They find it among the Cyclops’s stores, a length of olive timber heavier than one man can lift. While he is out with the flock they sharpen it down to a point and harden the tip in the embers of the fire. They hide it in the stinking dung of the stalls so his blind hands will not stumble across it. [SPOILER: When the wine drops his head, four of them charge across the cave and drive it straight into that single pale eye. It compresses for a moment, then bursts with a snap. The whole mountain shakes with his howling. The stake is ordinary timber doing the work of a god’s wrath. The cunning is in turning his own house against him.]
The Sharpened Stake
An olive-wood pole the length of two tall men. They sharpen it, harden the tip in the embers, and hide it deep in the dung of the stalls.