called the Fir-bender. He was tall and strong, with long bristly
hair, and he looked very fierce and wild. It was his delight to
seize travellers and torture them cruelly: he used to bend two
flexible fir-trees down to the ground, and tie each of the
traveller's feet to one of these trees, and then he let them spring
apart, and broke out into a hideous laugh when he saw the body torn
in two and one half hanging to each of the trees. Theseus knew that
the robber lived in the {180} forest, and he went straight to his
house. The Fir-bender came out to seize him, but Theseus wrestled
with him and threw him. He resolved to punish him with the torture
that he had himself devised, and he bent down two young fir-trees and
tore the robber's body in two, though he screamed horribly and
entreated Theseus to spare him. The Fir-bender had a daughter called
Perigune who lived with him in the forest. She was not at all like
her father, but was, on the contrary, gentle and good, and she used
to tend the plants and flowers that grew near their house. When she
saw that Theseus had killed her father, she was afraid and thought he
would kill her too, so she hid herself among some large-leaved
plants, and said to them, just as if they could understand her, that
if they would shelter her she would never pluck any of them again.
Theseus looked everywhere for her, but he could not see her on
account of the thick leaves. He guessed that she must have hidden
herself, and so he called out to her not to be afraid, for he would
not do her any harm. His voice sounded so kind that she was
encouraged to come out, and they sat and talked together, and
Perigune gave him some food, after which Theseus took leave of her
and went away. The girl never plucked any flowers from the plants
among which she had hidden herself, nor from any others of the same
kind, and when she became the wife of a hero she taught her children
that they must never do so either, and they in turn brought up their
children in the same way, so that no one who was of the race of the
robber ever injured any plants of that kind.
Theseus had heard that there was a fierce she-boar {181} in the
neighbourhood that did a great deal of damage, and he resolved that
he would rid the people of her. He came upon her footprints in the
grass, and followed them till he had tracked her to her den. She
started up to kill him with her tusks, and a fierce struggle
followed, in which Theseus handled his club valiantly, and at last
hit the boar a mighty blow on the head which cracked her skull and
made an end of her. Then Theseus wiped the dew from his forehead and
continued his journey. His road now lay along a rocky path above the
sea, and he presently came to a rock which was the abode of the
robber Sciron. He was a strong, powerful man, who amused himself in
a very horrible manner. He used to sit on a rock above the sea,
blocking up the road so that no one could pass, and he compelled
every traveller who came that way to wash his feet, and while they
were doing this he kicked them over the cliff, so that they fell down
into the sea where there lurked a great tortoise ready to eat them
up. Theseus treated the robber just as he had treated others; he was
the stronger of the two, and he compelled Sciron to do as he told
him, and wash his feet, and then he kicked him over the cliff, and
the tortoise seized him by the neck and gobbled him up.
That same evening Theseus reached the house of the wicked Stretcher,
whose custom it was to sit before his door and invite travellers to
lodge with him for the night. He always fed them sumptuously, but at
bed-time he brought out two bedsteads, a big one and a little one,
and he took the short people to the big bedstead and killed them by
stretching out their limbs till they were as long as the couch, (for
which reason he was called the {182} Stretcher) and the tall people
he laid upon the little bedstead and lopped off as much of their
limbs as extended beyond it, and then he left them to bleed to death.
Theseus behaved as if he did not know about the robber's wicked
practices: he ate and drank and carried on a cheerful conversation,
but when the robber led him into the sleeping-chamber, Theseus seized
him round the body, threw him on to the short bedstead, and then drew
his sword and hewed off his legs above the knees; then two great
streams of blood gushed forth, and the robber died. Theseus dragged
the body out into the open air where it was devoured by wolves,
vultures, and ravens, but he himself lay down to rest in the house
and slept till the morning, and when the day dawned, he went on his
way. The Stretcher was the last robber he met with, and ever after
this journey of his, travellers could go from Troezen to Greece
without fear of being robbed and killed, and as they journeyed they
thought of the young hero Theseus to whom they owed their safety.
Theseus soon afterwards arrived in Athens. He first of all bathed
himself in a stream near the city, for he was covered with dust and
blood, and when he was cleansed, he entered the town and was
conducted to his father's palace. He went in saying that he was a
stranger, and begged the king to show him hospitality. Aegeus was
now old, and he was very sorrowful, for he thought that his son must
be dead and that the wicked Pallantidae would succeed to the kingdom.
