Quicksilver and Perseus in the meantime were making the best of their

way in quest of the Nymphs. The old dames had given them such

particular directions, that they were not long in finding them out.

They proved to be very different persons from Nightmare, Shakejoint,

and Scarecrow; for, instead of being old, they were young and

beautiful; and instead of one eye amongst the sisterhood, each Nymph

had two exceedingly bright eyes of her own, with which she looked very

kindly at Perseus. They seemed to be acquainted with Quicksilver; and

when he told them the adventure which Perseus had undertaken, they made

no difficulty about giving him the valuable articles that were in their

custody. In the first place, they brought out what appeared to be a

small purse, made of deerskin, and curiously embroidered, and bade him

be sure and keep it safe. This was the magic wallet. The Nymphs next

produced a pair of shoes, or slippers, or sandals, with a nice little

pair of wings at the heel of each.

"Put them on, Perseus," said Quicksilver. "You will find yourself as

light-heeled as you can desire for the remainder of our journey."

So Perseus proceeded to put one of the slippers on, while he laid the

other on the ground by his side. Unexpectedly, however, this other

slipper spread its wings, fluttered up off the ground, and would

probably have flown away, if Quicksilver had not made a leap, and

luckily caught it in the air.

"Be more careful," said he, as he gave it back to Perseus. "It would

frighten the birds, up aloft, if they should see a flying slipper

amongst them."

When Perseus had got on both of these wonderful slippers, he was

altogether too buoyant to tread on earth. Making a step or two, lo and

behold! upward he popt into the air, high above the heads of

Quicksilver and the Nymphs, and found it very difficult to clamber down

again. Winged slippers, and all such high-flying contrivances, are

seldom quite easy to manage, until one grows a little accustomed to

them. Quicksilver laughed at his companion's involuntary activity, and

told him that he must--not be in so desperate a hurry, but must wait

for the invisible helmet.

The good-natured Nymphs had the helmet, with its dark tuft of waving

plumes, all in readiness to put upon his head. And now there happened

about as wonderful an incident as anything that I have yet told you.

The instant before the helmet was put on, there stood Perseus, a

beautiful young man, with golden ringlets and rosy cheeks, the crooked

sword by his side, and the brightly polished shield upon his arm,--a

figure that seemed all made up of courage, sprightliness, and glorious

light. But when the helmet hid descended over his white brow there was

no longer any Perseus to be seen! Nothing but empty air! Even the

helmet that covered him with its invisibility, had vanished!

"Where are you, Perseus?" asked Quicksilver.

"Why, here, to be sure!" answered Perseus very quietly, although his

voice seemed to come out of the transparent atmosphere. "Just where I

was a moment ago. Don't you see me?"

"No, indeed!" answered his friend. "You are hidden under the helmet.

But if I cannot see you, neither can the Gorgons. Follow me therefore,

and we will try your dexterity in using the winged slippers."

With these words Quicksilver's cap spread its wings, as if his head

were about to fly away from his shoulders; but his whole figure rose

lightly into the air, and Perseus followed. By the time they had

ascended a few hundred feet, the young man began to feel what a

delightful thing it was to leave the dull earth so far beneath him, and

to be able to flit about like a bird.

It was now deep night. Perseus looked upward, and saw the round,

bright, silvery moon, and thought that he should desire nothing better

than to soar up thither, and spend his life there. Then he looked

downward again, and saw the earth, with its seas, and lakes, and the

silver courses of its rivers, and its snowy mountain peaks, and the

breadth of its fields, and the dark cluster of its woods, and its

cities of white marble; and, with the moonshine sleeping over the whole

scene, it was as beautiful as the moon or any star could be. And, among

other objects, he saw the island of Seriphus, where his dear mother

was. Sometimes, he and Quicksilver approached a cloud, that, at a

distance, looked as if it were made of fleecy silver; although, when

they plunged into it, they found themselves chilled and moistened with

gray mist. So swift was their flight, however, that, in an instant,

they emerged from the cloud into the moonlight again. Once, a high-

soaring eagle flew right against the invisible Perseus. The bravest

sights were the meteors, that gleamed suddenly out, as if a bonfire had

been kindled in the sky, and made the moonshine pale for as much as a

hundred miles around them.

As the two companions flew onward, Perseus fancied that he could hear

the rustle of a garment close by his side; and it was on the side

opposite to the one where he beheld Quicksilver, yet only Quicksilver

was visible.

"Whose garment is this," inquired Perseus, "that keeps rustling close

beside me, in the breeze?"

"Oh, it is my sister's!" answered Quicksilver. "She is coming along

with us, as I told you she would. We could do nothing without the help

of my sister. You have no idea how wise she is. She has such eyes, too!

Why, she can see you, at this moment, just as distinctly as if you were

not invisible; and I'll venture to say, she will be the first to

discover the Gorgons."

By this time, in their swift voyage through the air, they had come

within sight of the great ocean, and were soon flying over it. Far

beneath them, the waves tossed themselves tumultuously in midsea, or

rolled a white surf-line upon the long beaches, or foamed against the

rocky cliffs with a roar that was thunderous, in the lower world;

although it became a gentle murmur, like the voice of a baby half

asleep, before it reached the ears of Perseus. Just then a voice spoke

in the air close by him. It seemed to be a woman's voice, and was

melodious, though not exactly what might be called sweet, but grave and

mild.

"Perseus," said the voice, "there are the Gorgons."

"Where?" exclaimed Perseus. "I cannot see them."

"On the shore of that island beneath you," replied the voice. "A

pebble, dropped from your hand, would strike in the midst of them."

"I told you she would be the first to discover them," said Quicksilver

to Perseus. "And there they are!"

Straight downward, two or three thousand feet below him, Perseus

perceived a small island, with the sea breaking into white foam all

around its rocky shore, except on one side, where there was a beach of

snowy sand. He descended towards it, and, looking earnestly at a

cluster or heap of brightness, at the foot of a precipice of black

rocks, behold, there were the terrible Gorgons! They lay fast asleep,

soothed by the thunder of the sea; for it required a tumult that would

have deafened everybody else to lull such fierce creatures into

slumber. The moonlight glistened on their steely scales, and on their

golden wings, which drooped idly over the sand. Their brazen claws,

horrible to look at, were thrust out, and clutched the wave-beaten

fragments of rock, while the sleeping Gorgons dreamed of tearing some

poor mortal all to pieces. The snakes, that served them instead of

hair, seemed likewise to be asleep; although, now and then, one would

writhe, and lift its head, and thrust out its forked tongue, emitting a

drowsy hiss, and then let itself subside among its sister snakes.

The Gorgons were more like an awful, gigantic kind of insect--immense,

golden-winged beetles, or dragon-flies, or things of that sort,--at

once ugly and beautiful,--than like anything else; only that they were

a thousand and a million times as big. And, with all this, there was

something partly human about them, too. Luckily for Perseus, their

faces were completely hidden from him by the posture in which they lay;

for, had he but looked one instant at them, he would have fallen

heavily out of the air, an image of senseless stone.

"Now," whispered Quicksilver as he hovered by the side of Perseus,--

"now is your time to do the deed! Be quick, for, if one of the Gorgons

should awake, you are too late."

"Which shall I strike at?" asked Perseus, drawing his sword and

descending a little lower. "They all three look alike. All three have

snaky locks. Which of the three is Medusa?"

It must be understood that Medusa was the only one of these dragon-

monsters whose head Perseus could possibly cut off. As for the other

two, let him have the sharpest sword that ever was forged, and he might

have hacked away by the hour together, without doing them the least

harm.

"Be cautious," said the calm voice which had before spoken to him. "One

of the Gorgons is stirring in her sleep, and is just about to turn

over. That is Medusa. Do not look at her. The sight would turn you to

stone. Look at the reflection of her face and figure in the bright

mirror of your shield."

Perseus now understood Quicksilver's motive for so earnestly exhorting

him to polish his shield. In its surface, he could safely look at the

reflection of the Gorgon's face. And there it was,--that terrible

countenance,--mirrored in the brightness of the shield, with the

moonlight falling over it, and displaying all its horror. The snakes,

whose venomous natures could not altogether sleep, kept twisting

themselves over the forehead. It was the fiercest and most horrible

face that ever was seen or imagined, and yet with a strange, fearful,

and savage kind of beauty in it. The eyes were closed, and the Gorgon

was still in a deep slumber; but there was an unquiet expression

disturbing her features, as if the monster was troubled with an ugly

dream. She gnashed her white tusks, and dug into the sand with her

brazen claws.

The snakes, too, seemed to feel Medusa's dream, and to be made more

restless by it. They twined themselves into tumultuous knots, writhed

fiercely, and uplifted a hundred hissing heads, without opening their

eyes.

"Now, now!" whispered Quicksilver, who was growing impatient. "Make a

dash at the monster!"

"But be calm," said the grave, melodious voice, at the young man's

side. "Look in your shield, as you fly downward, and take care that you

do not miss your first stroke."

Perseus flew cautiously downward, still keeping his eyes on Medusa's

face, as reflected in his shield. The nearer he came, the more terrible

did the snaky visage and metallic body of the monster grow. At last,

when he found himself hovering over her within arm's length, Perseus

uplifted his sword, while, at the same instant, each separate snake

upon the Gorgon's head stretched threateningly upward, and Medusa

unclosed her eyes. But she awoke too late. The sword was sharp; the

stroke fell like a lightning flash; and the head of the wicked Medusa

tumbled from her body!

"Admirably done!" cried Quicksilver. "Make haste, and clap the head

into your magic wallet."

To the astonishment of Perseus, the small, embroidered wallet, which he

had hung about his neck, and which had hitherto been no bigger than a

purse, grew all at once large enough to contain Medusa's head. As quick

as thought, he snatched it up, with the snakes still writhing upon it,

and thrust it in.

"Your task is done," said the calm voice. "Now fly; for the other

Gorgons will do their utmost to take vengeance for Medusa's death."

It was indeed necessary to take flight; for Perseus had not done the

deed so quietly but that the clash of his sword, and the hissing of the

snakes, and the thump of Medusa's head as it tumbled upon the sea-

beaten sand, awoke the other two monsters. There they sat, for an

instant, sleepily rubbing their eyes with their brazen fingers, while

all the snakes on their heads reared themselves on end with surprise,

and with venomous malice against they knew not what. But when the

Gorgons saw the scaly carcass of Medusa, headless, and her golden wings

all ruffled, and half spread out on the sand, it was really awful to

hear what yells and screeches they set up. And then the snakes! They

sent forth a hundred-fold hiss, with one consent, and Medusa's snakes

answered them, out of the magic wallet.

