughter of their sons and brothers; and may they love one another as before, and let wealth and peace be in abundance."

So saying, he (i.e. Zeus) roused Athene, who had been eager before (he spoke), and she went darting down from the heights of Olympus.

But, when they (i.e. the inhabitants of Laertes' farm) had satisfied their desire for delicious food, the much-enduring godlike Odysseus began speaking to them: "Let someone go forth and see whether they are now drawing near."

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke; and a son of Dolius went forth as he bade; and he went and stood upon the threshold and saw them all close by; and straightway he spoke these winged words to Odysseus: "They are already close at hand; but let us speedily arm ourselves."  

Ll. 496-548.  Zeus makes his daughter Athene bring about peace between the followers of Odysseus and his opponents. 

So he (i.e. the son of Dolius) spoke, and they rose up and put on their armour, and there were four of them together with Odysseus (i.e. Odysseus, Telemachus, Philoetius the herdsman, and Eumaeus the swineherd), and (there were) the six sons of Dolius; and among (them), as you would expect, Laertes and Dolius donned their armour, grey-headed though they were, and warriors perforce. But, when they had put gleaming bronze around their bodies, they opened the doors and went out, and Odysseus led (them). Then, Athene, daughter of Zeus, drew near to them, in the likeness of Mentor, both in form and also in voice. And the much-enduring godlike Odysseus was glad to see her; and straightway he spoke to his dear son Telemachus: "Now Telemachus, having come yourself to the place where the best of fighting men are put to the test, you shall learn this, not to bring any disgrace upon the race of our fathers, who in times past have indeed excelled in strength and valour over all of the earth."

Then, thoughtful Telemachus spoke to him again in reply: "You shall see (me), if you will, dear father, in my present spirit, bringing no disgrace at all on your house, just as you phrase (it)."

So he spoke, and Laertes was delighted and spoke as follows: "What a day is this for me, dear gods! I rejoice for sure; my son and my grandson are holding a contest in valour."

Then, bright-eyed Athene came near him (i.e. Laertes) and said (i.e. while disguised as Mentor): "O son of Arcesius, by far the dearest of all my friends, make a prayer to the bright-eyed maiden (i.e. Athene) and to father Zeus, and straightway brandish your long-shafted spear very firmly, and hurl (it)."    

So spoke Pallas Athene, and into (him) (i.e. Laertes) she breathed great might, and then he prayed to the daughter of mighty Zeus, and straightway raised aloft his long-shafted spear and flung (it), and it smote Eupeithes through his helmet with its bronze cheek-pieces. But this did not check the spear, and its bronze (point) went through (it), and he fell with a crash and his armour clattered about him. Then, Odysseus and his glorious son fell upon the foremost fighters, and smote them with swords and double-pointed spears. And now they would have slain (them) all, and caused (them) not to return, if Athene, daughter of Zeus, who bears the aegis, had not cried out with a loud voice, and checked all the host, (saying): "Refrain from this grievous warfare, (you) men of Ithaca, so that you may separate from one another as quickly as possible, and without shedding blood."

So spoke Athene, and pale fear seized them; and then, in their terror, their arms flew from their hands, and they all fell on the ground, as the voice of the goddess spoke, and they turned towards the city, longing to (save) their lives. Then, the long-suffering godlike Odysseus shouted terribly, and, drawing himself together, he swooped after (them) like an eagle soaring on high. And at that moment the son of Cronos discharged a flaming thunderbolt, and down it fell before the bright-eyed daughter of the mighty sire. Then, bright-eyed Athene spoke to Odysseus, (saying): "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, ever-resourceful Odysseus, stay your hand, and make this strife of war between equals cease, lest perhaps far-seeing Zeus, the son of Cronos, may be angry with you."

So spoke Athene, and he obeyed (her) and was glad at heart. Then, Pallas Athene, the daughter of Zeus who bears the aegis, made a binding treaty between both (sides) for the time thereafter, (she) in the likeness of Mentor, both in form and also in voice. 

                                                   ----------------------------------------

Appendix. The 24 books of Homer's "Odyssey" may be found on this blog in accordance with the following dates: 

I) 20 November 2021; II) 14 December 2021; III) 14 January 2022; IV) 1 April 2022; V) 20 January 2020 (plus extracts 17 September 2010); VI) 24 June 2011; VII) 9 July 2011; VIII) 14 October 2020; IX) 18 August 2011; X) 15 October 2020; XI) 25 February 2021; XII) 15 May 2021; XIII) 26 June 2022; XIV) 11 October 2022; XV) 28 March 2023; XVI) 8 July 2023; XVII) 13 October 2023; XVIII) 24 February 2024; XIX) 21 May 2024; XX) 10 July 2024; XXI) 29 November 2024; XXII) 22 February 2025; XXIII) 17 July 2025; and XXIV) 4 August 2025. 

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIII: ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE.

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXIII: ODYSSEUS AND PENELOPE.

Introduction:

At the beginning of this, the penultimate book of "The Odyssey", the housewife Eurycleia wakens Penelope and tells her that Odysseus has returned. Initially, Penelope cannot believe that the beggar is Odysseus, but, by testing him in relation to the construction of their marriage-bed, she comes to the conclusion that he is indeed her husband after all. They go to bed and make love.  

Ll. 1-48. Eurycleia tells Penelope that her husband has returned. 

The old woman (i.e. Eurycleia) went up to the upper chamber chuckling, to tell her mistress that her dear husband was indoors; and her knees moved nimbly and her feet went along swiftly beneath (her). And she stood above her head and spoke these words to her: "Wake up, Penelope, dear child, so that you may see with your own eyes what you have longed for every day. Odysseus has come and is here at home, late though he has come. And he has slain the proud wooers, who have disrupted his home and consumed his substance, and harassed his son."

Then, the very thoughtful Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, the gods have made you mad, those who by their nature have the power to make foolish even one who is very wise, and they regularly set the slack-witted on (the path of) prudence; (it is) they (who) have stupified even you; and you were previously of sound mind. Why then did you make fun of me, who has a heart full of sorrow, to tell me this nonsense and to rouse me from a sweet slumber that has bound me and enfolded my eyelids? For never have I slept so soundly, since (the day) when Odysseus went to look at evil Ilium, (the place) with the unspeakable name. But come now, go down and go back to the hall. For, if any other of the women, that are mine, had come and told me these (things), and had roused me from sleep, for that reason, in my misery, I would have quickly sent her away to return again to the hall; but old age will bring you this benefit." 

