I set before you the great bow of King Odysseus now! The hand that can string this bow with greatest ease, that shoots an arrow clean through all twelve axes— he is the man I follow, yes, forsaking this house where I was once a bride, this gracious house so filled with the best that life can offer. Telemachus you will go first.
“God help me, must I be a weakling, a failure all my life?”
Eumaeus and Philoetius Come, I’ll show you something—living proof—know me for certain, put your minds at rest. This scar, look, where a boar’s white tusk gored me, years ago, hunting on Parnassus, Autolycus’ sons and I.”“Good Eumaeus, carry the weapon down the hall and put it in my hands.” “You, my good Philoetius, here are your orders. Shoot the bolt of the courtyard’s outer gate, lock it, lash it fast.
Yes Of course King Odysseus
“Set it aside. Rest easy now. And all the axes, let’s just leave them planted where they are. Trust me, no one’s about to crash the gates of Laertes’ son and carry off these trophies. Steward, pour some drops for the god in every cup, we’ll tip the wine, then put the bow to bed. And first thing in the morning have Melanthius bring the pick of his goats from all his herds so we can burn the thighs to Apollo, god of archers— then try the bow and finish off the contest.”