No sooner were the Gorgons broad awake, than they hurtled upward into

the air, brandishing their brass talons, gnashing their horrible tusks,

and flapping their huge wings so wildly, that some of the golden

feathers were shaken out, and floated down upon the shore. And there,

perhaps, those very feathers lie scattered, till this day. Up rose the

Gorgons, as I tell you, staring horribly about, in hopes of turning

somebody to stone. Had Perseus looked them in the face, or had he

fallen into their clutches, his poor mother would never have kissed her

boy again! But he took good care to turn his eyes another way; and, as

he wore the helmet of invisibility, the Gorgons knew not in what

direction to follow him; nor did he fail to make the best use of the

winged slippers, by soaring upward a perpendicular mile or so. At that

height, when the screams of those abominable creatures sounded faintly

beneath him, he made a straight course for the island of Seriphus, in

order to carry Medusa's head to King Polydectes.

I have no time to tell you of several marvelous things that befell

Perseus, on his way homeward; such as his killing a hideous sea-

monster, just as it was on the point of devouring a beautiful maiden;

nor how he changed an enormous giant into a mountain of stone, merely

by showing him the head of the Gorgon. If you doubt this latter story,

you may make a voyage to Africa, some day or other, and see the very

mountain, which is still known by the ancient giant's name.

Finally, our brave Perseus arrived at the island, where he expected to

see his dear mother. But, during his absence, the wicked king had

treated Danaë so very ill, that she was compelled to make her escape,

and had taken refuge in a temple, where some good old priests were

extremely kind to her. These praiseworthy priests, and the kind-hearted

fisherman, who had first shown hospitality to Danaë and little Perseus

when he found them afloat in the chest, seem to have been the only

persons on the island who cared about doing right. All the rest of the

people, as well as King Polydectes himself, were remarkably ill-behaved,

and deserved no better destiny than that which was now to happen.

Not finding his mother at home, Perseus went straight to the palace,

and was immediately ushered into the presence of the king. Polydectes

was by no means rejoiced to see him, for he had felt almost certain, in

his own evil mind, that the Gorgons would have torn the poor young man

to pieces, and have eaten him up, out of the way. However, seeing him

safely returned, he put the best face he could upon the matter and

asked Perseus how he had succeeded.

"Have you performed your promise?" inquired he. "Have you brought me

the head of Medusa with the snaky locks? If not, young man, it will

cost you dear; for I must have a bridal present for the beautiful

Princess Hippodamia, and there is nothing else that she would admire so

much."

"Yes, please your Majesty," answered Perseus, in a quiet way, as if it

were no very wonderful deed for such a young man as he to perform. "I

have brought you the Gorgon's head, snaky locks and all."

"Indeed! Pray let me see it," quoth King Polydectes. "It must be a very

curious spectacle, if all that travelers tell about it be true."

"Your Majesty is in the right," replied Perseus. "It is really an

object that will be pretty certain to fix the regards of all who look

at it. And, if your Majesty think fit, I would suggest that a holiday

be proclaimed, and that all your Majesty's subjects be summoned to

behold this wonderful curiosity. Few of them, I imagine, have seen a

Gorgon's head before, and perhaps never may again!"

The king well knew that his subjects were an idle set of reprobates,

and very fond of sight-seeing, as idle persons usually are. So he took

the young man's advice, and sent out heralds and messengers, in all

directions, to blow the trumpet at the street corners, and in the

market-places, and wherever two roads met, and summon everybody to

court. Thither, accordingly, came a great multitude of good-for-nothing

vagabonds, all of whom, out of pure love of mischief, would have been

glad if Perseus had met with some ill-hap, in his encounter with the

Gorgons. If there were any better people in the island (as I really

hope there may have been, although the story tells nothing about any

such), they stayed quietly at home, minding their own business, and

taking care of their little children. Most of the inhabitants, at all

events, ran as fast as they could to the palace, and shoved, and

pushed, and elbowed one another, in their eagerness to get near a

balcony, on which Perseus showed himself, holding the embroidered

wallet in his hand.

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the mighty King

Polydectes, amid his evil counselors, and with his flattering courtiers

in a semicircle round about him. Monarch, counselors, courtiers, and

subjects, all gazed eagerly toward Perseus.

"Show us the head! Show us the head!" shouted the people; and there was

a fierceness in their cry, as if they would tear Perseus to pieces,

unless he should satisfy them with what he had to show. "Show us the

head of Medusa with the snaky locks!"

A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful Perseus.

"O King Polydectes," cried he, "and ye many people, I am very loath to

show you the Gorgon's head."

"Ah, the villain and coward!" yelled the people, more fiercely than

before. "He is making game of us! He has no Gorgon's head! Show us the

head, if you have it, or we will take your own head for a football!"

The evil counselors whispered bad advice in the king's ear; the

courtiers murmured, with one consent, that Perseus had shown disrespect

to their royal lord and master; and the great King Polydectes himself

waved his hand and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of

authority, on his peril, to produce the head.

"Show me the Gorgon's head, or I will cut off your own!"

And Perseus sighed.

"This instant," repeated Polydectes, "or you die!"

"Behold it, then!" cried Perseus, in a voice like the blast of a

trumpet.

And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time to wink

before the wicked King Polydectes, his evil counselors, and all his

fierce subjects, were no longer anything but the mere images of a

monarch and his people. They were all fixed, forever, in the look and

attitude of that moment! At the first glimpse of the terrible head of

Medusa, they whitened into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back

into his wallet, and went to tell his dear mother that she need no

longer be afraid of the wicked King Polydectes.

THESEUS Charles Kingsley

PART I

HOW THESEUS LIFTED THE STONE

Once upon a time there was a princess in Troezene, Aithra, the

daughter of Pittheus the king. She had one fair son, named Theseus, the

bravest lad in all the land; and Aithra never smiled but when she

looked at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away.

And she used to go up to the mountain above Troezene, to the temple of

Poseidon, and sit there all day looking out across the bay, over

Methana, to the purple peaks of AEgina and the Attic shore beyond. And

when Theseus was full fifteen years old she took him up with her to the

temple, and into the thickets of the grove which grew in the temple

yard. And she led him to a tall plane tree, beneath whose shade grew

arbutus, and lentisk, and purple heather bushes. And there she sighed,

and said, "Theseus, my son, go into that thicket, and you will find at

the plane tree foot a great flat stone; lift it, and bring me what lies

underneath."

Then Theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and saw that

they had not been moved for many a year. And searching among their

roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy, and

acanthus, and moss. He tried to lift it, but he could not. And he tried

till the sweat ran down his brow from heat, and the tears from his eyes

for shame: but all was of no avail. And at last he came back to his

mother, and said, "I have found the stone, but I cannot lift it; nor do

I think that any man could in all Troezene."

Then she sighed, and said, "The gods wait long; but they are just at

last. Let it be for another year. The day may come when you will be a

stronger man than lives in all Troezene."

Then she took him by the hand, and went into the temple and prayed, and

came down again with Theseus to her home.

And when a full year was past, she led Theseus up again to the temple,

and bade him lift the stone: but he could not.

Then she sighed, and said the same words again, and went down, and came

again the next year; but Theseus could not lift the stone then, nor the

year after; and he wanted to ask his mother the meaning of that stone,

and what might lie underneath it; but her face was so sad that he had

not the heart to ask.

So he said to himself, "The day shall surely come when I will lift that

stone, though no man in Troezene can." And in order to grow strong he

spent all his days in wrestling, and boxing, and hurling, and taming

horses, and hunting the boar and the bull, and coursing goats and deer

among the rocks; till upon all the mountains there was no hunter so

swift as Theseus; and he killed Phaia the wild sow of Crommyon, which

wasted all the land; till all the people said, "Surely the Gods are

with the lad."

And when his eighteenth year was past, Aithra led him up again to the

temple, and said, "Theseus, lift the stone this day, or never know who

you are." And Theseus went into the thicket, and stood over the stone,

and tugged at it; and it moved. Then his spirit swelled within him, and

he said, "If I break my heart in my body, it shall up." And he tugged

at it once more, and lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout.

And when he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze,

with a hilt of glittering gold, and by it a pair of golden sandals; and

he caught them up, and burst through the bushes like a wild boar, and

leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head.

But when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face in

her shawl: and Theseus stood by her wondering, and wept also, he knew

not why. And when she was tired of weeping, she lifted up her head, and

laid her finger on her lips, and said, "Hide them in your bosom,

Theseus my son, and come with me where we can look down upon the sea."

Then they went outside the sacred wall, and looked down over the bright

blue sea; and Aithra said,--

"Do you see this land at our feet?"

And he said, "Yes, this is Troezene, where I was born and bred."

And she said, "It is but a little land, barren and rocky, and looks

toward the bleak north-east. Do you see that land beyond?"

"Yes; that is Attica, where the Athenian people dwell."

"That is a fair land and large, Theseus my son; and it looks toward the

sunny south; a land of olive oil and honey, the joy of gods and men.

For the gods have girdled it with mountains, whose veins are of pure

silver, and their bones of marble white as snow; and there the hills

are sweet with thyme and basil, and the meadows with violet and

asphodel, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets, by the

side of ever-flowing streams. There are twelve towns well peopled, the

homes of an ancient race, the children of Kecrops the serpent-king, the

son of Mother Earth, who wear gold cicalas among the tresses of their

golden hair; for like the cicalas they sprang from the earth, and like

the cicalas they sing all day, rejoicing in the genial sun. What would

you do, son Theseus, if you were king of such a land?"

Then Theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright

sea, and saw the fair Attic shore, from Sunium to Hymettus and

Pentelicus, and all the mountain peaks which girdle Athens round. But

Athens itself he could not see, for purple Ægina stood before it,

midway across the sea.

Then his heart grew great within him, and he said, "If I were king of

such a land I would rule it wisely and well in wisdom and in might,

that when I died all men might weep over my tomb, and cry, 'Alas for

the shepherd of his people!'"

And Aithra smiled, and said, "Take, then, the sword and the sandals,

and go to Ægeus, king of Athens, who lives on Pallas' hill; and say to

him, 'The stone is lifted, but whose is the pledge beneath it?' Then

show him the sword and the sandals, and take what the Gods shall send."

But Theseus wept, "Shall I leave you, O my mother?"

But she answered, "Weep not for me. That which is fated must be; and

grief is easy to those who do naught but grieve. Full of sorrow was my

youth, and full of sorrow my womanhood. Full of sorrow was my youth for

Bellerophon the slayer of the Chimæra, whom my father drove away by

treason; and full of sorrow my womanhood, for thy treacherous father

and for thee; and full of sorrow my old age will be (for I see my fate

in dreams), when the sons of the Swan shall carry me captive to the

hollow vale of Eurotas, till I sail across the seas a slave, the

handmaid of the pest of Greece. Yet shall I be avenged, when the

golden-haired heroes sail against Troy, and sack the palaces of Ilium;

then my son shall set me free from thralldom, and I shall hear the tale

of Theseus's fame. Yet beyond that I see new sorrows; but I can bear

them as I have borne the past."

