Book XXII · Ῥαψωδία χ

Then big-brain Odysseus ripped the rags clean off himself, no warning,

and leapt up onto the big threshold, gripping the bow and the quiver

fully loaded with arrows, and he dumped the fast ones out

right there in front of his feet, then turned and went off on the suitors:

"Okay, that little contest? Officially demolished, ran the speedrun clean.

and I'm gonna clock it, if I land it, and Apollo hands me the dub."

That's what he said, and he locked the bitter arrow dead onto Antinous.

And that man, bless him, was just about to lift the lovely cup,

the golden two-handled one, already turning it over in his hands,

not a flicker. Like who would ever guess, mid-feast, surrounded by mates,

one guy against the many, even if that one was an absolute unit,

would cook up a foul death and a black doom for him?

But Odysseus took aim at the throat and let the arrow fly,

He slumped sideways, the cup dropped straight out of his hand

as he got hit, and right away a thick jet came spurting up his nostrils,

a whole gush of human blood: and quick as that he kicked the table

clean off himself with his foot, knocked it flying, and spilled the food on the ground,

a whole uproar through the halls the second they clocked the man go down,

and they jumped up off their thrones, panicking, scrambling all over the place,

heads on a swivel, scanning the solidly built walls every which way:

but nowhere was there a single shield or a sturdy spear to grab.

"Stranger, you're shooting men, and that's a whole crime, you're done with contests,

you won't be lining up for any more of those: now your steep doom's locked in for sure.

Because look, you just bodied the absolute best of the best,

the top lad in all of Ithaca: so now the vultures are gonna eat you right here."

that he'd dropped the guy by accident: total NPCs, they never clocked

that yeah, the noose of doom had already been knotted round the whole lot of them.

And big-brain Odysseus gave them a glare from under his brows and let it rip:

"You dogs, you really thought I'd never circle back home,

forcing yourselves on the serving women, sleeping with them by force,

and while the man's literally still alive you've been sliding up to court his wife,

not scared of the gods who hold the wide sky on lock, not even a little,

and reckoning no mortal payback would ever come for you down the line.

That's what he said, and pale green fear grabbed every last one of them,

and each man was darting his eyes round for where to dodge the steep doom.

And Eurymachus was the only one with the nerve to come back at him:

"If you genuinely are Odysseus of Ithaca, pulled back up,

loads of reckless mess in your halls, loads more out in the fields.

But the guy who was behind every bit of it? he's already lying flat,

Antinous: because that man is the one who set this whole thing rolling,

and honestly it was never even the marriage he wanted or needed that bad,

he wanted to be king over the well-built land of Ithaca,

him personally, and he planned to ambush your son and end him.

But now he's killed, exactly where fate wanted: so go easy on your people,

your own people: and after this we'll square it all up across the whole community,

each man hauling in a payment worth twenty oxen on his own,

paying you back in bronze and gold, until your heart

warms back up: until then, no one could blame you for being heated."

And big-brain Odysseus gave him the glare from under his brows and went off:

the whole lot you've got now, plus whatever else you could scrape from anywhere,

not even then would my hands ever quit this killing,

not before the suitors have paid in full for every single overstep.

So right now your options are sitting in front of you: fight me head on

but I'm telling you, not one of you is escaping the steep ruin."

That's what he said, and right there their knees went weak and their hearts melted.

And Eurymachus piped up again, talking to the rest a second time:

"Lads, this man's not gonna hold back those untouchable hands of his,

he's gonna shoot off that smooth threshold until he's

dropped every one of us. So let's lock in for the fight:

yank your swords out and hold the tables up as cover

against the fast-killing arrows: rush him all at once,

then get out into the city, get the alarm screaming fast as we can:

and that way this man would've taken his very last shot, like ever."

So saying he ripped out his sharp sword,

bronze, double-edged and savage, and lunged at Odysseus

let the arrow fly and caught him in the chest beside the nipple,

and he sank that fast shaft straight into his liver. Out of his hand

the sword dropped to the ground, and folding over the table

he crashed down doubled up, and spilled the food across the floor

in absolute agony in his chest, both feet drumming and thrashing

at the throne, kicking it everywhere: and the mist poured down over his eyes.