The witch Medea was with him, for he had received her when she fled
from Corinth in her chariot drawn by dragons.[2] {183} She was wise
and crafty in speech, and she had succeeded in gaining so great an
influence over the king that he asked her advice in all things, and
followed it. No one knew who Theseus was except Medea, but she knew,
for she could find out any secret by means of her magic arts. She
was not at all pleased that Theseus had come to Athens, for she
feared that the king would set greater store by his son than by her,
and that her power would now be at an end. So she told Aegeus that
the stranger was a kinsman of the Pallantidae, and that he had come
for the purpose of killing him. The poor old king believed what she
told him and was seized with fear, and he asked her what he had
better do to save his life. Medea answered that she would mix some
poison with the wine that Theseus was to drink, and Aegeus gave her
leave to do so. But while they were at dinner, it happened that
Theseus wanted to cut off a piece of roasted meat, and he drew his
sword to cut it, for the Greeks had not at that time learnt the use
of knives and forks. Then Aegeus recognised the sword, and he sprang
up and dashed the goblet from the table; the poisoned wine flowed all
over the floor, but Aegeus paid no attention to it, for he had flung
his arms round Theseus, and was embracing him and crying out, 'My
son, my son.' Both the father and son rejoiced greatly at thus
finding each other, and they had many things to ask and to tell, and
when Theseus related how he had destroyed the robbers, the joy of the
old king was doubled at finding that his son was so brave a hero.
Meanwhile he gave no thought to the wicked Medea who had intended to
poison Theseus, and she went out and called her dragon-car. It came
rushing through {184} the air towards her, and she got into it and
flew away, and has never been seen again.
The old king was quite happy now, and he sent a herald to proclaim
all through the city that Theseus was his son and the heir to his
kingdom. No one grudged him his happiness except the wicked Pallas
and his sons, who till now had been the chief men in the city. They
were rich and had a great many servants, and they assembled them all
in a little wood near the city, intending to leave some of them there
in ambush, and to lead the others towards the city and shout to
Theseus to come out and fight them. They thought that he would come
out against them with a few men only, and that after the battle had
begun, they would be joined by the servants left in the wood which
would make the odds very unequal; and they hoped that they would thus
be able to kill Theseus, and then go on into the city and murder the
old king. But after they had made all their preparations, one of the
servants went to Aegeus and revealed the treachery they were
planning. Then Theseus went out towards the wood, followed by a
number of the citizens, and slew the men who were in ambush there,
and when the rest heard that, they were afraid, and fled from the
country.
Theseus was anxious to perform some heroic deed which would benefit
the Athenians and make them love and honour him. There was at that
time a fierce bull in the country who killed men and cattle, and who
was called the Bull of Marathon, because he lived near Marathon,
which is close to Athens. It was the same beast that had formerly
been called the Cretan Bull, and had been brought by Heracles from
Crete, at the {185} command of Eurystheus, as his seventh Labour.[3]
Ever since that time the savage bull had been at large in Greece,
doing much damage. Theseus went out against him without either sword
or club, for he wished to overcome the bull by his own hero-strength
alone, and bring him alive to Athens; some of the citizens went with
him, but only to look on at a distance. When Theseus came in sight
of the bull, he stood still, and the bull rushed at him, bellowing
and lowering his head to run his horns into him and toss him up high
into the air, as he had tossed many a one before. But Theseus seized
him by the horns and dragged him aside, and then a mighty wrestling
took place,--the eyes of the young hero glowed like fire, and the
veins of his arms were swollen high with the effort he had to make.
When they had wrestled for some time, the bull grew tired and tried
to get free, but Theseus held him fast and dragged him into the city,
and all the Athenians came out to meet him, and they praised him and
said that he was like Heracles. Theseus then took the bull to the
temple of Apollo to sacrifice him to the god. He cut off the hairs
from the animal's forehead, as the custom was, and laid them in the
flame of the fire that was burning on the altar and prayed to Apollo,
and then he took up the sacrificial axe, and felled the great bull to
the ground with a single blow. The sacrifice was then performed in
the usual manner, and it was the most splendid animal that had ever
been offered to any god. The Athenians were proud of their strong
young prince, and they loved and honoured him.
