As he stooped over one of the braziers and stirred the fuel into a blaze, Eurymachus noticed the red gleam which was reflected from the smooth, bald crown of the supposed beggar.  “Look!” he cried, laughing and pointing at Odysseus, “surely this man is a favourite of heaven; for see how the light shines like a crown of glory on his hairless pate!”

Then he called to Odysseus, and said:  “How sayest thou, friend, wilt thou be my thrall, and work on my farm among the hills for a fixed wage?  Thy business would be to repair the stone fences and work on the plantation; thou wouldst have a whole coat to thy back, and shoes to thy feet, and thy penny fee, and bread to eat all the year round.  But I can read thine answer in thy face:  thou wouldst rather crouch and whine for bread than do aught useful to earn thy living.”

“Eurymachus,” answered Odysseus firmly, “I would that I could prove my manhood against thine in any trial of strength and endurance.  Let it be a match of mowing, in a rich meadow-land, on the longest day in spring, and let us ply the scythe together, fasting, from dawn till eve.  Or give me a stout pair of oxen, mighty beasts, equal in strength, and both well filled with fodder, and set me to plough a field of four acres, of rich, deep soil—­then wouldst thou see if I could drive a straight furrow.  Or stand by my side on the perilous edge of battle, with equal arms, and try whether I would flinch sooner than thou.  A great man and a mighty thou seemest to thyself, having never learnt what true manhood is.  Poor windy braggart, if Odysseus set foot in this house again, the doors would seem too narrow to thee in thy haste to escape.”

“Thou saucy knave!” cried Eurymachus, incensed by this daring speech, “I will teach thee respect for thy betters”; and seizing a footstool he prepared to hurl it at the offender’s head.  But Odysseus sprang aside and ran to Amphinomus for protection; the heavy missile flew hurtling through the air, and struck one of the servants, who was just crossing the room, on the arm.  Down went the man with a cry of pain, and the wooers raised an uproar throughout the hall.  “A murrain on this begging loon!” exclaimed one.  “Why came he hither to bring strife among us?”

“Ye are mad, my masters!” said Telemachus, raising his voice; “verily ye are flown with insolence and wine.[1] Ye had better go home and sleep off your liquor before worse comes of it.”

[Footnote 1:  Milton, “Paradise Lost,” i. 502.]

The wooers were indeed in a dangerous mood, and they began to finger their weapons, and utter fierce threats against Telemachus.  But Amphinomus interposed, and by exerting all his influence induced them to forgo their murderous purpose and disperse quietly to their homes.

Odysseus and Penelope