Episode 72X – A Red Wedding – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 72X Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, it’s the penultimate episode of the Odyssey, and things are going to get bloody. You’ll see why you shouldn’t let a beggar play suitor games, why you shouldn’t let a servant into your chimney, and why you shouldn’t let a goddess perch in your rafters. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s the story behind Odysseus’ famous bow. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 72X, “A Red Wedding”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
When we left the story last time, we’d picked up just after the end of the Trojan War. Odysseus spent nearly ten years sailing around the mythical world getting into shenanigans and getting every last one of his men killed along the way. He’d dallied with the witch Circe for a year and with the nymph Calypso for 7 years before finally washing up on the island of the Phaeacians and meeting the princess Nausicaa. Her father had helped Odysseus out with a ride on one of their magical ships, depositing him back on the shores of Ithaca once more at long last. Of course, as we’ve seen, things have gone to shit while the king has been away, and Odysseus’ son Telemachus has been on his own mini odyssey in search of news of his father. Athena has helped him come up with a lot of great stories but not much in the way of concrete information, so he decides to head back home. Unbeknownst to him, the suitors who have invaded the palace to try and marry Odysseus’ wife Penelope and take his throne have laid an ambush for the young prince, intent on murdering him and removing one of the last remaining obstacles. Odysseus finally made it home and Athena revealed herself before using god magic to disguise the returning hero as an old beggar. Telemachus returned and met his long lost father, who finally revealed his true identity. Separately, they both went back to the palace where Odysseus endured a lot of repetitive abuse from the suitors, cementing their fate. His old nurse recognized his secret scar and was threatened into silence.
With a little prompting from Athena and her blazing eyes, Penelope decided that the time had come for the final test of the suitors. She went up the steep stairs to her room to retrieve the heavy key to a secret storeroom hidden far below the palace where Odysseus’ greatest treasures were kept. In pride of place lay his great recurve bow and its quiver, bristling with arrows. This heavy bow had been a gift from Iphitus of Lacedaemon when he was young. Raiders had stolen 300 sheep from Ithaca along with their herdsmen, and so Odysseus had gone out to recover the stolen goods and kidnapped people. He had met Iphitus, who was out hunting the raiders for the dozen prize mares they had stolen from his kingdom. These mares would end up being the death of poor Iphitus when he ran afoul of the great Herakles for reasons that were absolutely not his fault.
Iphitus gave Odysseus the bow that had been his father’s and in return, Odysseus gave Iphitus a sharp sword and a sturdy spear as a mark of their friendship. Odysseus had not taken this magnificent piece of work with him when he’d sailed for Troy, not wanting to risk it on the battlefield. Instead, he had left it stored away in his treasure room as a reminder of a friend who had been taken from him too soon. He had only ever used it for hunting around the island and showing off at banquets.
Penelope drew the weapon out and it touched off plenty of memories and yet another round of weeping. Once she’d cried herself out for the moment,she took the bow and the quiver upstairs to the hall of suitors. Behind her, serving women carried a heavy chest filled with bronze and iron axes, trophies won by Odysseus years and years ago. Drawing her veil across her face for metaphysical armor, she addressed the assembled men. “Listen up, my overbearing friends. You infest this palace day in and day out, drinking us dry and eating us out of house and home. Your excuse is that you are all trying to win me as your bride, and for that reason alone, you have languished here for years, wasting everyone’s time. No more – the hour is night. To arms, warriors, and prove your worth. Here is the bow of the great king Odysseus. Whichever of you can string this bow with the greatest ease and shoot an arrow through all 12 axes in one clean motion, he will I follow out of this house, forsaking the life I once knew and abandoning this beloved house except in my dreams. There, I know I shall return here often.”
She turned to the faithful swineherd Eumaeus and ordered him to set everything up for the challenge. He broke into his own tears as he set out the axes. The cowherd too began to weep when he saw Odysseus’ old faithful bow laid out before them. Antinous was annoyed at their crying and laid into both of them for still being loyal to a ghost. “You fucking country bumpkins, who couldn’t tell day from night without help, will you shut up! Can’t you see that your pathetic sniveling is riling up the queen, whose had plenty of sorrow already? I mean, she’s already lost that husband of hers, which she won’t shut up about, so quit it. Shut up and sit down, or get the hell out. Hey hey, but leave the bow here. I bet stringing this beast is going to be a challenge. He was one tough old bastard to be sure. I saw him use this bow once, when I was still a child.” For all Antinous’ smooth talk about the dead king’s strength and the difficulty of the challenge, deep in his heart he felt sure that he would be the one to win the day.
Unnoticed by the crowd, Telemachus had sauntered up during his mother’s proclamation. He laughed heartily at this whole affair. “I’m sorry, Zeus must have robbed me of my wits to laugh at a time like this. My dear sweet mother, usually so sensible, has vowed to marry again and forsake this house, and yet I just can’t seem to stop giggling. Screw it, let’s get this party started. Step up, assholes, and look upon the prize you’re vying for – my mother, a woman with no equal anywhere in Achaea. Let the games begin! Hell, I may even take a crack at this myself – maybe I’ll win my father’s prizes and let my mother go off with second place.”
