Therewith he bent his bow again, and pointed the arrow at Antinous, who just at that moment was raising a full goblet of wine to his lips.  Little thought that proud and insolent man, as the wine gleamed red before him, that he had tasted his last morsel, and drunk his last drop.  He was in the prime of his manhood, surrounded by his friends, and in the midst of a joyous revel; who would dream of death and doom in such an hour?  Yet at that very instant he felt a sharp, sudden pang, and fell back in his seat, pierced through the throat by the arrow of Odysseus.  The blood poured from his nostrils, he let fall the cup, and spurning the table with his feet in his agony he overset it, and the bread and meat were scattered on the floor.

Then arose a wild clamour and uproar among the wooers, and starting from their seats they sought eagerly for the weapons which were wont to hang along the walls; but not a spear, not a shield, was to be seen.  Finding themselves thus baffled, they turned furiously on Odysseus, shouting, “Down with the knave!” “Hew him in pieces!” “Fling his carcass to the vultures!” As yet they had not recognised him, and they thought that he had slain Antinous by mischance.

They were soon undeceived.  “Ye dogs!” he cried, in a terrible voice, “long have ye made my house into a den of thieves, thinking that I had died long ago in a distant land.  Ye have devoured my living, and wooed my wife, and mishandled my servants, having no fear of god or man before your eyes.  But now are ye all fallen into the pit which ye have digged, and are fast bound in the bonds of death.”

Like beaten hounds, that dastardly crew cowered before the man whom they had wronged, and every heart quaked with fear.  Presently Eurymachus stood forward, and tried to make terms for them all.  “If thou be indeed Odysseus,” he said, “thou speakest justly concerning the evil doings of the wooers.  And there lies the cause of the mischief, Antinous, struck down by thy righteous hand.  He it was who sought to slay Telemachus, that he might usurp thy place, and make himself king in Ithaca.  But now that he is gone to his own place, let us, the rest, find favour in thy sight.  And as for thy possessions which have been wasted, we will pay thee back out of our own goods, as much as thou shalt require.”

But there were no signs of relenting on that stern, set face.  “Talk not to me of payment,” he answered, with a brow as black as night; “ye shall pay me with your lives, every one of you.  Fight, if ye will, or die like sheep.  Not one of you shall escape.”

Thus driven to extremity, Eurymachus drew his sword and shouting to the others to follow his example he picked up a table to serve him as a shield, and raising his war-cry rushed at Odysseus.  In the midst of his onset an arrow struck him in the liver, and he fell doubled-up over a table, smiting the floor with his forehead.  Then he rolled over with a groan, and his eyes grew dim in death.