Background

The Trojan War was over. The clever Greek Odysseus had tricked the enemy into bringing a colossal wooden horse within the walls of Troy. The Trojans had no idea that Greek soldiers were hidden inside, under the command of Odysseus. The Greeks had been laying siege to Troy for nine long years, but suddenly it looked like their whole army had departed, leaving the horse behind.

That night, while the Trojans slept, Odysseus and his men emerged from the horse's belly. Opening the city gates, they admitted their comrades, who had snuck back in the dark. Troy was sacked and the Trojans utterly vanquished. Now it was time for Odysseus and his fellow warriors to return to their kingdoms across the sea. Here begins the tale of the Odyssey, as sung by the blind minstrel Homer.

Book One

"Oh Goddess of Inspiration, help me sing of wily Odysseus, that master of schemes!" So Homer begins his epic, though the hero himself is still offstage. We are treated to a glimpse of life among the supreme gods on Mount Olympus.

Grey-eyed Athena, the goddess of war, is addressing an assembly headed by Zeus, the king of gods:

"Even though we all love Odysseus, he alone of the Greek heroes has been waylaid on his journey home from Troy. When he put out the eye of the giant Cyclops, he provoked the wrath of the God of Earthquakes."

The Olympians know she refers to Poseidon, the Ruler of the Sea, who is off enjoying a banquet elsewhere.

"And now Odysseus languishes on the lonely island of the nymph Calypso, pining for home. Is that your will, Zeus?"

"You know very well it isn't," replies the god of gods.

"Then send your herald, Hermes, flying to Calypso. Make her let Odysseus go. I myself will inspire the hero's son." Athena departs to fulfill this vow.

Adopting a mortal guise, she appears at the gate of Odysseus' mansion on the island of Ithaca. Odysseus' son, Telemachus, does not recognize the goddess in her human form but invites the stranger in as a guest. Over food and wine they discuss the fact that Telemachus and his mother Penelope are plagued by suitors for Penelope's hand in marriage.

All the eligible young nobles of Ithaca and the neighboring islands, assuming that Odysseus is dead, are vying for Penelope. And while they wait to see which one of them she will choose, they help themselves to her hospitality, feasting through her herds and guzzling her wine. Telemachus is powerless to do anything about it.

"Warn them off," counsels Athena. "Then fit out a ship that will carry you to the mainland. There you must seek tidings of your father."

Book Two

Inspired by Athena, Telemachus calls a council of all the men of Ithaca. He asks them how they can stand idly by and allow his mother's hospitality to be abused. Antinous, one of the ringleaders of the suitors, brazenly puts the blame on Penelope, for not choosing one of them as husband.

"She has even resorted to trickery," claims Antinous. "At first she said she'd choose among us just as soon as she finished her weaving. But she secretly unraveled it every night."

Hot words are exchanged, and Zeus sends an omen. Two eagles swoop down on the congregation, tearing cheeks and necks with their talons. A wise man interprets this as impending doom for the suitors.

In closing, Telemachus asks his countrymen to fit him out with a ship so that he might seek news of his father.

Back in his own hall, Telemachus is greeted by Antinous, who suggests that they share a feast together just as they did when Telemachus was still a boy. Telemachus replies that he'll see him dead first. The other suitors mock the young man for his fighting words.

Seeking out his aged nursemaid, Eurycleia, Telemachus instructs her to prepare barley meal and wine for the crew of his ship. He makes her swear an oath that she will not tell his mother of his departure until he is ten days gone.

That night a sleek black vessel crewed by twenty oarsmen puts out to sea, with Telemachus and Athena, his godly patron in disguise, seated in the stern.

Book Three

Dawn finds the travelers at Pylos, in the kingdom of Nestor, who at the age of ninety led a contingent in the Trojan War. Telemachus asks the wise old king to tell him how and where his father died, for he cannot help but assume the worst. In reply, Nestor tells what he knows of the Greeks' return from Troy.

"It started out badly because of Athena's anger. She caused dissension between our leader Agamemnon and his brother Menelaus. Menelaus was for setting sail immediately, while Agamemnon insisted that a sacrifice be held first to pacify the goddess. In the end, half the army left while the others remained with Agamemnon.

"Those of us who sailed with Menelaus made good speed at first, but then we were at each other's throats again. One group, under Odysseus, broke off and rejoined Agamemnon. I'm sure that even in Ithaca you've heard what eventually happened to him."

"To Agamemnon? Yes," responds Telemachus. He knows that the great king's wife fell in love with another. Together they murdered Agamemnon upon his homecoming. Then, seven years later, he was avenged by his son, Orestes.

"But tell me, Nestor, if you will, why did Menelaus not slay his brother's killer with his own hand and throw his body to the dogs?"

Nestor explains how the fair winds that brought that first party of Greeks safely home from Troy failed Menelaus. A storm blew him all the way to Egypt. There he lingered, unable to return home until it was too late.

"Journey to Sparta," suggests Nestor. "Seek further news from Menelaus. I will loan you a chariot and one of my sons to accompany you."

And so in the morning, after participating in a sacrifice to Athena, Telemachus sets out for the kingdom of Menelaus.

Book Four

Telemachus and Nestor's son are welcomed by King Menelaus with great hospitality. Queen Helen immediately recognizes Telemachus as the spitting image of Odysseus.

"You must be the boy he left behind when he took ship for Troy -- all because of me and my mad passion for Trojan Paris. Aphrodite's curse was already wearing off when last I saw your father. What a man! I'll never forget his daring and his guile.

"He had beaten himself black and blue and dressed up in a beggar's rags to sneak into Troy. But I recognized him when he spoke to me there in the house of Paris. I bathed him and gave him a fresh robe, and he made his escape, killing many a Trojan on his way. I rejoiced, for I missed my home and the blameless husband I had forsaken."

"And remember, my dear, how you suspected that we were hiding inside the wooden horse?" asks Menelaus. "Odysseus was in command. It was everything he could do to keep us quiet when you started calling out to us, imitating the voice of each man's wife."

These reminiscences are mixed with tears for fallen comrades, and at length Telemachus seeks respite in sleep. In the morning, Menelaus relates what he can of Odysseus.

"As you know, I was held down for seven long years in Egypt. And when at last the gods relented and sent a homeward breeze, I only made it as far as an island off the mouth of the Nile before I was becalmed. A goddess took pity on me as I paced the beach in desperation.

"'My father is the Old Man of the Sea,' she said. 'You and three picked men of your crew must catch him and pin him down.' She helped us with disguises, the hides of seals which stank to high heaven. She even rubbed ambrosia under our noses against the stench.

"And when the Ancient came for his midday nap amongst the seals, as was his custom, we jumped him and held on for dear life. He had an awesome power, you see, to change his form -- to lion, to snake, to boar, to gushing fountain and towering tree. But when he saw that we weren't about to let go, he reverted to his original shape and began to speak.

"He said that Zeus himself was furious because we had failed to sacrifice before setting sail. We'd have to slog back up the Nile and start all over. And as he was an all-knowing god, I asked which of our comrades had perished on the journey home from Troy.

"'Only two high officers,' he replied. 'And one of them might have lived but for his insolence. Even though he had been the cause of Athena's wrath in the first place, Ajax made it safely ashore on a promontory. At which point he had the audacity to brag that he had beaten the gods. His boast was heard by Poseidon, and the Lord of Earthquakes swung his mighty trident and knocked the earth right out from under Ajax, who fell into the sea and perished.'

"And the other?" we asked, for he had spoken of two high officers.

"'Odysseus lives still, though marooned, without a crew of oarsmen to stroke him home.'

And so Telemachus received the news that he had sought. But meanwhile his situation had become still more perilous. For back at home on Ithaca, the suitors had gotten wind of his departure. Spurred on by Antinous, they plotted to ambush him at sea upon his return.

Book Five

Soon after dawn breaks on Mount Olympus, Athena puts the case of Odysseus once more before the gods. At her prompting, Zeus dispatches Hermes with a message for Calypso.

Binding on his magic sandals, Hermes skims over the waves to the island paradise where the nymph has detained Odysseus. He finds her at her hearth in the midst of a forest redolent with cedar smoke and thyme.

She's surprised by the visit but extends hospitality before asking its cause. Seating Hermes, she puts before him nectar and ambrosia, the sustenance of the gods.

"I'm not here because I enjoy crossing the desolate sea," says Hermes. "I bring a message from Zeus: Send Odysseus home."

"You jealous gods! Can't you bear to see one of us keep a mortal of her own?" cries Calypso. "Oh very well, there's no arguing with Zeus.

Hermes rises to take his leave. "And next time, do God's bidding with a better grace."

Calypso knows where to find Odysseus. Every day for the last seven years he's sat on the same rock gazing out to sea, weeping for home and Penelope.

"If I told you that there's heartbreak and shipwreck in store," asks the goddess, "would you trade immortality and me for that mortal wench?"

"Yes, though she's nothing in comparison to your radiant self, I'd gladly endure what the sea deals out."

"Very well then, you may go."

