Favorite Greek Myths Read online

  When Achilles was a young man, Odysseus and Achilles’ best friend and cousin, Patroklos, came to him and asked him (even though he had not been a suitor for Helen’s hand) to join the Greek expedition against the Trojans.

  Achilles agreed and led a ship of countrymen to Troy and for nine years he and his mates fought the Trojans and raided neighboring lands. It was the aftermath of one of these raids that caused a dispute between proud Achilles and stern Agamemnon.

  Lord Agamemnon had captured a woman on a raid. This woman was the daughter of a priest of Apollo. The priest offered gold and treasures for her return, but Agamemnon would not give her back. Even when Apollo set plagues upon the Greeks Agamemnon stood aloof. It was not until Agamemnon’s fellow officers, especially Achilles, insisted he return the woman that he did so. But, in turn, Agamemnon ordered that Achilles give him Briseis, the woman Achilles had captured.

  This order brought on Achilles’ fiery wrath. For a moment it seemed that Achilles would take his sword and kill Agamemnon, but the wise Athena invisibly came and told him not to do so. Instead Achilles answered, “If you take my woman, I shall not serve you but withdraw from all fighting. I swear that every Greek soldier will one day call to have me back, battling on their side. But I shall not, and you will remember this unfair act of yours and moan with sorrow in your heart. I shall not return to fight even when the Trojans have reached and set fire to one of our ships.”

  And so Achilles’ terrible rage kept him and his crew from the fight; they would not join the Greeks in the following days’ battles against the Trojans. The Greeks so missed Achilles, that after the long nine years away from their wives and children, many warriors wished to give up the war and sail away. It was only through goddess Athena’s power that the men soon longed to fight again, preferring war to thoughts of home.

  The fighting raged on each side, the gods allowing neither the Greeks nor the Trojans to win all the time. Angry arrows and bloodthirsty spears sped from the Trojans’ bows and hands as they tried to defend their walled city. Piercing arrows and long spears shot through the air in return from the Greeks.

  The Trojans were led by mighty Hector, the greatest and fiercest of King Priam’s many sons. He did not resent Helen for this war; he resented his brother Paris.

  Finding Paris within the walled city rather than on the battlefield, Hector scolded his brother and ordered him to return: “Our men are dying because of you, while you lie inside, kissing Helen.”

  “I am a lover, not a fighter,” replied Paris. “But I shall return to the battlefield at once.”

  Hector went on to his own palace to find his wife, Andromache, and son Astyanax. How brightly Hector smiled upon his baby boy! Andromache took her husband’s hand, and said, “O darling, you must not be so brave! If you keep challenging those Greeks, they will surely kill you, and by this you will leave me and your son alone. Be kind! Stay here within the walls! Do not bring grief to your child and me!”

  “My lady,” said Hector sadly, “such things worry me as well. But I am the commander of Troy’s defenses, and so I must fight.” After he said this he reached out to hold his son. But the baby cried out, frightened by the bobbing horsehair atop Hector’s gleaming helmet. The mother and father laughed. Hector removed the helmet and placed it on the ground. He then took Astyanax and kissed him, and gave him back to his mother, who was crying. He kissed her as well and then picked up his helmet and went on his way, returning to the deadly battlefield.

  Strife herself was overjoyed to see the clash of weapons again, and how Hector stormed out of Troy and through the ranks of Greeks, wounding many and killing more. He led the Trojans to the ramparts the Greeks had built before their ships, and with a tremendous boulder smashed through the high, heavy gates. Hector could not be stopped!

  Patroklos, Achilles’ truest friend, came to Achilles weeping, asking the greatest warrior to rejoin the fight. “You have too much pride,” said Patroklos. “What good does your resentment against Agamemnon do? The Greeks are suffering disaster! Have you any feelings at all? I think Thetis and Peleus were not your parents; the stony cliffs and the cold dark sea are!”

  Achilles was moved but would not yet rejoin the battle. Instead, he allowed Patroklos to wear his armor and thus make the Greeks and Trojans believe he, Achilles, had returned to fight.

  “But do not try to fight the Trojans to their walls,” warned Achilles. “Return to me before you do so.”