The prince leapt to his feet and, dropping his red cloak behind him along with his sword, he planted the axes in the earth in a neat line. Once everything was ready, Telemachus marched over and picked up the heavy bow at the threshold of the palace. Once, twice, three times he struggled to bend the thick wood; three times it shuddered and strained but didn’t quite bend enough to be strung. He took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and bent to try one last time. Power surged in his muscles, and he felt the wood obeying his hands. He was doing it! He was going to prove himself worthy! And he would have too if he hadn’t seen Odysseus, still in his disguise as a humble beggar, give a shake of his head.
Sensing his father’s intent, Telemachus let the bow win again. Throwing his head back in mock despair, he let out a huge sigh. “Gods help me, must I spend my whole life as a weakling and a failure? Or maybe I’m still too young to trust my hands to weapons of war, to defend myself against those who would do me harm. Alright, I’m clearly not going to be the winner here. Surely you all will fare better than I! Come and test yourselves.” So saying, he propped the bow against the doorframe with an arrow resting against it.
Antinous leapt greedily to his feet. “Come on my friends! Let’s do this nice and orderly, one after the other, say, starting from where the steward pours the wine.” Everyone agreed that this was as reasonable an order as any, and so Leodes, son of Oenops, stood first. He was a seer who saw the future in the curling of the smoke, and he always sat at the very back of the hall, away from the others. He alone of the suitors was appalled by the awful way they carried on, by the outrage they committed daily. He picked up the weapon and it felt unbearably heavy in his hands. He made one good attempt, but his hands were soft and uncalloused by the weapons of war, and he wasn’t able to even come close to bending it. “Damn, that is hard as hell to string. I certainly can’t do it. Maybe one of you can, though this is a bow capable of ripping the life out of our very best. Still, I think we’d be better off dead than being stuck here in purgatory forever, always pursuing our prize with none of us ever actually achieving it. Fate will decide who should be our queen’s new husband.”
Antinous didn’t much care for the fatalist note in the seer’s words. “What the fuck was that nonsese, Leodes? Just because you’re a failure and a weakling doesn’t mean the rest of us are. Melanthus, make yourself useful. Go and rake the fire in the hall to get it nice and hot, then get that lard from the stores so we can heat and limber up the bow. It’s clearly been sitting too long and needs to be given some proper care before the rest of us try ourselves.” The other suitors had also seen two people fail utterly to bend the bow and were anxious for any advantage they could get, so they set to work rubbing it down with hot grease to make it more pliable.
It didn’t help. One by one, the suitors each made their attempt to bend the bow and string it, but each fell far short of the mark. None even came close to stringing it, let alone actually drawing it and making the difficult shot. Antinous and Eurymachus both held back as the ringleaders. One, every attempt surely limbered up the bow just a little more and two, they were the strongest of the suitors and they each thought their success would look more impressive after everyone else had failed.
While this parade of failures was going on, the cowherd and the swineherd wandered outside to get a break from the insufferable suitors. Odysseus saw them sneak out and scurried out after them. Once they were all out past the courtyard and the gates, and no one was around, Odysseus approached the two men. “Let me ask you fine gentlemen something. My heart tells me to trust you. How far would you go to support Odysseus? Like let’s just say he were to drop out of the sky and land here right now, would you back him in a fight against the suitors? Would you take up arms for your king?”
It’s a very pointed question, but the cowherd and the swineherd were fired up with frustration and resentment about the suitors maybe getting to actually marry Penelope at long last. The cowherd looked up to the cloudy sky and called out to Zeus to answer their prayer and actually deliver Odysseus right here and now so he could make use of his strong sword arm. Eumaeus echoed his sentiment and his prayer, which was good enough for Odysseus. He’d spent some time with Eumaeus and believed him to be a good, loyal man. The cowherd seemed to be the same type. Odysseus smiled hugely. “Prayer answered. I’m right here, my friends. I know it’s been 20 years, 20 hard years of warfare and misery, but you two are the first I’ve heard utter a real, genuine prayer for my return. I trust you with my secret. You said you would fight beside me against the suitors. If that’s true, if you meant those words, I swear that I will find good wives for both of you and grant you property beside my own to be comrades, nay, brothers to my son, Prince Telemachus. I’m sure you have questions and very reasonable doubts but look here – see the distinctive scar on my leg where I was gored by a boar in my youth.
The story was famous and the scar was indeed very distinctive and, upon seeing it, both men realized that they did indeed stand in the presence of their long-lost king. Weeping openly in shock and relief and sheer joy, the two men tackled Odysseus with powerful embraces with many manly hugs and kisses all around. They probably would have kept up this affection huddle until the sun went down if Odysseus hadn’t broken it up. “Right, right. It’s good to be back, but there’s still work to do and this is going to look super sus if anyone sees us. Let’s head back in, singly – not in a group. I’ll go first, and you follow. Here’s the plan – once everyone has made their attempt and failed, Eumaeus you bring the bow to me. After that, tell the serving maids to lock all the doors and hide in their rooms. Tell them not to come out, no matter how bad it sounds out here. Philoetius, you lock the door to the outer gate and then lash it fast. I don’t want anyone escaping. Thank you both for being with me. Let’s do this.”