Then she kissed Theseus, and wept over him; and went into the temple,

and Theseus saw her no more.

PART II

HOW THESEUS SLEW THE DEVOURERS OF MEN

So Theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes.

And first he thought of going down to the harbor and hiring a swift

ship, and sailing across the bay to Athens; but even that seemed too

slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea, and find

his father. But after a while his heart began to fail him; and he

sighed, and said within himself--

"What if my father has other sons about him whom he loves?

What if he will not receive me? And what have I done that he

should receive me? He has forgotten me ever since I was born: why

should he welcome me now?"

Then he thought a long while sadly; and at the last he cried

aloud, "Yes! I will make him love me; for I will prove myself

worthy of his love. I will win honor and renown, and do such

deeds that Ægeus shall be proud of me, though he had fifty other

sons! Did not Heracles win himself honor though he was opprest,

and the slave of Eurystheus? Did he not kill all robbers and evil

beasts, and drain great lakes and marshes, breaking the hills

through with his club? Therefore it was that all men honored

him, because he rid them of their miseries, and made life pleasant to

them and their children after them. Where can I go, to do as

Heracles has done? Where can I find strange adventures, robbers,

and monsters, and the children of hell, the enemies of men? I will

go by land, and into the mountains, and round by the way of the

Isthmus. Perhaps there I may hear of brave adventures, and do

something which shall win my father's love."

So he went by land, and away into the mountains, with his father's

sword upon his thigh, till he came to the Spider Mountains, which

hang over Epidaurus and the sea, where the glens run downward

from one peak in the midst, as the rays spread in the spider's

web.

And he went up into the gloomy glens, between the furrowed

marble walls, till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet, and the

clouds drove damp about his head.

But he went up and up forever, through the spider's web of glens,

till he could see the narrow gulfs spread below him, north and

south, and east and west; black cracks half-choked with mists, and

above all a dreary down.

But over that down he must go, for there was no road right or

left; so he toiled on through bog and brake, till he came to a

pile of stones.

And on the stones a man was sitting, wrapt in a bearskin cloak.

The head of the bear served him for a cap, and its teeth grinned

white around his brows; and the feet were tied about his throat, and

their claws shone white upon his chest. And when he saw Theseus

he rose, and laughed till the glens rattled.

"And who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider's

web?" But Theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer: but

he thought, "Is this some robber? and has an adventure come

already to me?" But the strange man laughed louder than ever,

and said,--

"Bold fly, know you not that these glens are the web from which

no fly ever finds his way out again, and this down the spider's house,

and I the spider who suck the flies? Come hither, and let me feast

upon you, for it is of no use to run away, so cunning a web has my

father Hephaistus spread for me, when he made these clefts in the

mountains, through which no man finds his way home."

But Theseus came on steadily, and asked,--

"And what is your name among men, bold spider? and where

are your spider's fangs?"

Then the strange man laughed again,--

"My name is Periphetes, the son of Hephaistus and Anticleia the

mountain nymph. But men call me Corynetes the club-bearer; and

here is my spider's fang."

And he lifted from off the stones at his side a mighty club of

bronze.

"This my father gave me, and forged it himself in the roots of the

mountain; and with it I pound all proud flies till they give out their

fatness and their sweetness. So give me up that gay sword of yours,

and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest I pound you, and

by ill luck you die."

But Theseus wrapt his mantle round his left arm quickly in

hard folds, from his shoulder to his hand, and drew his sword, and

rushed upon the club-bearer, and the club-bearer rushed on him.

Thrice he struck at Theseus, and made him bend under the blows

like a sapling; but Theseus guarded his head with his left arm,

and the mantle which was wrapped around it.

And thrice Theseus sprang upright after the blow, like a sapling

when the storm is past; and he stabbed at the club-bearer with his

sword, but the loose folds of the bearskin saved him.

Then Theseus grew mad, and closed with him, and caught him by

the throat, and they fell and rolled over together; but when Theseus

rose up from the ground the club-bearer lay still at his feet.

Then Theseus took his club and his bearskin, and left him to the

kites and crows, and went upon his journey down the glens on the

further slope, till he came to a broad green valley, and saw flocks

and herds sleeping beneath the trees.

And by the side of a pleasant fountain, under the shade of rocks

and trees, were nymphs and shepherds dancing; but no one piped to

them while they danced.

And when they saw Theseus they shrieked; and the shepherds ran

off, and drove away their flocks; while the nymphs dived into the

fountain like coots, and vanished.

Theseus wondered and laughed: "What strange fancies have

folks here who run away from strangers, and have no music when

they dance!" But he was tired, and dusty, and thirsty; so he

thought no more of them, but drank and bathed in the clear pool,

and then lay down in the shade under a plane tree, while the

water sang him to sleep as it tinkled down from stone to stone.

And when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs

peeping at him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave,

where they sat on green cushions of moss. And one said, "Surely

he is not Periphetes;" and another, "He looks like no robber, but

a fair and gentle youth."

Then Theseus smiled and called them: "Fair nymphs, I am not

Periphetes. He sleeps among the kites and crows: but I have

brought away his bearskin and his club."

Then they leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the

shepherds back. And he told them how he had slain the club-bearer:

and the shepherds kissed his feet, and sang, "Now we shall

feed our flocks in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we

dance; for the cruel club-bearer has met his match, and he will

listen for our pipes no more."

Then they brought him kid's flesh and wine, and the nymphs

brought him honey from the rocks; and he ate, and drank, and slept

again, while the nymphs and shepherds danced and sang. And when

he woke, they begged him to stay; but he would not. "I have a

great work to do," he said; "I must be away toward the Isthmus,

that I may go to Athens."

But the shepherds said, "Will you go alone toward Athens?

None travel that way now, except in armed troops."

"As for arms, I have enough, as you see. And as for troops, an

honest man is good enough company for himself. Why should I not

go alone toward Athens?"

"If you do, you must look warily about you on the Isthmus,

lest you meet Sinis the robber, whom men call Pituocamptes the

pine-bender; for he bends down two pine trees, and binds all travelers

hand and foot between them; and when he lets the trees go

again, their bodies are torn in sunder."

"And after that," said another, "you must go inland, and not

dare to pass over the cliffs of Sciron; for on the left hand are the

mountains, and on the right the sea, so that you have no escape

but must needs meet Sciron the robber, who will make you wash

his feet; and while you are washing them he will kick you over

the cliff, to the tortoise who lives below, and feeds upon the bodies

of the dead."

And before Theseus could answer, another cried, "And after

that is a worse danger still, unless you go inland always, and leave

Eleusis far on your right. For in Eleusis rules Kerkuon the cruel

king, the terror of all mortals, who killed his own daughter Alope in

prison. But she was changed into a fair fountain; and her child

he cast out upon the mountains; but the wild mares gave it milk.

And now he challenges all comers to wrestle with him; for he is

the best wrestler in all Attica, and overthrows all who come; and

those whom he overthrows he murders miserably, and his palace-court

is full of their bones."

Then Theseus frowned, and said, "This seems indeed an ill-ruled

land, and adventures enough in it to be tried. But if I am the heir

of it, I will rule it and right it, and here is my royal scepter." And

he shook his club of bronze, while the nymphs and shepherds

clung round him, and entreated him not to go.

But on he went nevertheless, till he could see both the seas, and

the citadel of Corinth towering high above all the land. And he past

swiftly along the Isthmus, for his heart burned to meet that cruel

Sinis; and in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the Isthmus was

narrowest and the road ran between high rocks. There he sat, upon

a stone by the wayside, with a young fir tree for a club across his

knees, and a cord laid ready by his side; and over his head, upon

the fir tops, hung the bones of murdered men.

Then Theseus shouted to him, "Holla, thou valiant pine-bender,

hast thou two fir trees left for me?"

And Sinis leapt to his feet, and answered, pointing to the bones

above his head, "My larder has grown empty lately, so I have two

fir trees ready for thee." And he rushed on Theseus, lifting his

club, and Theseus rushed upon him.

Then they hammered together till the greenwoods rang; but the

metal was tougher than the pine; and Sinis' club broke right across,

as the bronze came down upon it. Then Theseus heaved up another

mighty stroke, and smote Sinis down upon his face; and knelt

upon his back, and bound him with his own cord, and said, "As

thou hast done to others, so shall it be done to thee." Then he

bent down two young fir trees, and bound Sinis between them, for

all his struggling and his prayers; and let them go, and ended

Sinis, and went on, leaving him to the hawks and crows.

Then he went over the hills toward Megara, keeping close along

the Saronic Sea, till he came to the cliffs of Sciron, and the narrow

path between the mountain and the sea.

And there he saw Sciron sitting by a fountain at the edge of the

cliff. On his knees was a mighty club; and he had barred the

path with stones, so that every one must stop who came up.

Then Theseus shouted to him, and said, "Holla, thou tortoise-feeder,

do thy feet need washing today?"

And Sciron leapt to his feet, and answered--

"My tortoise is empty and hungry, and my feet need washing

today." And he stood before his barrier, and lifted up his club

in both hands.

Then Theseus rushed upon him; and sore was the battle upon the

cliff; for when Sciron felt the weight of the bronze club, he dropt

his own, and closed with Theseus, and tried to hurl him by main

force over the cliff. But Theseus was a wary wrestler, and dropt his

own club, and caught him by the throat and by the knee, and forced

him back against the wall of stones, and crushed him up against

them, till his breath was almost gone. And Sciron cried panting,

"Loose me, and I will let thee pass." But Theseus answered,

"I must not pass till I have made the rough way smooth;" and

forced him back against the wall till it fell, and Sciron rolled

head over heels.

Then Theseus lifted him up all bruised, and said, "Come hither

and wash my feet." And he drew his sword, and sat down by the

well, and said, "Wash my feet, or I cut you piecemeal."

And Sciron washed his feet trembling; and when it was done,

Theseus rose and cried, "As thou hast done to others, so shall it be

done to thee. Go feed thy tortoise thyself;" and he kicked him

over the cliff into the sea.

And whether the tortoise ate him I know not; for some say that

earth and sea both disdained to take his body, so foul it was with

sin. So the sea cast it out upon the shore, and the shore cast it

back into the sea, and at last the waves hurled it high into the air,

in anger; and it hung there long without a grave, till it was changed

into a desolate rock, which stands there in the surge until this day.

This at least is true, which Pausanias tells, that in the royal porch

at Athens he saw the figure of Theseus modeled in clay, and by him

Sciron the robber, falling headlong into the sea.