"What kind of trick is this?" asks Odysseus, who is famous for tricks himself. "You'll understand if I'm suspicious."

"No trick. I swear by Styx."

And so the next morning she leads him to a pine wood and gives him tools to build a raft. Five days later, provisioned with food and drink, he sets sail. Instructed by Calypso, he keeps Orion and its companion constellations on his left and sails for seventeen days without sight of land. Then, just as an island appears on the horizon, Poseidon notices what is afoot.

"So, my fellow gods have taken pity on Odysseus. If Zeus wills it, then he's headed home. But not before I give him a voyage to remember."

Taking his trident in both hands, Poseidon stirs the sea into a fury and lashes up rain and squall. Mast and sail are torn away, Odysseus is thrown overboard and buried under a wall of water. When he emerges gasping and sputtering, he somehow manages to clamber back aboard.

A goddess, Leucothea, appears to him in the form of a bird. She counsels him to swim for it. "Take my veil, tie it around your waist as a charm against drowning. When you reach shore, be sure to throw it back into the sea."

Odysseus doubts. Surely it is safer to keep to the boat. But Poseidon soon solves his dilemma by smashing the boat to bits. Satisfied, the Sea God drives off in his chariot. Odysseus swims and drifts for two days, until he hears surf breaking on a rockbound coast.

A strong wave bears him in, straight onto the rocks. Desperately he clings to a ledge, until torn off by the undertow. He has the presence of mind to swim back out to sea. It is then he sees a break in the reefs, the mouth of a river just up the coast. He prays to the deity of this stream to take him in. And the god has mercy on him.

Battered and half-drowned as he is, he remembers to throw the veil back to Leucothea. Then he staggers to the bank and falls face down in the mud. Still he can't rest, for he knows that river air grows deathly cold at night and anywhere he'll be easy prey to beasts.

Then he finds a clump of olive trees, so thickly tangled as to make a cage. And, drawing leaves up over himself for a blanket, he sleeps the sleep of the dead.

Hermes comes and orders Calypso to release Odysseus in the name of Zeus.

'Thou makest question of me on my coming, a goddess of a god, and I will tell thee this my saying truly, at thy command. 'Twas Zeus that bade me come hither, by no will of mine; nay, who of his free will would speed over such a wondrous space of brine, whereby is no city of mortals that do sacrifice to the gods, and offer choice hecatombs? But surely it is in no wise possible for another god to go beyond or to make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis. He saith that thou hast with thee a man most wretched beyond his fellows, beyond those men that round the burg of Priam for nine years fought, and in the tenth year sacked the city and departed homeward. Yet on the way they sinned against Athene, and she raised upon them an evil blast and long waves of the sea. Then all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And now Zeus biddeth thee send him hence with what speed thou mayest, for it is not ordained that he die away from his friends, but rather it is his fate to look on them even yet, and to come to his high-roofed home and his own country.'

So spake he, and Calypso, that fair goddess, shuddered and uttered her voice, and spake unto him winged words: 'Hard are ye gods and jealous exceeding, who ever grudge goddesses openly to mate with men, if any make a mortal her dear bed-fellow. Even so when rosy-fingered Dawn took Orion for her lover, ye gods that live at ease were jealous thereof, till chaste Artemis, of the golden throne, slew him in Ortygia with the visitation of her gentle shafts. So too when fair-tressed Demeter yielded to her love, and lay with Iasion in the thrice-ploughed fallow-field, Zeus was not long without tidings thereof, and cast at him with his white bolt and slew him. So again ye gods now grudge that a mortal man should dwell with me. Him I saved as he went all alone bestriding the keel of a bark, for that Zeus had crushed and cleft his swift ship with a white bolt in the midst of the wine-dark deep. There all the rest of his good company was lost, but it came to pass that the wind bare and the wave brought him hither. And him have I loved and cherished, and I said that I would make him to know not death and age for ever. Yet forasmuch as it is in no wise possible for another god to go beyond, or make void the purpose of Zeus, lord of the aegis, let him away over the unharvested seas, if the summons and the bidding be of Zeus. But I will give him no despatch, not I, for I have no ships by me with oars, nor company to bear him on his way over the broad back of the sea. Yet will I be forward to put this in his mind, and will hide nought, that all unharmed he may come to his own country.'

Then the messenger, the slayer of Argos, answered her: 'Yea, speed him now upon his path and have regard unto the wrath of Zeus, lest haply he be angered and bear hard on thee hereafter.'

Odysseus had washed up in the land of the Phaeacians. Athena now intervened to make these people foster his journey home. She went by night to the palace of their king and appeared in a dream to the princess, Nausicaa.

The goddess prompted her to give thought to her wedding day. Shouldn't she journey to the pools down by the river and wash her bridal gown?

In the morning Nausicaa awoke with this idea in mind. But being modest, she asked her father instead if she might launder the family linen. Could she have the mule cart for the day? This was ordered and Nausicaa departed with her serving maids.

At the river, they soaked and thrashed the linen and laid it out to dry. Then they bathed in the river and anointed themselves with oil. After lunch they began to toss around a ball.

It was while they were playing that Odysseus woke to the sound of their laughter. Tearing off an olive branch to cloak his nakedness, he approached the group.

The maids ran away at the sight of the brine-encrusted stranger, but Nausicaa stood her ground. Odysseus had to choose between touching her knees in the gesture of a suppliant or staying back and trusting to words. He decided that words were the safer course.

"Are you a goddess or a mortal?" he inquired. "If the latter, your parents must be proud. I've never seen your like in beauty. I don't dare embrace your knees. Could you just tell me the way to town?"

In her candid way, Nausicaa sized him up and saw that he meant no harm. "As strangers and beggars are in the hands of Zeus, I'll not refuse comfort to a castaway." She called back her maids and told them to feed and cloth Odysseus. They gave him oil to rub on after he had bathed in the river.

And now Athena added further luster to the hero's freshly anointed skin and made him seem almost a god. So the princess wished that her own husband might in some way resemble Odysseus.

"Now here is what you must do," she told him. "On the way to my father's palace we will pass between the boatyards. The last thing I want is for some shipwright to see you following along behind my cart and think that there is something going on between us.

"But just before town is a roadside grove, sacred to Athena. Wait there until you're sure I'm gone, then enter the city gate. Ask directions to the palace, and when you've found it do not hesitate. Come straight into the hall and seek out my mother.

"She'll be seated by the fire. Clasp her knees. If she accepts your supplication, you're as good as home."

Book Seven

Odysseus waited in the grove as instructed and then entered the city of the Phaeacians. When he asked directions to the palace, it was Athena in the form of a little girl who showed him the way.

Odysseus stopped on the threshold, dazzled. The very walls of the interior were covered in shining bronze and trimmed with lapis lazuli.

The king and his courtiers were banqueting in this splendor, but Athena wrapped Odysseus in a mist so that he passed by unseen. Straight up to the queen he went and wrapped his huge arms around her knees.

"Blessings upon you and this company," he said, "if you but grant my plea -- safe passage to my homeland." With this he rose and sat down again in the ashes of the fire.

"A supplicant with honorable intentions, humbled in the ashes!" exclaimed a wise counselor to the king. "My lord, this will not do."

At which King Alcinous himself arose and took Odysseus by the hand, raising him to his feet. Next to the king's throne sat his eldest son, who now moved aside. Odysseus was guided to this place of honor.

"Tomorrow shall be a holiday," declared the king. "And when we have made sacrifice to the gods and entertained our visitor, we will give thought to speeding his journey home.

"Who knows, he might even be a god, although in the past the gods haven't bothered with disguise in visiting our realm. They've always appeared to us in all their glory, since we are their kin."

Odysseus assured him that he was no god, but a mortal man, and a hungry one at that. When the other guests had left, the queen asked him how it came to be that he was wearing clothes that she herself had trimmed.

Odysseus related the events since his departure from Calypso's island, sparing no detail but one. He described how he had approached the princess and her maids by the river, and how Nausicaa had kindly given him clothing. But he said that it had been his own idea to enter town separately.

That night he slept on a deep pile of rugs beneath clean sheets and fleeces.

Book Eight

The next morning King Alcinous addressed an assembly of his people: "My guest's name is still unknown to me, but I have promised him passage home. Therefore prepare our fastest ship. When all is done, let the crew join me and my nobles for a banquet at the palace."

To entertain the banqueters, Alcinous summoned his minstrel, Demodocus. This bard could sing of all life had to offer, having himself been favored with the gift of song but cursed with blindness. And Demodocus' chosen theme that day was the Trojan War.

He began by singing of Achilles and Odysseus, and this brought tears to that hero's eyes. He managed to hide them by burying his face in his cloak, though the king heard his sobs.

He spoke up at once: "Demodocus, put aside your harp for now. It is time for athletics."

And so the Phaeacians did their best to impress their guest with the discus, foot races and wrestling. And indeed their feats were prodigious. At length they noticed that Odysseus himself was well-muscled and fit. Perhaps he would care to join their contest?

