I. Atalanta the Huntress
I
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_T_HEY came once more together, the heroes of the quest, to hunt a boar in
Calydon—Jason and Peleus came, Telamon, Theseus, and rough Arcas, Nestor
and Helen’s brothers Polydeuces and Castor. And, most noted of all, there
came the Arcadian huntress maid, Atalanta.
Beautiful they all thought her when they knew her aboard the _Argo_. But
even more beautiful Atalanta seemed to the heroes when she came amongst
them in her hunting gear. Her lovely hair hung in two bands across her
shoulders, and over her breast hung an ivory quiver filled with arrows.
They said that her face with its wide and steady eyes was maidenly for a
boy’s, and boyish for a maiden’s face. Swiftly she moved with her head
held high, and there was not one amongst the heroes who did not say, “Oh,
happy would that man be whom Atalanta the unwedded would take for her
husband!”
All the heroes said it, but the one who said it most feelingly was the
prince of Calydon, young Meleagrus. He more than the other heroes felt the
wonder of Atalanta’s beauty.
Now the boar they had come to hunt was a monster boar. It had come into
Calydon and it was laying waste the fields and orchards and destroying the
people’s cattle and horses. That boar had been sent into Calydon by an
angry divinity. For when Œneus, the king of the country, was making
sacrifice to the gods in thanksgiving for a bounteous harvest, he had
neglected to make sacrifice to the goddess of the wild things, Artemis. In
her anger Artemis had sent the monster boar to lay waste Œneus’s realm.
It was a monster boar indeed—one as huge as a bull, with tusks as great
as an elephant’s; the bristles on its back stood up like spear points, and
the hot breath of the creature withered the growth on the ground. The boar
tore up the corn in the fields and trampled down the vines with their
clusters and heavy bunches of grapes; also it rushed against the cattle
and destroyed them in the fields. And no hounds the huntsmen were able to
bring could stand before it. And so it came to pass that men had to leave
their farms and take refuge behind the walls of the city because of the
ravages of the boar. It was then that the rulers of Calydon sent for the
heroes of the quest to join with them in hunting the monster.
Calydon itself sent Prince Meleagrus and his two uncles, Plexippus and
Toxeus. They were brothers to Meleagrus’s mother, Althæa. Now Althæa was a
woman who had sight to see mysterious things, but who had also a wayward
and passionate heart. Once, after her son Meleagrus was born, she saw the
three Fates sitting by her hearth. They were spinning the threads of her
son’s life, and as they spun they sang to each other, “An equal span of
life we give to the newborn child, and to the billet of wood that now
rests above the blaze of the fire.” Hearing what the Fates sang and
understanding it Althæa had sprung up from her bed, had seized the billet
of wood, and had taken it out of the fire before the flames had burnt into
it.
That billet of wood lay in her chest, hidden away. And Meleagrus nor any
one else save Althæa knew of it, nor knew that the prince’s life would
last only for the space it would be kept from the burning. On the day of
the hunting he appeared as the strongest and bravest of the youths of
Calydon. And he knew not, poor Meleagrus, that the love for Atalanta that
had sprung into his heart was to bring to the fire the billet of wood on
which his life depended.
II
As Atalanta went, the bow in her hands, Prince Meleagrus pressed behind
her. Then came Jason and Peleus, Telamon, Theseus and Nestor. Behind them
came Meleagrus’s dark-browed uncles, Plexippus and Toxeus. They came to a
forest that covered the side of a mountain. Huntsmen had assembled here
with hounds held in leashes and with nets to hold the rushing quarry. And
when they had all gathered together they went through the forest on the
track of the monster boar.
It was easy to track the boar, for it had left a broad trail through the
forest. The heroes and the huntsmen pressed on. They came to a marshy
covert where the boar had its lair. There was a thickness of osiers and
willows and tall bullrushes, making a place that it was hard for the
hunters to go through.
They roused the boar with the blare of horns and it came rushing out.
Foam was on its tusks, and its eyes had in them the blaze of fire. On the
boar came, breaking down the thicket in its rush. But the heroes stood
steadily with the points of their spears toward the monster.
The hounds were loosed from their leashes and they dashed toward the
boar. The boar slashed them with its tusks and trampled them into the
ground. Jason flung his spear. The spear went wide of the mark. Another,
Arcas, cast his, but the wood, not the point of the spear, struck the
boar, rousing it further. Then its eyes flamed, and like a great stone
shot from a catapult the boar rushed on the huntsmen who were stationed to
the right. In that rush it flung two youths prone upon the ground.
Then might Nestor have missed his going to Troy and his part in that
story, for the boar swerved around and was upon him in an instant. Using
his spear as a leaping pole he vaulted upward and caught the branches of a
tree as the monster dashed the spear down in its rush. In rage the beast
tore at the trunk of the tree. The heroes might have been scattered at
this moment, for Telamon had fallen, tripped by the roots of a tree, and
Peleus had had to throw himself upon him to pull him out of the way of
danger, if Polydeuces and Castor had not dashed up to their aid. They came
riding upon high white horses, spears in their hands. The brothers cast
their spears, but neither spear struck the monster boar.
