Book 18

1 Then came a public beggar, one who used to go begging through the city of Ithaca, famous for his ravenous belly, for eating and drinking without end. He had no strength and no force, though he was very big to look at. Arnaeus was his name, for his lady mother had given him that name at his birth; but all the young men called him Irus,¹ because he used to go and carry messages whenever anyone told him to. He came now and tried to drive Odysseus out of his own house, and abusing him he spoke, and his words had wings:

10 “Get out of the doorway, old man, before you’re dragged out by the foot, and soon. Don’t you see they’re all winking at me and telling me to drag you? But I’m ashamed to, all the same. Up with you, or our quarrel will soon come to fists.”

14 Odysseus of many wiles, with a dark look from under his brows, said to him: “Strange man, I do you no harm in deed or in word, and I do not grudge anyone giving to you, even if he takes up a great deal to give. This threshold will hold us both, and you have no need to grudge what belongs to others. You seem to me a wanderer like me; and it is the gods who will grant wealth. But do not challenge me too far with your fists, or you will make me angry, and old as I am I may smear your chest and your lips with blood. Then I would have still more peace tomorrow, for I do not think you would come back a second time to the hall of Odysseus, son of Laertes.” Then Irus the wanderer said to him in anger: “Oh, for shame! How glibly this greedy pig rattles on, like an old woman at the oven! I could do him some harm, I could, hitting him with both fists, and knock all the teeth out of his jaws onto the ground like a sow’s that eats up the crops. Gird yourself now, so that all these men too can see us fight. How could you fight a younger man?”

32 So in front of the lofty doors, on the polished threshold, the two of them whetted each other’s fury with all their hearts. And the sacred strength of Antinous heard them, and he broke into a sweet laugh and said among the suitors:

36 “Friends, nothing like this has ever happened before, such entertainment as the god has brought to this house! The stranger and Irus are challenging each other to fight it out with their fists. Come, let us set them on at once.”

40 So he spoke, and they all sprang up laughing and gathered around the ragged beggars. And Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said among them:

43 “Hear me, proud suitors, while I say something. Here are goats’ paunches lying at the fire, which we set aside for supper, stuffed with fat and blood. Whichever of the two wins and proves the stronger, let him get up and take whichever of them he likes himself. And from now on he shall always feast with us, and we will let no other beggar come in among us to beg.”

50 So spoke Antinous, and his word pleased them. And Odysseus of many wiles, with crafty mind, said among them:

52 “Friends, there is no way an old man worn down by misery can fight a younger man. But my belly, that mischief-maker, drives me on, to be beaten down with blows. But come, all of you, swear me a mighty oath that no one, to do Irus a favor, will strike me with a heavy hand in wanton violence and beat me down by force for him.”

58 So he spoke, and they all swore not to, as he asked. And when they had sworn and finished the oath, the sacred strength of Telemachus spoke among them again:

61 “Stranger, if your heart and your proud spirit urge you to beat this man off, do not be afraid of any of the other Achaeans; whoever strikes you will have more than one man to fight. I am the host, and the two lords agree with me, Antinous and Eurymachus, both of them thoughtful men.”

66 So he spoke, and they all approved. Then Odysseus girded his rags about his loins and showed his thighs, fine and big, and his broad shoulders came into view, and his chest and his mighty arms; and Athena came and stood beside him and filled out the limbs of the shepherd of the people. The suitors were all amazed beyond measure, and one would say, looking at his neighbor:

73 “Irus will soon be Irus no more. He’ll get the trouble he asked for, by the look of the thigh the old man shows out of his rags!”

75 So they spoke, and Irus’s heart was badly shaken. But even so the serving men girded him and dragged him forward by force, terrified, and the flesh quivered on his limbs. And Antinous rebuked him and spoke and addressed him:

79 “Better you were not alive now, you big bully, and had never been born, if you tremble at this man and are so terribly afraid of him, an old man worn down by the misery that has come upon him! But I tell you plainly, and it will come true: if this man beats you and proves the stronger, I will throw you into a black ship and send you to the mainland, to King Echetus, the bane of all mortals, who will cut off your nose and your ears with the pitiless bronze and tear out your private parts and give them raw to the dogs to eat.”