Odysseus replied that he had other things than sport on his mind. But one of the competitors, a sailor like all the Phaeacians, took this as an excuse. "No doubt he's been to sea," he sneered, "but only as a purser."

The hero's eyes went cold. He picked up a discus and threw it with such a rush of wind that the Phaeacians hit the deck. It landed far beyond their own best shots.

Alcinous acknowledged that the guest had proven his point. "Perhaps there's another way we can impress him." He called for Demodocus to play a tune, and various dances were performed, culminating in one featuring a carved wooden ball.

This was tossed high in the air, and a dancer leapt up and deflected it. Then two dancers passed it back and forth, keeping it low to the ground. Odysseus was indeed impressed.

Now the king proposed that each of his senior lords go home and bring back a bar of gold for the still-nameless guest. The sailor who had taunted Odysseus earlier gave him his own sword in apology. The gold was brought and the queen herself stored it in a chest for Odysseus.

That evening, on his way to the banquet hall, Odysseus passed Nausicaa in the corridor. "When you are safely home," she said, "you might remember me."

"Princess," replied Odysseus, "I will give thanks to you, as to a goddess, each day until I die."

At table the minstrel was called upon once more, and this time it was Odysseus himself who suggested the theme. Demodocus began to sing of the Trojan Horse, how the men of Troy had brought it within their walls and then debated what to do. Should they smash it to pieces with axes, or push it over a cliff? Or should they preserve it as an offering to the gods? Fate, of course, made them choose the latter course.

Once more Odysseus cried into his mantle, and once more the king ordered a halt to the entertainment.

"Enough! Our guest is weeping. He came to us as a suppliant, and his conduct was proper in all respects. So we are doing as he asked. Now it is his turn. Tell us your name, stranger, and tell us your home. After all, our ship will need to set a course."

Alcinous prepares a great feast to honor their strange guest and calls on the mistrals to sing of the heroes of Troy.

Now when they were gathered and come together, Alcinous made harangue and spake among them:

'Harken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and I will say that which my spirit within me bids me utter. This stranger, I know not who he is, hath come to my house in his wandering, whether from the men of the dawning or the westward, and he presses for a convoy, and prays that it be assured to him. So let us, as in time past, speed on the convoy. For never, nay never, doth any man who cometh to my house, abide here long in sorrow for want of help upon his way. Nay, come let us draw down a black ship to the fair salt sea, for her first voyage, and let them choose fifty and two noble youths throughout the township, who have been proved heretofore the best. And when ye have made fast the oars upon the benches, step all ashore, and thereafter come to our house, and quickly fall to feasting; and I will make good provision for all. To the noble youths I give this commandment; but ye others, sceptred kings, come to my fair dwelling, that we may entertain the stranger in the halls, and let no man make excuse. Moreover, bid hither the divine minstrel, Demodocus, for the god hath given minstrelsy to him as to none other, to make men glad in what way soever his spirit stirs him to sing.'

He spake and led the way, and the sceptred kings accompanied him, while the henchmen went for the divine minstrel. And chosen youths, fifty and two, departed at his command, to the shore of the unharvested sea. But after they had gone down to the ship and to the sea, first of all they drew the ship down to the deep water, and placed the mast and sails in the black ship, and fixed the oars in leathern loops, all orderly, and spread forth the white sails. And they moored her high out in the shore water, and thereafter went on their way to the great palace of the wise Alcinous. Now the galleries and the courts and the rooms were thronged with men that came to the gathering, for there were many, young and old. Then Alcinous sacrificed twelve sheep among them, and eight boars with flashing tusks, and two oxen with trailing feet. These they flayed and made ready, and dressed a goodly feast.

Then the henchman drew near, leading with him the beloved minstrel, whom the muse loved dearly, and she gave him both good and evil; of his sight she reft him, but granted him sweet song. Then Pontonous, the henchman, set for him a high chair inlaid with silver, in the midst of the guests, leaning it against the tall pillar, and he hung the loud lyre on a pin, close above his head, and showed him how to lay his hands on it. And close by him he placed a basket, and a fair table, and a goblet of wine by his side, to drink when his spirit bade him. So they stretched forth their hands upon the good cheer spread before them. But after they had put from them the desire of meat and drink, the Muse stirred the minstrel to sing the songs of famous men, even that lay whereof the fame had then reached the wide heaven, namely, the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus; how once on a time they contended in fierce words at a rich festival of the gods, but Agamemnon, king of men, was only glad when the noblest of the Achaeans fell at variance. For so Phoebus Apollo in his soothsaying had told him that it must be, in goodly Pytho, what time he crossed the threshold of stone, to seek to the oracle. For in those days the first wave of woe was rolling on Trojans and Danaans through the counsel of great Zeus.

This song it was that the famous minstrel sang; but Odysseus caught his great purple cloak with his stalwart hands, and drew it down over his head, and hid his comely face, for he was ashamed to shed tears beneath his brows in presence of the Phaeacians. Yea, and oft as the divine minstrel paused in his song, Odysseus would wipe away the tears, and draw the cloak from off his head, and take the two-handled goblet and pour forth before the gods. But whensoever he began again, and the chiefs of the Phaeacians stirred him to sing, in delight at the lay, again would Odysseus cover up his head and make moan. Now none of all the company marked him weeping, but Alcinous alone noted it and was ware thereof as he sat by him and heard him groaning heavily. And presently he spake among the Phaeacians, masters of the oar:

'Hearken, ye captains and counsellors of the Phaeacians, now have our souls been satisfied with the good feast, and with the lyre, which is the mate of the rich banquet. Let us go forth anon, and make trial of divers games, that the stranger may tell his friends, when home he returneth, how greatly we excel all men in boxing, and wrestling, and leaping, and speed of foot.'

"I am Odysseus of Ithaca. And here is my tale since setting out from Troy:

Our first landfall was Ismarus, in the land of the Cicones. We sacked the town, killed the men and took the women captive. I was for putting out right then, but my men would not hear of it.

Carousing on the beach, they feasted and dawdled while survivors of our plundering raised the hinterlands. The main force of the Cicones swept down on us in a black tide. These were fighting men, and it was all we could do to hold the ships until, outnumbered, we cut our losses and put back out to sea.

And while we still grieved for our fallen comrades, Zeus sent a storm that knocked us to our knees. We rode it out as best we could. I might even then have rounded the southern cape and made for home had not a new gale driven us across seventeen days of open sea.

We found ourselves at last in the land of the Lotus-eaters. These folk are harmless enough, but the plant on which they feast is insidious. Three of my men tasted it and all they wanted was more. They lost all desire for home. I had to force them back to the ships and tie them down while we made our getaway.

Next we beached in the land of the Cyclopes. We'd put in at a little island off their coast. And since they don't know the first thing about sailing they'd left it uninhabited, though it teamed with wildlife.

We made a pleasant meal of wild goat, then next day I left everyone else behind and took my own crew over to the mainland. The first thing we saw was a big cave overlooking the beach. Inside were milking pens for goats and big cheeses aging on racks.

My men were for making off with the cheeses and the lambs that we found in the cave, but I wanted to see what manner of being made this his lair.

When the Cyclops -- Polyphemus was his name -- came home that afternoon, he blotted out the light in the doorway. He was as tall and rugged as an alp. One huge eye glared out of the center of his forehead.

He didn't see us at first, but went about his business. The first thing he did was drag a huge boulder into the mouth of the cave. Twenty teams of horses couldn't have budged it. Then he milked his ewes, separating out the curds and setting the whey aside to drink with his dinner. It was when he stoked his fire for the meal that he saw us.

'Who are you?' asked a voice like thunder.

'We are Greeks, blown off course on our way home from Troy,' I explained. 'We assume you'll extend hospitality or suffer the wrath of Zeus, protector of guests.'

'Zeus? We Cyclopes are stronger than Zeus. I'll show you hospitality.'

With that he snatched up two of my men and bashed their brains out on the floor. Then he ate them raw, picking them apart and poking them in his mouth, bones and guts and all.

We cried aloud to Zeus, for all the good it did our comrades. The Cyclops washed them down with great slurps of milk, smacked his lips in satisfaction and went to sleep. My hand was on my sword, eager to stab some vital spot. But I realized that only he could unstopper the mouth of the cave.

We passed a miserable night and then watched the Cyclops make breakfast of two more of our companions. When he went out to pasture his flock, he pulled the boulder closed behind him.

It was up to me to make a plan. I found a tree trunk that the Cyclops intended for a walking stick. We cut off a six-foot section, skinned it, put a sharp point on one end and hardened it in the fire. Then we hid it under a pile of manure.

When the Cyclops came home and made his usual meal, I spoke to him. 'Cyclops, you might as well take some of our liquor to savor with your barbarous feast.'

I'd brought along a skin of wine that we'd been given as a gift. It was so strong that we usually diluted it in water twenty to one. The Cyclops tossed it back and then demanded more.

'I like you, Greek,' he said. 'I'm going to do you a favor. What's your name?'

'My name is Nobody,' I told him.

