Favorite Greek Myths Page 3

  The gods had a fondness for handsome Bellerophon, and when he went to Athena’s temple to ask for help in this challenge, Sleep filled his body, and Athena, the goddess of wisdom, spoke to him in a dream. “Take this bridle,” she said, handing him a lovely golden rope, “and catch Pegasus, the divine winged horse. Riding Pegasus, you will have a chance to destroy the horrible one.”

  When Bellerophon woke from his dream, there was indeed a golden bridle in his fist, and he set out to find Pegasus, who, you remember, leapt out of Medusa’s body when Perseus cut off her ugly head. In a pasture near Mount Olympos, Bellerophon found Pegasus. The horse, seeing Athena’s bridle, did not run or fly from the warrior. Bellerophon got up on Pegasus, and the horse, understanding its mission, flew towards Lycia.

  The Chimera saw her flying enemy and coughed fiery blasts at what it thought was food. But what kind of food was this? A creature atop the flying horse shot arrow after arrow at her. The Chimera was furious, and Bellerophon, had not Pegasus been so brave, would have turned away in caution.

  Pegasus flew them close by the Chimera, around and around her terrible head, confusing her until she got dizzy and fell over in a tumble. And now Bellerophon saw his chance. Tipping his arrows with bronze, he fired them down into the beast’s ghastly mouth. The Chimera began to choke; its fiery breath melted the bronze, which flowed down her tender throat and into her stomach. She leapt to her feet, in horrible pain, and nearly thrashed Pegasus and Bellerophon out of the sky. But it was too late for the Chimera. Her tender insides were a volcano of liquid metal. She coughed up one last blast of fire and perished in a heap of ashes.

  Bellerophon had won. Pegasus brought him back to a surprised King Iobates and then flew off to Zeus on Mount Olympos.

  Theseus and the Minotaur

  On the island of Crete lived King Minos. He had many children by his wife, Pasiphae. When Minos forgot to pay his respects to Poseidon, the god of the sea, Poseidon punished him. The sea god asked for the love goddess Aphrodite’s help to make Pasiphae fall in love with a bull. By this animal, then, Pasiphae had a strange child, a bull-headed monster called the Minotaur.

  Minos was so ashamed of this beast that he asked the great inventor Daedalus to construct a pen from which the Minotaur could not escape. Daedalus built a vast maze, a labyrinth, from which no man could ever get out once he entered.

  The Minotaur lived within this labyrinth roaring with anger. To quiet him, Minos sent prisoners from Athens into the labyrinth. The Minotaur hunted these men down and killed them, and this was his only occupation.

  A young man named Theseus, the son of Athens’ king, sailed to Crete to try to stop these sacrifices of Athenians. His father Aegeus begged him not to go, but Theseus insisted. So his father told him that if his mission to Minos was successful to take down the ship’s black sail on the return voyage and raise the white one. “Then I will know and not have to wonder whether you are still alive,” said Aegeus.

  When Theseus arrived in Crete he went to Minos and said, “Athens has paid you tribute long enough.”

  Minos laughed at him and said, “I defeated your country in the war, and I may do whatever I like with my prisoners. If you don’t like what the Minotaur does, go and kill him, and I will demand no more Athenians.”

  “That is what I shall do,” replied Theseus.

  Ariadne, a young and beautiful daughter of Minos, saw Theseus and fell in love with him. She could not bear the thought that he would enter the labyrinth and never return. She went and begged the inventor of the labyrinth, Daedalus, for the secret to get back out safely from the maze. Ariadne was so sweet that Daedalus told her what to do.

  She secretly went to Theseus and said, “Take this ball of thread and tie it to the gateway of the labyrinth. Hold onto the ball and unwind the thread as you make your way in. Once you kill the Minotaur—for I see that you have the strength and courage to do so—you will be able to find your way back by following the thread.”

  And so Theseus unwound the thread on the way in, and found the man-eating Minotaur. Theseus had no weapons, but his fists were like bronze. When the Minotaur tried to swallow him up, he gripped one arm around its neck and battered the creature with the other. The Minotaur fell over dead!