Each slipped unnoticed back into the hall where the contest was winding to an end. Eurymachus held the bow in his hands, turning it slowly over and over before the fire. With a great heave and a grunt, he strained his muscles to the utmost but could not bend the massive bow. Muscles bulged and his art hammered in his chest, but it was no use. His black heart sunk to his belly at his failure. “A dark day, and a blow to myself and to each man here! It’s not even the marriage that wounds me. I mean, that’s galling as shit, but there are plenty of other women to marry. What chaps my hide is that all of us have fallen so short of Odysseus’ strength that we can’t even string his bow. It’s a shame and a disgrace, one that will ring in men’s ears for years to come.”
Antinous wasn’t quite ready to give up. Sure they’d failed today, but there was always tomorrow. Penelope hadn’t actually put a time limit on this thing, right? “Eurymachus, you worry too much. It’s never going to come to that. You know that today is a feast day in honor of Apollo, god of archers. Who bends bows on a day like today? Let’s just leave the axes planted where they are and try again. It’s not like someone’s about to crash the gates and carry these trophies off. Steward, pour some wine for a prayer to Apollo. Tomorrow, we’ll have Melanthius bring in his best goats and burn a proper sacrifice to the god of archers and take another shot at this thing.” Eurymachus and the other suitors all agreed that this was fine advice.
Out of the general murmur of agreement rose one voice: Odysseus. “Listen to me a moment, you lords who court our noble queen. The gods have placed it on my heart to tell you to leave the bow alone for tonight, especially you Eurymachus and you Antinous. At dawn, the gods will grant victory to the man who most deserves it. For now, kick back and relax. You know what would be a fun game? Let me try the bow. I think you’ll find it very amusing to see if there’s any strength still in these withered old limbs after a life of roaming and hardship.”
It was clearly ludicrous that this bent, ancient old beggar could possibly succeed where these strapping young men had failed, but the suitors were a jealous, hot-headed lot and they were furious at this interloper trying to horn in on their contest. What if he somehow pulled it off and won the whole shebang? They couldn’t have that, and Antinous made sure he knew it. “You empty-headed twit! It’s not enough for you that we let you share our feast with us? We let you eat your share and in return you listen in on our secrets. You’re drunk, old man. You best be careful if you don’t want to end up like that centaur Eurytion. If you string that damned bow, we’ll tie your ass up and toss you on a ship headed for Echetus, the mainland king who famously breaks men.”
Eurytion was the leader of the Magnesian centaurs and was famously invited to his half-brother Pirithous’ wedding. Centaurs were well-known brutes, as much animal as human, and so when Eurytion got roaring drunk, he decided to try and abduct the bride to take her off somewhere and rape her. Naturally, King Pirithous took exception to this and fought back; Pirithous and his men hacking off Eurytion’s nose and ears before casting him out into the night to stumble home. A great feud sprang up between them, which ended with Eurytion and all his fellow centaurs dead. It’s a pretty potent threat being leveled at a beggar for a suggestion of harmless fun. I mean, it’s actually not harmless at all, but he doesn’t know that.
Penelope steps in to call Antinous to task for being a rude little asshat to an invited guest of Prince Telemachus, asking him if he really thinks this man intends to try to claim her as his bride, even if he somehow manages to string the bow. Eurymachus stepped in to defend his fellow suitor with honeyed words. He claims that they’re just looking out for her reputation, and that of the kingdom. What would people say if they saw a filthy beggar courting the queen? Especially if he did somehow manage to string the bow when none of the suitors had been able to come close. It would be fodder for gossip and a source of shame for these fine men assembled at the palace.
The idea that these irascible leeches have the ability to even feel shame makes Penelope yell back in outrage. “Really? That would shame you, but not all of your other bullshit? Not devouring a great man’s home and defacing his memory? Not drinking away his wine or insulting his son? Really? Our friend here is surprisingly strapping for an older fellow and he claims to be from a noble house once upon a time. Give him a go. I’ll make you a deal. If he does manage to string the bow somehow, I’ll dress him in fine clothes, give him a nice sharp lance to fight off dogs and thieves, and send him on his way in a new pair of sandals. That way, you’ll never have to worry about being shamed by a harmless old beggar.”
Telemachus sensed an opportunity and inserted himself into the conversation. “Mother, surely I have the greatest right to decide who gets to take up my father’s bow. More than any man alive, it is my birthright, is it not? So if I decide to let my guest take his turn, or even if I decide to make a gift of it to him, no one on this island can say I’m wrong. Mom, go back to your chambers with your maids. I’m sure there’s weaving to be done, enough to keep you all very busy. As for this bow, the men will see to that, and they will see that I hold the reins of power in this house.” Something in his voice told her not to argue. Without another word, she headed upstairs with the other women, leaving the men alone in the hall. As was her habit, she cried herself to sleep over her lost Odysseus until Athena brought her blissful rest.