And Amphinomus charged straight at the glorious Odysseus,

launching himself right at him, his sharp sword already drawn,

caught him from behind with a bronze-tipped spear

right between the shoulders, and drove it clean out through his chest:

he went down with a thud and slammed the ground full with his face.

And Telemachus jumped back, leaving the long-shadowing spear

would lunge as he was tugging the long-shadowing spear free

and run him through with a sword or stab him while he was bent over.

So he took off running, and reached his beloved father super quick,

and stood up close beside him and let the winged words fly:

and a helmet, all bronze, the kind that hugs the temples,

and I'll kit myself out as I head back, and I'll hand the swineherd

and the cowherd their own gear too: better we're all geared up, no cap."

And big-brain Odysseus came back at him with this:

so they don't shove me clean off the doors with me standing solo."

That's what he said, and Telemachus did exactly what his dear dad asked,

and bolted off to the storeroom where the famous gear was stashed.

From there he grabbed four shields, and eight spears,

and he went hauling it, and reached his beloved father super quick.

And first off he slid the bronze round his own body,

and the same way the two servants kitted up in the lovely gear,

and they took their stand around Odysseus, the war-brained schemer.

he kept on, always picking off one of the suitors in his own house,

taking aim and dropping them: and they fell one heaped on the next.

But once the arrows ran dry on the lord still shooting them,

he leaned the bow up against the doorpost of the solidly built hall,

and he slung a fourfold shield round his own shoulders,

and onto his mighty head he set a well-made helmet,

horse-crested, with the plume nodding terribly up on top:

and he gripped two strong spears tipped sharp with bronze.

and right up by the topmost edge of the threshold of the solid hall

there was a passage out to a corridor, fitted with snug-shutting doors:

Odysseus had told the noble swineherd to keep watch on that,

posted up close beside it: because it was the one way they could rush.

"Lads, isn't there somebody who could climb up through the side door

and tell the people, get the alarm screaming fast as possible?

And then this man would've taken his very last shot, like ever."

But Melanthius the goatherd shot back at him:

to the lovely courtyard doors, and the mouth of the corridor's a nightmare:

one man on his own, if he's any kind of fighter, could pin the whole lot of us.

But come on, let me bring you gear to armour up,

out of the storeroom: because in there, I reckon, and nowhere else,

So saying, up climbed Melanthius the goatherd,

into Odysseus's storerooms, up through the vents of the hall.

From there he lifted twelve shields, and just as many spears,

and just as many bronze helmets thick with horsehair:

And right then Odysseus's knees went weak and his heart sank,

as he watched them slinging the gear round their bodies and brandishing

the long spears in their hands: the job suddenly looked massive to him.

And straight away he let the winged words fly at Telemachus:

is stirring up this nasty fight on us, or it's Melanthius."

And switched-on Telemachus came back at him with this:

"Dad, this one's on me, I'm the one who fumbled it, nobody else

is to blame, I left the storeroom door, the tightly fitted one,

But go, noble Eumaeus, get that storeroom door shut,

and clock whether it's one of the women pulling this off,

or it's Melanthius, Dolius's son, which is my read."

So they were going back and forth like this with each other.

to fetch more lovely gear: but the noble swineherd clocked him,

and quick told Odysseus, who was standing close by:

"Godborn son of Laertes, Odysseus, always cooking up something,

that ruinous man right there, the one we suspected ourselves,

do I body him, if I get the upper hand,

or do I haul him to you, so he pays for the oversteps,

all of them, every single one he plotted up in your house?"

And big-brain Odysseus came back at him with this:

pinned inside the halls, however hard they're going at it:

but you two, twist his feet and hands back behind him

and chuck him into the storeroom, and tie boards across behind him,

and loop a braided rope round him and hoist him up

so he stays alive a good while and suffers the worst pain going."

That's what he said, and they heard him loud and clear and did it,

heading off to the storeroom, and he never clocked them inside.

He, see, was rummaging for gear deep in the back of the storeroom,

And the second Melanthius the goatherd stepped over the threshold,

carrying in one hand a fine helmet,

and in the other a wide old shield, all caked with grime,

the shield of the hero Laertes, the one he used to lug as a young lad:

the two of them lunged and grabbed him and dragged him inside

by the hair, and slammed him down to the floor, gutted in his heart,

and bound his feet and hands with a soul-crushing knot,

twisting them right back, all the way round, exactly like

and they looped a braided rope round him

and hauled him up a tall pillar, dragged him close to the rafters.