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia spoke to her again: "I am not making a fool of you in any way, dear child, but (it is) really true that Odysseus has returned and is come home, just as I tell (you); (he is) that stranger whom everyone dishonoured in the hall. Telemachus has known for some time that he was home, but, in his wisdom, he hid the knowledge of his father, until he should take his revenge on the violence of overbearing men."

So she (i.e. Eurycleia) spoke, and she (i.e. Penelope) was glad, and leapt from her bed and embraced the old woman, and she let tears fall from her eyelids; and she spoke and addressed her with these winged words: "Come now, dear nurse, and tell me truly, if (it is) true that he has come home as you say, how on earth did he lay his hands on the shameless wooers, (all) alone as he was, while they always remained in the house in a pack."

Then did the dear nurse Eurycleia address her again: "I saw nothing, I was told nothing, but I only heard the groans of (men) being slain; but we (women) sat terror-stricken in the innermost part of our well-built chambers, and the well-fitted doors shut (us) in, (until the time) when your son Telemachus called me from the hall; for his father had sent him out to call (me). Then, I found Odysseus standing among the bodies of the slain; and they stretched (all) around him on the hard floor, lying one on top of another; it would have gladdened your heart to see (him), spattered with blood and gore like a lion. 

Ll. 49-84. Eurycleia insists that Odysseus has returned, despite Penelope's scepticism.

"And now all the (bodies) are in heaps at the gates of the courtyard, but he (i.e. Odysseus) is fumigating our very beautiful house with brimstone, and kindling a great fire; and he has sent me out to call you. But come follow (me), so that the hearts of you both may enter into happiness, since you have suffered many woes. But now at this time your long-deferred desire has been fulfilled; he himself has come alive to his own hearth, and he has found both you and his son in these halls; but the wooers treated him badly, and he has taken revenge on all of them in his house."  

Then, wise Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, do not exult so loudly (over them) with laughter. For you know how welcome the sight of him would be to all in these halls, but above all to me, and to that son whom we bore. But this tale is not true as you tell it, but one of the immortals has slain the haughty wooers in wrath at their grievous insolence and their evil deeds. For they honoured no one among men on the earth, whoever came among them, neither evil nor good; so (it is) through their own wanton folly that they have suffered disaster; meanwhile, Odysseus in some distant land has lost his (chance of) return to (the land of) Achaea, and is lost himself."    

Then, her dear nurse Eurycleia replied to her: " My child, what words have have come out of your mouth (lit. have escaped the barrier of your teeth)! Your husband is here at his own fireside, (and yet) you declare that he will never come home; your heart is ever untrustworthy. But come, let me tell you something else as definite proof even: the scar which a boar once gave him with his white tusk, I noticed this while I was washing (him), and I wanted to tell you as well. but he clapped his hand over my mouth and, with the great wisdom of his mind, he did not allow (me) to speak. But (come), follow (me), and I shall put my very (life) at stake, so that, if I shall have utterly deceived you, you may slay me by a most pitiable death."

Then, the very thoughtful Penelope answered her: "Dear nurse, even though you are very full of wisdom, (it is) hard for you to comprehend the designs of the gods who are forever. But come, let us go to my son, so that I may see the suitor-men dead, and (the one) who has slain (them)." 

Ll. 85-128. Telemachus rebukes Penelope for not acknowledging that Odysseus has returned. 

So saying, she went down from the upper chamber; and her heart much pondered whether she should stand aloof as she questioned her husband, or whether she should go right up to him and kiss his face and clasp his hands. But, when she had come in and stepped over the stone threshold, then she sat down opposite to Odysseus in the firelight beside the other wall; but he was sitting by a tall pillar. looking down and waiting (to see) whether his comely wife would say anything to him, when she saw (him) with her own eyes. But she sat in silence for a long time, and (a feeling of) amazement came upon her soul; and then, with her gaze, she would look on his face, and then again she would fail to recognise (him), as he had mean raiment on his skin. But Telemachus rebuked (her) and spoke these words to (her) in a loud voice: "My mother, a cruel mother, who has a hard heart, why do you turn your back on my father, and not sit beside him and talk to (him) and ask (him) questions? No other woman with so patient a heart would stand aloof from her husband, who, after suffering many woes, has come back to her in his native land in the twentieth year; but your heart is ever harder than stone."   

Then, wise Penelope answered him: "My child, the heart in my breast is overcome with amazement, nor can I speak any words nor ask a question, nor otherwise look (him) in the face. But if, in very truth, it is Odysseus, and he has come home, we two shall surely know one another better; for we have signs which only we two know, and which are kept hidden from others."  

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and the much-enduring godlike Odysseus smiled, and straightway addressed these winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, now indeed do you allow your mother to test me in these halls; and soon she will know (me) better. But now, as I am filthy, and am wearing foul raiment on my body, for this reason she scorns me, and will not yet admit that I am he. But, as for us, let us consider how the very best (things) may happen. For whoever has slain one man in a land, even though there are not many (left) behind to avenge him, he goes into exile and leaves his kinsmen and his native land; but we have slain the mainstays of the city, (those) who (were) by far the best of the youths in Ithaca; and I bid you consider this." 

Then, wise Telemachus spoke to him in reply: "Do you yourself look to this, dear father; for they say that your counsel is the best among men, nor could any other man among mortal men vie with you. And, as for us, we will eagerly follow after you, nor do I think we shall be at all wanting in courage, whatever our strength may be."  

Ll. 129-180. Odysseus and Penelope exchange thoughts. 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to him in reply: "So then will I tell you what seems to me to be the best (way). In the first place, bathe yourselves and put on your tunics, and tell the handmaids in the halls to take their raiment (i.e. clean dresses). But let the divine minstrel with his clear-toned lyre lead us on the gladsome dance, so that any man who hears (the sound) from outside, whether he is going on a journey, or whether (he is one of those) who live round about, may think it is a wedding feast (n.b. her neighbours had long expected Penelope to remarry); let the widespread rumour of the slaying of the suitor-men not be spread abroad, before we go forth to our well-wooded farm; and then afterwards we shall fortify ourselves with whatever opportunity the Olympian may grant us."  

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and they readily heard and obeyed him. So, then, firstly they bathed and put on their tunics, and the women adorned themselves; and the divine minstrel took hold of the hollow lyre, and aroused the desire in them for sweet singing and excellent dancing. And their great house resounded with the tread of the dancing men and of the women with beautiful girdles. And thus would a man speak who heard (the noise) from outside the house: "Now indeed a man has wed the much-wooed queen; hardhearted (she was), nor had she the heart to keep the great house of her wedded husband all in one piece, until he came back." 