It turned out that the favor he intended was to eat me last. But when the wine had knocked him out, I put my plan into effect. Heating the end of the pole until it was glowing red, we ran it toward the Cyclops like a battering ram, aiming it for his eye and driving it deep. The thing sizzled like hot metal dropped in water while I twisted it like an auger.

Polyphemus came awake with a roar, tore the spike from his eye and began groping for us in his blindness. His screams of frustration and rage brought the neighboring Cyclopes to the mouth of the cave.

'What is it, brother?' they called inside. 'Is someone harming you?'

'It's Nobody!' bellowed Polyphemus.

'Then for the love of Poseidon pipe down in there!'

They went away, and Polyphemus heaved the boulder aside and spent the night by the open door, hoping we'd be stupid enough to try to sneak past him. Getting past him was the problem alright, but by morning I'd worked out a solution.

Tying sheep together with ropes of willow, I hid a man under each group of three. When it was time to let them out to pasture, the Cyclops ran his hands over their backs but did not notice the men underneath. Myself, I clutched to the underbelly of the biggest ram.

'Why aren't you leading the flock as usual?' asked Polyphemus, detaining this beast at the door and stroking its fleece. 'I wish you could talk, so you could point out those Greeks.'

He let the ram go, and we beat it down to the ship as fast as our legs would carry us. When we were a good way out to sea, I could not resist a taunt. I called out, and Polyphemus came to the edge of the seaside cliff. In his fury he tore up a huge boulder and flung it at us.

It landed in front of our bow, and the splash almost drove us back onto the beach. This time I waited until my panicked men had rowed a good bit further before I put my hands to my mouth to call out again. The men tried to hush me, but I was aquiver with triumph.

'If someone asks who did this, the name is Odysseus!'

That brought another boulder hurtling our way, but this one landed astern and only hastened our departure. The Cyclops was left howling on the cliff, calling out to his father Poseidon for vengeance.

Even so did we seize the fiery-pointed brand and whirled it round in his eye, and the blood flowed about the heated bar. And the breath of the flame singed his eyelids and brows all about, as the ball of the eye burnt away, and the roots thereof crackled in the flame. And as when a smith dips an axe or adze in chill water with a great hissing, when he would temper it ­ for hereby anon comes the strength of iron ‹ even so did his eye hiss round the stake of olive. And he raised a great and terrible cry, that the rock rang around, and we fled away in fear, while he plucked forth from his eye the brand bedabbled in much blood. Then maddened with pain he cast it from him with his hands, and called with a loud voice on the Cyclopes, who dwelt about him in the caves along the windy heights. And they heard the cry and flocked together from every side, and gathering round the cave asked him what ailed him:

' "What hath so distressed thee, Polyphemus, that thou criest thus aloud through the immortal night, and makest us sleepless? Surely no mortal driveth off thy flocks against thy will: surely none slayeth thyself by force or craft?"

'And the strong Polyphemus spake to them again from out the cave: "My friends, Noman is slaying me by guile, not at all by force."

'And they answered and spake winged words: "If then no man is violently handling thee in thy solitude, it can in no wise be that thou shouldest escape the sickness sent by mighty Zeus. Nay, pray thou to thy father, the lord Poseidon."

'On this wise they spake and departed; and my heart within me laughed to see how my name and cunning counsel had beguiled them. But the Cyclops, groaning and travailing in pain, groped with his hands, and lifted away the stone from the door of the cave, and himself sat in the entry, with arms outstretched to catch, if he might, any one that was going forth with his sheep, so witless, methinks, did he hope to find me. But I advised me how all might be for the very best, if perchance I might find a way of escape from death for my companions and myself, and I wove all manner of craft and counsel, as a man will for his life, seeing that great mischief was nigh. And this was the counsel that showed best in my sight. The rams of the flock were well nurtured and thick of fleece, great and goodly, with wool dark as the violet. Quietly I lashed them together with twisted withies, whereon the Cyclops slept, that lawless monster. Three together I took: now the middle one of the three would bear each a man, but the other twain went on either side, saving my fellows. Thus every three sheep bare their man. But as for me I laid hold of the back of a young ram who was far the best and the goodliest of all the flock, and curled beneath his shaggy belly there I lay, and so clung face upward, grasping the wondrous fleece with a steadfast heart. So for that time making moan we awaited the bright Dawn.

'So soon as early Dawn shone forth, the rosy-fingered, then did the rams of the flock hasten forth to pasture, but the ewes bleated unmilked about the pens, for their udders were swollen to bursting. Then their lord, sore stricken with pain, felt along the backs of all the sheep as they stood up before him, and guessed not in his folly how that my men were bound beneath the breasts of his thick-fleeced flocks. Last of all the sheep came forth the ram, cumbered with his wool and the weight of me and my cunning. And the strong Polyphemus laid his hands on him and spake to him saying:

' "Dear ram, wherefore, I pray thee, art thou the last of all the flocks to go forth from the cave, who of old wast not wont to lag behind the sheep, but wert ever the foremost to pluck the tender blossom of the pasture, faring with long strides, and wert still the first to come to the streams of the rivers, and first did long to return to the homestead in the evening? But now art thou the very last. Surely thou art sorrowing for the eye of thy lord, which an evil man blinded, with his accursed fellows, when he had subdued my wits with wine, even Noman, whom I say hath not yet escaped destruction. Ah, if thou couldst feel as I, and be endued with speech, to tell me where he shifts about to shun my wrath; then should he be smitten, and his brains be dashed against the floor here and there about the cave, and my heart be lightened of the sorrows which Noman, nothing worth, hath brought me!"

'Therewith he sent the ram forth from him, and when we had gone but a little way from the cave and from the yard, first I loosed myself from under the ram and then I set my fellows free. And swiftly we drave on those stiff-shanked sheep, so rich in fat, and often turned to look about, till we came to the ship. And a glad sight to our fellows were we that had fled from death, but the others they would have bemoaned with tears; howbeit I suffered it not, but with frowning brows forbade each man to weep. Rather I bade them to cast on board the many sheep with goodly fleece, and to sail over the salt sea water. So they embarked forthwith, and sate upon the benches, and sitting orderly smote the grey sea water with their oars. But when I had not gone so far, but that a man's shout might be heard, then I spoke unto the Cyclops taunting him:

' "Cyclops, so thou wert not to eat the company of a weakling by main might in thy hollow cave! Thine evil deeds were very sure to find thee out, thou cruel man, who hadst no shame to eat thy guests within thy gates, wherefore Zeus hath requited thee, and the other gods."

'So I spake, and he was mightily angered at heart, and he brake off the peak of a great hill and threw it at us, and it fell in front of the dark-prowed ship. And the sea heaved beneath the fall of the rock, and the backward flow of the wave bare the ship quickly to the dry land, with the wash from the deep sea, and drave it to the shore. Then I caught up a long pole in my hands, and thrust the ship from off the land, and roused my company, and with a motion of the head bade them dash in with their oars, that so we might escape our evil plight. So they bent to their oars and rowed on. But when we had now made twice the distance over the brine, I would fain have spoken to the Cyclops, but my company stayed me on every side with soft words, saying:

' "Foolhardy that thou art, why wouldst thou rouse a wild man to wrath, who even now hath cast so mighty a throw towards the deep and brought our ship back to land, yea and we thought that we had perished even there? If he had heard any of us utter sound or speech he would have crushed our heads and our ship timbers with a cast of a rugged stone, so mightly he hurls."

'So spake they, but they prevailed not on my lordly spirit, and I answered him again from out an angry heart?

' "Cyclops, if any of mortal men shall ask thee of the unsightly blinding of thine eye, say that it was Odysseus that blinded it, the waster of cities, son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca."

'So I spake, and with a moan he answered me, saying:

' "Lo now, in very truth the ancient oracles have come upon me. There lived here a soothsayer, a noble man and a mighty, Telemus, son of Eurymus, who surpassed all men in soothsaying, and waxed old as a seer among the Cyclopes. He told me that all these things should come to pass in the aftertime, even that I should lose my eyesight at the hand of Odysseus. But I ever looked for some tall and goodly man to come hither, clad in great might, but behold now one that is a dwarf, a man of no worth and a weakling, hath blinded me of my eye after subduing me with wine. Nay come hither, Odysseus, that I may set by thee a stranger's cheer, and speed thy parting hence, that so the Earth-shaker may vouchsafe it thee, for his son am I, and he avows him for my father. And he himself will heal me, if it be his will; and none other of the blessed gods or of mortal men."

'Even so he spake, but I answered him, and said: "Would god that I were as sure to rob thee of soul and life, and send thee within the house of Hades, as I am that not even the Earth-shaker will heal thine eye!"

'So I spake, and then he prayed to the lord Poseidon stretching forth his hands to the starry heaven: "Hear me, Poseidon, girdler of the earth, god of the dark hair, if indeed I be thine, and thou avowest thee my sire, ­ grant that he may never come to his home, even Odysseus, waster of cities, the son of Laertes, whose dwelling is in Ithaca; yet if he is ordained to see his friends and come unto his well-builded house, and his own country, late may he come in evil case, with the loss of all his company, in the ship of strangers, and find sorrows in his house."

