s of women guilty of misconduct. She said: Of the fifty here, twelve have erred, with no respect for me or Penelope. And Telemachos is only lately full-grown: his mother wouldn't give him authority over the women servants. Now let me break the news to your wife, who's asleep! Odysseus said: Don't wake her yet, but send me the misbehaving women! She went out and did this. Meanwhile, Odysseus told his son and Eumaios and Philoitios: Start carrying out the bodies. Get the women to help you. Then clean off the chairs and tables. When all is done, take the women out to the yard, and put them to the sword: let them forget the sex they enjoyed with the suitors (410-45).
446-501: The women now came in, weeping and wailing. They carried out the corpses and stacked them in the colonnade. Odysseus directed the work and made them perforce work fast. Then they washed the chairs and tables. Telemachos and the two herdsmen scraped the bloody filth off the floor, and the women carried it out. When all was done they led the women out to the back of the courtyard, and penned them in a narrow corner. Then Telemachos said: These women slept with the suitors and insulted me and my mother. They don't deserve a clean death. So they strung up a ship's cable, attached nooses to it, and hanged them all, feet clear of the ground. Their feet twitched a little, but not for long (446-73). Then they brought out Melanthios, ripped out his genitals and fed them to the dogs, and cut off all his extremities. That done, they washed off their hands and feet, and went back in. The work was done. Odysseus now said to Eurykleia: Bring sulfur and fire for me to purify the hall of pollution. And tell Penelope and her handmaids to come here. Eurykleia replied: But let me bring you a mantle and tunic to put on, you don't want to stand there in rags, that would be shameful. Right, said Odysseus, but fire and sulfur first! She brought them, and Odysseus purified the hall and the courtyard. Then she told the women to come out of their quarters, and they all gathered and kissed and embraced him. And he felt tearful, for he remembered them all (474-501).
BOOK 23
1-95: Then Eurykleia went upstairs, chuckling, to break the news to Penelope that her husband was there, in the house. She stood over Penelope and said: What you longed for has come about. Odysseus is home at last. And he's killed the wanton suitors! Penelope replied: The gods have made you mad! I'm sad enough; why mock me with this wild tale, wake me from the sweetest sleep I've had since Odysseus left for Troy? Go back down to the women's quarters! If any other woman had told me this, she'd have suffered, but you're saved by your age. The nurse replied: He's really here! He's that stranger that was insulted in the hall. Telemachos knew, but kept quiet till his father's revenge was complete. Penelope rejoiced, sprang up, and hugged Eurykleia. She said: Then tell me, if he's really home, how did he deal with all those suitors single-handed? (1-38). Eurykleia replied: I saw nothing, was told nothing--just heard groans and crashes from behind shut doors, where we women sat terrified. Then Telemachos came and called me in, and there was Odysseus, amid a heap of corpses, all bloodstained and filthy, like a lion. But the bodies are now all stacked by the gate, and Odysseus has got a fire and is purifying the place with sulfur. Come then and be reunited! He's home, he's found both you and his son, and he's requited the suitors! Penelope said: Don't gloat over them yet! You know how welcome he'd be, most of all to me and his son! But your story isn't true, it's some god that has punished the suitors for their wanton acts, and Odysseus himself is lost somewhere far distant (39-68). Eurykleia replied: What a thing to say! Your own husband's home, and you say he'll never return! And I have proof--that scar he got from being gashed by a boar on Parnassos--I saw it when I was washing his feet, but he swore me to silence! So come! I swear on my life he's here! Penelope said: The gods are hard even for a wise person to understand! Still, let's go see my son, the dead suitors, and whoever killed them. So she came down, wondering whether she should embrace her husband or sit apart and question him. She chose to sit apart. He stood waiting to see how she'd react when she saw him. She sat there. saying nothing, eyes taking in both his face and his wretched rags, not recognizing him (69-95).
