by Stephen Fry
‘Let me go!’
‘No, my lord,’ said Theseus, dragging Sinis by his wrist through the grass, like a child pulling a toy cart. ‘You have done such kindness to so many strangers without any thought for yourself. Now, if I attach your arm to this tree and pull it down like so …’
Sinis sobbed, blubbed and begged as Theseus set to work.
‘Your modesty does you nothing but credit, Sinis,’ he said, reaching for a second pine, ‘but surely it is only right the world should have not one of you, but two.’
‘I beg you, I beg you. There is treasure buried beneath those bushes. Take it, take it all.’
Theseus now held both pine trees firmly in his grip. ‘You squeal and gibber like a pig, and I note that you wet yourself like a frightened child,’ he said, suddenly very stern. ‘But what mercy did you ever show your terrified victims?’
‘I’m sorry, truly sorry.’
Theseus thought for a while. ‘Hm. I can see that you truly are. I’ll just go and see if you are telling the truth about your treasure and if you are I’ll spare you.’
‘Yes, yes! But don’t let go, don’t …’
‘Let’s see, your treasure if over here, you say?’
Theseus stepped back, releasing his hold. The pines whipped apart, tearing Sinis in two as they shot upright, releasing a shower of needles from their shivering branches.
‘Oops. Clumsy me,’ said Theseus.
Theseus only left the place after he had unearthed the treasure and chopped down both the trees with his sword. He lit a fire of pinewood and sent the sweet-smelling smoke in gratitude up to the gods.
3. THE CROMMYONIAN SOW
Theseus resumed his journey along the Isthmus road as it hugged the coast. Before long he was approaching the village of Crommyon, midway between Corinth and the city of Megara. He was already nearer Athens than Troezen. Increasingly travellers hurrying south, or farmers labouring nervously in the fields, paused briefly to warn Theseus of a fearsome creature ravaging the land, which they called the CROMMYONIAN SOW.
From the stories he was told, Theseus wasn’t sure whether the Crommyonian Sow was a real snorting, squealing, snuffling, living pig, or a malicious and murderous old woman going by the name of PHAEA. Some swore they had seen a grey hag transform herself into a pig. Others maintained that Phaea was simply the pig’s keeper.
Theseus never saw any grey old hag, but he did encounter a large and aggressive wild pig. The great bronze club was more than a match for it and it was not long before the gods were treated to something even more delicious than fragrant pine smoke – the aroma of freshly roast bacon.fn1
4. SCIRON
Further along the coast road, between Megara and Eleusis, there lurked a notorious outlaw called SCIRON or Sceiron. He had been there so long that the cliffs over the bay at that point were known as the Scironian Rocks. Far below them, in the blue waters of the Saronic Gulf, a giant turtle swam about in impatient circles. Sciron and the turtle had an interesting and disturbing relationship. Sciron’s modus operandi was to force travellers to wash his feet, right on the cliff’s edge. The unwitting victims would have their backs to the sea and, when they knelt down to start washing, he would give a great kick and they would tumble down into the waters below, where the greedy turtle was waiting for them, jaws open.
‘No, no, no, no, no!’ said Theseus, after Sciron had leapt out from behind a tree and, at swordpoint, told him to wash his feet. ‘They’re disgusting. I’m not touching those.’
‘Would you rather be run through with a sword?’ said Sciron.
‘Well, no,’ conceded Theseus. ‘But where’s the bowl of hot water? Where are the scented oils? Where’s the goatskin flannel? If I’m going to clean your feet, I may as well do it properly.’
With a sigh of impatience, Sciron – his sword pointing at Theseus all the time – showed him where he kept all the implements and artefacts necessary for the perfect footbath. Theseus insisted on boiling water in a copper bowl that he found.
‘After all,’ he said cheerfully, ‘if a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly.’
‘Now go over yonder,’ growled Sciron, when Theseus at last pronounced that he was satisfied. ‘I’ll sit on this stool, you squat down there.’
‘It’s very close to the edge,’ said Theseus doubtfully.
‘I like to look out to sea when I’m having my feet washed. No more talking, let’s just get on, shall we?’