Then he went a long day's journey, past Megara, into the Attic

land, and high before him rose the snow-peaks of Cithaeron, all

cold above the black pine woods, where haunt the Furies, and the

raving Bacchae, and the nymphs who drive men wild, far aloft upon

the dreary mountains, where the storms howl all day long. And

on his right hand was the sea always, and Salamis, with its island

cliffs, and the sacred strait of the sea-fight, where afterwards the

Persians fled before the Greeks. So he went all day, until the evening,

till he saw the Thriasian plain, and the sacred city of Eleusis,

where the Earth-mother's temple stands. For there she met Triptolemus,

when all the land lay waste, Demeter the kind Earth-mother,

and in her hands a sheaf of corn. And she taught him to

plow the fallows, and to yoke the lazy kine; and she taught him to

sow the seed-fields, and to reap the golden grain; and sent him

forth to teach all nations, and give corn to laboring men. So at

Eleusis all men honor her, whosoever tills the land; her and

Triptolemus her beloved, who gave corn to laboring men.

And he went along the plain into Eleusis, and stood in the

marketplace, and cried--

"Where is Kerkuon, the king of the city? I must wrestle a fall

with him today."

Then all the people crowded round him, and cried, "Fair youth,

why will you die? Hasten out of the city, before the cruel king

hears that a stranger is here."

But Theseus went up through the town, while the people wept and

prayed, and through the gates of the palace-yard, and through the

piles of bones and skulls, till he came to the door of Kerkuon's

hall, the terror of all mortal men.

And there he saw Kerkuon sitting at the table in the hall alone;

and before him was a whole sheep roasted, and beside him a whole

jar of wine. And Theseus stood and called him, "Holla, thou

valiant wrestler, wilt thou wrestle a fall today?"

And Kerkuon looked up and laughed, and answered, "I will

wrestle a fall today; but come in, for I am lonely and thou weary,

and eat and drink before thou die."

Then Theseus went up boldly, and sat down before Kerkuon at the

board: and he ate his fill of the sheep's flesh, and drank his

fill of the wine; and Theseus ate enough for three men, but Kerkuon

ate enough for seven.

But neither spoke a word to the other, though they looked across

the table by stealth; and each said in his heart, "He has broad

shoulders; but I trust mine are as broad as his."

At last, when the sheep was eaten and the jar of wine drained

dry, King Kerkuon rose, and cried, "Let us wrestle a fall before we

sleep."

So they tossed off all their garments, and went forth into the

palace-yard, and Kerkuon bade strew fresh sand in an open space

between the bones. And there the heroes stood face to face, while

their eyes glared like wild bulls'; and all the people crowded at the

gates, to see what would befall.

And there they stood and wrestled, till the stars shone out above

their heads; up and down and round, till the sand was stamped hard

beneath their feet. And their eyes flashed like stars in the darkness,

and their breath went up like smoke in the night air; but neither took

nor gave a footstep, and the people watched silent at the gates.

But at last Kerkuon grew angry, and caught Theseus round the

neck, and shook him as a mastiff shakes a rat; but he could not shake

him off his feet.

But Theseus was quick and wary, and clasped Kerkuon round the

waist, and slipped his loin quickly underneath him, while he caught

him by the wrist; and then he hove a mighty heave, a heave which

would have stirred an oak, and lifted Kerkuon, and pitched him,

right over his shoulder on the ground.

Then he leapt on him, and called, "Yield, or I kill thee!" but

Kerkuon said no word, for his heart was burst within him, with the

fall, and the meat, and the wine.

Then Theseus opened the gates, and called in all the people; and

they cried, "You have slain our evil king; be you now our king, and

rule us well."

"I will be your king in Eleusis, and I will rule you right and

well; for this cause I have slain all evil-doers, Sinis, and Sciron,

and this man last of all."

Then an aged man stepped forth, and said, "Young hero, hast

thou slain Sinis? Beware then of Ægeus, king of Athens, to whom

thou goest, for he is near of kin to Sinis."

"Then I have slain my own kinsman," said Theseus, "though well

he deserved to die. Who will purge me from his death, for rightfully

I slew him, unrighteous and accursed as he was?"

And the old man answered--

"That will the heroes do, the sons of Phytalus, who dwell beneath

the elm tree in Aphidnai, by the bank of silver Cephisus; for they

know the mysteries of the Gods. Thither you shall go and be purified,

and after you shall be our king."

So he took an oath of the people of Eleusis, that they would serve

him as their king, and went away next morning across the Thriasian

plain, and over the hills toward Aphidnai, that he might find the

sons of Phytalus.

And as he was skirting the Vale of Cephisus, along the foot of

lofty Parnes, a very tall and strong man came down to meet him,

dressed in rich garments. On his arms were golden bracelets, and

round his neck a collar of jewels; and he came forward, bowing

courteously, and held out both his hands, and spoke,--

"Welcome, fair youth, to these mountains; happy am I to have

met you! For what greater pleasure to a good man than to entertain

strangers? But I see that you are weary. Come up to my castle, and

rest yourself awhile."

"I give you thanks," said Theseus; "but I am in haste to go

up the valley, and to reach Aphidnai, in the Vale of Cephisus."

"Alas! you have wandered far from the right way, and you cannot

reach Aphidnai tonight; for there are many miles of mountain

between you and it, and steep passes, and cliffs dangerous after

nightfall. It is well for you that I met you; for my whole joy is to

find strangers, and to feast them at my castle, and hear tales from

them of foreign lands. Come up with me, and eat the best of venison,

and drink the rich red wine; and sleep upon my famous bed,

of which all travelers say that they never saw the like. For whatsoever

the stature of my guest, however tall or short, that bed fits

him to a hair, and he sleeps on it as he never slept before." And he

laid hold on Theseus's hands, and would, not let him go.

Theseus wished to go forwards, but he was ashamed to seem

churlish to so hospitable a man; and he was curious to see that

wondrous bed; and, besides, he was hungry and weary; yet he shrank

from the man, he knew not why; for though his voice was gentle

and fawning, it was dry and husky like a toad's; and though his

eyes were gentle, they were dull and cold like stones. But he

consented, and went with the man up a glen which led from the

road toward the peaks of Parnes, under the dark shadow of the

cliffs.

And as they went up, the glen grew narrower, and the cliffs higher

and darker, and beneath them a torrent roared, half seen between

bare limestone crags. And around them was neither tree nor bush,

while from the white peaks of Parnes the snow-blasts swept down

the glen, cutting and chilling, till a horror fell on Theseus as he

looked round at that doleful place. And he asked at last, "Your

castle stands, it seems, in a dreary region."

"Yes; but once within it, hospitality makes all things cheerful.

But who are these?" and he looked back, and Theseus also; and

far below along the road which they had left, came a string of laden

asses, and merchants walking by them, watching their ware.

"Ah, poor souls!" said the stranger. "Well for them that I

looked back and saw them! And well for me too, for I shall have

the more guests at my feast. Wait awhile till I go down and call

them, and we will eat and drink together the live-long night. Happy

am I, to whom Heaven sends so many guests at once!"

And he ran back down the hill, waving his hand and shouting to

the merchants, while Theseus went slowly up the steep pass.

But as he went up he met an aged man, who had been gathering

driftwood in the torrent-bed. He had laid down his fagot in the

road, and was trying to lift it again to his shoulder. And when he

saw Theseus, he called to him, and said--

"O fair youth, help me up with my burden, for my limbs are stiff

and weak with years."

Then Theseus lifted the burden on his back. And the old man

blest him, and then looked earnestly upon him, and said--

"Who are you, fair youth, and wherefore travel you this doleful

road?"

"Who I am my parents know: but I travel this doleful road because

I have been invited by a hospitable man, who promises to

feast me, and to make me sleep upon I know not what wondrous

bed."

Then the old man clapped his hands together, and cried,--

"O house of Hades, man-devouring! will thy maw never be full?

Know, fair youth, that you are going to torment and to death; for

he who met you (I will requite your kindness to another) is a robber

and a murderer of men. Whatsoever stranger he meets he entices

him hither to death; and as for this bed of which he speaks, truly it

fits all comers, yet none ever rose alive off it save me."

"Why?" asked Theseus, astonished.

"Because, if a man be too tall for it, he lops his limbs till they be

short enough, and if he be too short, he stretches his limbs till they

be long enough: but me only he spared, seven weary years agone;

for I alone of all fitted his bed exactly; so he spared me, and made

me his slave. And once I was a wealthy merchant, and dwelt in

brazen-gated Thebes; but now I hew wood and draw water for him,

the torment of all mortal men."

Then Theseus said nothing; but he ground his teeth together.

"Escape then," said the old man, "for he will have no pity on thy

youth. But yesterday he brought up hither a young man and a

maiden, and fitted them upon his bed: and the young man's hands

and feet he cut off; but the maiden's limbs he stretched until she

died, and so both perished miserably--but I am tired of weeping

over the slain. And therefore he is called Procrustes the stretcher,

though his father called him Damastes. Flee from him: yet whither

will you flee? The cliffs are steep, and who can climb them? and

there is no other road."

But Theseus laid his hand upon the old man's mouth, and said,

"There is no need to flee;" and he turned to go down the pass.

"Do not tell him that I have warned you, or he will kill me by

some evil death;" and the old man screamed after him down the

glen; but Theseus strode on in his wrath.

And he said to himself, "This is an ill-ruled land; when shall I

have done ridding it of monsters?" And as he spoke, Procrustes

came up the hill and all the merchants with him, smiling and talking

gayly. And when he saw Theseus, he cried, "Ah, fair young guest,

have I kept you too long waiting?"

But Theseus answered, "The man who stretches his guests upon

a bed and hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him,

when right is done throughout the land?"

Then Procrustes' countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as

green as a lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus

leapt on him, and cried--

"Is this true, my host, or is it false?" and he clasped Procrustes

round waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.

"Is this true, my host, or is it false?" But Procrustes answered

never a word.

Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful

club; and, before Procrustes could strike him, he had struck, and

felled him to the ground.

And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, and

went down to Hades squeaking, like a bat into the darkness of a

cave.

Then Theseus stript him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his

house, and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had

stolen from the passers-by. And he called the people of the country,

whom Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and parted the spoil

among them, and went down the mountains, and away.

And he went down the glens of Parnes, through mist, and cloud,

and rain, down the slopes of oak, and lentisk, and arbutus, and

fragrant bay, till he came to the Vale of Cephisus, and the pleasant

town of Aphidnai, and the home of the Phytalid heroes, where they

dwelt beneath a mighty elm.

And there they built an altar, and bade him bathe in Cephisus,

and offer a yearling ram, and purified him from the blood of Sinis,

and sent him away in peace.