  Theseus followed the string back out of the winding labyrinth. But when he presented himself to Minos, the king was furious. “You have killed my beast! You have solved the riddle of the labyrinth! For these deeds, I shall have you killed!”

  Theseus, however, battled off Minos’ soldiers, and made his way down to his ship. Minos’ daughter Ariadne rushed down to the shore and begged that Theseus take her with him. He agreed and they escaped and sailed away.

  Lovely Ariadne, who had betrayed her father because of her love for Theseus, died before the ship arrived in Athens. This so saddened Theseus that he forgot to raise his white sail that would have signaled to Aegeus his successful adventure. Theseus’ poor father, seeing the black sail and feeling he had nothing and no one left to live for, jumped off a cliff to his death.

  Theseus became king of Athens and never allowed his citizens to be sent to the labyrinth in Crete again.

  Daedalus and Icarus

  Meanwhile, for having helped Theseus, Minos imprisoned both Daedalus and Daedalus’ son, Icarus, in the labyrinth.

  “Will we die, father?” asked Icarus.

  “We all die some time,” said Daedalus. “But if I can finish these wings, our time will not be as soon. We’re going to fly away from here.”

  Daedalus built two pairs of wings for himself and Icarus. Each was made of feathers and wax on a wooden frame. Inventors often know the flaws of their inventions. The flaw in these wings was that if they got too close to the sea, the salt spray would dampen the wings—making them too heavy to fly. “So don’t get them wet!” said Daedalus to his son.

  “I won’t!”

  “On the other hand, if the wings get too hot,” continued Daedalus, “the wax will melt and the wings will come apart. Do you understand? Don’t fly too low, don’t fly too high.”

  Icarus, impatient to get up in the air, said, “I know! I know!” His father’s advice was already forgotten.

  They set out, the people of Crete marvelling at the men as they rose from the labyrinth like birds and flew away over the ocean. Daedalus called out, “Follow me, Icarus!”

  Icarus shouted back, “I’ll be right there, Father.” Icarus soared, he flew higher and higher—he felt like a god! Daedalus hovered in the middle sky, pleading with his son to show some sense. But, just as Daedalus feared, the wax melted off Icarus’ wings; they were in tatters and the feathers were slipping away.

  “Father!” screamed Icarus. He was now plunging toward the sea. What could Daedalus do? He flew around and around, over the very spot where the waters had swallowed up his son. Daedalus, after weeping tears on Icarus’ watery grave, winged his way to distant Sicily. It was Icarus’ fatal fall that gave these waters their name, the Icarian Sea.

  The Story of Narcissus

  One fine day the youth Narcissus was walking on a path along a forest stream when he came to a smooth, clear, deep running pool. He was thirsty, and so he went to the bank of the stream and knelt down and leaned over the water. Who do you think he saw down there looking up at him? He did not know, but whoever it was was the most fascinating and handsome young man he had ever seen.

  Narcissus smiled, and the handsome young man smiled at the same time. How charming! He felt there was some secret connection between himself and the young man, and that they needed no words to understand each other.

  He and his admirer, who dwelled below the surface of the pond, stared at each other all day. When night came, Narcissus’ admirer seemed to swim away into the darkness. Narcissus got up and went on his way, terribly in love.

  The moon came out and the lonely nymph named Echo heard the words of this handsome young man.

  “I am in love,” said Narcissus. “What a handsome young man!”

 
“I am in love,” said Echo. “What a handsome young man!” It was true, Narcissus was remarkably handsome. Echo now appeared to Narcissus, her arms open in love, but he turned away, not wanting to see anyone, not even a beautiful immortal nymph, if she did not resemble the lovely young man he had seen.

  Echo followed Narcissus everywhere, unable to say anything original, always only saying what he had said. He did not enjoy this. He only had thoughts for one person.

  Each day he returned to the pool in the forest, and each day he and his admirer gazed in wonder, silently, lovingly. Each night Echo followed him home repeating everything he said, trying to please him with her agreement.