As they had agreed, Eumaeus took up the bow and brought it to Odysseus. An ugly uproar broke out amongst the suitors. They were quickly losing control of this situation, and that wasn’t a feeling they were used to. Anger built and they resorted to abusing the easiest available target, Eumaeus. His position wouldn’t allow the poor swineherd to do anything at all but take their insults and abuse with a smile. Heckling quickly grew to personal insults and on to death threats. They warned him with cruel smiles that he would be all alone out there with his pigs, and no one would notice or care if his filthy corpse was eaten by his dogs after Apollo put an arrow through his coward’s heart. Eumaeus had signed up to help out Odysseus, but this tirade of hate got under his skin. Panicked by this outcry, he froze in his tracks.
From across the hall, Telemachus saw the swineherd’s fear and called out encouragement. Sort of. If you squint. “Keep going, old man! You can’t serve every master or you’ll suffer. If you don’t take that bow where I said, I’ll drive your ass back to your little farm with sharp rocks hurled at your fucking skull! I may be younger than you, but I’m also a lot stronger. If I outmatched the suitors by as much as I outmatch you, they would have been driven out of this hall a long time ago!”
This attempt at bravado sent the suitors into gales of scornful laughter that dissolved their anger and released the bubbling tension. Forgotten, Eumaeus took the bow the rest of the way to the beggar and placed it in his waiting hands then found the maid Eurycleia and whispered in her ear to take the women and lock themselves safely in their rooms. She was one of the very few to know that Odysseus was here and she had an inkling of what was about to go down, so she did as she was told quickly and without question. As she left, she barred the doors to the hall to keep everyone out. Behind her, the cowherd did his part,locking the gates and lashing them shut with thick cables before slipping unnoticed back to his seat to watch Odysseus.
The wandering king stood there holding his old bow in his hands. With skill born of long training, he turned the wood over and over in his hands checking for any rot or worms that might have ruined the weapon while he was away. The suitors saw this investigation and jeered at him that he thought he was a connoisseur of bows. Someone piped up that the old beggar meant trouble, but others laughed him down, wishing the beggar good luck causing trouble since he clearly wouldn’t be able to bend that monster of a bow. Satisfied that the weapon was in good shape, Odysseus took the cord and strung the bow in one smooth motion. He plucked it to test its tension, and the string hummed musically, clear and sweet.
That quavering note rang out in a room that had been shocked into silence. Horror swept through the crowd as they realized what had just happened. Their faces went pale and their stomachs churned with terror. That was not supposed to have happened. Above it all, a single bolt of lightning cracked across the sky in a sign of Zeus’ favor. At long last, after so much sorrow and pain, the gods were on Odysseus’ side for once. Odysseus smiled at this clear omen from the king of the gods. Taking up the arrow that had been readied for this challenge, Odysseus nocked it where he sat. Without bothering to stand up from his stool, the sly warrior aimed, drew, and let fly. The arrow flew straight and true through the eyes of all 12 axes. The contest was over. Odysseus had won.
He looked over to Telemachus. “Son, your guest has not disgraced you. It seems there is still strength and skill yet in these old arms. I’m not quite as frail as those scornful suitors seemed to think, which means their time is done. Time to serve them their just desserts.” Odysseus gave Telemachus the nod that was their prearranged signal for the action to begin. The prince belted his sword back on and took hold of his spear, then went to stand next to his father, bronze spearpoint glinting like a blazing fire.
With a flourish, Odysseus stripped back his rags to free his sword arm, then vaulted onto the threshold, bow and quiver in hand. Spreading the bristling arrows out before him, loose and easily at hand, he threw back his shoulders and announced himself. “This test is finished, now and forever! There’s another target here in need of shooting that no man has yet struck. With Apollo’s blessing, let’s see if I can hit it.” Across the room, Antinous lifted an ornate golden cup full of wine to his lips. Sure, this old man had done the impossible, but it wasn’t like he was a real threat. He’d get some new clothes and shuffle on his way. Before the sweetness of the wine touched his tongue, an arrow exploded through his throat in a gout of blood. Shock and agony spiked through his limbs, and one flailing foot caught the table, scattering breads and meats soaked in blood in a disgusting spray.
The suitors screamed at this unexpected violence and leapt from their seats. Uncertain what to do next, they milled about aimlessly. A few scanned the walls for the weapons and shields that usually hung there and only too late realized that all were gone. Unarmed, they wheeled on Odysseus in fury, planning to overwhelm this murdering old beggar with numbers and sheer authority. They screamed at him that he would be executed for this, that killing a prince, the best of them, would end with vultures eating his wretched corpse. Unwilling to believe what they had all plainly seen, they each convinced themselves that it had been an accident, that the beggar had fired the arrow by mistake and only hit Antinous by pure chance. In the back of their minds however, they could feel the noose slipping around their necks.
Snarling Odysseus cast defiance into their teeth. “Down, you mangy dogs! You thought yourselves safe here in my halls, that I would never return alive from the shores of Troy. You’ve bled my house dry, ravaged my serving women, and wooed my fucking wife arrogantly certain that I’d never be back to avenge these outrages. You didn’t even have the common sense to fear the gods on high, that they might someday strike you down for all your offenses and hubris. You should have run home a long time ago, and now it’s too late. I am the vengeance of the gods here to seal your doom. You die this day.”