And you mocked him then, Eumaeus the swineherd, you really let him have it:

"Now you'll be keeping the night watch nice and proper, Melanthius,

and the early-born one, golden-throned Dawn, coming up

from the streams of Ocean, won't slip past you, not at the hour

you usually haul the goats in for the suitors to feast on in the house."

So he was left there hanging, strung up in that deadly knot:

and headed back to Odysseus, the war-brained schemer.

There they took their stand breathing pure rage, four men

on the threshold, and inside the house a crowd of good fighters.

And right up close to them came Athena, daughter of Zeus,

And Odysseus was buzzing to see her and called out:

"Mentor, ward off the disaster, remember your dear mate,

the one who always did right by you: we go way back, same age and all."

That's what he said, reckoning it was Athena, who rallies the troops.

and the first to bark at her was Agelaus, son of Damastor:

"Mentor, don't let Odysseus talk you round with his words

into fighting against the suitors and backing him up.

Because here's how I reckon our plan is gonna play out:

you'll be killed right there among them, for the kind of stuff

you're itching to pull in these halls: you'll pay with your own head.

And once we've stripped your strength away with bronze,

all the property you've got, indoors and out in the fields,

keep living in your halls, not your daughters either,

nor your loyal wife walk around the city of Ithaca."

That's what he said, and Athena got even more heated deep down,

and laid into Odysseus with words dripping fury:

not like when you battled the Trojans nonstop for nine straight years

over white-armed Helen, the one with the noble dad,

and you bodied loads of men in that grim slaughterfest,

and Priam's wide-streeted city fell by your scheme.

you're whinging that being brave against suitors is too much for you?

Come here, mate, stand by me and watch the work,

so you'll know what kind of man Mentor, son of Alcimus, is

when it comes to paying back kindness among enemy men."

nah, she kept testing the strength and the fight

of both Odysseus and his glorious son.

And she herself shot up to the rafter of the smoky hall

and perched there, looking exactly like a swallow to the eye.

him and Eurynomus and Amphimedon and Demoptolemus

and Peisander, son of Polyctor, and war-brained Polybus:

because these were by far the bravest of the suitors,

the best of all who were still alive and fighting for their lives:

And Agelaus piped up to all of them, spelling it out:

"Lads, now this man's finally gonna hold those untouchable hands of his:

look, Mentor's cleared off after spouting his empty hype,

and they're left standing solo up at the front doors.

come on, the six of us throw first, in case Zeus somehow

hands us the dub, Odysseus down and the glory ours.

The rest won't matter, the second that one goes down."

That's what he said, and they all let fly, exactly like he ordered,

One of them hit the doorpost of the solidly built hall,

another caught the tightly fitted door:

and another's bronze-heavy ash spear thudded into the wall.

But once they'd dodged the suitors' spears clean,

"Lads, now I reckon it's our turn to say it, let us also

throw into the suitors' crowd, the ones dead set on

finishing us off, stacking that on top of all the earlier damage."

That's what he said, and they all let fly the sharp spears,

Telemachus got Euryades, the swineherd got Elatus,

and the cowherd lad took out Peisander.

And the whole lot of them at once bit down on the endless ground,

and the suitors fell back into the deep end of the hall:

And again the suitors let fly the sharp spears,

launching hard: but Athena made most of it land on nothing.

One of them hit the doorpost of the solidly built hall,

another caught the tightly fitted door:

But Amphimedon clipped Telemachus on the wrist, on the hand,

just a graze, and the bronze nicked the top layer of skin.

And Ctesippus, with his long spear, scraped over Eumaeus's shield

and grazed his shoulder: but it sailed on past and dropped to the ground.

let fly the sharp spears into the suitors' crowd again.

This time Odysseus the city-wrecker hit Eurydamas,

and Telemachus got Amphimedon, and the swineherd got Polybus:

and then the cowherd lad caught Ctesippus

"Oh son of Polytherses, you mouthy little troll, never again

will you give in to your dumb impulse and run your mouth big, nah, leave

the talking to the gods, since they're a whole lot stronger than you.