  And then one day, Narcissus, tired of the distance between himself and his true love, looked into his eyes and their eyes agreed: Narcissus should join his loved one. In the pool? Yes. Narcissus could not swim, but his admirer, this one who seemed to understand Narcissus’ own soul, encouraged him. Narcissus reached out his arms to the young man and the young man reached out his arms as well. Into the pool plunged Narcissus!

  Echo rushed to the pond and looked in. There she saw only her own reflection. Narcissus had sunk to the bottom of the pool and drowned in his love for himself. In his memory we now find lovely blooming narcissus flowers growing by still pools.

  Echo wept. She was now so lonely and heartbroken that she wasted away, until all that remained of her was a voice, speechless unless spoken to.

  Oedipus

  When Oedipus was born to the king and queen of Thebes, Laius and locasta, a prophet announced that the baby would grow up to kill his father and marry his mother. To avoid such a shocking outcome, King Laius sorrowfully ordered one of his servants to kill the baby.

  The servant took the baby away, onto a hilltop, but he could not kill the innocent child. He left Oedipus instead with a shepherd, who brought him across the mountains to the king of Corinth. This king claimed the boy and raised him as his own.

  When Oedipus grew to manhood, a prophet warned him that he would kill his father and marry his mother. Not knowing that he had been adopted, and that his real parents were locasta and Laius, Oedipus left the country to avoid committing such crimes. While crossing over the mountain, he fought a caravan of men who tried to force him off the road. He killed them all.

  From there, Oedipus came to the outskirts of Thebes, which he did not know was his original country. Thebes was being menaced then by the Sphinx, who would ask its visitors a riddle. When they could not answer correctly, the Sphinx would kill them. The riddle was this: “What has four legs, two legs, and then three legs?” Oedipus was good at solving riddles and went to the Sphinx, who asked him its question. Oedipus thought for a moment and then answered, “A man! As a baby he crawls on his hands and knees, as an adult he walks on his two legs, as an old man he walks with a cane!” The Sphinx, shocked by this mortal’s correct answer, fell over dead. As a reward from the Theban people, Oedipus was named king, for the former king had recently been killed. His bride was the queen, Iocasta.

  Several years later, after they had had four children, plagues began to destroy the people of Thebes. Oedipus strove to discover the reason. A prophecy gave him a hint, that the murderer of the former king, Laius, was living unpunished in Thebes. Until this murder was punished, plagues would sweep the country.

  Oedipus questioned everyone: old servants, his wife, his brother-in-law, and the famous seer Teiresias. As he questioned them about the former king’s death, he slowly put together the facts, the terrible facts that seemed to point to himself!

  At last, the entire mystery revealed itself to him. He understood who his true parents were—Iocasta and Laius. One of those men he had killed while crossing over the mountain had been his father! He himself had killed Laius! Cursing his fate that had doomed him to do what he had meant not to do, he blinded himself, as he could not bear to see the children he had fathered with Iocasta, his wife and mother. locasta for her part hanged herself.

  Oedipus was good at solving riddles and went to the Sphinx, who asked him its question.

  Oedipus, in disgrace, left his country, and, as a blind beggar, wandered the countryside. Oedipus was the unhappiest man who ever was. He lived in suffering to an old age, accompanied by his daughter Antigone, until the gods, pitying his pain, whisked him off the face of the earth at a sacred place near Athens.

  Chapter IV

  The Argonauts

  PELIAS, THE king of Iolcus, lived in dread of a man who would enter his palace wearing one sandal—the other foot bare. This man, a prophet had told Pelias, would bring him death.

  One day a handsome young man crossed the Anaurus River to Iolcus, and one of his sandals came off in the mucky river. He then presented himself to the king.

  “Who are you?” asked Pelias, noticing the man’s bare foot. “Why have you come?”

  “I am Jason, son of Iason, the man from whom you stole this kingdom. I have returned to claim our rights.”

  “I will step down and restore the kingdom to your family,” said Pelias, “on one condition. You must bring to me the Golden Fleece.”

  The Golden Fleece was the woolly coat of the sea god Poseidon’s golden ram. It was spread out over the top branches of a sacred oak tree and guarded by an immortal, dragon-sized snake who never slept. To capture such a prize was surely an impossible request, but Jason was young and brave, and replied, “Very well.”