And he went down the valley by Acharnai, and by the silver-swirling

stream, while all the people blessed him; for the fame of his prowess

had spread wide, till he saw the plain of Athens, and the hill where

Athené dwells.

So Theseus went up through Athens, and all the people ran out

to see him; for his fame had gone before him, and every one knew

of his mighty deeds. And all cried, "Here comes the hero who

slew Sinis, and Phaia the wild sow of Crommyon, and conquered

Kerkuon in wrestling, and slew Procrustes the pitiless." But Theseus

went on sadly and steadfastly, for his heart yearned after his

father; and he said, "How shall I deliver him from these leeches

who suck his blood?"

So he went up the holy stairs, and into the Acropolis, where

Ægeus' palace stood; and he went straight into Ægeus' hall, and

stood upon the threshold, and looked round.

And there he saw his cousins sitting about the table at the wine:

many a son of Pallas, but no Ægeus among them. There they sat

and feasted, and laughed, and passed the wine-cup round; while

harpers harped, and slave girls sang, and the tumblers showed their

tricks.

Loud laughed the sons of Pallas, and fast went the wine-cup round;

but Theseus frowned, and said under his breath, "No wonder that

the land is full of robbers, while such as these bear rule."

Then the Pallantids saw him, and called to him, half-drunk with

wine, "Holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will today?"

"I come hither to ask for hospitality."

"Then take it, and welcome. You look like a hero and a bold

warrior; and we like such to drink with us."

"I ask no hospitality of you; I ask it of Ægeus the king, the master

of this house."

At that some growled, and some laughed, and shouted, "Heyday!

we are all masters here."

"Then I am master as much as the rest of you," said Theseus, and

he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus;

but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Pallantids looked at him, and then at each other; and each

whispered to the man next him, "This is a forward fellow; he

ought to be thrust out at the door." But each man's neighbor

whispered in return, "His shoulders are broad; will you rise and

put him out?" So they all sat still where they were.

Then Theseus called to the servants, and said, "Go tell King

Ægeus, your master, that Theseus of Troezene is here, and asks to be

his guest awhile."

A servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber within,

by Medeia the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand. And

when Ægeus heard of Troezene, he turned pale and red again, and

rose from his seat trembling, while Medeia watched him like a

snake.

"What is Troezene to you?" she asked. But he said hastily, "Do

you not know who this Theseus is? The hero who has cleared the

country from all monsters; but that he came from Troezene, I never

heard before. I must go out and welcome him."

So Ægeus came out into the hall; and when Theseus saw him, his

heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and

welcome him; but he controlled himself, and said, "My father may

not wish for me, after all. I will try him before I discover myself;"

and he bowed low before Ægeus, and said, "I have delivered the

king's realm from many monsters; therefore I am come to ask a

reward of the king."

And old Ægeus looked on him, and loved him, as what fond heart

would not have done? But he only sighed, and said,--

"It is little that I can give you, noble lad, and nothing that is

worthy of you; for surely you are no mortal man, or at least no

mortal's son."

"All that I ask," said Theseus, "is to eat and drink at your table."

"That I can give you," said Ægeus, "if at least I am master in

my own hall."

Then he bade them put a seat for Theseus, and set before him the

best of the feast; and Theseus sat and ate so much, that all the

company wondered at him: but always he kept his club by his

side.

But Medeia the dark witch-woman had been watching him all the

while. She saw how Ægeus turned red and pale, when the lad said

that he came from Troezene. She saw, too, how his heart was opened

toward Theseus; and how Theseus bore himself before all the sons

of Pallas, like a lion among a pack of curs. And she said to herself,

"This youth will be master here; perhaps he is nearer to

Ægeus already than mere fancy. At least the Pallantids will have

no chance by the side of such as he."

Then she went back into her chamber modestly, while Theseus ate

and drank; and all the servants whispered, "This, then, is the man

who killed the monsters! How noble are his looks, and how huge

his size. Ah, would that he were our master's son."

But presently Medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels, and

her rich Eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day;

so that all the guests could look at nothing else. And in her right

hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold; and she

came up to Theseus, and spoke in a sweet, soft, winning voice,--

"Hail to the hero, the conqueror, the unconquered, the destroyer

of all evil things! Drink, hero, of my charmed cup, which gives

rest after every toil, which heals all wounds, and pours new life

into the veins. Drink of my cup, for in it sparkles the wine of the

East, and Nepenthe, the comfort of the Immortals."

And as she spoke, she poured the flask into the cup; and the

fragrance of the wine spread through the hall, like the scent of

thyme and roses.

And Theseus looked up in her fair face, and into her deep dark

eyes. And as he looked, he shrank and shuddered; for they were

dry like the eyes of a snake. And he rose and said, "The wine is

rich and fragrant, and the wine-bearer as fair as the Immortals; but

let her pledge me first herself in the cup, that the wine may be

the sweeter from her lips."

Then Medeia turned pale, and stammered, "Forgive me, fair

hero; but I am ill, and dare drink no wine."

And Theseus looked again into her eyes, and cried, "Thou shalt

pledge me in that cup, or die." And he lifted up his brazen club,

while all the guests looked on aghast.

Medeia shrieked a fearful shriek, and dashed the cup to the

ground, and fled; and where the wine flowed over the marble pavement

the stone bubbled, and crumbled, and hissed, under the fierce

venom of the draught.

But Medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it and fled

aloft, away over land and sea; and no man saw her more.

And Ægeus cried, "What hast thou done?" But Theseus pointed

to the stone,--"I have rid the land of an enchantment: now I will

rid it of one more."

And he came close to Ægeus, and drew from his bosom the sword

and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him.

And Ægeus stepped back a pace, and looked at the lad till his

eyes grew dim; and then he cast himself on his neck, and wept;

and Theseus wept on his neck, till they had no strength left to

weep more.

Then Ægeus turned to all the people, and cried, "Behold my son,

children of Kecrops, a better man than his father was before him."

Who then were mad but the Pallantids, though they had been

mad enough before? And one shouted, "Shall we make room for

an upstart, a pretender, who comes from we know not where?"

And another, "If he be one, we are more than one; and the stronger

can hold his own." And one shouted one thing, and one another,

for they were hot and wild with wine; but all caught swords and

lances off the wall, where the weapons hung around, and sprang

forward to Theseus; and Theseus sprang forward to them.

And he cried, "Go in peace, if you will, my cousins; but if not,

your blood be on your own heads." But they rushed at him; and

then stopped short and railed him, as curs stop and bark when they

rouse a lion from his lair.

But one hurled a lance from the rear rank, which past close by

Theseus' head; and at that Theseus rushed forward, and the fight

began indeed. Twenty against one they fought, and yet Theseus

beat them all; and those who were left fled down into the town,

where the people set on them, and drove them out, till Theseus was

left alone in the palace, with Ægeus his new-found father. But

before nightfall all the town came up, with victims, and dances, and

songs; and they offered sacrifices to Athené, and rejoiced all the

night long, because their king had found a noble son, and an heir to

his royal house.

So Theseus stayed with his father all the winter; and when the

spring equinox drew near, all the Athenians grew sad and silent, and

Theseus saw it, and asked the reason; but no one would answer

him a word.

Then he went to his father, and asked him: but Ægeus turned

away his face and wept.

"Do not ask, my son, beforehand, about evils which must happen:

it is enough to have to face them when they come."

And when the spring equinox came, a herald came to Athens, and

stood in the market, and cried, "O people and King of Athens, where

is your yearly tribute?" Then a great lamentation arose throughout

the city. But Theseus stood up to the herald, and cried,--

"And who are you, dog-faced, who dare demand tribute here?

If I did not reverence your herald's staff, I would brain you with

this club."

And the herald answered proudly, for he was a grave and ancient

man,--

"Fair youth, I am not dog-faced or shameless; but I do my master's

bidding, Minos the King of hundred-citied Crete, the wisest

of all kings on earth. And you must be surely a stranger here, or

you would know why I come, and that I come by right."

"I am a stranger here. Tell me, then, why you come."

"To fetch the tribute which King Ægeus promised to Minos, and

confirmed his promise with an oath. For Minos conquered all this

land, and Megara which lies to the east, when he came hither with

a great fleet of ships, enraged about the murder of his son. For his

son Androgeos came hither to the Panathenaic games, and overcame

all the Greeks in the sports, so that the people honored him as

a hero. But when Ægeus saw his valor, he envied him, and feared

lest he should join the sons of Pallas, and take away the scepter from

him. So he plotted against his life, and slew him basely, no man

knows how or where. Some say that he waylaid him by Œnoe, on

the road which goes to Thebes; and some that he sent him against

the bull of Marathon, that the beast might kill him. But Ægeus says

that the young men killed him from envy, because he had conquered

them in the games. So Minos came hither and avenged him, and

would not depart till this land had promised him tribute, seven

youths and seven maidens every year, who go with me in a black-sailed

ship, till they come to hundred-citied Crete."

And Theseus ground his teeth together, and said, "Wert thou not

a herald I would kill thee, for saying such things of my father;

but I will go to him, and know the truth." So he went to his father,

and asked him; but he turned away his head and wept, and said,

"Blood was shed in the land unjustly, and by blood it is avenged.

Break not my heart by questions; it is enough to endure in silence."

Then Theseus groaned inwardly, and said, "I will go myself

with these youths and maidens, and kill Minos upon his royal

throne."

And Ægeus shrieked, and cried, "You shall not go, my son, the

light of my old age, to whom alone I look to rule this people, after

I am dead and gone. You shall not go, to die horribly, as those

youths and maidens die; for Minos thrusts them into a labyrinth,

which Daidalos made for him among the rocks,--Daidalos the

renegade, the accursed, the pest of this his native land. From that

labyrinth no one can escape, entangled in its winding ways, before

they meet the Minotaur, the monster, who feeds upon the flesh of

men. There he devours them horribly, and they never see this land

again."

Then Theseus grew red, and his ears tingled, and his heart beat

loud in his bosom. And he stood awhile like a tall stone pillar on

the cliffs above some hero's grave; and at last he spoke,--

"Therefore all the more I will go with them, and slay the

accursed beast. Have I not slain all evil-doers and monsters, that

I might free this land? Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Kerkuon,

and Phaia the wild sow? Where are the fifty sons of Pallas?

And this Minotaur shall go on the road which they have gone; and

Minos himself, if he dare stay me."

"But how will you slay him, my son? For you must leave your

club and your armor behind, and be cast to the monster, defenseless

and naked like the rest."

And Theseus said: "Are there no stones in that labyrinth; and

have I not fists and teeth? Did I need my club to kill Kerkuon, the

terror of all mortal men?"

