The decisive moment was at hand, and Telemachus saw the necessity of removing his mother from the scene of the approaching conflict.  “Mother,” he said in a tone of authority, “leave these things to me; I am master here.  Evening draws on, and it is time for thee to retire.”

When Penelope had withdrawn, Eumaeus took the bow, and was about to carry it to Odysseus, but paused half-way, in doubt and alarm, for a perfect storm of threats and abuse assailed his ears.  “Halt, thou dog!  Put down the bow!  Art thou tired of thy life?” Appalled by the menacing cries of the wooers, the swineherd stood hesitating; but Telemachus raised his voice, and commanded him instantly to deliver the bow to Odysseus.  “I will teach thee,” he said, “who is thy master; thou shalt carry the marks of my hands to thy farm, if thou do not as I tell thee.  Would that I could as easily drive the whole of this drunken rout from my doors!”

“Well bragged, Sir Valiant!” cried Antinous; and all the wooers laughed boisterously when they heard him.  Seizing his opportunity while their attention was thus diverted, Eumaeus came and placed the bow in the hands of Odysseus; then, calling Eurycleia, he bade her make fast the door of the women’s apartments.  Meanwhile Philoetius secured the gates of the courtyard, and returning to his place sat watching the movements of Odysseus.  With anxious eye the hero scrutinised the great weapon, turning it this way and that, to see if it had been injured by worms or natural decay.  To his great joy he found that it was sound and untouched.  Then, easily as a minstrel fastens a new cord to a lyre, without effort he strung the bow, and bending it made the string twang loud and clear, like the shrill voice of the swallow.

A hundred mocking eyes and sneering faces had been turned towards him, as he sat fingering the bow and weighing it in his hands; but pale grew those faces now, and blank was that gaze.  To add to their terror, at this moment a loud peal of thunder shook the house.  Filled with high courage by the happy omen, Odysseus took an arrow, and, fitting it to the string, sent it with sure aim from the place where he sat along the whole line of axeheads, from the first to the last.

“Telemachus,” he said, “thy guest hath not shamed thee.  My hand is firm, and mine eye is true, poor worn-out wanderer though I be.  Now let us give these fair guests their supper, and afterwards entertain them with music and with dancing, which are the fit accompaniment of a feast.”

Then he beckoned to his son to draw near; and Telemachus made haste, and came and stood by his father’s side, armed with sword and lance.

The Slaying of the Wooers

I

Stripping off his rags, and girding them round his waist, Odysseus took the quiver, and poured out all the arrows on the ground at his feet.  “Now guide my hand, Apollo,” he cried, “and make sure mine aim, for this time I will shoot at a mark which never man hit before.”