Book Ten

"We next put in at the island of Aeolus. Zeus had made him Keeper of the Winds. So when I'd entertained Aeolus for a month with tales of Troy, he was kind enough to provide a steady breeze to blow us home. He even gave me an assortment of storm winds to stow on board, tied up in a leather bag.

Nine days later we were just off Ithaca, so close that people could be seen ashore going about their work. I had dozed off, exhausted by manning the sail myself the whole way. Now my men noticed the bag that Aeolus had given me.

'Why does the captain get all the booty?' they wanted to know. 'What have we got to show for our searoving?'

So they opened it and let loose a hurricane that blew us all the way back to Aeolus's island. Hangdog, I appeared once more before him and asked if he would send us home again. He kicked me right out of there.

Back at sea, six days and nights we were becalmed. Then we fetched up in the land of the Laestrygonians. There it's daylight around the clock. A shore patrol was dispatched to scout the countryside.

They came upon a husky young girl who directed them to her mother, the queen of those people. She proved to be hideous and huge as a mountain, and her husband was hot for blood. He grabbed the first man, tore him in half and chomped him down. The others made a break for it.

They came screaming back to the shore, followed by the entire clan of Laestrygonians. As the men scrambled to cast off, they were bombarded by boulders pelted from the heights. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. The Laestrygonians smashed ships and men and gorged on lumps of Greek.

I'd had the presence of mind to cut away the hawser with my sword, and I urged my men to row for their lives. We made it, the only ship to escape. Our relief was overwhelmed in grief for the comrades left behind.

When we came to Circe's island, no one was eager to go exploring, but I divided the company in two and we drew lots. My group stayed behind while the other set out under my kinsman Eurylochus to reconnoiter.

Before long they came to a stone house in the middle of a tangled wood. Strange to tell, it was surrounded by lions and wolves of extraordinary meekness. Hearing singing from within, the men saw no harm in making their presence known.

Circe came out and welcomed them inside. All but Eurylochus accepted the invitation. He had a premonition. And sure enough, after she had given them food and honeyed wine mixed with a pinch of something, she waved her wand and turned them into swine.

Eurylochus came running back to the ship and spread the alarm. I now shouldered the burden of command and set out to investigate.

Fortunately I met Hermes along the way. Zeus's herald warned me that I too would be transformed by Circe's witchery unless I followed his instructions. I was to accept the potion that she gave me, knowing that I would be protected by a godly charm -- a sprig of herb called moly that mortals dare not harvest. Then when she raised her wand I was to draw my sword.

Hermes gave me the moly, then departed. I made my way to the house in the clearing and Circe bade me enter. I downed the potion. Then just as she showed her wand, I unsheathed my sword and held it to her throat.

She fainted to the ground and clutched my knees. 'You can only be Odysseus. Hermes warned me that this day would come. Let me be your friend and lover.'

First I made her swear an oath.

Later we feasted splendidly and her servants danced attendance. But she could see that I was in no mood for levity. Divining the cause, she waved her wand once more and restored my shipmates to human form. She even sent me to summon the men from the ship, who never thought they'd see me again alive.

When many months had passed, the crew reminded me of home. Now it was my turn to take Circe's knees in supplication. The goddess was willing to let me go, but it was not as simple as that.

'You will never see your home again,' she said, 'by sailing there directly. You must detour to the land of Death, there to consult the blind prophet Tiresias. He alone can chart your course.'

Book Eleven

"At the furthest edge of Ocean's stream is the land to which all journey when they die. Here their spirits endure a fleshless existence. They can't even talk unless re-animated with blood.

Accordingly, I did as Circe instructed, bleeding a sacrificed lamb into a pit. Tiresias, the blind prophet who had accompanied us to Troy, was the soul I had to talk to. So I held all the other shades at bay with my sword until he had drunk from the pit.

He gave me warnings about my journey home and told me what I must do to ensure a happy death when my time came. I met the shades of many famous women and heroes, including my own mother and Achilles, best fighter of the Greeks at Troy who told me that living as a servant was preferable to ruling among the dead. The spirit of Agamemnon even told me how his wife and her new lover, Aegisthus, had slaughtered him like an ox at his own table. Although he spoke well of Penelope's faithfulness, he railed against women who have so often proved the destruction of men.

Book Twelve

"At sea once more we had to pass the Sirens, whose sweet singing lures sailors to their doom. I had stopped up the ears of my crew with wax, and I alone listened while lashed to the mast, powerless to steer toward shipwreck.

Next came Charybdis, who swallows the sea in a whirlpool, then spits it up again. Avoiding this we skirted the cliff where Scylla exacts her toll. Each of her six slavering maws grabbed a sailor and wolfed him down.

Finally we were becalmed on the island of the Sun. At first, my men listened and did not bother the cattle of Helios, the Sun; however, for one month the South Wind trapped us on the island. The food and drink we brought soon ran out and hunger drove my men to disregard all warnings and eat his cattle rather than starve, so back at sea Zeus sent a thunderbolt smashed the ship. I alone survived, washing up on the island of Calypso."

When Odysseus has finished his tale, the king orders him sped to Ithaca. A rug is spread on the deck of the ship, and he sleeps the whole way.

The sailors put him down on the beach still sleeping, together with the magnificent gifts of the Phaeacians. Upon awakening he spends a good deal of time wondering how he is going to protect this treasure.

Athena casts a protective mist about him that keeps him from recognizing his homeland. Finally the goddess reveals herself and dispels the mist. In joy Odysseus kisses the ground.

Athena transforms him into an old man as a disguise. Clad in a filthy tunic, he goes off to find his faithful swineherd, as instructed by the goddess.

Book Fourteen

Eumaeus the swineherd welcomes the bedraggled stranger. He throws his own bedcover over a pile of boughs as a seat for Odysseus, who does not reveal his identity. Even though the swineherd does not know Odysseus, he speaks of his lost lord kindly and tells the stranger how Penelope still weeps for Odysseus and listens to any traveler who claims to know where Odysseus is.

Observing Zeus's commandment to be kind to guests, Eumaeus slaughters a prime boar and serves it with bread and wine. Odysseus, true to his fame as a smooth-talking schemer, makes up an elaborate story of his origins. He claims to be a wealthy man who has lost everything, but he also claims that in his travels he has met Odysseus and he knows Odysseus is coming home with riches beyond any other Greek.

That night the hero sleeps by the fire under the swineherd's spare cloak, while Eumaeus himself sleeps outside in the rain with his herd.

Odysseus reaches the land of the dead and prepares a sacrifice

'She came to the limits of the world, to the deep-flowing Oceanus. There is the land and the city of the Cimmerians, shrouded in mist and cloud, and never does the shining sun look down on them with his rays, neither when he climbs up the starry heavens, nor when again he turns earthward from the firmament, but deadly night is outspread over miserable mortals. Thither we came and ran the ship ashore and took out the sheep; but for our part we held on our way along the stream of Oceanus, till we came to the place which Circe had declared to us.

'There Perimedes and Eurylochus held the victims, but I drew my sharp sword from my thigh, and dug a pit, as it were a cubit in length and breadth, and about it poured a drink-offering to all the dead, first with mead and thereafter with sweet wine, and for the third time with water. And I sprinkled white meal thereon, and entreated with many prayers the strengthless heads of the dead, and promised that on my return to Ithaca I would offer in my halls a barren heifer, the best I had, and fill the pyre with treasure, and apart unto Teiresias alone sacrifice a black ram without spot, the fairest of my flock. But when I had besought the tribes of the dead with vows and prayers, I took the sheep and cut their throats over the trench, and the dark blood flowed forth, and lo, the spirits of the dead that be departed gathered them from out of Erebus. Brides and youths unwed, and old men of many and evil days, and tender maidens with grief yet fresh at heart; and many there were, wounded with bronze-shod spears, men slain in fight with their bloody mail about them. And these many ghosts flocked together from every side about the trench with a wondrous cry, and pale fear gat hold of me. Then did I speak to my company and command them to flay the sheep that lay slain by the pitiless sword, and to consume them with fire, and to make prayer to the gods, to mighty Hades and to dread Persephone, and myself I drew the sharp sword from my thigh and sat there, suffering not the strengthless heads of the dead to draw nigh to the blood, ere I had word of Teiresias.

Elphenor in the Land of the Dead

'And first came the soul of Elpenor, my companion, that had not yet been buried beneath the wide-wayed earth; for we left the corpse behind us in the hall of Circe, unwept and unburied, seeing that another task was instant on us. At the sight of him I wept and had compassion on him, and uttering my voice spake to him winged words: "Elpenor, how hast thou come beneath the darkness and the shadow? Thou hast come fleeter on foot than I in my black ship."