Here's your guest-gift back in return for that hoof you threw

So said the cowherd of the spiral-horned cattle: meanwhile Odysseus

stabbed the son of Damastor up close with the long spear:

and Telemachus jabbed Leiocritus, son of Euenor,

spearing him right through the gut, and drove the bronze clean through:

And right then Athena raised up the mortal-blasting aegis

high from the roof above: and their minds went to absolute pieces.

And they bolted through the hall like a herd of cattle

that a flickering gadfly has rushed in on and sent stampeding

and the four came on like vultures with hooked talons and curved claws,

swooping down off the mountains onto the smaller birds:

and the birds dive for the plain, cowering away from the clouds,

but the vultures pounce and tear them apart, no defence to be had,

that's exactly how the four came rushing the suitors through the house,

striking left and right: and a hideous groaning went up

from heads getting split, and the whole floor was steaming with blood.

And Leiodes came rushing at Odysseus and grabbed his knees

"I'm at your knees, Odysseus: show me some respect, have a heart:

because I swear I never said a thing to any of the women in your halls,

never did a single reckless deed: and on top of that I kept trying

to stop the other suitors, anyone who'd pull stuff like that.

so by their own reckless choices they've met a grim fate.

But me, I was just the diviner among them, I never did a thing wrong,

and now I'll lie dead with them, since I guess there's no thanks down the line for doing good."

And big-brain Odysseus gave him the glare from under his brows and went off:

then plenty of times, no doubt, you were praying in my halls

that the sweet end of my comeback would stay far away from me,

and that my beloved wife would follow you and bear you kids:

so there's no dodging the cruel death for you, none."

one lying there that Agelaus had flung to the floor

when he got killed: and with it he drove straight through the middle of his neck:

and his head, still mid-word, got mixed into the dust.

But the bard, son of Terpes, was still dodging the black doom,

He stood there with the clear-toned lyre in his hands,

right by the side door: and his mind was split two ways,

whether to slip out of the hall and go sit at the altar

of great Zeus of the courtyard, the well-built one, where so many times

or to rush at Odysseus and grab his knees and beg.

And as he weighed it, this seemed the better play to him,

to grab the knees of Odysseus, son of Laertes.

So he set the hollow lyre down on the ground,

and he himself rushed Odysseus and grabbed his knees

and begging away he let the winged words fly:

"I'm at your knees, Odysseus: show me some respect, have a heart.

You'll feel the grief yourself down the line if you body a bard,

I'm self-taught, and a god planted every kind of song-path

in my mind: I'm fit to sing for you like

I would for a god: so don't be itching to slit my throat.

And Telemachus would back me on this, your own dear son,

and sing for the suitors after their feasts,

nah, they were too many and too strong, they dragged me here by force."

That's what he said, and the sacred power of Telemachus heard him,

and quick he called out to his father standing close by:

and let's spare the herald Medon too, the one who always

looked out for me back home when I was a kid,

unless Philoetius has already done him in, or the swineherd,

or he ran into you while you were storming through the house."

because he was crouched cowering under a throne, wrapped round himself

in a fresh-skinned oxhide, dodging the black doom.

And quick he scrambled up from under the throne and shed the oxhide,

and then rushed Telemachus and grabbed his knees

"Mate, here I am, it's me: so hold up: tell your father,

don't let him in all his might wreck me with the sharp bronze,

furious as he is at the suitor men who were gutting

his property in the halls and never showed you an ounce of respect, the clowns."

"Chill, since this guy's the one who shielded you and saved you,

so you'd learn it deep down, and so you'd pass it on to others:

how doing good is a whole lot better than doing evil.

But go, the pair of you, get out of the halls and sit outside

while I sort out inside the house whatever I need to."

That's what he said, and the two of them went out of the hall,

and sat themselves down by the altar of great Zeus,

darting their eyes all round, still expecting death any second.

was still alive and skulking somewhere, dodging the black doom.

But he saw them, every single one, in blood and dust

fallen in heaps, like fish that fishermen

have hauled out of the grey sea onto a curving beach

gasping for the salt waves, lie poured out on the sand:

and the blazing sun strips the life clean out of them:

that's exactly how the suitors lay heaped on each other then.

And right then big-brain Odysseus said to Telemachus:

so I can tell her the thing that's sitting on my mind."