So did they speak, but they did not know what a state things were in. Meanwhile, the housekeeper Eurynome bathed great-hearted Odysseus in his house, and anointed (him) with oil, and cast about him a fair cloak and tunic; and Athene shed much beauty on his head, and (made) him taller and stouter to look upon; and on his head she made curly locks (to flow). like the flower of the hyacinth. And, as when a man overlays gold with silver, a skilful (workman), whom Hephaestus and Pallas Athene have taught every kind of skill, and the work he produces (is) full of grace, so did (the goddess) shed grace on his head and shoulders. And he came out of the bathing-tub like the immortals in shape; and then he sat back down again on the chair from which he had arisen, opposite his wife, and he spoke the following words to her: "Mysterious (lady), to you beyond (all) tender womenfolk, those who have their dwellings on Olympus have given an implacable heart; no other woman would harden her heart as (you have), and stood aloof from her husband, who, after suffering many woes, has come to her in his native land in the twentieth year. But come, nurse, spread me a couch, so that I myself can lie down; for, assuredly, the heart in her breast (is) made of iron."  

Then, wise Penelope addressed him once more: "Strange (man), I do not bear myself at all proudly, nor do I make light of (you), nor am I too much amazed, but very well do I know what sort (of man) you were, when you went from Ithaca in your long-oared ship. But come, Eurycleia, spread the stout bedstead for him outside the well-built bridal chamber, which he himself made; thither do you bring for him the stout bedstead and cast bedding upon (it), fleeces and cloaks, and glossy blankets."    

Ll. 181-230. By displaying his knowledge of how their bedchamber was constructed, Odysseus persuades Penelope that he is indeed her husband. 

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, putting her husband to the test; but Odysseus, with a burst of anger, spoke these words to his knowing and trusty wife: "O woman, this (is) surely a bitter word that you have spoken; who has put my bed elsewhere? Hard would it be (for one to do so), even if he were very skilled, unless a god himself should come and wish to place (it) easily in another spot. But among men, (there is) no living mortal, even though (he were in) the very prime of youth, who could easily pry (it) from its place, since a great secret is secured in this curiously wrought bed; and (it was) I who built it and no one else. A bush of long-leafed olives, fully grown and blooming, was growing within the courtyard; and it was as massive as a pillar. And round about it, I built my bedchamber with closely-fitting stones, until I had finished (it), and I roofed (it) over well from above, and added well-fastened and closely-fitting doors. Thereafter, I cut off the leafy branches of the long-leafed olive-tree, and very skilfully trimmed the trunk from the root, and made it straight to the line, (thus) fashioning the bedpost, and I bored everything through with the gimlet. Beginning from this, I carved out my bed, until I had finished (it), embellishing (it) with gold, and silver and ivory; and from (it) I stretched a thong of ox-hide, brightly (dyed) with purple. So I declare to you this token; but, woman, I do not know at all whether my bedstead is still firmly-set, or whether some man has now placed (it) somewhere else, having cut (it) from beneath the olive stump." 

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and her knees were loosened and her heart (melted) there, as she knew well the sure tokens which Odysseus had shown her; then, she burst into tears and ran straight (towards him), and flung her arms around the neck of Odysseus, and kissed his head and spoke these words: "Do not be angry with me, Odysseus, for you were always the most understanding of men; for the gods sent us misery, (they) who resented that we two should remain with each other, and enjoy our youth and reach the threshold of old age. But do not be angry with me now, nor full of indignation, because, when I saw you for the first time, I did not thus welcome (you). For the heart in my breast was always full of dread, lest some man should come and beguile me with his words; for many (men) devise evil tricks. Not even Argive Helen, born of Zeus, would have lain in bed with a loving man from another country, if she had known that the warlike sons of the Achaeans would bring her home again to her dear native land. Yet, in truth, a god prompted her to undertake a shameful deed; not until then had she put in her mind the (thought) of that grievous folly, from which grief came upon in the first place too. But now, since you have recounted the clear tokens of our bed, which no other mortal has seen, save you and I alone, and one solitary handmaid, the daughter of Actor, whom my father gave me, when I came here, (she) who kept guard of the doors of our strong bridal chamber, you are persuading my heart, so very stubborn as it is." 

Ll. 231-262.  Odysseus and Penelope embrace each other. 

So she (i.e. Penelope) spoke, and she aroused in (him) still more the longing for lamentation, and he wept as he held his delightful wife (in his arms), trustworthy and sensible (as she was). And welcome as (is the sight of) land, when it is seen by swimmers, whose well-built ship, driven on by the wind and the sturdy waves, Poseidon has shattered in the sea; but a few have made their escape (by) swimming from the gray sea to the mainland, and brine clusters thickly around their bodies, and gladly have they set their foot on land, having escaped from their evil (situation); just so was the sight of her husband welcome to her, as she gazed upon (him), and in no way could she let her white arms go from his neck. And now the rosy-fingered Dawn would have disclosed their weeping, if the bright-eyed goddess Athene had not had other ideas. The long night she held back at its extremity, and likewise she held back the golden-throned Dawn at (the streams of) Ocean, and she would not allow (her) to yoke her swift-footed steeds who bring light to men, Lampus and Phaethon (that is), who (are) the colts (that) bring the Dawn. 

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, said to his wife: "O wife, we have not yet come to the end of all our trials, but there is still in the future an immeasurable toil, long and hard, which I must accomplish. For so did the spirit of Teiresias prophesy for me, on the day when I went down into the house of Hades to inquire about the return of my comrades and myself. But come, wife, let us go to bed, so that, lulled now by sweet slumber, we may find our happiness." 

But, then, very thoughtful Penelope answered him: "Your bed will be there for you, whenever your heart shall desire (it), since the gods have arranged that you should come back to your well-built house and to your native land; but, since you have thought of (this), and a god has put (it) into your mind, come tell me of this ordeal, since I think I shall learn of (it) in the future, and to know it straightaway is not all worse."

Ll. 263-309. Odysseus tells Penelope of what Teiresias had prophesied for him in the future, and then the two of them go to bed. 

And Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, spoke to her in reply: "(What) a strange (lady you are)! Why then do you tell me to encourage (you) to say (something)? Yet I will say (it) and not hide (anything). But your heart will have no joy of (it); for I myself am not glad, since he (i.e. Teiresias) bade me go forth to very many cities of men, bearing a well-shaped oar in my hands, until I should come to those men who know nothing of the sea, and do not eat food (that is) mingled with salt; nor do they know of ships with red bows, nor of well-shaped oars that serve as wings to ships. And he told me of this clearly visible sign, and I shall not conceal (it); when another wayfarer, on meeting me, should say that I had a winnowing fan on my stout shoulder, then he bade me fix my oar in the earth and offer goodly sacrifices to lord Poseidon, a ram, and a bull, and a boar that mates with sows, and go back to my home and offer sacred hecatombs to the immortal gods that hold broad heaven, to each one in due order; and to me myself death will come away from the sea, such a very gentle (death) that it shall overcome me, when I am worn out by sleek old age; and my people shall dwell in prosperity around me; and to me he said that all these (things) would be fulfilled."

Then, wise Penelope spoke to him once more: "If the gods are to arrange a better old age (for you), then there is hope that there will be an escape for you from evil (things)."

Thus, they said such (things) to each other; and, in the meantime, both Eurynome and the nurse made up the bed with soft bedclothes by the bright light of torches. But, when they had hastily spread the sturdy marriage-bed, the old woman went back to her quarters to lie down, and the bridesmaid Eurynome led them on their way to bed, holding a torch in her hands; and, when she had led them to the bridal-chamber, she went back. Then, they gladly came to the location of their old marriage-bed; then, Telemachus and the herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) stopped their feet from dancing, and stopped the women, and they themselves laid down to sleep throughout the darkening halls. 

But, when the two of them had enjoyed the pleasures of love-making, they took delight in tales, as they talked to each other, and she, the most divine of women, (told him) of all the (things) she had endured in his halls, as she looked upon that destructive throng of suitor-men, who, for her sake, slew many (beasts), cattle and chubby sheep, and a great deal of wine was drawn from the casks. But Zeus-born Odysseus told of all the woes he had brought on men, and of all the sorrows that he himself had suffered; and she was glad to listen, nor did sleep fall upon her eyelids till he has told (her) everything. 

Ll. 310-343. Odysseus recounts the story of his travels to Penelope. 

He began by telling (her) how he had, at first, subdued the Cicones (i.e. Thracian allies of the Trojans), but then he came to the rich land of the Lotus-eating men; and all the (things) that the Cyclops (i.e. Polyphemus) did, and how he had made him pay the price for his mighty comrades, whom he had eaten and (to whom) he had shown no pity; and how he came to Aeolus (i.e. the guardian of the winds), who readily received him and sent (him on his way), but it was not yet his destiny to come to his native land, but the hurricane caught hold of him again and bore him over the teeming deep, groaning heavily; and how he came to Telepylus of the Laestrygonians (i.e. a tribe of cannibals), who destroyed his ships and his well-greaved comrades; and Odysseus alone escaped in his black ship; and he told (her) of the cunning and resourcefulness of Circe, and how he had gone to the dank house of Hades in his ship with many benches to consult with the spirit of the Theban Teiresias, and had seen all his comrades and the mother (i.e. Anticleia) who bore him and reared (him) when he was small; and how he heard the voice of close-packed Sirens, and how he came to the Wandering Rocks, and to dread Charybdis, and to Scylla, from whom no man has ever yet escaped unscathed, and how Zeus, who thunders on high, smote his swift ship with a smouldering thunderbolt, and his noble companions all perished at the same time, but he himself escaped from an evil death; and how he came to the island of Ogygia and the nymph Calypso, who trapped him (there) in her hollow caves, yearning that he should be her husband, and she took care of (him), and said that she would make (him) immortal and ageless all his days; but she could never persuade the heart in his breast; and how, after much suffering, he came to the Phaeacians, who honoured him in their hearts like a god, and they sent him to his own native land with a ship, after giving (him) bronze and gold, and plenty of clothes. This (was) the last word he spoke, when sweet sleep that relaxes the limbs sprang upon him, and released the cares of his heart.     

Ll. 344-372. Odysseus advises Penelope to keep out of the way. 

Then did the bright-eyed goddess Athene have another idea; when she thought that Odysseus had found joy in his heart, and also sleep, in the bed of his wife, straightway she aroused the golden-throned child of the morning (i.e. Dawn) from the Ocean, in order to bring light to men; and Odysseus rose from his soft couch and gave these orders to his wife: "O wife, already we have both had our fill of many ordeals, you here, lamenting over my grievous journey home. But Zeus and the other gods bound me fast in sorrows far from my native land; but now, as we have both come to our much-loved bed, you must take care of the possessions that I have in these halls, and, as for those flocks of mine which the arrogant wooers so wasted, I myself will carry off just as much as booty, but the Achaeans will give others, until they fill all the folds. But I shall certainly go to our well-wooded farm to see my noble father (i.e. Laertes), who, on my behalf, is sorely distressed; and on you, my wife, I lay down this requirement, understanding though you are: for straightway, with the rising of the sun, there will be a report concerning the suitor-men, whom I slew in these halls; go up to your upstairs room with your handmaidens and stay there, and do not look at anything or ask a question."

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and donned his beautiful armour around his shoulders, and he roused Telemachus, and the herdsman and the swineherd, and told (them) all to take up weapons of war in their hands. And they did not disobey him, but clad themselves in bronze, and they opened the doors and went out; and Odysseus led the way. There was already light on the earth, but Athene concealed them in the darkness, and led (them) swiftly out of the city.  

 

HOMER: "ODYSSEY": BOOK XXII: THE BATTLE IN THE HALL.

Introduction:

In what was undoubtedly the most popular book of the "Odyssey" in later classical times, and probably beforehand, the story reaches its climax in Book XXII, when Odysseus is enabled to take his revenge on the suitors and recover his possessions. The action is still taking place on the 39th day of the "Odyssey": Odysseus, assisted by his son Telemachus and his two friendly servants, Eumaeus and Philoetius, and helped by Athene, disguised as Mentor, slaughter the suitors. The house is then cleansed, the faithless women servants are hanged, and the traitor Melanthius is gruesomely mutilated and killed. 

Ll. 1-41. Odysseus slays Antinous.

Then, Odysseus, that man of many wiles, stripped off his ragged garments, and leapt on to the great threshold with his bow and his quiver full of arrows, and poured forth his swift arrows just there in front of his feet, and he spoke among the suitors: "In very truth, this dangerous contest has been brought to an end; now, however, I will know another target which no man has ever struck, if I can hit (it) and Apollo grants my prayer."