'So spake I, and with a moan he answered me, saying: "Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, an evil doom of some god was my bane and wine out of measure. When I laid me down on the house-top of Circe I minded me not to descend again by the way of the tall ladder, but fell right down from the roof, and my neck was broken off from the bones of the spine, and my spirit went down to the house of Hades. And now I pray thee in the name of those whom we left, who are no more with us, thy wife, and thy sire who cherished thee when as yet thou wert a little one, and Telemachus, whom thou didst leave in thy halls alone; forasmuch as I know that on thy way hence from out the dwelling of Hades, thou wilt stay thy well-wrought ship at the isle Aeaean, even then, my lord, I charge thee to think of me. Leave me not unwept and unburied as thou goest hence, nor turn thy back upon me, lest haply I bring on thee the anger of the gods. Nay, burn me there with mine armour, all that is mine, and pile me a barrow on the shore of the grey sea, the grave of a luckless man, that even men unborn may hear my story. Fulfil me this and plant upon the barrow mine oar, wherewith I rowed in the days of my life, while yet I was among my fellows."

'Even so he spake, and I answered him saying: "All this, luckless man, will I perform for thee and do."

Teiresias' Advice

'So spake he and I put up my silver-studded sword into the sheath, and when he had drunk the dark blood, even then did the noble seer speak unto me saying: "Thou art asking of thy sweet returning, great Odysseus, but that will the god make hard for thee; for methinks thou shalt not pass unheeded by the Shaker of the Earth, who hath laid up wrath in his heart against thee, for rage at the blinding of his dear son. Yet even so, through many troubles, ye may come home, if thou wilt restrain thy spirit and the spirit of thy men so soon as thou shalt bring thy well-wrought ship nigh to the isle Thrinacia, fleeing the sea of violet blue, when ye find the herds of Helios grazing and his brave flocks, of Helios who overseeth all and overheareth all things. If thou doest these no hurt, being heedful of thy return, so may ye yet reach Ithaca, albeit in evil case. But if thou hurtest them, I foreshow ruin for thy ship and for thy men, and even though thou shalt thyself escape, late shalt thou return in evil plight, with the loss of all thy company, on board the ship of strangers, and thou shalt find sorrows in thy house, even proud men that devour thy living, while they woo thy godlike wife and offer the gifts of wooing. Yet I tell thee, on thy coming thou shalt avenge their violence. But when thou hast slain the wooers in thy halls, whether by guile, or openly with the edge of the sword, thereafter go thy way, taking with thee a shapen oar, till thou shalt come to such men as know not the sea, neither eat meat savoured with salt; yea, nor have they knowledge of ships of purple cheek, nor shapen oars which serve for wings to ships. And I will give thee a most manifest token, which cannot escape thee. In the day when another wayfarer shall meet thee and say that thou hast a winnowing fan on thy stout shoulder, even then make fast thy shapen oar in the earth and do goodly sacrifice to the lord Poseidon, even with a ram and a bull and a boar, the mate of swine, and depart for home and offer holy hecatombs to the deathless gods that keep the wide heaven, to each in order due. And from the sea shall thine own death come, the gentlest death that may be, which shall end thee foredone with smooth old age, and the folk shall dwell happily around thee. This that I say is sooth."

Odysseus Meets his Mother

"O my mother, necessity was on me to come down to the house of Hades to seek to the spirit of Theban Teiresias. For not yet have I drawn near to the Achaean shore, nor yet have I set foot on mine own country, but have been wandering evermore in affliction, from the day that first I went with goodly Agamemnon to Ilios of the fair steeds, to do battle with the Trojans. But come, declare me this and plainly tell it all. What doom overcame thee of death that lays men at their length? Was it a slow disease, or did Artemis the archer slay thee with the visitation of her gentle shafts? And tell me of my father and my son, that I left behind me; doth my honour yet abide with them, or hath another already taken it, while they say that I shall come home no more? And tell me of my wedded wife, of her counsel and her purpose, doth she abide with her son and keep all secure, or hath she already wedded the best of the Achaeans?"

'Even so I spake, and anon my lady mother answered me: "Yea verily, she abideth with steadfast spirit in thy halls; and wearily for her the nights wane always and the days in shedding of tears. But the fair honour that is thine no man hath yet taken; but Telemachus sits at peace on his demesne, and feasts at equal banquets whereof it is meet that a judge partake, for all men bid him to their house. And thy father abides there in the field, and goes not down to the town, nor lies he on bedding or rugs or shining blankets, but all the winter he sleeps, where sleep the thralls in the house, in the ashes by the fire, and is clad in sorry raiment. But when the summer comes and the rich harvest-tide, his beds of fallen leaves are strewn lowly all about the knoll of his vineyard plot. There he lies sorrowing and nurses his mighty grief, for long desire of thy return, and old age withal comes heavy upon him. Yea and even so did I too perish and meet my doom. It was not the archer goddess of the keen sight, who slew me in my halls with the visitation of her gentle shafts, nor did any sickness come upon me, such as chiefly with a sad wasting draws the spirit from the limbs; nay, it was my sore longing for thee, and for thy counsels, great Odysseus, and for thy loving kindness, that reft me of sweet life."

'So spake she, and I mused in my heart and would fain have embraced the spirit of my other dead. Thrice I sprang towards her, and was minded to embrace her; thrice she flitted from my hands as a shadow or even as a dream, and sharp grief arose ever in my heart.

Agamemnon's Words to Odysseus

Even so I died by a death most pitiful, and round me my company likewise were slain without ceasing, like swine with glittering tusks which are slaughtered in the house of a rich and mighty man, whether at a wedding banquet or a joint-feast or a rich clan-drinking. Ere now has thou been at the slaying of many a man, killed in single fight or in strong battle, yet thou wouldst have sorrowed the most at this sight, how we lay in the hall round the mixing-bowl; and the laden boards, and the floor all ran with blood. And most pitiful of all that I heard was the voice of the daughter of Priam, of Cassandra, whom hard by me the crafty Clytemnestra slew. Then I strove to raise my hands as I was dying upon the sword, but to earth they fell. And that shameless one turned her back upon me, and had not the heart to draw down my eyelids with her fingers nor to close my mouth. So surely is there nought more terrible and shameless than a woman who imagines such evil in her heart, even as she too planned a foul deed, fashioning death for her wedded lord. Verily I had thought to come home most welcome to my children and my thralls; but she, out of the depth of her evil knowledge, hath shed shame on herself and on all womankind, which shall be for ever, even on the upright."

'Even so he spake, but I answered him, saying: "Lo now, in very sooth, hath Zeus of the far-borne voice wreaked wondrous hatred on the seed of Atreus through the counsels of woman from of old. For Helen's sake so many of us perished, and now Clytemnestra hath practised treason against thee, while yet thou wast afar off."

'Even so I spake, and anon he answered me, saying: "Wherefore do thou too, never henceforth be soft even to thy wife, neither show her all the counsel that thou knowest, but a part declare and let part be hid. Yet shalt not thou, Odysseus, find death at the hand of thy wife, for she is very discreet and prudent in all her ways, the wise Penelope, daughter of Icarius.

Athena summons Telemachus home and tells him that the strongest of the suitors wait to kill him. She warns him to sail alone to the swineherd's home in order to avoid the ambush. .Meanwhile back on Ithaca, Odysseus listens while the swineherd Eumaeus recounts the story of his life.

Eumaeus was the child of a prosperous mainland king, whose realm was visited by Phoenician traders. His nursemaid, a Phoenician herself, had been carried off by pirates as a girl and sold into slavery. In return for homeward passage with her countrymen, she kidnapped Eumaeus. He was bought by Odysseus' father, whose queen raised him as a member of the family. However, since the suitors have taken over the land, Eumaeus has had neither the fine clothing or sandals that Odysseus' mother always provided him. Afterwards, Odysseus suggests that he go to Penelope's house to beg, Eumaeus warns Odysseus to stay away from the house because the suitors are violent and dangerous and threaten strangers even though the law of Zeus demands that men respect all beggars and travelers.

Book Sixteen

Telemachus evades the suitors' ambush and, following Athena's instructions, proceeds to

the farmstead of Eumaeus. There he makes the acquaintance of the tattered guest and sends Eumaeus to his mother to announce his safe return. He tells the guest that he dare not take him to his home because he is not yet strong enough to defend himself or the guest against so many enemies.

Athena restores Odysseus' normal appearance, enhancing it so that Telemachus believes Odysseus to be a god. "No god am I," Odysseus assures him, "but your own father, returned after these twenty years." They fall into each other's arms.

Later they plot the suitors' doom. Concerned that the odds are fifty-to-one, Telemachus suggests that they might need reinforcements.

"Aren't Zeus and Athena reinforcement enough?" asks Odysseus.

Disguised once more as an old beggar, Odysseus journeys to town. On the trail he encounters an insolent goatherd named Melanthius, who curses and tries to kick him.

At his castle gate, the hero is recognized by Argos, a broken-down old dog that he had raised as a pup. Having seen his master again, the faithful hound dies.

At Athena's urging Odysseus begs food from the suitors. One man, Antinous, berates him and refuses so much as a crust. He hurls a footstool at Odysseus, hitting him in the back. This makes even the other suitors nervous, for sometimes the gods masquerade as mortals to test their righteousness.

