Wounding Antinoos

Antinoos did not take Odysseus' threat seriously. He had one of the fine goblets of the household, made of gracefully moulded gold bedizened with bright jewels, in his hands and was tipping its intoxicating contents through his open lips. Odysseus released her arrow.

The arrow passed between Antinoos' thighs. With precision it tore at the delicate flesh that lay in its path.

Antinoos screamed as he fell backward. Red runnels of blood spurt onto his robes and shoes. Goblet flew from his hands as he overturned the dining table. In the exquisite pain of the moment he fluttered in and out of consciousness.

"You yellow pustules," growled Odysseus as she stood tall, no longer looking ragged or decrepit, "You thought I was never making it home from Troy. You plundered my house, bullied my family and showed nothing but contempt for humanity and divinity alike. Here lays the results of such arrogance."

The suitors looked about them for their weapons, but all had been locked away except those held by Odysseus, Telemakhe and the select servants now in the hall. Their fear rose to a crescendo, many turning green with its bile. Antinoos focussed hard on remaining alert, then despite his weakness from lost blood, he raised himself to face the suitors.

A Murder of Cronies.

Copyright © 1998 Katherine Phelps