Realization finally cracked through their arrogance and pride, understanding now just who this madman was claiming to be. Eurymachus, the default leader with Antinous dead, was the only one bold enough to give voice to what they were all thinking. “If you’re truly Odysseus of Ithaca, home at long last after so many years, then you have every right to punish these men for the atrocities they have committed in your halls. And so you have. Antinous, the ringleader of this whole circus, the one true villain who drove us all to sin, lies dead at your feet. You are avenged sir on the man who sought your wife’s hand. He didn’t even care about the marriage so much as the chance to lord it over the rest of us as king once he’d murdered your son like the traitor he was. Lay down your arms, show mercy to your people, and we’ll arrange to have everything paid back later with a tax or something. Maybe we can all give twenty oxen’s worth of gold and bronze to cool your rage?”
The look Odysseus shot back was seething with barely controlled fury at this further indignity. “Fuck your bribe, Eurymachus. Even if you gave me every last cent of your father’s fortune, every drop of wealth you could scrounge from the whole wide world, I would not spare your wretched life. I will have vengeance. I will have slaughter! You have but one choice to make, Eurymachus. Fight me or run like a coward. I’ll cut you all down where you stand, every last bastard of you, if you don’t stop me or escape. Not one of you leaves here alive today!”
Their hearts and their knees quailed at the menace rolling off the old warrior in waves, and Eurymachus tried to rally his troops. “Friends, this man is mad! He has that polished bow in his hands now, and he won’t stop until we’re all dead. We must take him down! To arms! Use the tables for cover and charge him together, as one! He can’t get us all! If we can knock him away from the door, we can get out and sound the alarm.”
Eurymachus drew the sword at his hip in answer to his own brave words and charged Odysseus with a savage cry. It turned to a quavering scream as an arrow ripped through his chest and lodged deep in his body. The sword fell from his suddenly numb fingers to tumble to the ground, followed by his limp body. He crashed to the earth in a tangled heap, the momentum from his wild charge carrying him into and over a table, plates and glasses smashing as he died. Amphinomus tried to take advantage of Eurymachus’ death and charged the king, sword drawn, but Telemachus was there. His sharp spear caught the man in the back, ripping past his spine to explode out of his chest. Down he went, taking the spear with him as he died. Telemachus abandoned the weapon, not wanting to give someone a chance to slip a blade in his own back as he tried to tug the weapon free. Instead, he drew the sword at his hip and regrouped with his father.
“Father, I’ll go get us both a shield and some spears, along with a bronze helmet for some protection. I’ll arm the swineherd and the cowherd while I’m at it to give us all a better chance.” “Good idea. Hurry, while I’ve still got arrows left. I can hold them away from the doors for the moment, but once I’m out of ammo, it’s going to get very rough very quickly.” With a nod, Telemachus hurried off to the storeroom where he had left the prepared weapons. He was back at his father’s side in only moments. The suitors were still too stunned and shocked to do anything useful. Their leaders lay dead, and no one was stepping up to organize them into something resembling a coherent defense. Arrows flew steadily from the bow, all finding lethal targets and scattering the suitors while the prince and the two servants armed and armored themselves. When he ran out of arrows, he leaned his bow against the door and took up his own weapons from his son. Setting his bronze helmet with its horsehair crest on his head, he looked every bit the enraged spirit of bloody vengeance that he was.
The suitors realized that trying to break past Odysseus was a quick way to get cut down, so they scrambled for another option. The only other way out of the great hall was a side door that led to a cramped servant’s passage. Agelaus called for someone to make a break for it down this back door. The goatherd Melanthius peeked through the door and jerked his head back just in time to avoid having it split in two by Eumaeus the goatherd, who Odysseus had ordered to guard the passage. It was a perfect place for a defense and could easily be held by one strong man. Anyone trying to come through the door would be at enough of a disadvantage to make their death a near certainty. “No good – it’s held against us! No, I’ll check the storeroom for proper armor for you great lords. That whelp of a prince has to have stashed all of the weapons there!”
The wiry goatherd scrambled up into one of the chimneys built into the stout walls to allow smoke to escape and hurried to the storeroom by this cramped route. In his haste, Telemachus had forgotten to lock the storeroom behind him after gathering equipment for his crew and so Melanthius was able to sneak in and collect armfuls of armor and weapons – enough shields and spears and helmets for a dozen men. Odysseus felt his courage waver as he saw his enemies outfitting themselves. They already outnumbered him and his few allies many times over, and superior weaponry had been their only real advantage. Without that, the odds might be tipping in the suitors’ favor. A true battle was forming up now, hard and bloody. He pointed out this ill development to Teleamchus. “A bad break for us. One of the women has hamstrung us here, or maybe it was that damned goatherd.”
Telemachus immediately realized that he had left the storeroom open and fessed up to his father that it was his fault. He sent Eumaeus to shut the storeroom and then keep a watch to see if one of the women had betrayed them, or if it was Melanthius. Telemachus’ money was (correctly) on the goatherd. Even as they were scheming, Eumaeus noticed the scrawny goatherd scampering off for another load of arms. “My king, there the bastard goes now, just like you suspected. Should I go kill him, assuming I can? Or would you rather I take him alive and drag him back here to face your justice?”