88 So he spoke, and a trembling seized his limbs still more. They led him into the middle, and both men put up their fists. Then much-enduring noble Odysseus pondered whether to hit him so that the life would leave him there where he fell, or to hit him lightly and stretch him out on the ground. And as he thought it over, this seemed the better way: to hit him lightly, so that the Achaeans would not take note of Odysseus himself. Then they put up their fists, and Irus hit him on the right shoulder; but Odysseus hit him on the neck below the ear and smashed the bones inside, and at once the red blood came out of his mouth, and he dropped in the dust with a bleat and gnashed his teeth together, kicking the ground with his feet. And the lordly suitors threw up their hands and died laughing. Then Odysseus seized him by the foot and dragged him out through the doorway until he came to the courtyard and the gates of the portico; and he propped him against the courtyard wall and sat him there, and put his stick in his hand, and he spoke to him, and his words had wings:

105 “Sit there now and keep the pigs and the dogs away, and don’t you try to be lord over strangers and beggars, wretch that you are, or you may come by something worse yet.”

108 So he spoke, and threw his shabby wallet over his shoulders, full of holes, with a twisted cord for a strap; and he went back to the threshold and sat down. And the suitors went inside, laughing sweetly, and greeted him with these words:

112 “Stranger, may Zeus and the other immortal gods give you what you most desire and what is dear to your heart, since you have put a stop to this insatiable creature’s begging through the land. We will soon ship him off to the mainland, to King Echetus, the bane of all mortals.”

117 So they spoke, and noble Odysseus rejoiced at the omen in their words. Antinous set a great paunch before him, stuffed with fat and blood; and Amphinomus took two loaves from the basket and set them before him, and pledged him with a golden cup and said:

122 “Welcome, old father, stranger! May happiness be yours in time to come, though now you are held fast by many evils.”

124 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Amphinomus, you seem to me a very thoughtful man, and so was your father; for I have heard his good fame, Nisus of Dulichium, that he was a good man and a rich one. They say you are his son, and you seem a man of sense. So I will tell you something, and you take it in and listen to me. Of all the things that breathe and creep upon the earth, the earth nourishes nothing feebler than man. For he thinks he will never suffer evil in time to come, as long as the gods give him prosperity and his knees are quick; but when the blessed gods bring sorrows on him too, he bears them against his will, with an enduring heart. For the mind of men on earth is such as the day the father of men and gods brings upon them. I too was once to be a prosperous man among men, and I did many reckless things, giving way to my strength and my might, relying on my father and my brothers. So let no man ever be lawless in anything, but let him keep in silence whatever gifts the gods may give. Such reckless things I see the suitors plotting, wasting the possessions and dishonoring the wife of a man who, I tell you, will not be away from his friends and his native land much longer: he is very near. But may some god lead you away home out of this, and may you not meet him when he comes back to his own native land. For I do not think the suitors and he will part without blood, once he comes under his own roof.”

151 So he spoke, and he poured an offering and drank the honey-sweet wine, and put the cup back in the hands of the marshal of the people. And Amphinomus went off through the house sick at heart, shaking his head, for his heart foresaw evil. But even so he did not escape his doom: Athena bound him too, to be beaten down by force under the hands and the spear of Telemachus. And he sat down again on the chair from which he had risen.

158 Then the goddess, gray-eyed Athena, put it into the mind of the daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope, to show herself to the suitors, so that she might flutter their hearts as much as she could and be held in greater honor by her husband and her son than before. She gave an aimless laugh, and spoke and addressed her housekeeper:

164 “Eurynome, my heart longs, as it never did before, to show myself to the suitors, hateful as they are. And I might say a word to my son that would be for his good: not to be always keeping company with the overbearing suitors, who speak him fair but plan evil behind his back.”