Then Ægeus clung to his knees, but he would not hear: and at last

he let him go, weeping bitterly, and said only this one word,--

"Promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may

hardly be: take down the black sail of the ship (for I shall watch

for it all day upon the cliffs) and hoist instead a white sail, that

I may know afar off that you are safe."

And Theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place

where the herald stood, while they drew lots for the youths and

maidens who were to sail in that doleful crew. And the people stood

wailing and weeping, as the lot fell on this one and on that; but

Theseus strode into the midst, and cried,--

"Here is a youth who needs no lot. I myself will be one of the

seven."

And the herald asked in wonder, "Fair youth, know you whither

you are going?"

And Theseus said, "I know. Let us go down to the black-sailed

ship."

So they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens and

seven youths, and Theseus before them all, and the people following

them lamenting. But Theseus whispered to his companions,

"Have hope, for the monster is not immortal. Where are Periphetes,

and Sinis, and Sciron, and all whom I have slain?" Then

their hearts were comforted a little; but they wept as they went

on board, and the cliffs of Sunium rang, and all the isles of the

Ægean Sea, with the voice of their lamentation, as they sailed on

toward their deaths in Crete.

PART III

HOW THESEUS SLEW THE MINOTAUR

And at last they came to Crete, and to Cnossus, beneath the peaks

of Ida, and to the palace of Minos the great king, to whom Zeus

himself taught laws. So he was the wisest of all mortal kings,

and conquered all the Ægean isles; and his ships were as many

as the sea-gulls, and his palace like a marble hill. And he sat among

the pillars of the hall, upon his throne of beaten gold, and around

him stood the speaking statues which Daidalos had made by his

skill. For Daidalos was the most cunning of all Athenians, and he

first invented the plumb-line, and the auger, and glue, and many a

tool with which wood is wrought. And he first set up masts in

ships, and yards, and his son made sails for them: but Perdix his

nephew excelled him; for he first invented the saw and its teeth,

copying it from the back-bone of a fish; and invented, too, the

chisel, and the compasses, and the potter's wheel which molds the

clay. Therefore Daidalos envied him, and hurled him headlong

from the temple of Athené; but the Goddess pitied him (for she loves

the wise) and changed him into a partridge, which flits forever about

the hills. And Daidalos fled to Crete, to Minos, and worked for

him many a year, till he did a shameful deed, at which the sun hid

his face on high.

Then he fled from the anger of Minos,--he and Icarus, his son,

having made themselves wings of feathers, and fixed the feathers

with wax. So they flew over the sea toward Sicily; but Icarus flew

too near the sun; and the wax of his wings was melted, and he fell

into the Icarian Sea. But Daidalos came safe to Sicily, and there

wrought many a wondrous work: for he made for King Cocalus a

reservoir, from which a great river watered all the land, and a castle

and a treasury on a mountain, which the giants themselves could not

have stormed; and in Selinos he took the steam which comes up from

the fires of AEtna and made of it a warm bath of vapor, to cure the

pains of mortal men; and he made a honeycomb of gold, in which

the bees came and stored their honey; and in Egypt he made the

fore-court of the temple of Hephaistus, in Memphis, and a statue of

himself within it, and many another wondrous work. And for Minos

he made statues which spoke and moved, and the temple of Britomartis,

and the dancing-hall of Ariadne, which he carved of fair

white stone. And in Sardinia he worked for Iölaos; and in many

a land beside, wandering up and down forever with his cunning,

unlovely and accursed by men.

But Theseus stood before Minos, and they looked each other in

the face. And Minos bade take them to prison, and cast them to the

monster one by one, that the death of Androgeos might be avenged.

Then Theseus cried--

"A boon, O Minos! Let me be thrown first to the beast. For

I came hither for that very purpose, of my own will, and not by lot."

"Who art thou, then, brave youth?"

"I am the son of him whom of all men thou hatest most, Ægeus

the king of Athens, and I am come here to end this matter."

And Minos pondered awhile, looking steadfastly at him, and he

thought, "The lad means to atone by his own death for his father's

sin;" and he answered at last mildly--

"Go back in peace, my son. It is a pity that one so brave should

die."

But Theseus said, "I have sworn that I will not go back till I

have seen the monster face to face."

And at that Minos frowned, and said, "Then thou shalt see

him; take the madman away."

And they led Theseus away into the prison, with the other youths

and maids.

But Ariadne, Minos's daughter, saw him, as she came out of her

white stone hall; and she loved him for his courage and his majesty,

and said, "Shame that such a youth should die!" And by night

she went down to the prison, and told him all her heart, and said,--

"Flee down to your ship at once, for I have bribed the guards

before the door. Flee, you and all your friends, and go back in

peace to Greece; and take me, take me with you! for I dare not stay

after you are gone; for my father will kill me miserably, if he

knows what I have done."

And Theseus stood silent awhile; for he was astonished and confounded

by her beauty: but at last he said, "I cannot go home in

peace, till I have seen and slain this Minotaur, and avenged the

deaths of the youths and maidens, and put an end to the terrors of

my land."

"And will you kill the Minotaur? How, then?"

"I know not, nor do I care: but he must be strong if he be too

strong for me."

Then she loved him all the more, and said, "But when you have

killed him, how will you find your way out of the labyrinth?"

"I know not, neither do I care: but it must be a strange road,

if I do not find it out before I have eaten up the monster's carcase."

Then she loved him all the more, and said,--

"Fair youth, you are too bold; but I can help you, weak as I am.

I will give you a sword, and with that, perhaps, you may slay the

beast; and a clue of thread, and by that, perhaps, you may find your

way out again. Only promise me, that if you escape safe, you will

take me home with you to Greece; for my father will surely kill me,

if he knows what I have done."

Then Theseus laughed, and said, "Am I not safe enough now?"

And he hid the sword in his bosom, and rolled up the clue in his

hand; and then he swore to Ariadne, and fell down before her,

and kissed her hands and her feet; and she wept over him a long

while, and then went away; and Theseus lay down and slept sweetly.

And when the evening came, the guards came in and led him away

to the labyrinth.

And he went down into that doleful gulf, through winding paths

among the rocks, under caverns, and arches, and galleries, and over

heaps of fallen stone. And he turned on the left hand, and on the

right hand, and went up and down till his head was dizzy; but all the

while he held his clue. For when he went in he had fastened it to

a stone, and left it to unroll out of his hand as he went on; and it

lasted him till he met the Minotaur, in a narrow chasm between

black cliffs.

And when he saw him he stopped awhile, for he had never seen

so strange a beast. His body was a man's: but his head was the head

of a bull; and his teeth were the teeth of a lion, and with them he tore

his prey. And when he saw Theseus he roared, and put his head

down, and rushed right at him.

But Theseus stept aside nimbly, and as he passed by, cut him in

the knee; and ere he could turn in the narrow path, he followed

him, and stabbed him again and again from behind, till the monster

fled bellowing wildly; for he never before had felt a wound. And

Theseus followed him at full speed, holding the clue of thread in his

left hand.

Then on, through cavern after cavern, under dark ribs of sounding

stone, and up rough glens and torrent-beds, among the sunless roots

of Ida, and to the edge of the eternal snow, went they, the hunter and

hunted, while the hills bellowed to the monster's bellow.

And at last Theseus came up with him, where he lay panting on

a slab among the snow, and caught him by the horns, and forced

his head back, and drove the keen sword through his throat.

Then he turned, and went back limping and weary, feeling his

way down by the clue of thread, till he came to the mouth of that

doleful place; and saw waiting for him, whom but Ariadne!

And he whispered, "It is done!" and showed her the sword; and

she laid her finger on her lips, and led him to the prison, and opened

the doors, and set all the prisoners free, while the guards lay sleeping

heavily; for she had silenced them with wine.

Then they fled to their ship together, and leapt on board, and

hoisted up the sail; and the night lay dark around them, so that

they past through Minos's ships, and escaped all safe to Naxos; and

there Ariadne became Theseus's wife.

PART IV

HOW THESEUS FELL BY HIS PRIDE

But that fair Ariadne never came to Athens with her husband. Some say

that Theseus left her sleeping on Naxos among the Cyclades; and that

Dionusos the wine-king found her, and took her up into the sky, as you

shall see some day in a painting of old Titian's, one of the most

glorious pictures upon earth. And some say that Dionusos drove away

Theseus, and took Ariadne from him by force: but however that may be,

in his haste or in his grief, Theseus forgot to put up the white sail.

Now Ægeus his father sat and watched on Sunium day after day, and

strained his old eyes across the sea to see the ship afar. And when he

saw the black sail, and not the white one, he gave up Theseus for dead,

and in his grief he fell into the sea, and died; so it is called the

Ægean to this day.

And now Theseus was king of Athens, and he guarded it and ruled it well.

For he killed the bull of Marathon, which had killed Androgeos, Minos's

son; and he drove back the famous Amazons, the warlike women of the East,

when they came from Asia, and conquered all Hellas, and broke into Athens

itself. But Theseus stopped them there, and conquered them, and took

Hippolyte their queen to be his wife. Then he went out to fight against

the Lapithai, and Peirithoos their famous king: but when the two heroes

came face to face they loved each other, and embraced, and became noble

friends; so that the friendship of Theseus and Peirithoos is a proverb

even now. And he gathered (so the Athenians say) all the boroughs of the

land together, and knit them into one strong people, while before they

were all parted and weak: and many another wise thing he did, so that

his people honored him after he was dead, for many a hundred years, as

the father of their freedom and their laws. And six hundred years after

his death, in the famous fight at Marathon, men said that they saw the

ghost of Theseus, with his mighty brazen club, fighting in the van of

battle against the invading Persians, for the country which he loved.

And twenty years after Marathon, his bones (they say) were found in

Scuros, an isle beyond the sea; and they were bigger than the bones of

mortal man So the Athenians brought them home in triumph; and all the

people came out to welcome them; and they built over them a noble

temple, and adorned it with sculptures and paintings; in which were

told all the noble deeds of Theseus, and the Centaurs, and the Lapithai

and the Amazons; and the ruins of it are standing still.

But why did they find his bones in Scuros? Why did he not die in peace

at Athens, and sleep by his father's side? Because, after his triumph he

grew proud, and broke the laws of God and man. And one thing worst of

all he did, which brought him to his grave with sorrow. For he went down

(they say beneath the earth) with that bold Peirithoos his friend, to

help him to carry off Persephone, the queen of the world below. But

Peirithoos was killed miserably, in the dark fire-kingdoms underground;

and Theseus was chained to a rock in everlasting pain. And there he sat

for years, till Heracles the mighty came down to bring up the three-

headed dog who sits at Pluto's gate. So Heracles loosed him from his

chain, and brought him up to the light once more.