Father and Son Meet

Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus answered him, saying: 'Behold, no god am I; why likenest thou me to the immortals? nay, thy father am I, for whose sake thou sufferest many pains and groanest sore, and submittest thee to the despite of men.'

As the word he kissed his son, and from his cheeks let a tear fall to earth: before, he had stayed the tears continually. But Telemachus (for as yet he believed not that it was his father) answered in turn and spake, saying:
'Thou art not Odysseus my father, but some god beguiles me, that I may groan for more exceeding sorrow. For it cannot be that a mortal man should contrive this by the aid of his own wit, unless a god were himself to visit him, and lightly of his own will to make him young or old. For truly, but a moment gone, thou wert old and foully clad, but now thou art like the gods who keep the wide heaven.'

Then Odysseus of many counsels answered him saying:
'Telemachus, it fits thee not to marvel overmuch that thy father is come home, or to be amazed. Nay, for thou shalt find no other Odysseus come hither any more; but lo, I, all as I am, after sufferings and much wandering have come in the twentieth year to mine own country. Behold, this is the work of Athene, driver of the spoil, who makes me such manner of men as she will, ‹ for with her it is possible, ‹ now like a beggar, and now again like a young man, and one clad about in rich raiment. Easy it is for the gods who keep the wide heaven to glorify or to abase a mortal man.'

With this wood then he sat down again; but Telemachus, flinging himself upon his noble father's neck, mourned and shed tears, and in both their hearts arose the desire of lamentation. And they wailed aloud, more carelessly than birds, sea-eagles or vultures of crooked claws, whose younglings the country folk have taken from the nest, ere yet they are fledged. Even so pitifully fell the tears beneath their brows.

Book Eighteen

Now a real beggar shows up at the palace and warns Odysseus off his turf. This man, Irus, is always running errands for the suitors. Odysseus says that there are pickings enough for the two of them, but Irus threatens fisticuffs and the suitors egg him on.

Odysseus rises to the challenge and rolls up his tunic into a boxer's belt. The suitors goggle at the muscles revealed. Not wishing to kill Irus with a single blow, Odysseus breaks his jaw instead.

Another suitor, Eurymachus, marks himself for revenge by trying to hit Odysseus with a footstool as Antinous had done.

Book Nineteen

Odysseus has a long talk with his queen Penelope but does not reveal his identity. Penelope takes kindly to the stranger and orders her maid Eurycleia to bathe his feet and anoint them with oil.

Eurycleia, who was Odysseus' nurse when he was a child, notices a scar above the hero's knee. Odysseus had been gored by a wild boar while hunting on Mount Parnassus as a young man. The maid recognizes her master at once, and her hand goes out to his chin. But Odysseus silences her lest she give away his plot prematurely.

Book Twenty

The next morning Odysseus asks for a sign, and Zeus sends a clap of thunder out of the clear blue sky. A servant recognizes it as a portent and prays that this day be the last of the suitors' abuse.

Odysseus encounters another herdsman. Like the swineherd Eumaeus, this man, who tends the realm's cattle, swears his loyalty to the absent king.

A prophet, an exiled murderer whom Telemachus has befriended, shares a vision with the suitors: "I see the walls of this mansion dripping with your blood." The suitors respond with gales of laughter.

Book Twenty-One

Athena puts a plan in Penelope's heart. Penelope now appears before the suitors in her glittering veil. In her hand is a stout bow left behind by Odysseus when he sailed for Troy. "Whoever strings this bow," she says, "and sends an arrow straight through the sockets of twelve ax heads lined in a row -- that man will I marry."

The suitors take turns trying to bend the bow to string it, but all of them lack the strength. Odysseus asks if he might try. The suitors refuse, fearing that they'll be shamed if the beggar succeeds. But Telemachus insists and his anger distracts them into laughter.

As easily as a bard fitting a new string to his lyre, Odysseus strings the bow and sends an arrow through the ax heads. At a sign from his father, Telemachus arms himself and takes up a station by his side.

Odysseus versus the Beggar

And the mighty prince Antinous heard the twain, and sweetly he laughed out, and spake among the wooers:

'Friends, never before has there been such a thing; such goodly game has a god brought to this house. The stranger yonder and Irus are bidding each other to buffets. Quick, let us match them one against the other.'

Then all at the word leaped up laughing, and gathered round the ragged beggars, and Antinous, son of Eupeithes, spake among them saying: 'Hear me, ye lordly wooers, and I will say somewhat. Here are goats' bellies lying at the fire, that we laid by at suppertime and filled with fat and blood. Now whichsoever of the twain wins, and shows himself the better man, let him stand up and take his choice of these puddings. And further, he shall always eat at our feasts, nor will we suffer any other beggar to come among us and ask for alms.'

So spake Antinous, and the saying pleased them well….

Then Odysseus girt his rags about his loins, and let his thighs be seen, goodly and great, and his broad shoulders and breast and mighty arms were manifest. And Athene came nigh and made greater the limbs of the shepherd of the people. Then the wooers were exceedingly amazed, and thus would one speak looking to his neighbour:

'Right soon will Irus, un-Irused, have a bane of his own bringing, such a thigh as that old man shows from out his rags!'

So they spake, and the mind of Irus was pitifully stirred; but even so the servants girded him and let him out perforce in great fear, his flesh trembling on his limbs. Then Antinous chid him, and spake and hailed him:

'Thou lubber, better for thee that thou wert not now, nor ever hadst been born, if indeed thou tremblest before this man, and art so terribly afraid; an old man too he is, and foredone with the travail that is come upon him. But I will tell thee plainly, and it shall surely be accomplished. If this man prevail against thee and prove thy master, I will cast thee into a black ship, and send thee to the mainland to Echetus the king, the maimer of all mankind, who will cut off thy ose and ears with the pitiless steel and draw out thy vitals and give them raw to dogs to rend.'

So he spake, and yet greater trembling gat hold of the limbs of Irus, and they led him into the ring, and the twain put up their hands. Then the steadfast goodly Odysseus mused in himself whether he should smite him in such wise that his life should leave his body, even there where he fell, or whether he should strike him lightly, and stretch him on the earth. And as he thought thereon, this seemed to him the better way, to strike lightly, that the Achaeans might not take note of him, who he was. Then the twain put up their hands, and Irus struck at the right shoulder, but the other smote him on his neck beneath the ear, and crushed in the bones, and straightway the red blood gushed up through his mouth, and with a moan he fell in the dust, and drave together his teeth as he kicked the ground. But the proud wooers threw up their hands, and died outright for laughter. Then Odysseus seized him by the foot, and dragged him forth through the doorway, till he came to the courtyard and the gates of the gallery, and he set him down and rested him against the courtyard wall, and put his staff in his hands, and uttering his voice spake to him winged words:

'Sit thou there now, and scare off swine and dogs, and let not such an one as thou be lord over strangers and beggars, pitiful as thou art, lest haply some worse thing befall thee.'

Book Twenty-Two

Antinous, ringleader of the suitors, is just lifting a drinking cup when Odysseus puts an arrow through his throat.

The goatherd sneaks out and comes back with shields and spears for the suitors, but now Athena appears. She sends the suitors' spearthrusts wide, as Odysseus, Telemachus and the two faithful herdsmen strike with volley after volley of lances.

They finish off the work with swords. Those of the housemaids who had consorted with the suitors are hung by the neck in the courtyard, while the treacherous goatherd is chopped to bits.

The mansion is purged with fire and brimstone. Odysseus tells everyone to dress in their finest and dance, so that passers-by won't suspect what's happened. Even Odysseus could not hold vengeful kinfolk at bay.

Penelope still won't accept that it's truly her husband returned unless he gives her some secret sign. She tells a servant to make up his bed in the hall.

"In the hall!" storms Odysseus. "Who had the craft to move my bed? I carved the bedpost myself from the living trunk of an olive tree and built the bedroom around it."

Penelope rushes into his arms. The joy they share is like that of a drowning man who feels solid ground beneath his feet once more . Odysseus admits that he cannot stay home, but must instead follow the advice of Teiresias in order to avoid the anger of Poseidon; however, he promises her that if he does as Teriesias has advised that they will be able to live a long and happy life of peace. Penelope promises her husband that his bed will be waiting as will she when he returns from his final quest.

Book Twenty-Four

The next morning Odysseus goes upcountry to the vineyard where his father, old King Laertes, labors like a peasant. Ever since his wife died of heartbreak for Odysseus, the miserable man has lived with his field hands. Odysseus cannot resist testing his father with a tall tale before their fond reunion.

Meanwhile, the kin of the suitors have borne off their dead and gathered at the assembly ground. The father of the suitor Antinous fires them up for revenge. Odysseus, Telemachus, the loyal herdsmen, Laertes and the field hands arm themselves to meet the challenge.

Inspired by Athena, Laertes casts a lance through the helmet of Antinous' father, who falls to the ground in a clatter of armor. But at the command of Zeus, the fighting stops right there. Athena, in the guise of an old family friend, tells the contending parties to live together in peace down through the years to come.

