The challenge

You watch as Queen Penelope walks out of the room, her words echoing through the suddenly quiet hall: "Whoever can string my husband's old bow and shoot through twelve axes cleanly will be the new king, sit down at the throne with me as his queen." The room erupts into a murmur of speculation and arrogant laughter. Several suitors immediately jump up, boasting of their strength. You watch them fail one by one, straining against the stiff, unyielding wood of the great bow.

You remain seated, observing. You feel the strength in your own arms, a strength perhaps greater than any other man here. You know you could do it. You feel a pull toward the throne, toward the power, toward the beautiful Queen who just left.

But a cold knot of apprehension sits in your stomach. This is Odysseus's bow. He has been gone for twenty years, but this feels like a test, a trap. You look at the heavy weapon on the table, then at the twelve axes.

Do you stand up? Do you walk toward the challenge and risk everything for the crown of Ithaca?