  Jason asked Argus to build him a ship. The wise goddess Athena advised Argus in the building of this fifty-oared ship called the Argo. She even brought him a piece of talking timber to build into the ship—to tell the sailors how to sail it.

  Jason rounded up a crew for this adventure, all of them strong men, all of them either sons or grandsons of gods. Jason himself was the grandson of the keeper of the winds, Aiolos. These great men were known as the Argonauts, the sailors of the clever ship Argo. One was Peleus, husband of the nereid, or sea-nymph, Thetis and father of Achilles. Another, you might recall, was the invincible Hercules. When they asked him to be their captain, he refused, saying, “The man who gathered us is the man who ought to lead us—Jason.”

  As they rowed away from Iolcus, their armor glimmering like fire in the bright sun, the people cried and moaned, wondering why Pelias was sending the fine young men to their deaths. Jason’s old father, Iason, wept from his sick-bed.

  Orpheus, son of the Muse Calliope, sang and played to the men as they rowed. His voice and music were so charming that the men’s hearts were light, even when their muscles ached and grew heavy.

  Handsome Jason wore a breathtaking cloak, the gift of goddess Athena, and he led the men to an island of widowed women, where they were detained by the widows’ wishes. From there they sailed to another island, where Hylas, Hercules’ dear friend, was pulled into a deep, dark pool by a lovely nymph. This nymph made Hylas her water-breathing husband, while Hercules wandered the island in despair, looking for his friend. Jason felt he had no choice but to lead his Argonauts back to sea, leaving Hercules behind. In any case, it had become time for Hercules to return to his labors.

  They landed next on a beach within a wide bay. There the Argonauts encountered the surly, brutal king Amycus.

  He said: “No crew that stops here can pass on until I box one of them. Send out your best man against me and give him your prayers.”

  The Argonauts were angry at such a greeting, and sent out Polydeuces against him. Amycus was built like a monster; he had a brutal face and massive arms, legs and shoulders. Polydeuces, on the other hand, was strong and quick, like a young tiger. They tied on boxing gloves and began. When Amycus swung his weighty hands at Polydeuces, the younger man turned and took the blow on his shoulder, arid then struck the wicked king above his ear. Down fell Amycus, and then Amycus’ men sprang at the Argonauts, who cut them down in moments.

  The next day they sailed and came to a spot up the coast, where Phineas the prophet, a priest of the god Apollo, lived. Phineas was a tormented old man. When he was a younge
r man, he had been amazed by his visions of what would be, excited about knowing what only the gods know, and he had told everything! He did not remember that the gods want men to be ignorant of some things. To punish Phineas, Zeus blinded him and ordered the hideous flying Harpies to snatch away any food the once-proud man could beg.

  Those men and women who had received the aid of Phineas’ prophecies still brought him meals, and yet the Harpies never missed their chance to speed down from the sky and steal the food—even as Phineas raised a piece of it to his mouth. By the time Jason and the Argonauts came to see him, he was old and creaky. He complained to them of the Harpies, and then told them: “I once saw in my future that two sons of the winds would drive these vultures away.”

  Two of the Argonauts were indeed sons of Boreas, the North Wind. They decided to lure the Harpies down to Phineas so that they could destroy the annoying creatures. A meal was prepared and set before the starving old man. Phineas reached out for the food, and for a moment it seemed that perhaps the Harpies were wary of the sword-bearing Argonauts standing beside the old man. They were nowhere to be seen. But then, as some glorious bread touched Phineas’ poor dry lips, the Harpies flashed by like lightning bolts, stealing the bread and all the other food laid out before him.

  With another flash they were gone, streaking across the sky. In another moment, the sons of the North Wind, Zetes and Calais, set out in stormy pursuit. And they would have caught the Harpies too, had not Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, called off the chase.

  “Sons of the North Wind, halt! The Harpies are Zeus’s servants. You may not destroy them. They are useful for reminding men of Zeus’s anger. You have done enough. I swear to you that you have now relieved Phineas of his punishment. The Harpies shall return no more to torment him. Go back, and give him this message.”