“The traitor is mine. The prince and I will keep the suitors occupied, you two go jump Melanthius and tie his ass to a plank so hard he can’t even twitch a muscle then dangle him from the rafters to suffer in agony for a while.” The swineherd and the cowherd hurried off to obey this new order. The storeroom door stood wide open; inside, they saw Melanthius rummaging through the stores for supplies. Taking up a heavy helmet and a mildewed but still solid shield (a shield that had once belonged to Odysseus’ father Laertes in his youth), they jumped him from behind and beat him bloody. Surprised and outnumbered, he didn’t put up much of a fight and was quickly trussed up like a turkey for roasting, then hung up from the rafters in a truly agonizing position that would force him to suffer until someone came for him. “Thanks for agreeing to stand watch over the storeroom all night, Melanthius. It’s very noble of you, kingly even. I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable on that bed we made just for you until dawn lights up the sky in the morning.”
The two servants took a moment to fully armor up and then shut and locked the door before heading back to the hall and the king. By the time they returned, the suitors had finished armoring up and were arraying themselves to charge the two men guarding the only way out. With the reinforcement of the two herdsmen, that still made it four against many, many times that. Which of course means that it’s time for the gray-eyed goddess of cunning battle to make her grand entrance to the battlefield. Disguised in the form of Mentor, Odysseus’ old friend, she swept into the hall. Odysseus of course knew that the real Mentor was nowhere near the palace, and his heart soared at this visible sign that the goddess was indeed with him. Maybe he could actually win the day! He called out to Mentor, but they both knew that he was clearly speaking to the goddess. “We could really use your help here, Mentor. It’s kind of life or death now. Remember all the service that I offered you when I was a boy and aid your old comrade!”
The suitors, on the other hand, didn’t have Odysseus’ keen insight and so all they saw was one old warrior way out of his depth. They laughed at what they saw as Odysseus’ desperate bid for new allies. Agelaus, who had taken up the mantle of default leader with the others dead, urged the old man to stay the hell out of this. “Don’t let that old trickster talk you into joining him against all of us. You alone are not enough to turn the tide. Here’s what’s about to happen. We’re going to kill the king, and then we’re going to gut his son beside him. Once those two are bleeding out on the floor, we’re going to rip out your heart and show it to you for daring to intrude on our halls. Once we slit your filthy throat, we’re going to claim your house and your estate and add it to the palace. Your sons who live there now? We’re going to butcher them. Your wife and daughters? They’re going to be slaves.”
Athena already hated these men, but these naked threats against innocents towards a supposed comrade of theirs who had done nothing but walk into the room drove her burning rage to new heights of passion. She lashed it tightly under her control and turned on the king she had championed all these years. “This is supposed to be your greatest moment, Odysseus. What happened to the fearless warrior I once knew? Where’s your courage, your dauntless fighting spirit? You were one of the greatest warriors to rage across the fields of Troy and it was thanks to you that the proud towers burned. You took down one of the greatest cities in the world, and a bunch of mangy suitors are stripping you of your bravery? Buck up, buttercup. Get your ass into the fight by my side and you’ll see how Mentor pays back your service!”
Despite these brave words, Athena didn’t yet unleash her power. She could win this fight easily (hell, she’d bested Ares in a straight up grudge match), but she wanted to see what Odysseus was made of. Did he still have the core of steel that had drawn her to him in the first place? Would he crumble under pressure, or would he rise to the challenge? She was rooting for him, and so in her guise as Mentor, she soared up into the rafters like a damned bird to watch the battle unfold from the main roof beam on high. If there had been any doubt that this was a god in disguise, it was gone.
As usual, the suitors ignored this supernatural warning that they were in over their heads. They formed up into a tight formation led by Agelaus, with Eurynomus, Demoptolemus, Amphimedon, Pisander, and Polybus arrayed behind him. They were easily the strongest and bravest of those still left alive after Odysseus’ rain of deadly arrows. “Alright, you bastards. Odysseus is out of arrows, so now’s the time to kill his ass! When I give the word, all of us will hurl our spears in a single volley, leaving Odysseus and his three allies nowhere to dodge. With any luck, one of us will manage to put a spear in the old king. With him down, the others will be easy pickings!”
As one, the six men hurled their spears towards the small knot of defenders in what should have been a deadly hail. Instead, Athena reached out from her lofty perch and tweaked their flight just enough. She wanted to test her champion, not get him killed in a boring way. Odysseus saw the spears crash all around them without finding flesh and took it as a sign that the gods were at last with him. He and his men hurled their own spears with deadly accuracy, and these men had no gods to deflect the blows. Demoptolemus, Euryades, Elatus, and Pisander (two of whom hadn’t been part of the previous attack but were still with the larger mass of terrified suitors) all fell to the cold earth clutching lethal wounds.