He spoke and aimed a pointed shaft at Antinous. Now indeed, he was about to raise a fair goblet to his lips, a two-handled cup of gold (it was), and he was holding (it) in his hands in order to drink the wine; and death was not in his thoughts; and who would have foreseen that one man among the many men that sat as guests at the table, even if he were very strong, would have brought evil death and black fate upon him? But Odysseus took aim and smote him with an arrow in the throat, and its point went right through his tender throat. And he lurched to one side, and the cup fell from his hands as he was struck, and at once there came through his nostrils a thick jet of man's blood; and he quickly thrust the table from him with a kick of the foot, and the food spilled on to the floor; and the bread and the roasted flesh were defiled And the suitors caused an uproar throughout the halls, when they saw the man had fallen, and they sprang from their seats, driven in confusion through the halls, and gazing eagerly in all directions along the well-built walls; but nowhere was there a shield or a mighty spear to seize. But they upbraided Odysseus with angry words: "Stranger, you shoot at men to your cost; never shall you take part in other contests; now (is) your utter destruction sure. For now you have slain a man, who (was) by far the best of the young men in Ithaca; so shall the vultures devour you here (i.e. you will be deprived of funeral rites)." 

So spoke each man, for, in truth, they thought that he had not meant to slay the man; and this, poor fools, they did not know, that upon (each) one of them the bonds of death had been fastened. Then, looking askance, the quick-witted Odysseus answered them: "You dogs, you thought that I should never come home, returning from the land of the Trojans, (seeing) that you wasted my house, and lay by force with the maidservants, and you secretly courted my wife, though I was (still) alive, without fearing the gods who hold broad heaven, nor that vengeance of men that will come hereafter; and now upon every (one) of you the bonds of death have been fastened."

Ll. 42-78. Eurymachus leads the resistance against Odysseus. 

So he spoke, and pallid fear seized hold of them all; and each (man) looked around (to see) how he might escape utter destruction. But Eurymachus alone answered him and said: "Now if you really are Odysseus of Ithaca having returned home again, those (things) which you have been saying with regard to what the Achaeans have done, many wanton (deeds) in your halls and in the field, (are) right. But he who was responsible for (them) all now lies dead, (namely) Antinous; for he caused these deeds to happen, not so much desiring or needing marriage, but contemplating some other (things), which the son of Cronos did not bring about for him, that in the land of well-built Ithaca he himself might be king, and that he might lie in wait for your son (i.e. Telemachus) and kill (him). But now he lies slain deservedly, but do you spare your people; and hereafter we shall make amends throughout the land, for everything that has been drunk and eaten in your halls, and will bring (you) recompense, each man separately, to the value of twenty oxen, and we shall pay you in bronze and gold, until your heart be warmed; until then, your wrath is in no respect a cause for righteous indignation."      

Then, with a scowl, Odysseus, the man of many wiles, answered him: "Eurymachus, not even if you gave me all (the things) that your father left you, and all (the things) that you now have, and anything else that you might acquire hereafter, not even then could I stay my hands from slaughter until the suitors have paid the price for all their transgressions. Now it lies before you to fight face to face or to flee, if any (man) shall avoid death and the fates; but I do not think that any (man) shall escape from utter destruction."

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and their knees were loosened and their hearts (were melted). Then, Eurymachus spoke to them again for a second time: "My friends, for this man will not stay his invincible hands, but, since he has got the polished bow and its quiver, he will shoot from the smooth threshold until he slays us all; but (come), let us turn our minds to battle. Draw your swords and hold up the tables against his arrows that bring swift death; and let us all have at him in a body, in the hope that we can thrust him from the threshold and the doorway, and let us go through the city, and may there be a swift alarm; so then shall this man have swiftly shot his last (bolt)." 

Ll. 79-125. Odyesseus and Telemachus kill Eurymachus and Amphinomus. 

So saying, he (i.e. Eurymachus) drew his sharp sword of bronze, sharpened on both sides, and he leapt upon him, shouting fearfully; but, at the same time, godlike Odysseus let fly an arrow, and it struck (him) on the breast beside the nipple, and the swift shaft stuck in his liver; and he let the sword fall from his hand to the ground, and, sprawling over the table, he doubled up and fell, and he spilled the food and the two-handled cup on the floor; and, distressed in his mind, he beat the ground with his forehead and kicked and shook his chair with both his feet; and a mist was shed over his eyes.  

Then, Amphinomus went for glorious Odysseus, darting straight at him, and he drew his sharp sword to see if he would give way to him at the door. But Telemachus anticipated him and struck (him) from behind between the shoulders with his bronze-tipped spear, and drove (it) through his breast; and he fell with a crash, and struck the ground with the whole of his forehead. But Telemachus sprang back, leaving his long-shafted spear there in Amphinomus; for he was very much afraid that, as he was drawing forth the long-shafted spear, one of the Achaeans might rush (upon him) and stab him with a sword or smite (him) as he was looking downwards. Then, he began to run, and came very quickly to his father, and, standing nearby (him), he spoke these winged words: "Father, now I will bring you a shield and two spears, and a helmet of bronze fitted to your temples, and, when I come back, I will arm myself, and will likewise give (armour) to the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) and the cowherd (i.e. Philoetius); for it is better to be clothed in armour."

Then, Odysseus, that man of many wiles, answered him and said: "Run and get (them), while I still have arrows to defend me, lest they thrust me from the door, alone as I am."

So he spoke, and Telemachus obeyed his father, and made his way to the chamber where lay the glorious armour. From there he took four shields and eight spears, and four bronze helmets with plumes of horse-hair, and he bore them on his way and came to his father very swiftly, and, first of all, he put the bronze about his body; and thus likewise the two servants put on the beautiful armour, and they took their stand on either side of bold Odysseus, full of various wiles.  

But he, as long as there were arrows to defend him, so he would ever aim at the wooers and smite (them) one by one in his house; and they fell in heaps. But, when the arrows failed the prince as he shot (them), he leant the bow against the door-post of the well-built hall to stand against the gleaming wall-faces, and he himself placed a four-layered shield about his shoulders, and put a well-made helmet with horse-hair plumes on his stout head, and the plume nodded dreadfully above (him); and he took two mighty spears, arrayed with bronze.

Ll. 126-169. Melanthius raids the storeroom.

Now there was a certain raised doorway in the well-built wall, and along the topmost threshold of the well-built hall there was a way into the passage, and well-fitting planks enclosed (it). This (gate) Odysseus bade the goodly swineherd watch, taking his stand close by; for there was only a single (means of) access to it. Then, Agelaus spoke to the (suitors), proclaiming these words to all (of them): "Friends, will not someone go up to that raised entrance and address the people, so that the alarm can be raised straightaway? Then, this fellow would soon have fired his last (bolt)."