And here the story ends. However, you need to read a couple more bits from the original

The Death of Antinous

Then Odysseus of many counsels stripped him of his rags and leaped on to the great threshold with his bow and quiver full of arrows, and poured forth all the swift shafts there before his feet, and spake among the wooers:

'Lo, now is this terrible trial ended at last; and now will I know of another mark, which never yet man has smitten, if perchance I may hit it and Apollo grant me renown.'

With that he pointed the bitter arrow at Antinous. Now he was about raising to his lips a fair two-eared chalice of gold, and behold, he was handling it to drink of the wine, and death was far from his thoughts. For who among men at feast would deem that one man amongst so many, how hardy soever he were, would bring on him foul death and black fat? But Odysseus aimed and smote him with the arrow in the throat, and the point passed clean out through his delicate neck, and he fell sidelong and the cup dropped from his hand as he was smitten, and at once through his nostrils there came up a thick jet of slain man's blood, and quickly he spurned the table from him with his foot, and spilt the food on the ground, and the bread and the roast flesh were defiled. Then the wooers raised a clamour through the halls when they saw the man fallen, and they leaped from their high seats, as men stirred by fear, all through the hall, peering everywhere along the well-builded walls, and nowhere was there a child or a mighty spear to lay hold on. Then they reviled Odysseus with angry words:

'Stranger, thou shootest at men to thy hurt. Never again shalt thou enter other lists, now is utter doom assured thee. Yea, for now hast thou slain the man that was far the best of all the noble youths in Ithaca; wherefore vultures shall devour thee here.'

The Death of Eurymachus

And Eurymachus alone answered him, and spake: 'If thou art indeed Odysseus of Ithaca, come home again, with right thou speakest thus, of all that the Achaeans have wrought, many infatuate deeds in thy halls and many in the field. Howbeit, he now lies dead that is to blame for all, Antinous; for he brought all these things upon us, not as longing very greatly for the marriage nor needing it sore, but with another purpose, that Cronion has not fulfilled for him, namely, that he might himself be king over all the land of stabilished Ithaca, and he was to have lain in wait for thy son and killed him. But now he is slain after his deserving, and do thou spare thy people, even thine own; and we will hereafter go about the township and yield thee amends for all that has been eaten and drunken in thy halls, each for himself bringing atonement of twenty oxen worth, and requiting thee in gold and bronze till thy heart is softened, but till then none may blame thee that thou art angry.'

Then Odysseus of many counsels looked fiercely on him, and said: 'Eurymachus, not even if ye gave me all your heritage, all that ye now have, and whatsoever else ye might in any wise add thereto, not even so would I henceforth hold my hands from slaying, ere the wooers had paid for all their transgressions. And now the choice lies before you, whether to fight in fair battle or to fly, if any may avoid death and the fates. But there be some, methinks, that shall not escape from utter doom.'

He spake, and their knees were straightway loosened and their hearts melted within them. And Eurymachus spake among them yet again:

'Friends, it is plain that this man will not hold his unconquerable hands, but now that he has caught up the polished bow and quiver, he will shoot from the smooth threshold till he has slain us all; wherefore let us take thought for the delight of battle. Draw your blades, and hold up the tables to ward off the arrows of swift death, and let us all have at him with one accord, and drive him, if it may be, from the threshold and the doorway and then go through the city, and quickly would the cry be raised. Thereby should this man soon have shot his latest bolt.'

Therewith he drew his sharp two-edged sword of bronze, and leapt on Odysseus with a terrible cry, but in the same moment goodly Odysseus shot the arrow forth and struck him on the breast by the pap, and drave the swift shaft into his liver. So he let the sword fall from his hand, and grovelling over the table he bowed and fell, and spilt the food and the two-handled cup on the floor. And in his agony he smote the ground with his brow, and spurning with both feet he overthrew the high seat, and the mist of death was shed upon his eyes.

The Other Suitors Die

So he spake and they all cast their javelins, as he bade them, eagerly; but behold, Athene so wrought that they were all in vain. One man smote the doorpost of the stablished hall, and another the well-fastened door, and the ashen spear of yet another wooer, heavy with bronze, stuck fast in the wall. So when they had avoided all the spears of the wooers, the steadfast goodly Odysseus began first to speak among them:

'Friends, now my word is that we too cast and hurl into the press of the wooers, that are mad to slay and strip us beyond the measure of their former iniquities.'

So he spake, and they all took good aim and threw their sharp spears, and Odysseus smote Demoptolemus, and Telemachus Euryades, and the swineherd slew Elatus, and the neatherd Peisandrus. Thus they all bit the wide floor with their teeth, and the wooers fell back into the inmost part of the hall. But the others dashed upon them, and drew forth the shafts from the bodies of the dead.

Then once more the wooers threw their sharp spears eagerly; but behold, Athene so wrought that many of them were in vain. One man smote the doorpost of the stablished hall, and another the well-fastened door, and the ashen spear of another wooer, heavy wwith bronze, struck in the wall. Yet Amphimedon hit Telemachus on the hand by the wrist lightly, and the shaft of bronze wounded the surface of the skin. And Ctesippus grazed the shoulder of Eumaeus with a long spear high above the shield, and the spear flew over and fell to the ground. Then again Odysseus, the wise and crafty, he and his men cast their swift spears into the press of the wooers, and now once more Odysseus, waster of cities, smote Eurydamas, and Telemachus Amphimedon, and the swineherd slew Polybus, and last, the neatherd struck Ctesippus in the breast and boasted over him, saying:

'O son of Polytherses, thou lover of jeering, never give place at all to folly to speak so big, but leave thy case to the gods, since in truth they are far mightier than thou. This gift is thy recompense for the ox-foot that thou gavest of late to the divine Odysseus, when he went begging through the house.'

Then the good nurse Eurycleia answered him: 'Yea now, my child, I will tell thee all the truth. Thou hast fifty women-servants in thy halls, that we have taught the ways of housewifery, how to card wool and to bear bondage. Of these twelve in all have gone the way of shame, and honour not me, nor their lady Penelope. And Telemachus hath but newly come to his strength, and his mother suffered him not to take command over the women in this house. But now, let me go aloft to the shining upper chamber, and tell all to thy wife, on whom some god hath sent a sleep.'

And Odysseus of many counsels answered her, saying: 'Wake her not yet, but bid the women come hither, who in time past behaved themselves unseemly.'

So he spake, and the old wife passed through the hall, to tell the women and to hasten their coming. Then Odysseus called to him Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd, and spake to them winged words:

'Begin ye now to carry out the dead, and bid the women help you, and thereafter cleanse the fair high seats and the tables with water and porous sponges. And when ye have set all the house in order, lead the maidens without the stablished hall, between the vaulted room and the goodly fence of the court, and there slay them with your long blades, till they shall have all given up the ghost and forgotten the love that of old they had at the bidding of the wooers, in secret dalliance.'

Even so he spake, and the women came all in a crowd together, making a terrible lament and shedding big tears. So first they carried forth the bodies of the slain, and set them beneath the gallery of the fenced court, and propped them one on another, and Odysseus himself hasted the women and directed them, and they carried forth the dead perforce. Thereafter they cleansed the fair high seats and the tables with water and porous sponges. And Telemachus, and the neatherd, and the swineherd, scraped with spades the floor of the well-builded house, and, behold, the maidens carried all forth and laid it without the doors.

Now when they had made an end of setting the hall in order, they led the maidens forth from the stablished hall, and drove them up in a narrow space between the vaulted room and the goodly fence of the court, whence none might avoid; and wise Telemachus began to speak to his fellows, saying: 'God forbid that I should take these women's lives by a clean death, these that have poured dishonour on my head and on my mother, and have lain with the wooers.'

With that word he tied the cable of a dark-prowed ship to a great pillar and flung it round the vaulted room, and fastened it aloft, that none might touch the ground with her feet. And even as when thrushes, long of wing, or doves fall into a net that is set in a thicket, as they seek to their roosting-place, and a loathly bed harbours them, even so the women held their heads all in a row, and about all their necks nooses were cast, that they might die by the most pitiful death. And they writhed with their feet for a little space, but for no long while.

'Hold your hands from fierce fighting, ye men of Ithaca, that so ye may be parted quickly, without bloodshed.'

So spake Athene, and pale fear gat hold of them all. The arms flew from their hands in their terror and fell all upon the ground, as the goddess uttered her voice. To the city they turned their steps, as men fain of life, and the steadfast goodly Odysseus with a terrible cry gathered himself together and hurled in on them, like an eagle of lofty flight. Then in that hour the son of Cronos cast forth a flaming bolt, and it fell at the feet of the grey-eyed goddess, the daughter of the mighty Sire. Then grey-eyed Athene spake to Odysseus, saying:

'Son of Laertes, of the seed of Zeus, Odysseus of many devices, refrain thee now and stay the strife of even-handed war, lest perchance the son of Cronos be angry with thee, even Zeus of the far-borne voice.'

So spake Athene, and he obeyed and was glad at heart. And thereafter Pallas Athene set a covenant between them with sacrifice, she, the daughter of Zeus lord of the aegis, in the likeness of Mentor, both in fashion and in voice.