95-151: Then Telemachos said: Cruel mother, why hold back thus? Why not sit by my father, even to question him? What other woman would thus keep apart from a husband back home in the twentieth year? Your heart is harder than stone! Penelope said: I'm amazed, I can't speak or question him or even look him in the face! But if he really is Odysseus, we two have secret signs known to no one else. At this Odysseus smiled and said to Telemachos: Let your mother test me! She'll soon see more clearly. Because I'm filthy and in rags she won't admit that I'm her husband! Meanwhile we have a problem. Killing one man is bad enough: avoiding revenge sends the killer into exile. But we've killed all Ithake's noblest defenders! Think about that! (95-122). Telemachos replied: No, you think about it! You're the resourceful man! We'll support you as far as our strength permits! Odysseus said: This is what I think's best. Go bathe and dress up. Tell the handmaids to put on their best dresses, and the minstrel to strike up dance music. Then passers-by will think it's a wedding feast, and the death of the suitors won't be known till we've got away to our country farmstead, where we'll work out our next move. They agreed, and did what he proposed. Sure enough, passers-by said, not knowing the truth, someone must have married the queen--cruel woman, she hadn't the heart to hold the house till her husband came back (123-51).
152-246: The housekeeper now bathed, massaged, and put new clean clothes on Odysseus, and Athene made him look taller and stronger and more handsome, and made his hair flow in hyacinthine curls, the way a clever artist overlays silver with gold. So he came from the bath looking like an immortal, head and shoulders beautified, and returned to his chair. He said: Strange lady, the gods have given you a truly stony heart! No other woman would behave as you've done! Old nurse, spread me a couch where I can sleep on my own, since she's iron-hearted (152-72). Penelope replied: Strange sir, I'm not proud, or indifferent or overamazed: I recall clearly how you looked when you sailed! Still, Eurykleia, do what he asks: take his bedstead and make a bed on it somewhere outside the marital bedroom. She said this as a test. Odysseus responded angrily: Who's moved our bed? That would be a hard job even with a god's help! I built it to be immovable, constructed the bedroom around that strong olive tree, which I made into the bedpost! This was the start of the bed, and I inlaid it with gold and silver and ivory, and used purple-dyed oxhide for the bed thongs. That was our sign, but for all I know someone since has sawn through the olive's trunk and moved our bed (173-204). At that she ran and embraced him, sobbing, and said: Don't be angry! You've always been understanding! It's always been the gods who begrudged us a happy life together. Don't be cross now because I didn't welcome you at once--I was always scared some man would try to sweet-talk me for his own gain! Even Helen would not have done what she did had she known the Achaians would fetch her home again--and anyway she only did what a god made her do! And now you've told me the sign that only we two and one handmaid knew, you've convinced me, stubborn though I was (205-30). So they wept, and held each other close, gazing on each other with the joy that swimmers from a shipwreck feel when they see dry land. Athene then prolonged the night and held back the dawn for them (231-46).
247-98: Odysseus said: We're not at the end of our trials yet. I still have a long hard task I need to accomplish: so Teiresias foretold to me. But for now let's to bed and enjoy repose and sleep together. Penelope replied: Your bed's ready whenever you want! But tell me about this last trial: no harm in knowing it in advance. Odysseus said: Why do you want to hear about it now? Well, I'll tell you. You'll get no joy from it; nor do I. Teiresias said I had to make a journey carrying an oar, till I reached men who knew nothing of the sea, and thought my oar was a winnowing-fan. Then I must sacrifice to Poseidon, return home, and sacrifice to all the gods. Death would come to me from the sea, a gentle end, only when I was weighed down by age, with my people prospering round me. All this would happen, he said. Penelope replied: If the gods are bringing you a better old age, you truly may reach the end of your troubles (247-87). Meanwhile, the housekeeper and nurse made up their bed by torchlight. Eurykleia then went to bed herself, while Eurynome escorted them to their bedchamber, and they returned to the joyful world of their former bed. Telemachos and the two herdsmen stopped the dancing, sent the women to their quarters, and themselves bedded down in the hall (288-98).