Theseus carried the bowl of steaming water carefully towards the spot. He could feel Sciron’s swordpoint in the small of his back, urging him on.
‘Right, so … here?’
‘Closer to the edge.’
‘Here?’
‘Closer still.’
‘Goodness, that’s steep – whoah!’
Theseus tripped and stumbled forward. Free of the swordpoint against his skin, he turned in an instant and hurled the scalding contents of the bowl into Sciron’s face. The outlaw gave one short scream from the pain and shock, then – after a sudden shove from Theseus – he gave a second longer scream as he tottered wildly on the cliff edge before tumbling down into the blue, blue sea.
Theseus looked down and saw the creamy wake of a giant turtle closing in on the thrashing form.
5. CERCYON AND THE BIRTH OF WRESTLING
At the temple of Demeter and Korefn2 at Eleusis, Theseus paused to offer sacrifices and prayers of thanks for his survival thus far. When he set out again on his journey, the coastline began to curl sharply south. For the worthy and indigent there were still plenty of gifts in his satchel, but his mind was now more occupied with how his father would react when they met than with the threat of brigands and outlaws.
Theseus was just thinking of finding a place to bivouac and sleep for the night when two tall thin men appeared on either side, seemingly out of nowhere, with their knives pointed at his throat. A third figure then stepped out in front of him. Theseus had never seen someone so big. He would have dwarfed even Periphetes, the first of his adversaries on this journey. Theseus knew perfectly ordinary people who were shorter than this man was broad.
‘Who gave you permission to enter my kingdom?’ the giant roared.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I am Cercyon, king of this realm. You enter without permission.’
‘Well, how very wrong of me. Please accept my apologies.’
‘I offer strangers a fight without weapons. If you win, this kingdom is yours.’
‘And if I lose?’
‘Then you die.’
Theseus looked round. ‘Not much of a kingdom, is it? I mean, compared with Corinth, say.’
‘Do you accept the challenge?’
‘Oh yes, I accept.’
‘Then remove your sword and your clothes.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘This is a fight without weapons. Only arms and fists, and legs and feet. Pure fighting.’
Theseus looked at the giant, who had cast off his cloak and other articles of clothing and now stood naked before him. Maybe this was all some elaborate courting ritual. Being embraced by such a huge musclebound man in an act of love was as horrible a prospect as being embraced by him in an act of combat. The tall thin guards with their knives at his throat were not going to go away, and with no other options open to him, Theseus laid down his sword and club with a sigh and stepped out of his tunic.
‘I can crush bones in one hug,’ said Cercyon.
‘Really?’ said Theseus. ‘Your mother must be very proud of you. Tell me …’ he added, leaping nimbly to one side as Cercyon came forward in a rush, ‘if I win, will your men really submit to me?’
‘If you win,’ chuckled Cercyon, beckoning Theseus forward, ‘they will serve you to the end of their days and you will be their king. Come to me, come to me!’
Theseus ducked between Cercyon’s legs and felt the giant’s balls brushing the top of his head. ‘Revolting,’ he said to himself. ‘But they do present a good target.’
‘Will you keep still!’ exclaimed Cercyon, infuriated by Theseus’s starts and sideways jumps. ‘You don’t fight like a man, you dance like a girl.’
Slowly Cercyon began to tire. He was too strong for Theseus to allow himself to engage, for it would only take one great bear-hug and his ribs would crack. But the giant’s lunges and swipes were slowing. Every time he made a move, Theseus found a way to turn his strength against him, tiring him further. The next time he ducked between Cercyon’s legs, he leapt onto the giant’s scrotum and hung there, twisting it round and round.
Cercyon howled in agony. ‘Stop it! You can’t do that, it’s cheating!’
With one last vicious tug, Theseus dropped to the ground.
‘I’ll get you, I’ll get you!’ thundered Cercyon.
He’s lost his temper, Theseus thought to himself. I’ve got him now.
Cercyon stamped and lurched forwards, blind to anything but revenge. Theseus nipped at his ankles, snapped at his balls, jumped on his toes, laughed and teased and raced around him until Cercyon was more like an enraged bull than any kind of artful fighter.