That's what he said, and Telemachus did exactly what his dear dad asked,

and rattled the door and called out to the nurse Eurycleia:

"Come on then, up you get, you old soul from way back, you who keep

come on: my father's calling you, he's got something to say."

So he called out, and her words didn't even get wings, no time,

and she swung open the doors of the snug, well-lived-in halls,

and headed off: and Telemachus led the way out front.

spattered with blood and gore, like a lion

that comes off feeding on an ox of the field:

and his whole chest and his cheeks on both sides

are all bloody, terrifying to even look at in the face:

And when she clocked the bodies and the unspeakable blood,

she went to whoop in triumph, since she saw a massive deed done:

but Odysseus held her back and reined her in, keen as she was,

and called out and let the winged words fly:

it's not righteous to crow out loud over slaughtered men.

The fate of the gods broke these ones, and their own savage deeds:

because they never honoured a single human walking the earth,

not the lowly, not the noble, whoever came their way:

But come on, list off for me the women in the halls,

which ones disrespect me and which ones are clean of all blame."

And then his dear nurse Eurycleia answered him:

"Right then, my child, I'll lay out the truth for you straight.

serving girls, the ones we taught to do the work,

to comb the wool and put up with their servitude:

twelve of all of them stepped right into shamelessness,

no respect for me, no respect for Penelope herself.

never let him give orders over the serving women.

But come on, let me head up to the gleaming upper rooms

and tell your wife, the one some god put to sleep."

And big-brain Odysseus came back at her with this:

the ones here, the ones who were scheming shameful stuff before."

So he said, and the old woman went off through the hall

to tell the women and chase them up to come.

Meanwhile he called Telemachus and the cowherd and the swineherd

"Start hauling out the bodies now, and tell the women to help:

and after that, the gorgeous thrones and the tables,

clean them up with water and full-of-holes sponges.

And once you've got the whole house squared away nice,

into the gap between the round house and the spotless courtyard wall,

and run them through with the long-edged swords, until you've

ripped the life out of every last one, till they forget all about Aphrodite,

the love they had under the suitors, sneaking off to sleep with them in secret."

wailing something awful, fat tears pouring down their cheeks.

So first off they hauled out the dead bodies,

and stacked them up under the porch of the well-walled courtyard,

propping them against each other: and Odysseus called the shots himself,

And after that, the gorgeous thrones and the tables,

they cleaned with water and full-of-holes sponges.

Meanwhile Telemachus and the cowherd and the swineherd

scraped the floor of the snugly built house

And once they'd got the whole hall squared away,

they marched the serving girls out of the solidly built hall,

into the gap between the round house and the spotless courtyard wall,

and penned them into a tight corner, no way out of there.

"Nah, I won't be taking the life of these ones with a clean death,

the ones who poured insults all over my head

and over my mother, and slept beside the suitors."

So he said, and he took a cable off a dark-prowed ship

strung it up high, so none of them could touch the ground with her feet.

And like when long-winged thrushes or doves

crash into a snare set up inside a thicket,

heading for their roost, and a hateful bed takes them in,

every neck a noose, so they'd die the most pitiful death.

And they twitched with their feet a little while, but not for long at all.

And then they dragged Melanthius out through the porch and the courtyard:

and they sliced off his nose and his ears with the pitiless bronze,

and hacked off his hands and his feet with rage burning in their hearts.

Then after that, once they'd washed off their hands and their feet,

they went back to Odysseus in the house, and the job was done.

And he called out to his dear nurse Eurycleia:

so I can fumigate the hall: and tell Penelope

to come down here with her serving women:

and chivvy along every serving girl in the house to come."

And then his dear nurse Eurycleia answered him:

But come on, let me fetch you a cloak and a tunic for clothes,

and don't go standing in the halls with your broad shoulders

all wrapped in rags like that: it wouldn't be a good look."

And big-brain Odysseus came back at her with this:

That's what he said, and his dear nurse Eurycleia didn't argue,

and she brought the fire and the sulphur: and Odysseus

fumigated the hall thoroughly, the whole house and the courtyard.

And the old woman went off back through the lovely house of Odysseus

and they came out of the hall with torches clutched in their hands.

And they swarmed round Odysseus and welcomed him hard,

and kissed and hugged him close, his head and his shoulders,

clasping his hands: and a sweet longing took hold of him,