169 And Eurynome the housekeeper said to her: “Yes, child, all this you have said is right. Go, tell your son that word and hide nothing from him; but first wash your body and anoint your cheeks. Do not go as you are, with your face all stained with tears, for it is worse to grieve forever without end. Your son is already of the age you most prayed to the immortals to see him reach, with a beard on his face.”

177 Then prudent Penelope said to her: “Eurynome, do not try to talk me into it, though you care for me, to wash my body and anoint myself with oil. The gods who hold Olympus destroyed my beauty on the day he went away in the hollow ships. But tell Autonoe and Hippodameia to come to me, so that they may stand beside me in the halls. I will not go among the men alone; I am ashamed to.”

185 So she spoke, and the old woman went out through the hall to give the women the message and tell them to come.

187 Then the goddess, gray-eyed Athena, had another thought. She shed sweet sleep upon the daughter of Icarius, and she leaned back and slept, and all her joints went slack, there on the couch. And meanwhile the bright among goddesses gave her immortal gifts, so that the Achaeans would marvel at her. First she cleansed her lovely face with immortal beauty, such as Cytherea of the fair crown anoints herself with when she goes to the lovely dance of the Graces; and she made her taller and fuller to look at, and made her whiter than sawn ivory. When she had done this, the bright among goddesses went away, and the white-armed maids came from the hall, chattering as they came; and sweet sleep let her go, and she wiped her cheeks with her hands and said:

201 “A soft sleep wrapped me round, in all my bitter suffering. I wish chaste Artemis would give me a death as soft as that, now, this moment, so that I need no longer waste my life away grieving at heart, longing for my dear husband’s excellence of every kind; for he was the finest of the Achaeans.”

206 So saying, she came down from the shining upper rooms, not alone: two maids went with her. And when the noble among women came to the suitors, she stood beside a pillar of the well-built roof, holding her shining veil before her cheeks, and a loyal maid stood on either side of her. And there and then their knees went slack, their hearts were bewitched with desire, and every one of them prayed to lie beside her in bed. But she spoke to Telemachus, her dear son:

215 “Telemachus, your mind and your thinking are no longer steady. When you were still a child you had more cunning in your head; but now that you are grown and have reached the full measure of youth, and any foreigner who saw your size and your good looks would say you were the son of a fortunate man, your mind and your thinking are no longer what they should be. What a thing has been done in these halls, that you let the stranger be so abused! What now, if a stranger sitting in our house should come to harm like this from such cruel handling? The shame and the disgrace among men would be yours.”

226 Then thoughtful Telemachus answered her: “Mother, I do not blame you for being angry. But I understand in my heart and know each thing, the good and the worse; before, I was still a child. Yet I cannot think of everything wisely, for these men confound me, sitting about me on every side with their evil plans, and I have no one to help me. But this fight between the stranger and Irus did not turn out the way the suitors wanted; he was the stronger. Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo, if only the suitors in our house were beaten like this now and hung their heads, some in the courtyard and some inside the house, and the limbs of every man gone slack, just as that Irus sits now at the courtyard gate, hanging his head like a drunken man, and cannot stand upright on his feet or go home, wherever his home is, since his limbs have gone slack!”

243 So they spoke with one another. And Eurymachus spoke to Penelope:

245 “Daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope, if all the Achaeans throughout Iasian Argos could see you, still more suitors would be feasting in your house from dawn on, since you surpass all women in beauty and stature and in the balanced mind within you.”

250 Then prudent Penelope answered him: “Eurymachus, my excellence, my beauty, and my form the immortals destroyed when the Argives went up to Ilion, and with them went my husband, Odysseus. If he were to come and care for my life, my fame would be greater and finer so. But now I grieve, so many evils has some god let loose on me. When he went away and left his native land, he took my right hand by the wrist and said to me:

259 “‘Wife, I do not think the well-greaved Achaeans will all come back from Troy safe and unharmed. For they say the Trojans are fighting men, throwers of spears and shooters of arrows and drivers of swift-footed horses, men who most quickly decide the great strife of evenly matched war. So I do not know whether the god will let me come home, or I shall be taken there in Troy. You must see to everything here. Remember my father and mother in the halls as you do now, or even more, while I am away. But when you see our son with a beard on his face, marry whom you will, and leave your house.’