At last Theseus lured him to a row of jagged rocks and tripped him. Cercyon fell face down on the sharp rocks and Theseus jumped up and down on him like a child bouncing on a bed. The giant’s blood spurted up in a fountain and fell in crimson drops as Cercyon shuddered and gave up his last breath.fn3
Theseus turned to see the two thin guards kneeling on the ground in front of him.
‘Sire!’
‘Majesty!’
‘Oh, stop it,’ said Theseus, panting from his exertions. ‘Go away. You’re free. Quick, go! Before I do to you what I did to your king.’
As he watched them scampering down the hillside, Theseus donned his tunic and gathered up his possessions.fn4
6. PROCRUSTES, THE STRETCHER
Theseus’s last adversary appeared before him in a valley of Mount Korydallos. Unlike the others, he did not leap out from behind a rock or a tree. He did not bar Theseus’s way and he did not threaten him with swords, clubs or knives. Instead he stood in the doorway of a pleasantly appointed stone house and welcomed him with a smile and an offer of hospitality.
‘Hello, stranger! You look as though you have travelled a few leagues.’
‘That I have,’ said Theseus.
‘You will surely be in need of refreshment and a bed for the night.’
‘I was thinking of making straight for Athens this evening.’
‘Oh, it’s a good twelve miles. You’ll never make it before nightfall. And there are thieves and murderers waiting out there, I can assure you. Believe me, much better to stay here and make the final leg of your journey when you’re fresh. We offer cheap, clean lodging at an affordable price.’
‘Sold,’ said Theseus, thrusting out his hand. ‘Theseus of Troezen.’
‘PROCRUSTES of Erineus. Make yourself welcome under our roof.’
There was something in the smiling and the bowing that Theseus did not quite like, but he said nothing and entered the small house. A middle-aged woman was busy wiping down the wooden table with mint leaves. She welcomed him with a bobbing curtsy and a beaming smile.
‘A guest, my dear,’ said Procrustes, ducking his head to avoid the lintel as he entered, for he was a tall man.
Procrustes’ wife bobbed again. She smiled quite as much as her husband and Theseus found the nature of the smile quite as off-putting.
‘Do you have water somewhere that I might wash myself?’ he asked.
‘Wash yourself? Why would you do that?’ Procrustes asked, amazed.
‘Never you mind, Procrustes. If the young gentleman wants to wash, then let him. Strangers have strange ways and there’s an end to it. There’s a pond out the back where the ducks swim,’ she added to Theseus. ‘Might that serve your needs?’
‘Perfectly,’ said Theseus and he made his way out.
He saw the pond but did not make for it: instead he doubled round to the window at the back under which he crouched, listening.
‘Oh, he’s perfect, my dear,’ the wife was saying. ‘Did you see that bulging satchel he’s carrying? There’ll be silver and gold in there enough.’
‘He’s neither tall nor short,’ Procrustes put in thoughtfully. ‘When I take him to be fitted to the bed, should he be stretched out, do you think?’
‘Oh, I love it when you manacle them and stretch them out, Procrustes. The screams, the screams!’
‘Ah, but there’s fun to be had when they’re too tall for the bed, too. Chopping off their feet … They scream plenty then too.’
‘Stretch him, Procrustes, rack him! It lasts longer.’
‘I believe you’re right, my dear. I’ll go to the room now and make the bed long. What’s he doing, anyway? Who ever heard of a man washing himself? He’s not making a sound, neither.’
Theseus quickly picked up a stone and threw it into the pond. It landed with a splash and a chorus of angry quacking.
‘He’s frightening the ducks, at any rate.’
‘Maybe he’s from Sparta,’ suggested his wife. ‘You hear strange things of Spartans.’
‘He said he was from Troezen.’
‘They’re strange too.’
‘We’ll hear stranger things of him soon enough,’ said Procrustes as he left the room.
Theseus came back by way of the pond and was suitably dripping when he came back into the house.
‘You’ll have a cup of wine by the fire,’ said the woman. ‘That water must be making you chilly.’
‘How kind.’
‘All right and tight for you,’ said Procrustes, coming back in, with a wink. ‘Just been making sure your room is comfortable.’