Even as the spears flew, the four men charged the suitors, driving them back enough to reach the new corpses and wrench their weapons out of the bleeding bodies. The suitors regrouped enough to launch another salvo of spears. Athena deflected most of them, but Amphimedon caught Telemachus on the wrist in a long but shallow cut and Ctesippus’ spear nearly found Eumaeus’ heart, but a well-timed flick of his buckler sent it over his shoulder, grazing him as it passed. Odysseus and the others threw their blood-soaked spears a second time, and again all found their marks. Eurydamas, Amphimedon, Polybus, and Ctesippus joined the line of shades shuffling down to Hades.
The cowherd took particular delight in killing Ctesippus, who had tormented the poorer man for years and had been the one to pelt Odysseus with a cow hoof when they all thought he was a lowly beggar. The two forces were now too close for any more spear throwing, and so Odysseus drew his lance and charged, gutting Agelaus and downing another would-be usurper. Telemachus caught Leocritus in the groin so hard that the spear point ripped through his guts to explode out of his back in a spray of offal and blood. Athena delighted in the combat and bloodshed, drawing her terrifying shield emblazoned with the head of Medusa to terrify the suitors still further. They panicked, stampeding away from the avatar of death soaked in the blood of their friends that rampaged among them. The four defenders now went on the assault, reaping through the ranks of the screaming suitors like eagles among pigeons. Everywhere, skulls cracked open to spatter brains against the walls or great gouts of blood spouted from the throats of dying men until the whole floor was awash in gore.
Leodes, a priest and seer (who had been the first man to try his luck at the archery contest), hurled himself at his king’s feet to beg for mercy. “Odysseus, please I beg you – spare my wretched life! I swear, I never once harassed the women of your house, not with a word or a gesture! I tried to stop the others, I swear I did, but they wouldn’t listen. I was just their priest, their prophet – my hands are clean. Please, don’t make me suffer the death that they earned!”
“Only a priest, you say? A priest for a mob of vicious animals, for killers and rapists and usurpers. I’m sure you did pray for them, time and again, asking the gods to grant them my death! You prayed that I would be skewered on some foreign sword so that you could claim my wife as your own, make her bear your children! I have no mercy for you, priest. Die for your sins.” Bending down, Odysseus took up the gore-drenched sword that had fallen from Agelaus’ hand when Odysseus slaughtered him and, with one brutal swing, hacked the begging priest’s head off his body to tumble to the stones.
Only one man still lived from the den of vipers that had so long infested this hall: Phemius, the bard who had always performed for the suitors in their nightly feasts. A lowborn man, he had been forced by the power of their authority to do the bidding of the rich lords of the isles. He stood now with his back to the side door clutching his lyre in a white-knuckled grip of pure terror. He didn’t know what to do. Should he try to slip out of the hall and hide behind the altar to Zeus in the courtyard? Should he throw himself on the mercy of the man who had just murdered a begging priest for doing the exact same thing? It seemed like suicide, but Phemius knew that his only hope was to beg for mercy. He dropped to his knees before the king and hugged his knees, weeping openly.
“I beg you, Odysseus – mercy! Spare my life! I taught myself to play over years of hard work, but the gods have planted the love of music deep in my spirit. The songs come from there, and I have many left still – songs about you, about today! You have avenged yourself on those who did you wrong. Ask your son – I never had a choice! I didn’t perform because they paid me, but because they forced me, they threatened me, and I am no warrior like you.” From across the hall, Telemachus heard the bard’s pleas and rushed to intercede. “Father, he speaks the truth! Let him live – he’s innocent, unlike the others. Him and the herald Medon were never given a choice and always did their best to behave honorably in the face of the abuses of the suitors. Medon helped raise me while you were away. Spare him too, unless Philoetius or Eumaeus already killed him in the heat of battle. Or if he ran into your unstoppable blade.”
From beneath a chair, the cowering herald heard these words and dared to crawl through the blood and the gore to stand, trembling, before the bloody king. He too begged for his life. At his son’s words, a huge smile split Odysseus’ face (which probably wasn’t all that reassuring considering how many men’s blood was on him at the moment). “Fear not, my son has saved you. If he speaks in your favor, then I will spare you. I trust Telemachus’ judgment. Go outside and sit in the courtyard, away from this charnel house. I have some urgent tasks to complete before I can come outside yet.” The two men scampered away gratefully, well aware of just how closely they had brushed with death.
Casting his eyes around the hall one last time, Odysseus looked to see if any wretched villains had escaped the slaughter. None had. His keen gaze picked out the butchered forms of all those who had wronged his house and paid the price, splayed out in undignified death like the gasping catch of some godly fisherman. It was over. Odysseus had won.
The suitors are dead, but there are still some loose ends to wrap up in our next (and last) episode on the Odyssey, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s hero is Iphitus.
We very briefly mentioned Iphitus in the main story, specifically the friendship that blossomed between him and Odysseus as young men. Given that, I thought it was worth taking a look at what exactly happened when this tragic figure crossed paths with the great Heracles. Now, we obviously don’t have time to get into the full story of Heracles and the 12 labors and all that right now.
To start with, Iphitus was the son of another figure of myth, Eurytus, king of Oechalia in Thessaly. He was famously an incredibly skillful archer (as a grandson of Apollo, god of archery, who had given him his bow and taught him to use it) and had even been the one to teach the great Heracles himself the art of using a bow. One version of Eurytus’ death (the one specifically from Homer) has him challenging Apollo himself to an archery contest and being killed for his presumption, which led to his divine bow being passed on to Iphitus and then on to Odysseus, but it’s the other version that’s relevant here.