300-372: After lovemaking, the two caught up with each other. She told of watching while the suitors slaughtered her livestock and squandered the wine. Odysseus recounted all his troubles and suffering, and she listened with pleasure, not sleeping until he'd finished. He told her about the Kikones, and the Lotus-Eaters, and how the Kyklops had made havoc of his comrades, and the storm winds had undone the good work of Aiolos, and the destruction of all the ships but his own by the Laistrygonians. Then he told of guileful Kirke, and the voyage to Hades to consult the ghost of Teiresias, and the episode of the Sirens, and the Wandering Rocks, and Skylle and Charybdis, and the killing of Helios' cattle by his remaining comrades, and how Zeus destroyed his ship and its crew in requital, and his rescue and compulsory retention by the nymph Kalypso. Finally, he recounted his coming to Scheria, and how the Phaiakians gave him rich presents and conveyed him sleeping to Ithake (300-343). When Athene saw that Odysseus had finished lovemaking, and had had enough sleep, she brought up the Dawn. Odysseus woke, and said to his wife: Now we've finally been reunited, you need to take charge of the house and my riches. The depletion of livestock will be made good by requital and booty. I need to go and see my father. Meanwhile, soon after sunup the word will spread of the killing. So you must shut yourself in your quarters with your handmaids and stay there: don't ask questions, don't come out. He then armed himself, roused Telemachos and the herdsmen, and told them to arm themselves too. Then they went out, Odysseus leading. It was light, but Athene hid them till they were out of town.
BOOK 24
1-97: Hermes now summoned the ghosts of the suitors, using the golden staff with which he wakes or puts to sleep those he chooses to assemble and lead. They followed him, squeaking like bats in a cave, and he led them down to the meadows of asphodel where the shades of the dead reside, and there they met the ghosts of Achilles, and Patroklos, and Antilochos, and Aias. There now approached them the shade of Agamemnon, with those of all the men who'd died with him in Aigisthos' house (1-22). Achilles' shade said to him: We thought you were a favorite of Zeus because you commanded so many men at Troy. But you met a premature fate! Better if you'd died honorably fighting the Trojans: then you'd have had a famous tomb and have won glory for yourself and your son, but as it is you've suffered a most pitiful death. Agamemnon replied: Lucky you: you died fighting at Troy, with other fine men! We gave you a beautiful funeral, and your mother came to it from the sea, with her nymphs, who uttered strange scary cries at the news, so that everyone would have panicked had old Nestor not explained it was only the nymphs, and stopped the rout (23-57). The nymphs gathered round you keening, and wrapped you in immortal garments. The Muses led the dirge, and all of us wept to hear them. For seventeen days we mourned you, gods and mortals together. On the eighteenth we burned your body, and many warriors paraded round your pyre. Afterwards we gathered your bones, treated them with wine and oil, and put them, mingled with those of Patroklos, in a gold jar given by your mother; those of your honored comrade Antilochos were separate. We heaped a great burial mound over them. For your funeral games, Thetis got beautiful prizes from the gods: you'd have marveled at the sight of them. So even in death you kept your fame. Whereas Zeus served me a dire fate at the hands of Aigisthos and my accursed wife (58-97).
98-146: Now Hermes approached, leading the ghosts of the suitors killed by Odysseus, and Achilles and Agamemnon, surprised, went to meet them. The shade of Agamemnon recognized Amphimedon, who had been his host, and said to him: What happened to send all you picked men down here? Shipwreck? Some skirmish over cattle? Remember when I came to your house with Menelaos to urge Odysseus to come with us to Troy! A tough job that was: took us a month all told (98-119). Amphimedon replied: Yes, I remember all this, and I'll tell you the whole business of our grim death, just as it happened. We were all courting long-absent Odysseus' wife: she neither rejected such a marriage outright nor would she decide between us. In fact, it was our fate she had in mind. And she set up a great web on her loom, and said to us: My suitors, now Odysseus is dead, be patient, until I finish what I'm weaving--a shroud for old Laertes. So we agreed. By day she would weave, but at night she'd undo by torchlight what she'd woven. For three years she did this; but in the fourth year one of her women told us what she was up to, and we caught her at it, and forced her to finish the shroud (120-46).