But when he came back his people had forgotten him, and Castor and

Poludeuces, the sons of the wondrous Swan, had invaded his land, and

carried off his mother Aithra for a slave, in revenge for a grievous

wrong.

So the fair land of Athens was wasted, and another king ruled it, who

drove out Theseus shamefully, and he fled across the sea to Scuros. And

there he lived in sadness, in the house of Lucomedes the king, till

Lucomedes killed him by treachery, and there was an end of all his

labors.

So it is still, my children, and so it will be to the end. In those old

Greeks, and in us also, all strength and virtue come from God. But if

men grow proud and self-willed, and misuse God's fair gifts, He lets

them go their own ways, and fall pitifully, that the glory may be His

alone. God help us all, and give us wisdom, and courage to do noble

deeds! but God keep pride from us when we have done them, lest we fall,

and come to shame!

Germanic

THOR GOES A-FISHING

Hamilton Wright Mabie

Midway between Niflheim and Muspelheim lay Midgard, the home

of men, its round disk everywhere encircled by the ocean, which perpetually

rushed upon it, gently in still summer afternoons, but with

a terrible uproar in winter. Ages ago, when the Midgard-serpent

had grown so vast that even the gods were afraid of him, Odin cast

him into the sea, and he lay flat at the bottom of the ocean, grown

to such monstrous size that his scaly length encircled the whole

world. Holding the end of his tail in his mouth, he sometimes lay

motionless for weeks at a time, and looking across the water no one

would have dreamed that such a monster was asleep in its depths.

But when the Midgard-serpent was aroused his wrath was terrible

to behold. He lashed the ocean into great sheets of foam, he piled

the waves mountain high, he dashed the spray into the very heavens,

and woe to the galleys that were sailing homeward.

It happened once that the gods were feasting with Æger, the

sea-god, and the ale gave out, and Æger had no kettle in which to

brew a new supply.

"Thor," said. Æger, after he had thought a moment, "will you

get me a kettle?"

Thor was always ready for any hard or dangerous thing.

"Of course I will," was his quick reply, "only tell me where

to get one."

That, however, was no easy thing to do. Kettles big enough to

brew ale for Asgard were not to be picked up at a moment's notice.

Everybody wanted more ale, but nobody could tell Thor where to

find a kettle, until Tyr, the god of courage, spoke up: "East of

the river Elivagar lives my father, Hymer, who has a kettle mar-velously

strong and one mile deep."

That was large enough even for the gods.

"Do you think we can get it?" asked Thor, who always wanted

to succeed in his undertakings.

"If we cannot get it by force, we can by stratagem," answered

Tyr, and they started off at once, Thor taking the disguise of a

young man. The goats drew them swiftly to Egil, with whom Thor

left them while he and Tyr pushed on to finish the journey afoot.

It was rough and perilous traveling, but they reached Hymer's hall

without accident, and there Tyr found his grandmother, a frightfully

ugly giantess, and his mother, a wonderfully beautiful woman, with

fair hair, and a face so radiant that the sun seemed to be always

shining upon it. The latter advised them to hide under the great

kettles in the hall, because when Hymer came home in bad temper

he was sometimes cruel to strangers.

Late in the evening Hymer came home from his fishing. A cold

wind swept through the hall as he entered, his eyes were piercing

as the stars on a winter's night, and his beard was white with frost.

"I welcome you home," said Tyr's beautiful mother; "our son,

for whom we have been looking so long, has come home, bringing

with him the enemy of giants and the protector of Asgard. See how

they hide themselves behind that pillar yonder."

She pointed to a pillar at the farther end of the hall. Hymer

turned, and looked at it with his piercing, icy glance, and in an

instant it snapped into a thousand pieces; the beam overhead broke,

and eight kettles fell with a crash on the stone floor. Only one out

of the eight remained unbroken, and from it Thor and Tyr came

forth. Hymer was not glad to see Thor standing there under his

own roof, but he could not turn him out, so he made the best of it

and ordered three oxen to be served for supper. Thor had traveled

a long distance and was very hungry, and ate two of the oxen before

he was satisfied.

"If you eat like that," said Hymer, "we will have to live on fish

tomorrow."

Early the next morning, before the sun was up, Thor heard Hymer

getting ready for a day of fishing. He dressed himself quickly and

went out to the giant. "Good morning, Hymer," he said pleasantly.

"I am fond of fishing; let me row out to sea with you."

"Oho," answered the giant scornfully, not at all pleased with the

idea of having his powerful enemy in the boat with him, "such a

puny young fellow can be of no use to me, and if I go as far out to

sea as I generally do, and stay as long, you will catch a cold that

will be the death of you."

Thor was so angry at this insult that he wanted to let his hammer

ring on the giant's head, but he wisely kept his temper.

"I will row as far from the land as you care to go," was his

answer, "and it is by no means certain that I shall be the first to

want to put in again. What do you bait with?"

"Find a bait for yourself," was the giant's surly reply.

Thor ran up to a herd of Hymer's cattle, seized the largest bull,

wrung off its head without any trouble, and put it in the boat. Then

they both pushed off and were soon rowing seaward. Hymer could

pull a strong oar, but he had never seen such a stroke as Thor's

before. The boat fairly trembled under the force of it. In a few

moments they reached Hymer's fishing-ground, and he called out

to Thor to stop.

"Oh, no, not yet," said Thor, bending steadily over his oars; "we

must go a good distance beyond this."

Thor pulled with such tremendous power that they were soon far

out to sea, and Hymer began to be frightened. "If you don't stop,"

he called out, "we shall be over the Midgard-serpent."

Thor paid no attention, but rowed on until they were far out of

sight of land and about where he thought the great snake was coiled

in the bottom of the sea; then he laid down the oars, as fresh and

strong apparently as when he got into the boat. It was the strangest

fishing party the world ever saw, and the most wonderful fishing.

No sooner had Hymer's bait touched the water than it was seized

by two whales. Thor smiled quietly at the giant's luck, took out

a fishing-line, made with wonderful skill, and so strong that it

could not be broken, fastened the bull's head upon the hook and cast

it into the sea. The Midgard-serpent instantly seized it, and in a

second the hook was fast in its palate. Then came a furious struggle

between the strong god and the terrible monster which was the dread

of the whole earth.

Stung by the pain, the serpent writhed and pulled so hard that

Thor had to brace himself against the side of the boat. When he

found that the snake had taken his hook his wrath rose, and his

divine strength came upon him. He pulled the line with such

tremendous force that his feet went straight through the bottom of

the boat, and he stood on the bed of the ocean while he drew the

snake up to the side of the boat. The monster, convulsed with pain,

reared its terrible head out of the water, its glittering eyes

flashing, its whole vast body writhing and churning the ocean into a

whirlpool of eddying foam. Thor's eyes blazed with wrath, and he

held the serpent in a grasp like a vise. The uproar was like a

terrible storm, and the boat, the fishers, and the snake were hidden

by columns of foam that rose in the air. No one can tell what the end

would have been if Hymer, trembling with fright and seeing the

boat about to sink, had not sprung forward and cut the line just as

Thor was raising his hammer to crush the serpent's head. The

snake sank at once to the bottom of the sea, and Thor, turning upon

the giant, struck him such a blow under the ear that he fell headlong

into the water. The giant got back to the boat, however, and

they rowed to land, taking the two whales with them.

When they reached shore Thor was still filled with rage at the

meddlesome giant, because he had lost him the serpent, but he

quietly picked up the boat and carried it home, Hymer taking the

whales. Once more under his own roof, the giant's courage returned,

and he challenged Thor to show his strength by breaking

his drinking-cup. Thor sat down and, taking the cup, hurled it

against a pillar. It flew through the air, crashed against the stone,

bounded back, and was picked up as whole and perfect as when it

came into Thor's hands. He was puzzled, but Tyr's beautiful

fair-haired mother whispered to him, "Throw it at Hymer's forehead;

it is harder than any drinking-cup."

Thor drew in all his godlike strength and dashed the cup with a

terrific effort at Hymer. The forehead was unharmed, but the cup

was scattered in a thousand pieces over the floor. Hymer had lost a

great treasure by the experiment, but he only said, "That drink was

too hot. Perhaps you will take the kettle off now," he added with

a sneer.

Tyr immediately laid hands on the kettle, but he could not move

it an inch. Then Thor took the great pot in his hands and drew

it up with such a mighty effort that his feet went through the

stone floor of the hall, but he lifted it and, placing it on his head

like a mighty helmet, walked off, the rings of the kettle clanging

about his feet. The two gods walked swiftly away from the hall

where so many troubles and labors had awaited them, and it was

a long time before Thor turned to look back. When he did, it

was not a moment too soon, for Hymer was close behind, with a

multitude of many-headed giants, in hot pursuit.

In one minute Thor had lifted the kettle off his head and put it

on the ground, in another he was swinging the hammer among the

giants, and in another, when the lightnings had gone out and the

thunder had died in awful echoes among the hills, Tyr and Thor

were alone on the field.

They went on to Egil, mounted the chariot and drove the goats

swiftly on to Æger's, where the gods were impatiently waiting for

the kettle. There was straightway a mighty brewing of ale, Thor

told the story of his adventures in search of the kettle, and the feast

went merrily on.

BALDUR

Annie and Eliza Keary

PART I

THE DREAM

Upon a summer's afternoon it happened that Baldur the Bright

and Bold, beloved of men and Æsir, found himself alone in his

palace of Broadblink. Thor was walking low down among the

valleys, his brow heavy with summer heat; Frey and Gerda sported

on still waters in their cloud-leaf ship; Odin, for once, slept on the

top of Air Throne; a noonday stillness pervaded the whole earth;

and Baldur in Broadblink, the wide-glancing, most sunlit of palaces,

dreamed a dream.

The dream of Baldur was troubled. He knew not whence nor

why; but when he awoke he found that a new and weighty care was

within him. It was so heavy that Baldur could scarcely carry it,

and yet he pressed it closely to his heart and said, "Lie there, and

do not fall on any one but me." Then he rose up and walked out

from the splendor of his hall, that he might seek his own mother,

Frigga, and tell her what had happened to him. He found her in

her crystal saloon, calm and kind, waiting to listen, and ready to

sympathize; so he walked up to her, his hands pressed closely on

his heart, and lay down at her feet, sighing.

"What is the matter, dear Baldur?" asked Frigga, gently.

"I do not know, mother," answered he. "I do not know what

the matter is; but I have a shadow in my heart."

"Take it out, then, my son, and let me look at it," replied Frigga.

"But I fear, mother, that if I do it will cover the whole earth."