Eurytus had several sons; Hesiod says four and Creophylus says two, but Hyginus and Ovid say he had 7 sons (including Iphitus) and a single daughter, Iole. As always seems to be the case in these stories, Iole was famed for her beauty and widely courted. Thus, to help him make his decision, Eurytus decided to hold, what else, an archery contest to decide who was worthy to marry his daughter. Whomever could defeat himself and his sons in archery would marry Iole. Given that Eurytus now fancied himself as good a shot as Apollo himself (better, in some versions), this was a difficult challenge.
Heracles just happened to be in the neighborhood, traveling for the first time in a while, and he decided to enter the contest. The details will have to wait for another day, but the short version is that Hera had driven Heracles to murder his wife Megara (yup, the one from the Disney movie) and their children. The 12 famous labors had been his punishment and atonement for this terrible crime. He had just finished up these labors when he came to Thessaly and joined the contest, looking for a new wife now that he was no longer saddled with guilt over what happened to Megara. Being the incredible hero that he was, and having been trained in the use of the bow by King Eurytus himself, he was easily able to defeat his old tutor and win the contest.
Everyone knew what had happened to the last poor woman to marry Heracles, and Eurytus (not unwisely) feared what would happen to his own daughter if she were to marry Heracles and become a target of Hera. Drinking heavily to get up some liquid courage, Eurytus confronted Heracles (known for his violent temper) and told him that he would not be allowed to marry Iole. His sons all supported this decision to break the terms of the competition, except for Iphitus. He alone stood up to his father and said that Heracles had won, fair and square, and should be married to Iole. This belief might have been colored by the fact that he and Heracles had been comrades on the great ship Argos during the hunt for the golden fleece. His father was not swayed, and so Heracles stormed out. In some versions, Iphitus is banished for his insolence, and goes on to become friends with Heracles. In others (including Homer) that doesn’t happen just yet.
Almost as soon as the great hero was gone from the country, it was discovered that 12 prize mares had been stolen from Eurytus. Naturally, the king suspected Heracles of stealing them as vengeance for being snubbed in the contest. According to some writers, this was in fact the case, but most say that it was in fact Autolycus, the famous thief, who had stolen them. Once again, only Iphitus refused to believe that Heracles was the thief and volunteered to go out in search of the missing animals. It was on this hunt that Iphitus would meet and befriend Odysseus, presenting him with Apollo’s bow, which had been passed to him from his father, which Odysseus later used in the slaughter of the suitors.
Iphitus does in fact catch up with Heracles soon thereafter. The tracks clearly led here, although Autolycus had magically changed their appearance, so the mares he found did not look like the mares he was seeking. Iphitus was invited by Heracles to stay with him at Tiryns as his guest while they sorted this out. Having seen the stolen animals with his own eyes but just different enough that he couldn’t be sure they were his, Iphitus didn’t know what to think and decided to reserve judgment until he’d talked to the man himself. They walked together, and Iphitus told Heracles what he was doing so far from home. Heracles didn’t recognize the animals he had just bought from Autoclytus from Iphitus’ description (naturally), and so he gamely offered to help his friend go look for them together. Something in Iphitus’ reaction tipped him off, and he realized that he was suspected of having stolen the missing mares, which infuriated him. Not only did these bastards renege on their promise but they then accuse him of theft, even if they didn’t accuse him out loud? It was unbearable!
After hosting his guest in a grand banquet, Heracles led Iphitus up to the top of the highest tower in Tiryns to talk. He asked Iphitus to look around. From up here, they could see the entire kingdom. Did he see his missing mares grazing anywhere? Iphitus admitted that no, he didn’t see any mares that looked like the ones he was tracking. Enraged (and possibly in another fit of madness), he roared back that Iphitus had falsely accused him in his heart and hurled his friend and guest over the wall to plummet to his death.
To cleanse himself of this new crime (violating guest right by murdering your fucking guest was a very serious offense in the eyes of the gods), Heracles sold himself into slavery to the Lydian queen Omphale for either one or three years depending on the version. Once he had served and married his new wife Deianeira, Heracles gathered up an army to march on Oechalia. Still angry at the way he had been treated, he sacked the city, killed King Eurytus and his surviving sons, and forced Iole to be his sex slave. As we’ll see when we eventually get to the tale of Heracles, he might be a hero but he’s not a very good person – even more so than the complicated Odysseus.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
DragonCon is coming up this weekend, and I’ll be doing some panels with them again. It’s looking like at least one of them will be streaming live on Twitch for, which will give you a chance to check it out from the comfort and safety of your home. Once I have more concrete details, they’ll be posted to the Facebook page. You can also find schedule info on the DragonCon App.
Next time, the long saga of the Odyssey will finally draw to a dramatic close. You’ll see that old men know how to fight, that Athena isn’t done making Odysseus’ family sexy, and that some people don’t hold a grudge for multiple murders. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll dive into the myths behind the brutal protagonist of the God of War games. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.