The Greek Myths

by Robin Waterfield

  When Icarus flew too high the waxen wings melted and he plummeted to his death.[46]

  But Daedalus was revenged on Minos. Shortly after the time of our story, Minos went to Sicily to recover Daedalus and punish him. Daedalus went into hiding, but Minos cunningly took with him to Sicily a conch shell, and he offered a princely reward to anyone who could pass a thread all the way through the windings of the shell.

  Now, the only one who could do it was Cocalus, king of Acragas, and the way he did it was to tie the thread to an ant, which then worked its way through the tortuous channels of the shell. But this was a trap: Minos knew that only Daedalus could have thought up the business with the ant, and so he knew that the fugitive prince was in Acragas. When Minos confronted Cocalus, the king greeted him kindly, and suggested a bath to wash the dust of his journey from his royal body, with his own fair daughters in attendance. And when Minos stepped into the bath, Cocalus had his daughters pour boiling water over the Cretan king, who died in horrible agony.

  * * *

  At the time in question, Minos defeated the Athenians and imposed the indemnity of the seven youths and seven maidens, to be sent into the labyrinth as a sacrifice to the Minotaur. Young Theseus was grieved to see his new-found father humbled so, and was enraged by the city’s loss. The people of the kingdom were assembled, and fourteen names were read out amid the cries and wails of heartbroken parents and siblings. But while all the other young men and women had been chosen by lot, Minos chose Theseus himself, for he wanted Aegeus to suffer the loss of his newly discovered son. But Theseus was glad to go, for he intended to do away with the Minotaur and rid Athens once and for all of the indemnity.

  The fourteen victims were hustled onto the black-sailed flagship of Minos’ victorious war fleet and set sail on a favorable breeze. In the course of the voyage, Minos began to lust after one of the young Athenian women, but Theseus stood up to him and protected the terrified virgin. “And who are you,” thundered Minos, “to prevent a son of Zeus from having his way?” “A son of Poseidon,” Theseus snapped back, and challenged Minos to prove that Zeus really was his father. “I will if you will,” said Minos, and he called upon Zeus to send thunder, as a sign that he recognized him as his son. A massive peal of thunder rumbled and shook the heavens, and then Minos hurled a ring into the depths of the sea, challenging Theseus to recover it, if he truly was the son of Poseidon.

  Nothing daunted, Theseus leapt into the foaming waves; for heroes recognize no limits. None expected to see him again, but dolphins came and bore him to the undersea palace of his father Poseidon, where the brother of almighty Zeus sat on his throne with Amphitrite at his right hand. Amphitrite presented her stepson with Minos’ ring, and gave him a beautiful cloak and a crown that Aphrodite had once given her. And Theseus, endowed thereby with the aura of Aphrodite, was escorted back to Minos’ ship by Poseidon’s assistant Triton, whose massive, scaly bulk belied his gentle nature. Theseus clambered back on board, miraculously dry. If Minos was concerned, he kept his fears to himself. No sooner had the ships docked at the harbor of Cnossus than Ariadne, the Cretan king’s beautiful daughter, hurried down to greet her father. But as soon as she cast eyes on Theseus, standing tall and proud on the prow of the flagship, she fell in love with him. Ariadne crept out after dark and whispered her love to Theseus through the barred window of the rough quarters shared by the young Athenian captives. The hero eagerly returned her words, for she was surpassingly fair—and potentially useful.

  Theseus’ greatest problem was this. Even though he was unarmed, he was confident that he could kill the Minotaur—after all, nothing had been able to resist him so far—but first he had to find it. The maze was famously complex, designed to baffle the human mind and heart. A man could get lost in there forever, and wander futilely and in increasing terror until death overtook him. So when the time came for him and the other young Athenians to enter the labyrinth and confront the Minotaur, Ariadne secretly slipped him a spool of shining thread, which he could unwind as he worked his way through the maze, and rewind on the way back.

  The fourteen young men and women stepped into the gloom of the labyrinth, but their sinking hearts recovered when they saw the confidence of their champion’s stride. He led the way, and they crept through the maze behind him. Time and again they found that they had come to a dead end, so they rewound the thread back to the last junction and tried a different route. At last, by eliminating all the dead ends, they drew closer and closer to the center, until they could hear the snuffling and stamping of the monster and let the noise pull them fearfully forward in the gloom. The closer they came, the worse the stench that assailed their nostrils—the miasma of the Minotaur’s rotting victims and waste.

