The next morning at break of day, I found Odysseus folding up his sheepskin bed. He stashed it in a corner, turned, and walked out of the palace.

Where was he headed? I followed invisibly after him to find out.

Odysseus walked until he came to a deserted hilltop. He raised his hands toward the heavens. “Father Zeus!” he called. “Give me a sign that I should go forward with my plan!”

Mortal readers, right now you must be asking yourselves, how could Odysseus call on Zeus to give him a sign? How? He had to know it was Zeus who’d zapped his ship with T-bolts, right?

Ah, mortals. You’re so unpredictable.

But then, so is Zeus. No sooner had the words left Odysseus’s mouth than out of the clear blue sky came a deafening boom of thunder.

“Yesssss!” Odysseus pumped his fist in the air. “Thank you for that sign, Father Zeus!” he cried. Then he practically skipped back to the palace, he was so happy. I let that fickle mortal go on ahead.

By the time I got back to the palace, servants were busy preparing for the return of the suitors. Mouse, Philo, and Mel, the ill-tempered goatherd, had brought pigs, cows, and goats for the morning feast. Meat was sizzling on the grill.

Philo approached Odysseus the beggar. “Looks as if you’ve had your share of bad luck, old man,” the cowherd said. “But luck can turn. May your luck change this very day!”

“Thank you, cowherd,” said Odysseus. “May your words reach the ears of Zeus.”

Philo leaned toward the beggar. “My old master would never stand for such goings-on at his palace,” he whispered. “If only he were here!”

Keeping his voice low, Odysseus replied, “The bold and brave Odysseus shall soon return. And you shall see these suitors meet their doom.”

“I hear you, old man.” The cowherd slapped him on the back. “If only I could help to make that happen.”

I glanced over at Athena and saw her checking out the buffet tables. I headed over to her just as the suitors came pushing and shoving into the Great Hall.

“We’re hungry!” they shouted. “Give us breakfast! NOW!”

They grabbed food from the tables, ripped off chunks of meat with their teeth, and tossed the bones to the floor to be fought over by the palace dogs.

I watched those dogs, growling and snapping at each other, trying to get their share. They were fighting over the food, but they seemed to be having a fine time doing it, grabbing bones on the sly, playing tug-of-war, and chasing each other around the Great Hall.

I tried to imagine my triple-headed pooch joining in the fray. He’d like the racing and the tussle, I thought. And as the palace dogs settled down to gnaw on their bones, an idea bubbled up inside my godly brain.

But this was no time to be thinking of Cerbie. Athena appeared at my side. “Such ruffians!” she whispered, with a nod toward some suitors at the end of a long table where a burping contest was underway. “I don’t know how Penelope can stand having them around.”

“She won’t have them around much longer,” I said as Odysseus entered the room and took a seat on the beggar’s bench.

“Give the stranger his share of food!” Telemachus called to the suitors.

“I’ll give him his share!” shouted Antin. He plucked up a roasted ox foot and threw it at Odysseus’s head. Odysseus ducked, and the foot struck the wall behind him.

Telemachus clenched his fists. His eyes flashed with anger, but he held his temper, as his father had advised.

“Telemachus!” called another suitor. “Your father’s never coming back. Never! Go get your mother. Tell her that today’s the day she must choose one of us to be her husband.”

“Yes! Yes! Today’s the day!” the suitors cried.

Telemachus turned red in the face, but he kept his cool.

Suddenly a strange restlessness started up among the suitors. Some began murmuring to themselves. Others laughed loudly, then burst into tears. Still others staggered around the Great Hall as if they’d lost their minds.

I turned toward Athena and saw her lips moving. She’d cast a spell of madness over the suitors!

“You’re a worthless pup, Telemachus!” a suitor shouted.

“You’ll never be a man!” called another.

“Let’s grab him and sell him to a slave ship!” cried a third.

Telemachus ignored these insults.