Then, Melanthius, the herder of goats, answered him: "It may not be possible, Agelaus, nurtured of Zeus; for the fair door of the court is terribly near, and the mouth of the passage (is) tight; one man, if he were valiant, could bar the way for everyone. But come, let me bring you armour from the storeroom to put on; for I think it is within (it), and nowhere else, that Odysseus and his brilliant son have laid their war-gear."

So saying, Melanthius, the herder of goats, went up to Odysseus' storeroom by the narrow passages of the hall. From there he took twelve shields and as many spears, and as many helmets (made) of bronze with plumes of horse-hair; and he went on his way and very quickly brought (them) and gave (them) to the suitors. Then were the knees of Odysseus loosened and his heart (began to melt), when he saw (them) donning armour and brandishing long spears in their hands; and his task seemed to him (to be) great. But quickly did he speak these winged words to Telemachus: "Telemachus, assuredly one of the women in these halls is stirring up an evil battle for us, or (perhaps it is) Melanthius."

Then, wise Telemachus spoke to him in reply: "I myself am to blame for this - no one else (is) responsible - for I left the close-fitting door of the storeroom open; and their watcher was better (than I). But go (now), goodly Eumaeus, and close the door of the storeroom, and see whether it is one of the women who does this, or Melanthius, the son of Dolius, whom indeed I think (it is)."

Thus they said these (things) to one another, but Melanthius, the herder of goats, went once more to the storeroom to bring the beautiful armour. But the goodly swineherd saw (him), and spoke at once to Odysseus who was close at hand: "Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, ever-resourceful Odysseus, there again is that pestilent fellow, whom we ourselves suspect, going to the storeroom; but tell me truly whether I should slay him, if I am the better (man), or shall I bring him here to you, so that he may make recompense for the many crimes which he has committed in your house."

Ll. 170-209. Melanthius is captured.

Then, Odysseus, (that man) of many wiles, answered him and said: "Telemachus and I will surely keep the haughty wooers within the hall, even if there are very pressing. But do you two (i.e. Eumaeus and Philoetius) bend his (i.e. Melanthius') feet and arms from above, and cast him into the storeroom, and tie boards behind (his back), and do you fasten a twisted cord around his (body) and hoist (him) up the tall pillar and bring (him) close to the roof-beams, so that he may stay alive for a long time and suffer grievous torments."

So he spoke, and they readily heard him and obeyed, and they went their way to the storeroom, unnoticed by the one who was within (it). Now indeed he was seeking armour in the innermost part of the storeroom, and the two (of them) lay in wait and stood on either side of the door-posts. When Melanthius, the herder of goats, was about to go over the threshold, bearing a fine helmet in one hand, and, in the other, a broad old shield, besprinkled with rust, belonging to the heroic Laertes, who in his youth used to carry (it) around; but now it had been lying (there) for some time, and the seams of its straps were loosened; then, the two of them rushed at (him) and seized (him) and dragged him inside by the hair, and they cast him down on the floor, troubled in his heart, and they bound his feet and hands together with a grievous knot, binding them firmly behind (him), as the son of Laertes, the much-enduring godlike Odysseus, had bade (them); and they fastened a twisted cord around his (body), and they hoisted (him) up the tall pillar and brought (him) close to the roof-beams. Then, swineherd Eumaeus, did you mock him and say: "Now indeed, Melanthius, shall you keep watch for the whole night, lying on a soft bed, as befits you; nor shall you fail to notice the gold-enthroned child of the morning (i.e. Dawn) when she comes forth from the streams of Ocean, at the hour when you bring the she-goats for the wooers to prepare for a feast in the hall."

So was he left there, stretched out in that dire bond; but the two (of them) put on their armour and closed the shining door, and they came to wise Odysseus, (he who was) full of various wiles. There the four (of them) (i.e. Odysseus, Telemachus, Eumaeus and Philoetius), stood on the threshold, breathing fury, and those within the hall were many and stout. Then, Athene, the daughter of Zeus, came near to them, looking like Mentor both in form and voice. And Odysseus was glad when he saw her, and spoke these words: "Mentor, ward off ruin, and remember your dear companion, who used to do good (things) for you; and you are of the same age as me."  

Ll. 210-254. Athene intervenes.

So he spoke, thinking that it was Athene, the rouser (of hosts). But, on the other side, the wooers called out loudly in the hall; in the first place, Agelaus, the son of Damastor, rebuked her, (saying): "Do not let Odysseus prevail upon (you) with his words to fight the suitors, and bring aid to himself. For so I think that our intention will be brought to pass; now, when we have killed these (men), both father and son, then you too will be slain with them, (by) such (deeds) as you are minded to do in these halls; and with your own head you will pay the price. But, when we have stripped you of your might with a sword, we shall intermingle all the possessions which you have at home and outside with those of Odysseus; nor shall we allow your sons to dwell in these halls, nor your daughters and your trusty wife to traverse the city of Ithaca."

So he (i.e. Agelaus) spoke, and Athene became more angry in her heart, and rebuked Odysseus with these angry words: "Odysseus, no longer (do) you (have) that steadfast strength, nor any of that valour, such as (you) always (had) when you fought unceasingly with the Trojans for nine years concerning the high-born Helen with the white arms, and you slew many men in dire conflict, and, by your counsel, was the city of Priam with its wide streets taken. So how (is it) now, when you have come to your house and possessions, that you (have to) beg to show valiance against the wooers? But come here now, my friend, and stand by my side and see my deeds, until you learn what kind (of man is) Mentor, son of Alcimus, to repay kindness in the midst of enemy warriors."

So she (i.e. Athene in the guise of Mentor) spoke, but she did not give him the strength to conquer the other side entirely, but she still put the strength and valour of Odysseus and his splendid son to the test. And she herself flew up to the roof-beams of the smoky hall, and (there) she sat, just like a swallow to look at.   

Now, Agelaus, the son of Damastor, and Eurynomus, and Amphimedon, and Demoptolemus, and Peisander, the son of Polyctor, and the thoughtful Polybus urged on the wooers; for in valour they were by far the best of the suitors who still lived and were fighting for their lives; but Agelaus spoke among them, and declared these words to (them) all: "My friends, now will this man restrain his invincible hands; now has Mentor gone from him, having uttered empty boasts, and they are left alone at the outer doors. Therefore, do not hurl your long spears all together, but come, let the six (of us) throw (them) first, in the hope that Zeus will grant that Odysseus be struck, and that we win glory. And of the rest, they are of no concern to us, once this (man) shall have fallen."

Ll. 255-291. The fighting continues.