  As soon as the beast caught their scent, it raised its muzzle and blasted the stale air with hot breath, that issued like a wet cloud from its red-rimmed nostrils. It began to tug at the leg-irons that chained it to the solid rock and prevented escape to the world above. When the beast caught sight of them, it seized some of the massive boulders that were lying about the floor of the cavern and began to hurl them at the terrified youngsters. But Theseus told the rest to stay well behind, while he boldly advanced and fought the creature singlehandedly, man against monster. Before long the Minotaur was gasping out its final breaths in a pool of blood on the rocky ground, battered by the same rocks it had hurled at Theseus.

  It was a simple matter to escape the foul dankness of the labyrinth: all they had to do was follow Ariadne’s thread back to the entrance, where she anxiously awaited them. Gulping sweet life into their lungs along with the clean, bright air, they sprinted for the harbor. After scuttling all the rest of Minos’ ships to prevent pursuit, they leapt aboard the black-winged flagship in which they had come, and set sail safely for Athens. Everyone had reason for joy, and Ariadne anticipated soon being Theseus’ royal bride.

  “Theseus boldly advanced and fought the creature singlehandedly, man against monster.”[47]

  The fugitives spent the first night on the island of Naxos. But Athena appeared to Theseus in a dream, and commanded him to continue his voyage immediately, and to leave Ariadne there on the island. For she was destined for a higher station. Theseus did so, but reluctantly, with a last lingering look at the fair maiden; but the orders of the gods are not to be disobeyed. When Ariadne awoke in the morning, she was frightened and bewildered, but the god Dionysus appeared before her and said that she was destined to be his wife, and promised her fidelity. And Father Zeus made her immortal, so that she would never know death or age, and could live for all eternity with her husband. The veil between mortality and immortality is fine, but so strong that only Father Zeus, king of gods and men, can part it for an instant.

  So the young Athenians continued their voyage home. Now, on the day Minos took him and the others from Athens to become fare for the Minotaur, Theseus had promised his father that, if he managed to destroy the beast and return, he would hoist white sails on the ship, to replace the morbid black ones which had carried him away on his deadly mission. But caught up in the joy and anticipation of a victorious homecoming, Theseus forgot to change the sails. Day after day, Aegeus had climbed to the highest point of the Athenian Acropolis to keep an anxious but hopeful vigil and watch for the sign of his son’s safe return. And at last he saw the ship on the horizon—but black sails, not white, snapped in the wind.

  His son was dead; he had no reason to go on living. Aegeus cast himself to his death off the Acropolis. But others say that he saw the black sails from the cliffs of Sunium, and there threw himself into the sea which now bears his name, the Aegean.

  King Theseus

  By this unhappy accident, Theseus gained the throne of Athens, but it was not a smooth succession. Aegeus had long been feuding with his brother Pallas, and now Pallas gathered a mighty force to seize the throne. With his sons as his generals, he prepared to attack Athens. But Theseus got wind of his plans, launched a surprise counterattack, and eliminated the thre
at once and for all. So Theseus protected his people, and they prospered under his wisdom.

  Theseus’ best friend was Pirithous, king of the Lapiths in Thessaly. Pirithous was a son of Ixion, and also of Zeus, who had mounted Ixion’s wife in the form of a noble stallion. Pirithous and Theseus became friends when the Thessalian tried to rustle some of Theseus’ cattle. Theseus set out in pursuit and caught up with the thief—but Pirithous turned and offered him friendship instead of enmity. From then on the two were inseparable, and shared a number of adventures. Usually, but not always, their concern was to tame the earth, to make it a place where human civilization and culture could flourish.

  Together they led an expedition against the Amazons, who dwell in distant Scythia, on the edge of the world, and they abducted the Amazon queen Antiope, who bore Theseus a son, Hippolytus. But then Theseus cast Antiope aside and chose Phaedra, daughter of Cretan Minos, to be his lawful wife. No one treats a proud Amazon queen like that and gets away with it! Antiope summoned her sisters and they attacked Athens in force; but the Amazons were repulsed, and Antiope died from her wounds.