Not long after this, the time came round when the {186} Athenians
were obliged to send their tribute to the king of Crete; it was,
indeed, a shameful tribute,--seven youths and seven maidens, who were
sent to perish there miserably. Minos, the king of Crete, had had a
son named Androgeus, who had once happened to come to Athens just
when there was a feast going on, and sports in which all the young
men vied with one another in feats of skill and strength; and he had
taken part in the sports, and had excelled all others and won the
prize of honour. But the Athenians were very angry at his having
beaten them, and they lay in wait for him as he was on his way home,
and fell upon him and killed him. When his father, King Minos, heard
of this, he swore that the Athenians should suffer for it, and he
prepared his ships and sailed with a mighty army to fight against
Athens. The gods took the part of Minos and sent a pestilence among
the Athenians; they also dried up their rivers and spoiled their
harvests, so that there was great distress throughout the country.
At last the Athenians were obliged to sue for peace, and Minos
granted it on condition that every nine years they should give him a
tribute of seven youths and seven maidens. There was a wonderful
house in Crete where the youths and maidens who were sent as tribute
met with a miserable death. The house was called the Labyrinth, and
it was as large as a town, and had countless courts and galleries.
Those who entered it without being familiar with its passages could
never find their way out again, and they hurried from one to another
of the numberless rooms looking for the entrance door, but all in
vain,--they only became more and more hopelessly lost in the
bewildering house, and {187} at last a monster who lived there, came
and ate them up. He was called the Minotaur, and he had the form of
a man, excepting his head, which was that of a bull, and he had a
bull's voice.
When the time for paying the tribute came round, all the youths and
maidens of Athens had to assemble in the market-place. Then two
brazen vessels were brought out, and they put a number of balls into
each of them; into one vessel they put as many balls as there were
youths in the city, and into the other as many balls as there were
maidens; seven of the balls in each vessel were black, and all the
rest were white. All the youths and maidens in turn had to put their
hand into one of the vessels and draw out a ball without looking, and
those who drew the black balls had to go on board the ship that was
waiting to take them to Crete. For this sorrowful journey the ship
always had black sails instead of white ones.
For the third time the Athenians were now obliged to pay the tribute
of seven youths and seven maidens to the king of Crete. When Theseus
heard about it, he begged his father to let him sail with them, for
he hoped that he would be able to kill the monster and deliver the
Athenians. The king was afraid that Theseus would never come back,
notwithstanding the great deeds he had already performed, and he
refused at first to give his consent; but Theseus said that it would
be a disgrace to him if he did not go, and he persisted in his
request till his father granted it. When the others had been chosen
by lot, they all went on board the ship which was ready to sail, and
Aegeus and many others went down to the shore to take leave of {188}
them. All were heart-broken at the parting excepting Theseus, but he
was in very good spirits, for he hoped this would be the last time
that such a journey would have to be made. The old king gave him a
white sail which he begged him to hoist if he came back in safety,
saying, 'If you are alive when the ship returns, let me know it by
this signal; but if on the contrary you have perished, the black sail
will tell me the sad news as soon as the ship comes in sight.'
Theseus promised to do as his father wished, and then he went on
board the vessel and gave the signal to the sailors, who plied their
oars and pushed off from the land. And Aegeus returned home and
prayed to the gods to bring his son back to him in safety.
After some time the voyage came to an end, and the ship with the
black sails arrived in Crete. Minos sent his soldiers to conduct the
youths and maidens to a dungeon where they were to remain till the
next day, and as they passed through the streets many people crowded
to look at them, lamenting that the young lives should be sacrificed.
The procession went past the palace gate where King Minos was
standing with his daughter Ariadne, who was a very beautiful girl.
When Ariadne saw Theseus she could not help gazing at him, for she
thought he looked more like a true hero than any one she had ever
seen, though many heroes came to her father's court. She could not
bear to think that he must perish, and all night long, when every one
else was asleep, she lay awake on her couch thinking how she could
save him. In the morning she watched for an opportunity and went to
the prison, where she bad no difficulty in getting in because she was
the {189} king's daughter. She called Theseus apart, and told him
that she loved him and longed to save him, and she gave him a ball of
thread and said that he must secretly fasten one end of it to the
entrance of the Labyrinth and unravel it as he went along, so that he
might be able to find his way out again. She also gave him a sharp
sword which she had taken from her father's armoury, that he might be
armed for his struggle with the Minotaur. Theseus thanked the
beautiful Ariadne, and told her that he was the son of the king of
Athens, and that if he escaped in safety from the Labyrinth he would
take her home with him to be his wife. She willingly consented to
this, and then left the prison, and soon afterwards the guards came
to take the prisoners to the Labyrinth; they did not see the sword
and the ball of thread which Ariadne had given to Theseus, for he had
hidden them in his robe. When they reached the Labyrinth they led
the prisoners a long way into it and then left them, thinking that
they would never find their way out again, for they did not notice
that Theseus had unfastened his ball at the entrance and let the
thread pass through his fingers as he went along. When the guards
had turned back, the youths and maidens thought they would have to
wander about hopelessly until the Minotaur came and devoured them,
but Theseus spoke to them encouragingly, and said that by the help of
the gods he would slay the monster and bring them out of their
trouble. About mid-day they heard the monster bellowing in the
distance; he was still some way from them, but he scented human
blood, and as he came nearer his bellowing grew louder and louder.
