So the giant took the bowl from the king, and as Ulysses went near him his breath reeked of carrion and blood. He drank the wine, which was a sweet and drowsy vintage from the Lotus Island. “Give me more,” he cried thickly, “and say how you are named, for I will grant you a favour.”
Ulysses filled the bowl for him three times. “Oh, my lord,” he said, “my friends and parents call me Noman, for that is my name. Now, great lord, your boon.”
The giant leered at the hero with drunken cunning. “Noman, since that is your name Noman, you shall die last of all, and the others first. That is your boon!”
And once more he sank into his sleep, gorged with blood and wine.
The hours wore on and the flames of the fire sank into a bright red glow. The loud stertorous breathing of the monster became more deep and regular. Very silently the five rose from among the rest and stole towards the fire with the great stake. They pressed it into the heart of the white hot embers and sat watching it change from black to crimson, while little sparks ran up and down the sides like flies upon the wall.
When the spar was just about to burst into flame they drew it out, and with quick, nervous footsteps carried it to where Polyphemus lay sleeping. The glow from the hot hard wood played upon that vast blood-smeared countenance and the yellow wrinkled lid which veiled the cruel eye.
Ulysses directed the point to the exact centre of the foul skin, and then with their old battle cry of “Helen!” the five heroes pressed it home through the hissing, steaming eyeball, turning it round and round until everything was burned away.
They had just time to leap aside when the giant rose in horrid agony. His cries of rage and pain were like the cries of a thousand tortured beasts, and the din was so great that pieces of rock began to fall from the roof of the cave. He spun round in his torture, beating upon the walls with his arms and head until they were a raw and bleeding wound.
At this awful sound mighty footsteps were heard outside the cave as the other giants rushed down from the hills. There came great and terrible voices shouting together, and it was as though a great storm was racing through the world.
“What ails you, brother, that you call us from sleep in the night?” cried the giants.