  Artemis, the divine huntress, with the tools of her craft.[48]

  Hippolytus grew up fair and strong in his father’s halls, and became a devotee of Artemis. He loved nothing better than running with hounds and other hunters, bare-chested and sweat-soaked in the hills; and he swore that he would remain chaste all his life, in imitation of his goddess. But Phaedra’s heart was filled with an abominable love for her stepson, and then, when he refused her, with cold fury. She went to Theseus and told him that Hippolytus had tried to rape her. Theseus called on his father Poseidon to destroy Hippolytus, and a bull emerged from the surf of the sea and attacked the young man as he was driving his chariot. The horses bolted and Hippolytus was dragged along the ground to his death. At the sight of his mangled body, Phaedra killed herself for shame—but Hippolytus was miraculously resurrected by Asclepius, and for this unnatural act Asclepius was blasted by Zeus the cloud-gatherer.

  Poseidon called forth a bull from the sea to destroy Hippolytus, in answer to Theseus’ misguided prayer.[49]

  Now, Pirithous was betrothed to Hippodamia, daughter of Atrax of Hestiaeotis, and the time came for the wedding to be celebrated. Pirithous arranged a splendid wedding feast, and invited not only all his fellow Lapiths, but his distant kin the Centaurs as well, who dwelled nearby in the mountains of Thessaly. The servants, obeying orders, served the shaggy Centaurs milk to drink; but the tempting scent of the sweet wine the Lapiths were drinking inflamed the wild half-men, and they pushed their milk aside and seized flagons of wine instead.

  At first, the Centaurs became boisterous, then unruly, and finally they tried to rape the Lapith women. Tables were overturned, women were being dragged off by the hair. Their screams mingled with the confused cries of the Lapiths and grunts of the Centaurs as they hauled their reluctant victims away. The Lapiths armed themselves with whatever they could grab—cups, cushions, knives—while the Centaurs wielded trees that they uprooted, and boulders that they snatched up in their powerful arms.

  The Lapith wedding feast descended into chaos after the Centaurs’ drunkenness ignited violence.[50]

  The conflict that broke out at the wedding spilled out of the house and became more formal warfare, to be resolved by battle only when Theseus came to help. In the course of the fighting many heroes fell, including the noble Lapith Caeneus, the brother of Hippodamia. He had been born as Caenis, a girl, but she granted her favors to Poseidon, who in return granted her a wish. And her wish was to become a man, and immortal. But despite his immortality, the Centaurs hammered Caeneus into the ground with tree trunks, and sealed him inside forever with a massive boulder.

  Even the noblest heroes can act like fools under the influence of Eros. The most notorious escapade which Theseus and Pirithous got up to involved two bungled abductions. The young men set their hearts on making daughters of Zeus their own. Theseus chose Helen, daughter of Zeus and Leda, while Pirithous aimed even higher, for Persephone, wife of Hades. They succeeded in abducting Helen from Sparta—she was just a young girl at the time, and they found her dancing naked by the Eurotas river with her friends—but Theseus left her in Athens and immediately set out to help his friend with Persephone. Helen’s brothers, the divine twins Castor and Polydeuces, took advantage of his absence to regain their sister—and at the same time they kidnapped Aethra, Theseus’ mother, to be Helen’s handmaid.

  Pirithous’ attempt on Persephone was even more of a disaster, though he foolishly entertained the idea that, since he and Persephone shared Zeus as their father, the cloud-gatherer would look kindly on the endeavor. When they arrived in Hades’ palace, the dark-cowled god made them welcome, but his heart spoke other words, for he knew their designs. And so he bade them be seated—but as soon as Pirithous took his seat on an intricately carved bench, the stone softened and molded itself around him, and then hardened again, so that he was utterly trapped. Theseus’ help was as vain as Pirithous’ struggle. The Athenian king was compelled to leave his friend forever in the underworld, as one of the dead, condemned to an eternity of grief and remorse.

  Back in Athens, his adventures over, Theseus proved to be a wise and good king—but such qualities do not make one immune from treachery. By such means his cousin Menestheus usurped the throne of Athens and banished Theseus to the island of Scyros, where in due course he died. His body was found broken at the bottom of a cliff, and no one knew whether he had fallen or been pushed.