Athena’s lips stopped moving, and the suitors quieted as Penelope walked into the Great Hall holding Odysseus’s enormous bow. Serving maids followed her, carrying a quiver of arrows and a box of double-bladed axes. Each axe had a gold ring at the top so that it might be hung on a hook.

“Listen to me, you suitors who pester me day in and day out,” Penelope called. “Listen, you who eat my lord’s cattle, his sheep, and his pigs and drink his wine. Listen, you who say I must wed one of you.”

“So you must!” called a suitor.

“I shall hold a contest,” Penelope went on, “to decide which one of you to wed.” She held up the great bow. “This bow belonged to my lord, Odysseus!”

Seeing it, tears sprang to Mouse’s eyes.

“My dear master’s bow,” whispered Philo.

“The first suitor to string my lord’s bow and shoot an arrow cleanly through twelve axe rings, that man shall I wed,” said Penelope.

She carried the great bow out to the courtyard and everyone followed. Telemachus dug a long, straight trench in the earth. In it, he planted the handles of the great bronze axes, lining them up straight so that a well-aimed arrow might fly through all twelve rings.

When he finished, Telemachus stepped up and took the bow from Penelope. “If I can string this bow and shoot true, none of you will wed my mother!” he shouted at the suitors. “She will stay here at the palace, and you will go away.”

“This isn’t part of the plan,” muttered Athena.

“Can’t blame him, though,” I said.

Telemachus tried three times to string the mighty bow. On the fourth try, it looked as if he might succeed, but he glanced at his father, who gave his head a quick shake.

“It is too much for me,” said Telemachus, and he handed the bow to a suitor.

The suitor tried to string the mighty bow, but he couldn’t even bend it. “Dang!” he said. “This is harder than it looks.”

He handed the bow to the next suitor, who quickly gave up. One after another, the suitors tried to bend the bow. And one after another, they failed.

“This bow hasn’t been used for years,” said Antin. “It must have grown hard and brittle. Maybe hot grease will limber it up.”

A pair of suitors heated grease over the fire and rubbed the bow with it. But still, none of the suitors could string Odysseus’s bow.

“It makes me so happy to see this,” whispered Athena.

“Me, too,” I whispered back. “But Antin hasn’t stepped up yet.”

“No,” said Athena. “And he looks strong.”

As we spoke, I saw Mouse and Philo slip out of the palace together. Odysseus rose from the beggar’s bench and left as well.

“Be right back,” I told Athena.

I hurried outside and saw Odysseus the beggar catch up with the other two. I followed invisibly after them until they stopped at a clearing far enough from the palace so they couldn’t be seen.

“My friends,” said Odysseus the beggar, “if Odysseus were to appear suddenly at the palace, would you fight for your king or for the suitors?”

“For our king!” both men exclaimed.

“May it come to pass!” added Philo.

“It will,” said the beggar. “For I am Odysseus, come home at last.”

The two men stared at the beggar.

“Do you need proof?” said Odysseus. “I don’t blame you. I am disguised as a beggar, so how could you know me? But look.” He pulled aside his beggar’s rags to reveal the long white scar on his thigh.

“That’s where the wild boar gored you!” cried Mouse. “Bled like the dickens, that wound did.”

“Our king!” cried Philo, and both men bowed down to him.

“Up, quickly!” said Odysseus. “No one must see us. If we win this fight, I will give you land and build you houses near to mine. You will be like brothers to Telemachus.”

“We will fight to the death for you,” declared Philo.

“To the death!” said Mouse.

Clearly both men expected to die in this battle of four men against more than one hundred. And yet they were willing to fight for their king.

“Mouse,” said Odysseus, “when we go back to the palace, I’m going to ask the suitors to let me try to string the bow. They’ll shout in rage at the very idea of a beggar having a turn, but no matter how they yell, you must bring me the bow.”

Mouse nodded.