  Patroklos led the Greeks in pushing back the Trojans, but not before mighty Hector had set a Greek ship on fire. As the Trojans, feeling the tide of battle suddenly turn, retreated towards Troy, Patroklos was excited by his success; fury took over his mind, and he forgot Achilles’ warning. The Trojans, near the city walls, suddenly turned on Patroklos and battled him; fearsome Hector then took away his life.

  When Achilles heard the news about his friend, stormclouds gathered in his mind and heart. Immortal Thetis, Achilles’ mother, heard his cries of pain and came to him.

  “Achilles, my son,” she said, “please listen. If you return to your country, you will rule over all of Phthia and live long and in quiet comfort, dying peacefully in old age. If you stay here in Troy, you will have glory as a warrior and decide the outcome—but you will die, unbent by years, in battle, mourned by all the Greeks.”

  “I will stay,” said Achilles. “My life will be glorious—and so, too, perhaps, my death.”

  “This choice,” said his mother, “I dreaded and yet expected.” She then provided her son with new armor and a new shield, worked fine and gleaming by the god of fire, Hephaestus.

  Achilles in his wrath went out onto the battlefield and slew many Trojans. When he met the greatest of them, Patroklos’ killer, Hector, Achilles thirsted for that man’s death. Poor Hector, great as he was, brave as he was, was frightened, running three times around the walled city before turning to face terrible Achilles. The men fought with swords and spears, and Achilles won the deadly contest. So powerful was Achilles’ rage that he dragged Hector’s lifeless body behind his team of horses. As Achilles rode around and around the walled city, Hector followed in the dust. This brutal act maddened the Trojans with grief.

  After many days of this merciless treatment, Priam, Hector’s father, went with the messenger god Hermes to Achilles and begged for the body of his son. Achilles gave up his punishment of Hector and returned the body, allowing Priam safe passage back to his city and a truce for the time Priam needed to hold Hector’s funeral.

  One day Achilles battled the Trojans all the way to the walls of their city. Apollo, the god of light and a patron of the Trojans, warned him away. “Beware, mortal Achilles,” said Apollo. “Know that you must respect the laws of men and war. There is a time for peace even in war. Return to your camp.”

  Heedless even of a god, Achilles fought on. Atop the city walls, Paris aimed his bow at Achilles. “I will kill that raging Greek,” he said, “though, somehow, he always seems to escape dark death.”

  Apollo, unseen by Paris, tipped the Trojan’s bow and directed the flight of the death-dealing arrow into Achilles’ vulnerable heel.

  Achilles tumbled over, sprawled across the bloody earth, darkness misting his eyes.

  Mighty Achilles was dead. His mates fought off the Trojans and rescued Achilles’ body and brought it back to camp, where they held his glorious funeral.

  Apollo tipped the Trojan’s bow and directed the flight of the death-dealing arrow into Achilles’ vulnerable heel.

  The war was ten years old when the cleverest of the Greeks, Odysseus, came up with a trick to defeat the Trojans and end the war.

  He prayed to the goddess Athena, and she instructed him to have the skillful Epeius build an enormous wooden horse, as big as a hill, with room inside to hold two dozen soldiers.

  “You will hide yourself and other Greek heroes within it, while the rest of your forces burn their camp and sail away,” said Athena. “The Trojans will bring the horse within their fort. This gift
will be their downfall.”

  Odysseus thanked Athena and did as he was told. Epeius, a master ship-builder, understood the plan and on the shore constructed the horse out of sturdy lumber.

  The Greeks set fire to their camp and got into their ships. Meanwhile, Odysseus, Menelaus and other Greek heroes climbed up a rope ladder into the wooden horse and Epeius himself went up last and closed the trap door.

  The Trojans were joyous to see the Greek ships sail away into the Aegean Sea. On the other hand, the giant wooden horse the Greeks had left by the water troubled many Trojan leaders, including King Priam. They came down to the sea to inspect it. The words carved into its side awed many: “The Greeks on their journey home honor Athena with this gift of thanks.”

  Some Trojans cried out, “It is a trick! The Greeks are not our friends, and we should not trust them. Let us burn the horse or sink it in the sea.”