‘That’s so thoughtful of you,’ said Theseus. ‘They say the gods reward hospitality.’
‘Well, it’s the least we can do,’ said Procrustes. ‘It’s a rough road from Eleusis to Athens. You can meet some nasty customers on the way.’
‘I’ve certainly encountered plenty of interesting and unusual people on my journey.’
‘No one who wanted to harm you?’ said the woman with motherly concern.
‘I found most of them to be as polite and friendly as you are,’ said Theseus, with a broad smile.
‘Enough chat, my dear,’ said Procrustes. ‘This gentleman will be wanting to see his room. Make sure the bed fits, that kind of thing.’
‘A bed?’ said Theseus. ‘Goodness me, I’ve become used to sleeping out in the open. What luxury a bed will be.’
‘Come along then and I’ll show you.’
It was a pleasant room into which Procrustes ushered his guest. He had gone to the trouble of setting a vase of flowers on the table. The frame of the bed itself seemed to be of bronze. Theseus saw that there were rings built in all around the sides that seemed to be decorative, but could easily serve as manacles or cuffs.
‘How charming,’ said Theseus, surveying the room. ‘Irises. My favourites.’
‘Now, if you’ll just lie out on the bed, I’ll see if it fits.’
‘No, no,’ said Theseus. Quick as a flash he executed one of his wrestling moves, which deposited Procrustes face down on the bed. While he was still stunned, Theseus grasped his hands and quickly fixed them to the restraints, then he did the same to Procrustes’ ankles. Procrustes swore loudly, but Theseus shushed him.
‘What a remarkable bed this is,’ he said walking round it slowly. ‘There’s a handle here, I wonder what it does?’
He picked up the crank and fitted it to the mechanism at the end of the bed. When he turned the handle, the bed shortened in length.
‘Language, Procrustes, please! I see you have an axe here. Perhaps that is to fit your guests properly to the bed? I wonder if it works.’
Theseus lopped off Procrustes’ protruding feet at the ankles. The screams were terrible, so Theseus silenced them by chopping off his head too. The body quivered and jerked for a few seconds, blood spouting from each end.
As he was
detaching Procrustes and rolling him off the bed, he heard the wife coming down the passageway.
‘Oh, you haven’t started without me, have you, my love? I heard the screams, but I had bread in the oven and I –’
She stopped and stared at the sight that met her: Theseus standing cheerfully, axe in hand, her husband dead on the floor and blood everywhere.
‘No, you’re not too late,’ said Theseus. ‘Why don’t you lie down and let me fit you to the bed? No, no, don’t struggle. It’s much easier if you lie still and let me attach you to these clever manacles … like so. Dear me, you are far too short for this bed, you know. Far too short. Let me make you a better fit.’
The woman spat and screamed curses but Theseus took no notice as he turned the handle.
‘You see, now I can stretch you. They say that is very good for the muscles.’
He cranked until he could hear the woman’s shoulders creak as her arms were slowly pulled from the shoulder sockets.
‘Still not quite a fit …’
Now her hips began to click and snap.
‘You were right about the screams,’ said Theseus. ‘Just as well you have no neighbours.’
She died in terrible agony, but Theseus thought of the agony of the many travellers who had had the misfortune to accept hospitality from the couple. He found plenty of stolen jewellery and, behind the duckpond, a macabre midden of bones. More than two hundred had screamed their last in this evil place.
Theseus threw lit rushes into the windows of the house and crossed the road to lie down in the field opposite and watch it burn down – Procrustes, wife, bed and all. As the embers died, he curled up and thought to himself how the best beds were to be found in nature, in the hedgerows and under the wise all-seeing stars. In the morning he should stop off at the River Cephissus and cleanse himself. That, he felt, was important.
THE WICKED STEPMOTHER
The figure that strode through the morning market in the Athenian agora attracted attention right away.fn5 He was tall, he was handsome, yet despite his youth he was fierce of demeanour and confident in his bearing. The lithe tread and broad shoulders spoke of a warrior or athlete. Such figures were not rare in Athens, but neither were they an everyday sight.