The {190} others crowded together in a corner, each wanting to be the
last to meet him, but Theseus stood forward in the middle of the room
with his naked sword raised, waiting for his approach. He was as
tall again as a man, and he had powerful fists and a huge mouth, and
on his head were two great horns. He stretched out his arm to seize
Theseus and opened his mouth to bite off his head, but Theseus sprang
behind him and hewed off one of his legs at the knee joint, and then
the huge giant fell down and bellowed until the walls shook with the
noise he made. Theseus measured with his eye to see where his heart
must be, and taking careful aim, he stabbed him through the back at
that place. A great stream of blood gushed out, and the monster lay
on the ground groaning and moaning and beating about wildly with his
arms; he did not hit any one, however, and before long he was dead.
The youths and maidens all came round Theseus, and they fell down and
kissed his feet and hands. They waited till it was dark, and then
set out to leave the Labyrinth, Theseus going in front and winding up
the ball of thread as he went. They passed through room after room
and court after court, till at last they reached the door, where they
found Ariadne waiting for them; she had stolen away from the palace,
and was full of joy when she saw them arrive. Then they all went
together to the ship, which at once put out to sea, and by daybreak
they were already far away. King Minos thought his daughter must
have been carried off by robbers, for it never occurred to him that
she could have sailed away with the prisoners whom he believed to
have been devoured by the Minotaur, and he searched for her all over
the island. When he {191} heard, some time afterwards, what had
really happened, he was so amazed at the bravery of Theseus that he
never again ventured to demand the tribute from the Athenians.
When Theseus and his companions had sailed for some days, they came
to the island of Naxos, and as it was evening, they went ashore to
sleep. Naxos was the favourite country of Dionysus, the wine-god; he
often used to stay in the island, and he caused the finest vines to
grow there. Theseus and his companions slept on the shore, and
towards morning, Dionysus appeared to Theseus in a dream and said to
him, 'Rise up and return home at once with your friends, but leave
Ariadne behind you, for I myself have chosen her to be my wife.'
Theseus awoke very sorrowful at having to leave the beautiful
Ariadne, but he knew that he must do as the god commanded, and he
roused his companions and told them his dream, and then they went
softly down to the ship and sailed away, leaving Ariadne asleep on
the island. When it was bright daylight, Ariadne awoke and found
herself alone. She sprang up and ran down to the shore, and seeing
the ship some way out at sea, she thought they had forgotten her, and
waved her veil as a signal for them to come back. The ship's crew
saw her, but they sailed on all the same, and then Ariadne sat down
on the shore and wept bitterly, for she thought that Theseus had
abandoned her because he did not love her, and that she was left to
perish in misery and distress. As she sat thus weeping, with her
beautiful head resting on her hand, and with her mind full of sad
thoughts, she heard a sound of flute-playing on the island, which
came nearer and nearer, and a {192} crowd of men and women appeared
before her in a strange procession. The foremost was a marvellously
beautiful youth, who had a crown of vine-leaves on his head, and
drove in a golden chariot drawn by two spotted panthers. The youth
was Dionysus, and he went up to Ariadne and said, 'Do not be afraid;
I am the god who created the vine, and I love you, and am going to
make you my wife.' The marriage was celebrated that very day, and
all the woods and valleys in the island resounded with sweet music;
the Bacchantes danced and sang, and the old Silenus who had taken
care of Dionysus in his childhood[4] was intoxicated the whole day
long by way of doing honour to his master. Ariadne was now the wife
of the god Dionysus, and she became immortal, and was gifted with
perpetual youth.