“When you’ve done that,” Odysseus continued, “go find Clea, my old nursemaid. Tell her to lock herself and all the women in their rooms. Have her tell the women not to come out no matter what they hear.”

“I shall do as you say, master,” said Mouse.

Odysseus turned to the cowherd. “Philo, I want you to lock the courtyard gate,” he said. “Secure it so there can be no escape.”

“Yes, my king,” said Philo.

The men went back to the palace then. One at a time, they slipped into the courtyard unnoticed.

I went back, too, and looked around for Athena. She wasn’t there. I’d never understand that goddess. Why would she take off just as the action was heating up?

Now Antin rose to his feet. “That’s enough for today, suitors,” he said. “Tomorrow we will send a smoky sacrifice to Apollo. He’ll see to it that one of us bends this bow.”

I smiled. Antin wasn’t going to try to bend the bow himself until he had a god on his side!

The suitors murmured their agreement.

“Servants, bring us wine!” cried Antin.

“Wine, wine!” the suitors called.

Odysseus the beggar stood up. “Lords!” he cried. “Wait!”

“Sit down, you old beggar!” cried a suitor.

“Wise Antin is right,” Odysseus continued. “Tomorrow Apollo is sure to give one of you success.”

The suitors tossed back their wine, paying no attention to the beggar.

“But before you put the great bow away for the night,” said Odysseus, “it might amuse you to let me have a try.”

“What?” cried Antin. “No filthy beggar is touching that bow! Not while I’m around.”

The other suitors shouted in agreement, all of them threatening to fling the beggar from the palace.

“Lords, stop!” cried Penelope. “This stranger is our guest. You dishonor him with your words.”

I looked around. Where was Athena? I was starting to drosis. What if the goddess of war didn’t show up? I’d find ways to help Odysseus, but I wasn’t going to slay any suitors. Without Athena, Odysseus didn’t stand a chance.

“Penelope!” shouted a drunken suitor. “If the beggar strings the bow and shoots an arrow through the rings, will you marry him?”

“He would not expect that,” Penelope said. “But I will reward him with a warm cloak, a sword, and a spear.”

“If the beggar wins,” shouted Telemachus, “I shall give him the great bow!”

Penelope looked at him sharply. “It is not yours to give,” she said.

“It belonged to my father,” Telemachus said. “Who has more right to it than I do? Go to your rooms, Mother,” he added. “Weave at your loom with the other women. The bow I will give as I please, for I am the powerful son of a powerful king.”

Penelope’s face melted into a smile. At last her son was acting like a man! She turned and hurried to her rooms.

Now came Mouse, carrying the great bow to give it to the beggar.

The suitors shouted at him angrily, “Don’t you dare give it to the beggar!” They shook their fists and threatened to rip him limb from limb. The poor pig keeper trembled with fear, but he kept walking toward Odysseus the beggar.

Things were getting ugly. Where was Athena?

I pulled out my phone and punched in her number. Straight to voicemail.

I pocketed my phone, keeping my eyes on Mouse. At last he handed Odysseus the bow. Then the pig keeper turned and hurried off to the women’s quarters to tell Clea to lock all the doors.

Now Philo appeared in the courtyard. He nodded to Odysseus, signaling that the courtyard gate was locked. No escape was possible.

The suitors shouted insults at the beggar as he held the great bow. For a long moment, Odysseus stared at the one hundred and eight men in the courtyard. Then he quickly strung the bow as if it were nothing.

That silenced the suitors! They stared at the beggar, wide-eyed, not believing what they’d seen.

Odysseus chose an arrow from the quiver and notched it into the bow. He drew back the bowstring, took aim, and let the arrow fly. It whizzed through all twelve bronze axe rings and stuck in the wall. The suitors’ mouths fell open.

Odysseus turned toward Telemachus. “The hour has come for us to give these lords what they deserve,” he said.

Telemachus stepped forward and drew a spear from behind his back.

“Ready when you are, Father,” he said.