So he (i.e. Agelaus) spoke, and they all eagerly hurled their spears as he had bade (them); but Athene made them all miss: one of them struck the door-post of the well-built hall, and another the close-fitting door; and another's ashen spear landed on the door (which was) loaded with bronze. But, when they had avoided the wooers' spears, the long-suffering godlike Odysseus began to speak to them: "My friends, now I shall give the word that we too shall cast our spears into the throng of the wooers, who are minded to slay us in addition to their former wrongs." 

So he (i.e. Odysseus) spoke, and they all cast their spears with a straight aim; Odysseus smote Demoptolemus, Telemachus Euryades, the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) Elatus, and the cattle herdsman (i.e. Philoetius) Peisander. Then, together they all bit the immense floor with their teeth, and the suitors withdrew to the far corner of the hall, and they (i.e. Odysseus and his companions) leapt up and retrieved their spears from the corpses. 

Then again did the wooers throw their sharp spears with eagerness; but many (as they were) Athene put them off course. One of them struck the door-post of the well-built hall, and another the close-fitting door; and another's ashen spear sank into the door (which was) loaded with bronze. But Amphimedon hit Telemachus with a grazing blow on the wrist of his hand, and the bronze ripped the surface of his skin. And Ctesippus with his long spear grazed Eumaeus on the shoulder above his shield; but it flew over (him) and sank on the floor. And then again, the wise and crafty-minded Odysseus and his companions hurled their sharp spears into the throng of the suitors. Then again, Odysseus, the sacker of cities, struck Eurydamas, and Telemachus Amphimedon, and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) Polybus, and thereafter the herdsman of the cattle (i.e. Philoetius) smote Ctesippus on the breast, and spoke to (him) in exultation: "O (you) son of Polytherses, (you who is) fond of jeering, never more at all will you speak big, as you give way to folly, but entrust your words to the gods, since they are far mightier than (us). (This is) your gift in return for the foot (of an ox) which you once gave to godlike Odysseus, when he went begging through the house."

Ll. 292-329. Odysseus rejects Leodes' plea for mercy. 

So he (i.e. Philoetius) spoke, but the Odysseus wounded the son of Damastus (i.e. Agelaus) at close quarters with his long spear. And Telemachus wounded Leiocritus, the son of Euenor, in the middle of the groin with his spear, and drove the bronze (point) right through; and he fell face downward, and struck the ground with the whole of his forehead. Then, Athene held up her deadly aegis on high from the roof; and their minds were full of panic. And they fled through the hall like a herd of cattle; these the dating gadfly arouse and drive in confusion during the season of spring, when the days are long. And just as the vultures with their crooked talons and horned beaks come forth from the mountains and swoop down upon the (smaller) birds - and those on the plain shrink from the clouds and are scattered in flight, and they pounce upon them and slay (them), and they have no means of defence or way of escape; and men enjoy the chase - even so did these (others) fall upon the wooers and smite them from all sides through the hall; and hideous groaning arose from them as their heads were smashed, and the whole floor ran with blood.  

But Leodes rushed forward and clasped the knees of Odysseus, and, by way of entreaty, he spoke these winged words to him: "By your knees I beseech you, Odysseus; and do you show me respect as a suppliant and have pity on me; for I declare that I never said or did anything wicked to any of the women in this hall; but I sought to check the other suitors whenever they did such (deeds). But they did not hearken unto me and withhold their hands from doing evil; and, therefore, by their wanton (deeds) they have incurred their shameful doom. But I, the sacrificing priest among them, that has done no wrong, shall be laid low, as there is no gratitude thereafter for good deeds done." 

Then, with an angry scowl, Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, gave him an answer: "If you declare yourself to be the priest among these (men), I think you are likely often to have prayed in these halls that the fulfilment of my joyous return from afar might be removed, and that my dear wife would follow you and bear (you) children; therefore you shall not escape a grievous death."   

So saying, he seized in his stout hand a sword that lay (nearby), which Agelaus had let fall to the ground (when he was) slain; with this he smote him (i.e. Leodes) full upon the neck. And, even (while he was still) speaking, his head was mingled with the dust."

Ll. 330-377. At the instigation of Telemachus, the lives of Phemius and Medon are spared. 

The minstrel son of Terpis was still seeking to avoid black fate, Phemius (that is), who sang perforce among the suitors. And he stood with his clear-toned lyre in his hands close to the postern door; and he was in two minds as to whether he should slip out of the hall and sit down by the well-constructed altar of the mighty Zeus, the household (god), on which Laertes and Odysseus had burned many thigh-bones of oxen, or rush forward and clasp the knees of Odysseus in prayer. And so, as he pondered, it seemed (to him) to be the better (course), to clasp the knees of Odysseus, son of Laertes. So he laid the hollow lyre on the ground between the mixing-bowl and the silver-studded chair, and he himself rushed forward and clasped the knees of Odysseus, and, by way of entreaty, he addressed these winged words to him: 

"By your knees I entreat you, Odysseus; do you show me respect (as a suppliant) and have pity on me; on yourself will sorrow come hereafter, if you should slay the bard who sings to gods and men. Self-taught am I, and the god has implanted in my mind all manner of ways of song; and I am fit to sing to you, as (if in the presence) of a god; so, do not be eager to cut my throat! And your dear son Telemachus will also bear witness to this, that I was not at all willing to frequent your house, nor did I desire to sing for the suitors after their feasts, but, being much more numerous and stronger (than I), they led (me there) perforce."

So he (i.e. Phemius) spoke, and Telemachus, strong in his righteousness, quickly addressed his father, who was close at hand: "Hold back (your hand), do not wound this guiltless (man) in any way with a sword; and let us also save the herald Medon, who was always concerned for me in our house when I was a child, unless he has already been killed by Philoetius or the swineherd, or he met you as you were raging through the house."

So he spoke, and Medon, knowing how to be discreet, heard him; for he lay crouching down beneath a chair, and he was clad in the skin of an ox newly flayed, and was seeking to avoid black fate. At once, he rose from the chair and quickly stripped off the ox-hide, and he then rushed forward and clasped Telemachus by the knees, and, by way of entreaty, he addressed these winged words to him: "Friend, I am here, and do you tell your father to stay (his hand), lest in the greatness of his strength he should harm me with his sharp sword, in his wrath against the suitor-men, who have wasted his property in the halls, and, in their folly, have not honoured you in any way."   

But Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, smiled and said to him (i.e. Medon): "Take courage, for he has delivered you and saved (you), so that you may know in your heart, and tell (it) also to another, how much better a good deed (is) than a bad (one). But go forth from the halls and sit down in the courtyard far away from the slaughter, you and the bard of widespread fame (i.e. Phemius), until I have done in my house whatever I needs must (do)."