  King Priam did not listen to the skeptics, and ordered that the horse be brought within the city’s walls.

  That night, after the Trojans had finished their celebrating, and all was quiet, Odysseus and his men sneaked out of the wooden horse. The Greek ships had returned in the dark to the Trojan shore, and the sailors were ready and waiting on the beach for their signal.

  One of Odysseus’ soldiers lit a torch and waved it from the top of the city’s walls. This was the signal. Others who had been hiding within the horse opened wide the city’s tall doors.

  Troy awoke to the shouts of fire and death. The Greeks invaded from within and without. King Priam and all his sons were killed. The entire city was burned and destroyed, its walls tumbling down. Aeneas was the lone Trojan hero to survive; he sailed away and established the great city of Rome.

  Through the trick of the Trojan Horse, Menelaus recovered his wife Helen, Troy was wiped out, and the homesick Greek warriors finally were able to start on their way back across the sea.

  Agamemnon soon returned to Argos, his homeland. His wife Clytemnestra, who, together with his cousin Aegisthus, had sworn revenge for his sacrifice of Iphigenia, greeted him and served him at his table. Then Clytemnestra screamed, “You killed our daughter, and now I kill you!” And Clytemnestra and Aegisthus struck him with axes.

  Agamemnon’s children, Electra and Orestes, came upon this murder and were horrified. Electra spoke to her brother’s teacher, and begged the man to take Orestes out of the country. She thought that her mother would kill the boy, who would surely want to avenge his father’s murder.

  And so Orestes left the country with his teacher, and Electra remained, living in the royal palace with her murderous mother and the new king, Aegisthus. Electra hated her mother and her mother’s new husband. Whenever Electra had the chance, she would insult Clytemnestra for her outrageous deed: “You are a murderess! What is worse than killing one’s husband?”

  Her mother would then answer her: “Killing one’s child is worse! He killed my daughter—your sister! Why do you worship your father’s memory and not Iphigenia’s?”

  “I worship the memory of both. Iphigenia agreed to her own death, but my father did not!”

  Many years later Orestes returned to Argos to avenge his father’s murder. Electra and he plotted secretly their terrible deed of revenge. And then one afternoon, with wicked shouts of glee, they killed Clytemnestra and Aegisthus. Death upon death had come to this cursed family.

  Another Greek hero who returned home from the war was Odysseus. The next chapter is devoted to his adventures.

  Chapter VI

  The Odyssey

  ODYSSEUS, THE wise warrior from the rocky island of Ithaca, began his adventurous journey home after the sack of Troy. His experiences took him all over the world, across the seas to strange countries and even to the land of the dead, before he again saw his patient wife Penelope and son Telemachos. The goddess of wisdom Athena admired him and protected him, or he, too, certainly would have perished.

  Soon after Odysseus and his men sailed from Troy, they landed and raided the Kikonians of Thrace. Maron, a Kikonian priest of the god Apollo, in thanks for being spared his life, gave Odysseus casks of divine wine, a gift that would later save Odysseus’ life. Greedy with the riches they found in Thrace, many of Odysseus’ men set sail too late and died battling the neighbors of the Kikonians.

  Odysseus and the remaining ships next landed far away, desperate for food and water, on the island of the Lotus-eaters. After the sailors had hunted for food and eaten, curious Odysseus wanted to know what kind of people lived there. He sent three men to go up from the smooth, quiet shore and discover the dwellers nearby.

  After several hours with no sign from his faithful scouts, Odysseus worried that the natives must have killed them. So, arming himself and a few other men, Odysseus set out to look for them. The island was beautiful. The weather was mild, warm but not hot, and the breeze was gentle.

  They came to a simple hut and Odysseus called out to whoever was inside, “We are Greek warriors returning home from Troy. Have you see my men?”

  No one answered. Odysseus heard a contented moaning, however, so he looked inside. There were his men and several dreamy-looking natives, all sitting around a large basket of sweet-smelling fruit. They looked blissful, with neither wants nor desires. Every few moments they would reach for the sweet, fragrant fruit of the lotus. These Lotus-eaters had given themselves entirely to the dumb forgetfulness that the lotus brought to their minds.