  Chapter Eight

  HERACLES

  The Birth of Heracles

  Electryon, king of Mycenae and son of Perseus and Andromeda, went to war with the Teleboans, who had killed his sons and stolen his cattle. While he was away, he left Amphitryon in charge of Mycenae, and signaled his trust in his young nephew by giving him his daughter Alcmene, who was so beautiful that men thought they were in the presence of Aphrodite herself, the subduer of men. But Electryon told Amphitryon that he was to leave Alcmene a virgin until after he returned from his expedition, and Alcmene agreed: no sex until her dead brothers had been avenged.

  But a terrible accident occurred. Electryon found the missing cattle before he had avenged himself on the Teleboans. He sent for Amphitryon and together they began to drive the herd back to Mycenae. But during the drive one of the cows ran amok. Amphitryon hurled his club at the creature’s head, but it bounced off the horns and struck Electryon instead, killing him instantly. When Amphitryon got back to Mycenae, the priests told him he had to leave, in case his blood-guilt polluted the city, and he chose to go to Thebes.

  So Amphitryon went to Thebes for purification, taking his wife with him. But Alcmene still refused to let Amphitryon into her bed until her brothers had been avenged. A homeless exile, Amphitryon was not up to the task alone: he needed the help of his host, Creon of Thebes. But Creon was preoccupied by a deadly fox that was devastating the countryside. Each month one young man was sent out after the fox, and was never seen again. To make matters worse, everyone knew that the fox was destined never to be caught. Creon promised help, but only once the fox had been dealt with.

  Just then, Cephalus arrived in Thebes. The Athenian needed purification from blood guilt as well, after accidentally killing his wife with his infallible javelin. Tainted by its deadly deed, the javelin had been left behind, a dedication in a temple, but Cephalus still had his hound. They set out after the fox—the infallible hound against the fox that could not be caught. An impossible situation developed, a paradox: the hound was bound to catch the fox, but the fox could not be caught. But Father Zeus grew bored of watching the endless chase. He resolved the riddle by turning both fox and hound to stone, and they stand there still.

  Creon was now free to help Amphitryon and together they marched out against the Teleboans. The chief problem was that the Teleboans could not be conquered as long as their king, Pterelaus, was alive, and he could not be killed. He sported a magical lock of golden hair which ke
pt him alive. But it didn’t require Zeus to solve this riddle. Pterelaus’ daughter fell in love with Amphitryon and betrayed her father. She cut off the golden lock and he immediately died. The city fell, and Amphitryon punished the Teleboans for killing Alcmene’s brothers.

  When Amphitryon returned victorious to Thebes, he was at last allowed to lie with his wife, but there was something he didn’t know. Alcmene had just been honored by a long and fulfilling visit from Zeus. The great god had appeared to her as Amphitryon and slept with her, before revealing himself to her and giving her a golden goblet as a gift. Not only had he slept with her, but he had persuaded Helios, the sun-god, to rein in his stallions so that the sun would not rise in the morning, and the night would be prolonged to three times its normal length. So much potency did Zeus want to sow in fair Alcmene.

  Helios held back his shining team and chariot to prolong Zeus’ night of love with Alcmene.[51]

  Now, Zeus’ nocturnal visit took place on the same night as Amphitryon’s return, and Amphitryon too slept with his wife. In due course of time, then, Alcmene bore twins: Heracles and Iphicles, begotten respectively by Zeus and Amphitryon. It was a hard birth, but Hera, the goddess of childbirth, showed no pity. Zeus, knowing that his son was due to be born, announced that whoever was born on that day should rule all those around him. Hera saw an opportunity: “Do you swear to that?” she said. “Whoever is born today shall rule his neighbors?” And Zeus, failing to perceive his wife’s trick, nodded his head in solemn assent.

  Straight away, Hera left Olympus for earth. She did two things. First, she delayed Heracles’ birth, but accelerated that of his cousin, Eurystheus of Tiryns, so that Eurystheus should rule Heracles and not the other way around. And so it turned out. Second, furious with Zeus for yet another affair, no sooner had Heracles been born than she sent two slithering vipers into Alcmene’s chamber, intending their poisonous fangs to make short work of her husband’s bastard baby. But the mighty infant grasped a snake in each of his chubby hands and squeezed them to death.