271 “That is what he said; and now it is all coming to pass. The night will come when a hateful marriage will befall me, cursed as I am, whose happiness Zeus has taken away. But this bitter grief comes to my heart and spirit: this was not the way of suitors before. Men who want to woo a good woman and a rich man’s daughter, and compete with one another for her, bring cattle and fat sheep of their own, a feast for the bride’s friends, and give glorious gifts. They do not eat up another’s livelihood without paying.”

281 So she spoke, and much-enduring noble Odysseus was glad, because she was drawing gifts out of them and charming their hearts with soft words, while her mind intended other things.

284 Then Antinous, son of Eupeithes, said to her: “Daughter of Icarius, prudent Penelope, take the gifts that any of the Achaeans wants to bring here; it is not right to refuse a gift. But we will not go back to our lands or anywhere else until you marry whichever of the Achaeans is the best.”

290 So spoke Antinous, and his word pleased them, and each man sent off a herald to bring his gifts. For Antinous the herald brought a great robe, very beautiful, richly embroidered, with twelve brooches on it, all of gold, fitted with well-bent clasps. For Eurymachus he brought at once a necklace of elaborate work, of gold, strung with amber beads, like the sun; and for Eurydamas two attendants brought earrings, each with three clustered drops like mulberries, and great grace shone from them. From the house of lord Peisander, son of Polyctor, an attendant brought a choker, a very beautiful ornament. Each of the Achaeans brought a different fine gift. Then the noble among women went up to the upper rooms, and her maids carried the beautiful gifts up with her.

304 But the suitors turned to dancing and lovely song and took their pleasure, and waited for evening to come. And as they took their pleasure, black evening came on. At once they set up three braziers in the halls to give light, and put kindling around them, seasoned long and very dry, newly split with the bronze, and mixed in torches; and the maids of steadfast Odysseus took turns to keep them blazing. Then Odysseus of many wiles himself, sprung from Zeus, spoke among the maids:

313 “Maids of Odysseus, your master long gone, go to the rooms where your revered queen is. Twirl your spindles beside her and cheer her, sitting in her room, or card wool with your hands. I will give light to all these men. Even if they want to wait for Dawn of the lovely throne, they will not wear me out; I can endure a great deal.”

320 So he spoke, and they laughed and looked at one another. And fair-cheeked Melantho scolded him shamefully. Dolius was her father, but Penelope had brought her up and cherished her like her own child, and gave her playthings to her heart’s content; but even so she felt no sorrow at heart for Penelope, and she slept with Eurymachus and was his lover. She scolded Odysseus with abusive words:

327 “You miserable stranger, you must be some kind of crackbrain. You won’t go and sleep at the smithy, or at some public lodge, but you stand here talking on and on, boldly, among many men, and you’re not afraid at heart. Either the wine has got your wits, or your mind is always like this, and that’s why you babble such nonsense. Are you beside yourself because you beat Irus the tramp? Look out, or someone better than Irus will soon get up, and he’ll pound your head with his strong fists and send you out of the house all fouled with blood.”

337 Odysseus of many wiles, with a dark look from under his brows, said to her: “I will go over there and tell Telemachus at once what you are saying, you dog, so that he will cut you limb from limb on the spot.”

340 So saying, he scattered the women with his words. They went off through the house, and every one of them went weak at the knees with fright, for they thought he spoke the truth. But he stood by the burning braziers, keeping them alight and watching them all; and the heart in his breast was pondering other things, which did not go unfulfilled.

346 But Athena would not let the proud suitors hold back altogether from heartbreaking insult, so that the pain would sink still deeper into the heart of Odysseus, son of Laertes. Eurymachus, son of Polybus, began to speak among them, jeering at Odysseus, and he set his companions laughing:

351 “Hear me, suitors of the glorious queen, so that I may say what the heart in my breast commands me. This man has not come to the house of Odysseus without some god. At any rate, the glare of the torches seems to me to come from him, from his head, for there is no hair on it, not even a little.”