Then Frigga laid her hand upon the heart of her son that she

might feel the shadow's shape. Her brow became clouded as she

felt it; her parted lips grew pale, and she cried out, "Oh! Baldur,

my beloved son! the shadow is the shadow of death!"

Then said Baldur, "I will die bravely, my mother."

But Frigga answered, "You shall not die at all; for I will not

sleep tonight until everything on earth has sworn to me that it will

neither kill nor harm you."

So Frigga stood up, and called to her everything on earth that had

power to hurt or slay. First she called all metals to her; and heavy

iron-ore came lumbering up the hill into the crystal hall, brass and

gold, copper, silver, lead, and steel, and stood before the Queen,

who lifted her right hand high in the air, saying, "Swear to me

that you will not injure Baldur"; and they all swore, and went.

Then she called to her all stones; and huge granite came, with

crumbling sandstones and white lime, and the round, smooth stones

of the seashore, and Frigga raised her arm, saying, "Swear that

you will not injure Baldur"; and they swore, and went. Then

Frigga called to her the trees; and wide-spreading oak trees, with

tall ash and somber firs, came rushing up the hill, and Frigga raised

her hand, and said, "Swear that you will not hurt Baldur"; and

they said, "We swear," and went. After this Frigga called to her

the diseases, who came blown by poisonous winds on wings of pain,

and to the sound of moaning. Frigga said to them, "Swear"; and

they sighed, "We swear," then flew away. Then Frigga called to

her all beasts, birds, and venomous snakes, who came to her and

swore, and disappeared. After this she stretched out her hand to

Baldur, whilst a smile spread over her face, saying, "And now, my

son, you cannot die."

But just then Odin came in, and when he had heard from Frigga

the whole story, he looked even more mournful than she had done;

neither did the cloud pass from his face when he was told of the

oaths that had been taken.

"Why do you still look so grave, my lord?" demanded Frigga

at last. "Baldur cannot now die."

But Odin asked very gravely, "Is the shadow gone out of our

son's heart, or is it still there?"

"It cannot be there," said Frigga, turning away her head resolutely,

and folding her hands before her.

But Odin looked at Baldur, and saw how it was, the hands

pressed to the heavy heart, the beautiful brow grown dim. Then

immediately he rose, saddled Sleipnir, his eight-footed steed,

mounted him, and, turning to Frigga said, "I know of a dead Vala,

Frigga, who, when she was alive, could tell what was going to

happen; her grave lies on the east side of Helheim, and I am going

there to awake her, and ask whether any terrible grief is really

coming upon us."

So saying, Odin shook the bridle in his hand, and the Eight-footed,

with a bound, leaped forth, rushed like a whirlwind down the mountain

of Asgard, and then dashed into a narrow defile between rocks.

Sleipnir went on through the defile a long way, until he came

to a place where the earth opened her mouth. There Odin rode in

and down a broad, steep, slanting road which led him to the cavern

Gnipa, and the mouth of the cavern Gnipa yawned upon Niflheim.

Then thought Odin to himself, "My journey is already done."

But just as Sleipnir was about to leap through the jaws of the pit,

Garm, the voracious dog who was chained to the rock, sprang forward,

and tried to fasten himself upon Odin. Three times Odin

shook him off, and still Garm, as fierce as ever, went on with the

fight. At last Sleipnir leaped, and Odin thrust just at the same

moment; then horse and rider cleared the entrance, and turned

eastward towards the dead Vala's grave, dripping blood along the

road as they went; while the beaten Garm stood baying in the

cavern's mouth.

When Odin came to the grave he got off his horse, and stood with

his face northward, looking through barred inclosures into the city

of Helheim itself. The servants of Hela were very busy there making

preparations for some new guest--hanging gilded couches with

curtains of anguish and splendid misery upon the walls. Then

Odin's heart died within him, and he began to repeat mournful runes

in a low tone to himself.

The dead Vala turned heavily in her grave at the sound of his voice,

and, as he went on, sat bolt upright. "What man is this," she asked,

"who dares disturb my sleep?"

Then Odin, for the first time in his life, said what was not true;

the shadow of Baldur dead fell upon his lips, and he made answer,

"My name is Vegtam, the son of Valtam."

"And what do you want from me?" asked the Vala.

"I want to know," replied Odin, "for whom Hela is making ready that

gilded couch in Helheim?"

"That is for Baldur the Beloved," answered the dead Vala.

"Now go away and let me sleep again, for my eyes are heavy."

But Odin said: "Only one word more. Is Baldur going to Helheim?"

"Yes, I've told you that he is," answered the Vala.

"Will he never come back to Asgard again?"

"If everything on earth should weep for him," answered she,

"he will go back; if not, he will remain in Helheim."

Then Odin covered his face with his hands and looked into

darkness.

"Do go away," said the Vala, "I'm so sleepy; I cannot keep my

eyes open any longer."

But Odin raised his head and said again: "Only tell me this one

thing. Just now, as I looked into darkness, it seemed to me as if

I saw one on earth who would not weep for Baldur. Who was it?"

At this the Vala grew very angry and said: "How couldst thou

see in darkness? I know of only one who, by giving away his eye,

gained light. No Vegtam art thou, but Odin, chief of men."

At her angry words Odin became angry, too, and called out as

loudly as ever he could, "No Vala art thou, nor wise woman, but

rather the mother of three giants!"

"Go, go!" answered the Vala, falling back in her grave; "no

man shall waken me again until Loki have burst his chains and

Ragnarok be come." After this Odin mounted the Eight-footed

once more and rode thoughtfully towards home.

PART II

THE PEACESTEAD

When Odin came back to Asgard, Hermod took the bridle from

his father's hand and told him that the rest of the Aesir were gone

to the Peacestead--a broad, green plain which lay just outside

the city. This was the playground of the Aesir, where they practiced

trials of skill one with another, and held tournaments and

sham fights. These last were always conducted in the gentlest and

most honorable manner; for the strongest law of the Peacestead was,

that no angry blow should be struck, or spiteful word spoken,

upon the sacred field; and for this reason some have thought it

might be well if children also had a Peacestead to play in.

Odin was too much tired by his journey from Helheim to go to

the Peacestead that afternoon; so he turned away and shut himself

up in his palace of Gladsheim. But when he was gone, Loki came

into the city by another way, and hearing from Hermod where the

Aesir were, set off to join them.

When he got to the Peacestead, Loki found that the Aesir were

standing round in a circle shooting at something, and he peeped

between the shoulders of two of them to find out what it was. To

his surprise he saw Baldur standing in the midst, erect and calm,

whilst his friends and brothers were aiming their weapons at him.

Some hewed at him with their swords,--others threw stones at him,

--some shot arrows pointed with steel, and Thor continually swung

Miolnir at his head. "Well," said Loki to himself, "if this is the

sport of Asgard, what must that of Jotunheim be? I wonder what

Father Odin and Mother Frigga would say if they were here?"

But as Loki still looked, he became even more surprised, for the

sport went on, and Baldur was not hurt. Arrows aimed at his very

heart glanced back again untinged with blood. The stones fell

down from his broad, bright brow, and left no bruises there.

Swords clave, but did not wound him; Miölnir struck him, and he

was not crushed. At this Loki grew perfectly furious with envy and

hatred. "And why is Baldur to be so honored," said he, "that even

steel and stone shall not hurt him?" Then Loki changed himself

into a little, dark, bent old woman, with a stick in his hand, and

hobbled away from the Peacestead to Frigga's cool saloon. At

the door he knocked with his stick.

"Come in!" said the kind voice of Frigga, and Loki lifted the

latch.

Now when Frigga saw, from the other end of the hall, a little,

bent, crippled old woman come hobbling up her crystal floor, she

got up with true queenliness and met her halfway, holding out her

hand and saying in the kindest manner, "Pray sit down, my poor

old friend; for it seems to me that you have come from a great

way off."

"That I have, indeed," answered Loki in a tremulous, squeaking

voice.

"And did you happen to see anything of the Æsir," asked Frigga,

"as you came?"

"Just now I passed by the Peacestead and saw them at play."

"What were they doing?"

"Shooting at Baldur."

Then Frigga bent over her work with a pleased smile on her

face. "And nothing hurt him?" she said.

"Nothing," answered Loki, looking keenly at her.

"No, nothing," murmured Frigga, still looking down and speaking

half musingly to herself; "for all things have sworn to me that

they will not."

"Sworn!" exclaimed Loki, eagerly; "what is that you say?

Has everything sworn then?"

"Everything," answered she, "excepting, indeed, the little shrub

mistletoe, which grows, you know, on the west side of Valhalla, and

to which I said nothing, because I thought it was too young to swear."

"Excellent!" thought Loki, and then he got up.

"You're not going yet, are you?" said Frigga, stretching out her

hand and looking up at last into the eyes of the old woman.

"I'm quite rested now, thank you," answered Loki in his squeaky

voice, and then he hobbled out at the door, which clapped after

him, and sent a cold gust into the room. Frigga shuddered, and

thought that a serpent was gliding down the back of her neck.

When Loki had left the presence of Frigga, he changed himself

back to his proper shape and went straight to the west side of

Valhalla, where the mistletoe grew. Then he opened his knife and

cut off a large branch, saying these words, "Too young for Frigga's

oaths, but not too weak for Loki's work." After which he set off

for the Peacestead once more, the mistletoe in his hand. When he

got there he found that the AEsir were still at their sport,

standing round, taking aim, and talking eagerly, and Baldur did

not seem tired.

But there was one who stood alone, leaning against a tree, and

who took no part in what was going on. This was Hodur, Baldur's

blind twin-brother; he stood with his head bent downwards, silent

whilst the others were speaking, doing nothing when they were most

eager; and Loki thought that there was a discontented expression

on his face, just as if he were saying to himself, "Nobody takes any

notice of me." So Loki went up to him and put his hand upon his

shoulder.

"And why are you standing here all alone, my brave friend?"

said he. "Why don't you throw something at Baldur? Hew at

him with a sword, or show him some attention of that sort."

"I haven't a sword," answered Hodur, with an impatient gesture;

"and you know as well as I do, Loki, that Father Odin does not

approve of my wearing warlike weapons, or joining in sham fights,

because I am blind."

"Oh! is that it?" said Loki. "Well, I only know I shouldn't

like to be left out of everything. However, I've got a twig of

mistletoe here which I'll lend you if you like; a harmless little

twig enough, but I shall be happy to guide your arm if you would

like to throw it, and Baldur might take it as a compliment from

his twin-brother."

"Let me feel it," said Hodur, stretching out his uncertain hands.

"This way, this way, my dear friend," said Loki, giving him the

twig. "Now, as hard as ever you can, to do him honor; throw!"

Hodur threw--Baldur fell, and the shadow of death covered

the whole earth.

PART III

BALDUR DEAD