Ll. 378-429. Eurycleia denounces the disloyal women-servants.

So he spoke; and the two of them (i.e. Phemius and Medon) went their way out of the hall. And the pair of them sat down by the great altar of Zeus, peering around in all directions and ever expecting death.

And Odysseus looked cautiously around his house, (to see) if any of the men (were) still alive and hiding to avoid black death. But he saw that pretty much all of them had fallen in heaps in their blood and the dust, like fishes that fishermen have dragged out of the grey sea in a close-meshed fishing-net; and they all lay heaped up on the beach, longing for salt water; but the radiant sun did away with their lives; so then were the suitors piled up upon one another.

And then did the resourceful Odysseus address Telemachus: "Come on then, Telemachus, go and call the nurse Eurycleia to me, so that I can tell (her) the word that is in my mind."

So he spoke, and Telemachus obeyed his dear father, and, shaking open the door, he spoke to the nurse Eurycleia: "Come here, (you) aged old woman, who is the overseer of the servant-women in our hall; come on! My father calls you, so that he can tell you something."

So he uttered these words, but her reply was wingless (i.e. she spoke no words), but she unlocked the doors of the well-inhabited hall, and went on her way; and Telemachus led the way before (her). There she found Odysseus amid the bodies of the slain, bespattered with blood and gore, like a lion that comes from feeding on an ox that dwells in the fields. And all his breast and cheeks are drenched with blood on both sides, and he is gruesome to look at in the face; in that way was Odysseus stained all over from his feet and his hands. But, when she saw the bodies and the unspeakable (amount of) blood, she wanted to cry out with joy, since she saw (what) a great deed (had been done); but Odysseus held (her) back and detained (her), eager though (she was), and he spoke and addressed these winged words to her: "Rejoice in your heart, old lady, but check yourself and do not cry out with joy; an unholy (thing it is) to exult at (the sight of) men who have been slain. But these men, the fate of the gods and their wanton deeds did quell; for they honoured not one of the men upon the earth, neither the bad nor the good, (but) whoever came among them; and so, by their shameful folly, they brought death upon (themselves). But come (now), do you pick out for me the women in the halls, who dishonour me, and (those) who are guiltless."  

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia answered him: "So then, my child, will I tell you the truth. You have fifty servant-women in the halls, whom we have taught to do their work, and to comb the wool and endure the work of slaves; of these, twelve in all have gone the way of shamelessness, and they respect neither me nor Penelope herself. And Telemachus has newly grown up, and his mother would not allow him to rule over the women-servants. But come, I shall go up to the bright upper chamber, and speak to your wife, on whom some god has sent sleep."

Ll. 430-464. Odysseus orders the execution of the disloyal servant-women.

Then, the subtle Odysseus said to her (i.e. Eurycleia) in reply: "Do not wake her yet; but tell the women who have previously behaved disgracefully to come here."

So he spoke, and the old lady went right through the hall to inform the women and (to tell them) to come quickly. Furthermore, he called Telemachus, and the cowherd (i.e. Philoetius) and the swineherd (i.e. Eumaeus) to his (side). and spoke these winged words to (them): "Now start to carry out the dead bodies, and order those women (to help you); then, clean those fine chairs and tables with water and porous sponges. Yet, when the whole of the house has been set in order, take the serving-women out of the hall between the round-house and the excellent wall of the courtyard, and strike (them) with your long-pointed swords, until you have taken the lives of all (of them), and they will have quite forgotten the love-making which they had with the suitors, and that they lay in secret (with them)."

So he spoke; and the women (i.e. the twelve malefactors) all came in together, weeping terribly, with copious tears pouring down (their cheeks). Firstly, they removed the bodies of the dead, and they laid them under the portico of the well-fenced courtyard, propping them up, one against another. And Odysseus himself took charge (of them) and urged (them) on; and they carried the bodies unwillingly. So then they cleansed the very beautiful chairs and the tables with water and porous sponges. But Telemachus, and the cowherd and the swineherd scraped the floor of the well-built house with shovels; and the servant-women kept on carrying out (the scrapings), and they threw (them) outside. But, when they had set the whole of the hall in order, they led the servant-women out from the well-built hall between the round-house and the excellent wall of the courtyard, and shut them up in a confined space, from which it was not possible to escape. Then, the thoughtful Telemachus was the first to speak to them: "(Let it be) by no clean death that I take the lives of these (women), who have heaped insults on my head and on (that of) my mother, and (who) used to sleep with the suitors."

Ll. 465-501. Telemachus executes the twelve serving-women by hanging.

So he (i.e. Telemachus) spoke, and he tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship to a great pillar, and flung (it) around the round-house, stretching (it) upwards, so that no one might reach the ground with her feet. And, as when long-winged thrushes or doves fall into a snare that has been set in a thicket, as they seek to reach their stall, and hateful (is) the bed (that) welcomes (them), so they hold their heads in a row, and there were nooses around the necks of all (of them), so that they might die most piteously. And they writhed with their feet for a while, but not for long.   

Then, they led Melanthius through the doorway and the courtyard; and they cut off his nose and ears with the pitiless bronze, and they ripped out his genitals to be eaten raw by the dogs, and they lopped off his hands and feet in their furious wrath. 

Then, they washed their hands and feet and went in the house to Odysseus, and their work was done; but he spoke to his dear nurse Eurycleia; "Bring brimstone (i.e. sulphur), old lady, (as) a remedy for pollution, and bring me fire, so that I may fumigate the hall; and do you tell Penelope to come here with her serving-women, and to order all the women in the house to come."

Then, the dear nurse Eurycleia addressed him again: "Verily, my child, these (things) you have spoken aright, But come, let me bring you a cloak and a tunic (as) raiment, and do not stand in this way in the halls with your broad shoulders wrapped in rags; for it would be a (cause for) indignation." 

And Odysseus, (the man) of many wiles, spoke to her in reply: "First of all, let a fire be made for me in the hall."

So he spoke, and the dear nurse Eurycleia did not disobey, and she brought (him) fire and brimstone; and Odysseus thoroughly fumigated the hall, and the house and the courtyard. Then, the old lady went back through the fine house of Odysseus to bear tidings to the women and bid (them) come; and they came out from the hall with torches in their hands. And they thronged around Odysseus and embraced (him), and they clasped and kissed his head, and shoulders and hands in loving welcome; and a sweet longing seized hold of him to weep and wail, for in his heart he knew (them) all.