356 So he spoke, and then he spoke to Odysseus, sacker of cities: “Stranger, would you be willing to work for hire, if I took you on, at the far edge of my land—your wages will be enough—gathering stones for walls and planting tall trees? There I would give you bread all year round, and put clothes on you and give you shoes for your feet. But since you have learned nothing but bad ways, you won’t want to set about work; you’d rather go cringing through the country, begging, so that you can feed that bottomless belly of yours.”

365 Odysseus of many wiles answered him: “Eurymachus, if only there could be a contest of work between us two in the springtime, when the days are long, in the hay; if I had a well-curved scythe, and you had one just like it, so that we could put each other to the test of work, fasting, until full dark, and there was hay enough! Or if there were oxen to drive, the best there are, tawny and big, both well fed with grass, of the same age and pulling the same load, with strength that is not feeble, and a four-acre field, and the clod gave way under the plow: then you would see whether I could cut a straight furrow to the end. Or if the son of Cronus were to stir up war from somewhere today, and I had a shield and two spears and a helmet all of bronze, fitted to my temples: then you would see me mingling with the foremost fighters, and you would not talk about my belly to taunt me. But you are very insolent, and your mind is harsh, and I suppose you think you are someone great and mighty, because you keep company with few men, and those not good ones. But if Odysseus were to come and reach his native land, those doors, wide as they are, would soon be too narrow for you as you ran out through the doorway.”

387 So he spoke, and Eurymachus grew angrier still at heart, and with a dark look from under his brows he spoke to him, and his words had wings:

389 “You wretch, I’ll soon do you harm for the things you say, boldly, among many men, and you’re not afraid at heart. Either the wine has got your wits, or your mind is always like this, and that’s why you babble such nonsense. Are you beside yourself because you beat Irus the tramp?”

394 So saying, he seized a footstool; but Odysseus sat down at the knees of Amphinomus of Dulichium, for fear of Eurymachus, and Eurymachus hit the wine-pourer on the right hand. The pitcher fell ringing to the ground, and the man groaned and fell on his back in the dust. And the suitors broke into uproar through the shadowy halls, and one would say, looking at his neighbor:

401 “I wish this stranger had perished somewhere else in his wanderings before he came here! Then he would not have stirred up such an uproar among us. Now we are quarreling over beggars, and there will be no pleasure in the good feast, since the worse things win.” And the sacred strength of Telemachus spoke among them too: “Strange men, you are mad, and you can no longer hide in your hearts that you have been eating and drinking. Some god is stirring you up. Now that you have feasted well, go home and lie down to rest, whenever your heart bids you. I am not driving anyone away, not I.”

410 So he spoke, and they all bit their lips and marveled at Telemachus, how boldly he spoke. Then Amphinomus spoke and addressed them, the shining son of lord Nisus, son of Aretias:

414 “Friends, no one should take offense at what has been rightly said and attack it with hostile words. Do not mistreat the stranger, or any other of the servants in the house of godlike Odysseus. But come, let the wine-pourer pour the first drops into the cups, so that we may pour our offerings and go home to rest. And let us leave the stranger in the halls of Odysseus for Telemachus to look after, for it is his house he has come to.”

422 So he spoke, and the word he said pleased them all. The hero Mulius mixed a bowl for them, a herald from Dulichium, who was an attendant of Amphinomus; and he served it out to all, going from man to man. They poured offerings to the blessed gods and drank the honey-sweet wine. But when they had poured their offerings and drunk as much as their hearts desired, they went off to lie down, each to his own house.

Notes

1. 1. Irus: a nickname formed from Iris, the messenger of the gods, because the man ran errands for anyone who asked. At 18.73 the suitors pun on it: Greek Iros Airos, “Irus un-Irus,” that is, Irus about to come to grief.