When afternoon came the noble Penelope remembered her purpose of inviting the suitors to a trial of skill, and ascended to the chamber where the treasures of her dear lord were kept. His favorite bow, of pliant horn, was hanging there, dusty and unsightly, for it had not been touched for twenty years. Penelope’s tears fell upon her dear lord’s weapon as she took it down from the wall and brushed away the dust. She sat down, laid it across her knees, and sobbed aloud. When her grief had spent itself she left the chamber with the bow in her hands, followed by her maidens carrying the heavy quiver, full of arrows.
She entered the portal of the hall of columns modestly wrapped in her long veil. Beside her stood an attendant maiden. She spoke: “Come, ye brave suitors who gather in my house daily to dance and feast and who pretend to woo me. Hear me and listen to the trial which he must stand who would become my husband. Here are the bow and arrows of my dear lord, Ulysses, and here the rings. Him will I follow as spouse who can most easily bend the bow and shoot through the twelve rings. My dear son shall lose his patrimony through no fault of mine.”
She gave the weapon to Eumæus to carry into the hall, and when the good man held the well-known bow in his hands, he began to weep and kiss the weapon. Philœtius also wept, for at the sight of the bow the memory of his beloved master overcame him. Antinous snarled at the faithful creatures and bade them quickly bring in the bow.
The company now betook themselves to the hall, where Telemachus deftly planted the axes in the ground, so that they formed rings at regular distances from one another. He then went to the threshold and took up the weapon. “It is a splendid sport,” said he. “I have a great mind to try it myself.” He lifted the bow to bend it, but in vain. After resting a moment he tried again, but neither did he succeed this time. He drew it for the third time and would certainly have succeeded, but his father made a secret sign to him. He leant the bow against the wall in pretended discouragement and said: “Either I am a miserable weakling or else too young. But the rest of you must now try it and end the contest.”
Leiodes stepped forward, but his arms fell when he tried to draw the bow. One after another tried it, and one after another set it down unbent. They rubbed the horn with fat and warmed it at the fire to render it more pliable, and still it was not bent. By chance the two herdsmen went out together and Ulysses quickly followed them and drew them aside. “Friends, a word,” he whispered. “Ye are both honest fellows and faithful, and long to have your master back. And now, if he should come and needed your assistance, would ye defend the suitors or brave Ulysses? Show me your hearts.”
“If Jupiter would but grant me this wish,” cried the herdsman, “thou shouldst see what my arms can do!” “And mine!” added the honest swineherd. “Oh, that it might come true!” “It has come true!” said Ulysses with majesty. “Your master is here and counts on you. I am Ulysses! Do ye remember the wound I once received from the wild boar? Here is the scar.” They recognized the mark and fell upon his neck and kissed his cheeks and shoulders joyfully. But Ulysses commanded them to control their joy before they should be discovered.
“Listen to my plan,” he said hurriedly, “and learn what you must do. It must be now or never. The gods will assist me, and you, honest friends, when all is finished, shall be to me as Telemachus’ brothers. I will bestow riches and lands upon you. Only do as I tell you. When we go back I shall demand the bow, and no doubt the suitors will object. But do thou, Eumæus, pay no attention, but go and fetch it. Then go out and tell the old nurse to shut up all the women in their quarters. Thou, Philœtius, hasten thou to close the doors of the house and put up the bars that none of the suitors may escape. I will now go in. Follow me, but singly and quietly.”
When Ulysses reëntered the hall and seated himself in his old place by the door, the bow had just reached the hands of Eurymachus, who was sitting by the hearth seeking to make it more pliant with grease and the warmth of the fire. He then made trial of it ten times, but could not draw. At last, much discomfited, he laid it down. The boastful Antinous, who was no longer anxious to try his skill, proposed to wait until the morrow, this being a feast day. “Then,” said he, “we will make sacrifice to Apollo and try the bow once more. Now fill up the cups, for to-day is a feast day and we must drink a double portion.”
This speech pleased everyone and the servants did as they were bid. When drinking had been resumed, Ulysses arose and began: “Listen to me, ye suitors of the esteemed princess, and especially ye two lords, Antinous and Eurymachus, I would make a proposal to you in jest. As ye do not care to bend the bow on this day of the feast, let me try it and see if any of my youthful strength remains, or if old age and hardships have sapped it.”
As he had expected, murmurs arose on all sides and Antinous answered for the rest: “Miserable stranger, hast thou taken leave of thy senses? The wine hath led thee to these unseemly words! Take care that thou be not put aboard a ship and sent to King Echetus, the scourge of strangers! There wouldst thou hardly escape with nose and ears uncut. Thou hadst better keep quiet and take what is given thee, and leave such business to younger men.”