147-202: So she finished the shroud, and washed it, and showed it to us. But now some malicious spirit brought Odysseus back, to the swineherd's remote farmstead. He was joined there by his son, Telemachos, on his way back from Pylos, and the two of them planned a nasty end for the suitors. Then they came into town, Telemachos first. Odysseus followed later, in rags, disguised as an old beggar, with the swineherd. No one recognized him, not even the older men. We flung insults and missiles at him. He put up with this. He and his son also removed all the war gear from the walls and shut it in a storeroom (147-66). Then he had his wife set up a contest involving his bow and some axes: that was the beginning of death for us. None of us could string the bow. When Odysseus got hold of it, we all shouted not to let him have it, but Telemachos encouraged him. He strung the bow and shot an arrow through the iron. Then he went to the threshold, poured out the arrows, and started shooting. His first victim was Prince Antinoos, and after him men fell thick and fast. Some god was helping him for sure: he and his men rampaged through the hall, striking right and left, and the floor was awash with blood. That's how we perished, Agamemnon. Our bodies still lie in Odysseus' home--no one knows about this yet, those who could wash us and lay us out properly (167-90). Agamemnon said: Lucky Odysseus! How excellent was the wife you won! What a woman was blameless Penelope--how well she kept the memory of her wedded husband! The fame of her loyalty will never perish, the immortals will fashion a song in her honor! How different from her was Tyndareus' daughter, who killed her husband, and loathsome the song commemorating her! (191-202).
203-79: So they conversed, deep in the realm of Hades. Meanwhile, Odysseus and his men, leaving town, soon reached Laertes' well-ordered farmstead, into which he'd put much work. Round it were the huts where his hands ate and slept; an old Sikel woman lived inside and looked after him. Odysseus told his son and the herdsmen to go in and kill a fine hog for dinner. He himself, he said, was going to see if his father recognized him after so long. He gave them his battle gear, went alone to the vineyard, and found his father there, also alone: Dolios and his sons were off collecting stones for a new wall (203-25). He saw his father digging, bent with age and sorrow, in patched old clothes and gloves and shin pads, with a goatskin hat, head down, digging a plant. When Odysseus saw him he debated whether to embrace him, tell him all, or question and test him first. He decided to test him (225-43). He said: You're a skilled gardener: everything here's well tended! But you don't look after yourself: you're filthy, and dressed in mean, ragged clothes! It can't be because of laziness that your master neglects you: and in build you look more like a king than a slave, someone who when bathed and fed should sleep in comfort. So tell me, whose servant are you, and who owns this orchard? And is this Ithake? I asked someone I met, but he seemed half-witted when I wanted to know about a friend of mine, was he living or dead? I once had a guest in my own country, none more welcome, who said he was from Ithake, the son of Laertes. I treated him well, gave him rich gifts--gold, a silver bowl, clothing, women servants (244-79).
280-360: Laertes said: Yes, this is Ithake, but wanton men now rule it! And it was in vain that you gave those gifts! Had your friend still been alive he'd have requited you amply with entertainment and gifts. How many years is it since he was your guest? This was my illfated son, who must have died long ago, prey to fish or wild beasts, lacking a proper funeral from parents and wife! And who may you be, and where's the ship you came in, your own or another's? (280-301). Odysseus said: I'm from Alybas, my name's Eperitos, son of Apheidas: a god drove me here from Sikania against my will. My ship's moored out down there away from the city. Oh, and it's five years now since Odysseus left my country, illfated maybe, but he had good omens when he sailed, and we both hoped to meet again as guest and host. At this Laertes sobbed and mourned, and Odysseus, heart-torn, embraced and kissed him, saying: I am he, father, back home in the twentieth year! Cease your lamentation, and I'll explain. But we must hurry! I've revenged myself on the suitors, killed them all for their outrageous behavior (302-26). Laertes said: If you're really my son Odysseus, give me some proof to convince me! Odysseus replied: First, there's the scar, see, that I got when you sent me to Autolykos, and I was gashed by that boar on Parnassos. And there are the trees you gave me as a child, when I was trailing after you in our orchard--thirteen pear trees, ten apple trees, forty fig trees. Also rows of vines, fifty of them, that matured at different times, with clusters whatever the season. At this proof, Laertes broke down, and Odysseus caught him as he passed out. But as he came to again, he said: If the suitors have indeed paid for their crimes, Zeus, you and the other gods still reign on Olympos! But I fear we'll have all the Ithakans against us, and they'll send messages to the other islands as well! Odysseus said: Relax, don't worry about such things! Let's go in to your nearby house: I sent Telemachos and the swineherd and cowherd in to get our dinner ready quickly (327-60).
361-412: They went in together and found Telemachos and the herdsmen carving meat and mixing wine. Now the Sikel servant woman bathed and massaged Laertes and dressed him in good clothes, and Athene came and made him taller and handsomer