  “Come along now,” said Odysseus to his men. “We must go back to the ship and sail for home. It has been many years since we have seen our wives, our families, our homes.”

  One of Odysseus’ men looked up with a smile and mumbled, “Lotus, captain.”

  Odysseus took a piece and lifted it to his nose. The lotus fruit was fragrant and fresh and filled Odysseus’ head with forgetfulness. Odysseus shook his head and made himself drop the fruit, or he too would have been content never to reach home.

  “It is wrong,” said Odysseus, “to forget your homeland. You must come with me, my men.”

  “I prefer to stay here,” said each of his lotus-eating sailors.

  Odysseus and his armed men now grabbed hold of the dreamy-eyed sailors and dragged them out of the hut. Those men were pitiful, moaning like babies torn from the breast. Odysseus and his men tied them up and carried them back down to the shore, leaving the natives to their forgetful, blissful ways. It took several days of rowing on the ocean before Odysseus’ lotus-eating sailors forgot their craving for the honey-sweet fruit and once more remembered their dear home.

  Next they landed on a bountiful, hilly island, the home of the brutal, lawless Cyclopes. The Cyclopes were giants with a single, gloomy eye in the middle of their foreheads. They wore shaggy beards and lived apart from gods and men.

  At first, Odysseus and his men were overjoyed to see the gigantic fruit that swung from the trees and vines in the land of the Cyclopes. They ate and drank to their hearts’ content before Odysseus and eight of his men wandered further into the land. They brought with them a present of mind-numbing wine, the gift to them from Maron, the Kikonian priest of Apollo. They followed a trail into a deep cave carved out of a mountainside. Within the cave were large empty pens for sheep and tremendous hanging cheeses. Odysseus and his men knew nothing of the ways of the rude Cyclopes and so helped themselves to a tiny portion of one cheese and waited for the return of the cave dweller and his sheep.

  Then the ground shuddered as giant sheep hurried into the cave and into their pens. It was when the Cyclops named Polyphemos, a son of the sea god Poseidon, entered the cave that the men, not just the earth, shuddered. Polyphemos was terrible to look at, draped as he was in a beast’s skin, his beard and hair long and witd—and his single eye bulging. The monster lifted a rock the size of a cliff and set it in the mouth of the cave, locking out all those beyond, and shutting in all those within.

  It was only after several moments that the Cyclops, while making his fire for dinner, noticed the strangers. He knew no ma
nners and, instead of greeting his guests, said loudly, “What are you doing here?”

  “We are sailors, and our ships,” said Odysseus, thinking up a lie, “were wrecked on this island’s rocky shores.”

  “Indeed,” said Polyphemos. “How lucky for me.” He suddenly snatched up two of Odysseus’ men, and crunched them in his mouth as if they were two grapes.

  The remaining men were terrified, but Odysseus, always thinking, stepped out and addressed the monster. “Please sir, after that meal you must be thirsty. When our ships were destroyed, we managed to save this cask of wine. We offer it to you, and hope that you will remember your manners and offer a gift in return.” Now, the wine in the cask was so intoxicating that even the gods and goddesses mixed it with several parts of water.

  “What are you doing here?” said the Cyclops.

  The Cyclops lifted the cask and drank it long and deep. “Ah!” He smacked his moist lips and said to Odysseus, “Very good. I will offer you a guest gift, friend. What is your name?”

  Odysseus thought a moment and answered, “Noman!”

  “As my present to you, Noman, I shall eat you last!” The Cyclops laughed and snatched up two more of Odysseus’ mighty warriors. He ate them as he had eaten the first two. Then, overpowered by the potent wine, he lay down to sleep.

  The remaining men, trembling with fear, mourned for their friends who had been eaten. Odysseus wept for a time, but then he sat down and thought. At last he had a plan to rescue himself and the others. It would do no good to slay the giant, for they would never be able to lift the rock from the cave’s entrance. Odysseus directed his men to pick up a broken wooden staff, as tall as a tree, with which Polyphemos shepherded his flocks. They sharpened it with their axes and then lay one end of the log in the fire that the Cyclops had lit, and when the fire caught the wood, they rolled the blackening point and hardened it.