Irus himself was not less astonished than dismayed, so that they were obliged to use force to make him face his opponent; and as he stood there quaking with fear Antinous reviled him bitterly, and threatened, if he were defeated, to carry him to the mainland, and hand him over to a robber chieftain, nicknamed the Mutilator, and notorious for his cruelties.  “He will carve thee into collops and fling them to his dogs,” said the ferocious prince.

Little encouraged, as may be supposed, this prospect, Irus in his despair aimed a blow at Odysseus, and struck him on the right shoulder.  Then Odysseus, who had resolved to put forth but half his force, lest he should betray himself to the wooers, struck the wretched man under the ear.  There was a crash of broken bones, and down went Irus in the dust, spitting blood, and beating the ground with his heels.  The wooers hailed his fall with shouts of laughter, and Odysseus, seizing the prostrate beggar by the foot, dragged him through the courtyard gate, and propped him against the wall.  “Sit there,” he said, placing his staff in his hand, “and keep off dogs and swine.  Methinks thou hast had enough of playing the tyrant among strangers and beggars.”

When he returned to his place on the threshold he found the wooers in high good humour at the defeat of Irus.  “May heaven fulfil all thy heart’s desire!” cried one who sat near, “seeing that thou hast rid us of that hungry, brawling rogue.”  His words had a meaning which he little guessed, and Odysseus rejoiced when he heard them.  Then Antinous brought the pudding, all steaming from the fire, and set it by him; and Amphinomus gave him two loaves, and filled a cup with wine.  “Hail, old friend!” he said, offering the cup, “and mayest thou live to see happier days.”

This Amphinomus differed in character from the other suitors, being a prudent and fair-minded man.  Odysseus knew him and his father well, and being willing to save him, if possible, he looked earnestly at him, and said:  “Amphinomus, thou seemest to be a man of understanding, and therefore I will give thee a word of warning.  Hark, in thine ear!  Quit this company at once!  The day of doom is very near to them all, and I would not that thou shouldst perish with them.”

These words, spoken in a low and solemn tone, so that none besides might hear, sent a chill to the heart of Amphinomus.  Slowly and sadly he went back to his seat, his mind full of dark foreboding.  Nevertheless, he did not profit by the warning; for he had thrown in his lot with that guilty band, and had to drink of the same cup.

Penelope and the Wooers

I

“How slowly move the hours,” said Penelope to Eurycleia, yawning and then laughing in sheer vacancy of spirit.  “How would it be if I showed myself to the wooers?  I hate them, it is true, but it would serve to pass the time, and I could caution my son not to be so familiar with these treacherous friends.”