Then the boar turned and was for drawing back into the thicket. They
might have lost it then, for its retreat was impenetrable. But before it
got clear away Atalanta put an arrow to the string, drew the bow to her
shoulder, and let the arrow fly. It struck the boar, and a patch of blood
was seen upon its bristles. Prince Meleagrus shouted out, “O first to
strike the monster! Honor indeed shall you receive for this, Arcadian
maid.”
His uncles were made wroth by this speech, as was another, the Arcadian,
rough Arcas. Arcas dashed forward, holding in his hands a two-headed axe.
“Heroes and huntsmen,” he cried, “you shall see how a man’s strokes
surpass a girl’s.” He faced the boar, standing on tiptoe with his axe
raised for the stroke. Meleagrus’s uncles shouted to encourage him. But
the boar’s tusks tore him before Arcas’s axe fell, and the Arcadian was
trampled upon the ground.
The boar, roused again by Atalanta’s arrow, turned on the hunters. Jason
hurled a spear again. It swerved and struck a hound and pinned it to the
ground. Then, speaking the name of Atalanta, Meleagrus sprang before the
heroes and the huntsmen.
He had two spears in his hands. The first missed and stuck quivering in
the ground. But the second went right through the back of the monster
boar. It whirled round and round, spouting out blood and foam. Meleagrus
pressed on, and drove his hunting knife through the shoulders of the
monster.
His uncles, Plexippus and Toxeus, were the first to come to where the
monster boar was lying outstretched. “It is well, the deed you have done,
boy,” said one; “it is well that none of the strangers to our country slew
the boar. Now will the head and tusks of the monster adorn our hall, and
men will know that the arms of our house can well protect this land.”
But one word only did Meleagrus say, and that word was the name,
“Atalanta.” The maiden came and Meleagrus, his spear upon the head, said,
“Take, O fair Arcadian, the spoil of the chase. All know that it was you
who inflicted the first wound upon the boar.”
Plexippus and Toxeus tried to push him away, as if Meleagrus was still a
boy under their tutoring. He shouted to them to stand off, and then he
hacked out the terrible tusks and held them toward Atalanta.
She would have taken them, for she, who had never looked lovingly upon a
youth, was moved by the beauty and the generosity of Prince Meleagrus. She
would have taken from him the spoil of the chase. But as she held out her
arms Meleagrus’s uncles struck them with the poles of their spears. Heavy
marks were made on the maiden’s white arms. Madness then possessed
Meleagrus, and he took up his spear and thrust it, first into the body of
Plexippus and then into the body of Toxeus. His thrusts were terrible, for
he was filled with the fierceness of the hunt, and his uncles fell down in
death.
Then a great horror came over all the heroes. They raised up the bodies
of Plexippus and Toxeus and carried them on their spears away from the
place of the hunting and toward the temple of the gods. Meleagrus crouched
down upon the ground in horror of what he had done. Atalanta stood beside
him, her hand upon his head.
III
Althæa was in the temple making sacrifice to the gods. She saw men come
in carrying across their spears the bodies of two men. She looked and she
saw that the dead men were her two brothers, Plexippus and Toxeus.
Then she beat her breast and she filled the temple with the cries of her
lamentation. “Who has slain my brothers? Who has slain my brothers?” she
kept crying out.
Then she was told that her son Meleagrus had slain her brothers. She had
no tears to shed then, and in a hard voice she asked, “Why did my son slay
Plexippus and Toxeus, his uncles?”
The one who was wroth with Atalanta, Arcas the Arcadian, came to her and
told her that her brothers had been slain because of a quarrel about the
girl Atalanta.
“My brothers have been slain because a girl bewitched my son; then
accursed be that son of mine,” Althæa cried. She took off the gold-fringed
robe of a priestess, and she put on a black robe of mourning.
Her brothers, the only sons of her father, had been slain, and for the
sake of a girl. The image of Atalanta came before her, and she felt she
could punish dreadfully her son. But her son was not there to punish; he
was far away, and the girl for whose sake he had killed Plexippus and
Toxeus was with him.
The rage she had went back into her heart and made her truly mad. “I
gave Meleagrus life when I might have let it go from him with the burning
billet of wood,” she cried, “and now he has taken the lives of my
brothers.” And then her thought went to the billet of wood that was hidden
in the chest.
Back to her house she went, and when she went within she saw a fire of
pine knots burning upon the hearth. As she looked upon their burning a
scorching pain went through her. But she went from the hearth,
nevertheless, and into the inner room. There stood the chest that she had
not opened for years. She opened it now, and out of it she took the billet
of wood that had on it the mark of the burning.
She brought it to the hearth fire. Four times she went to throw it into
the fire, and four times she stayed her hand. The fire was before her, but
it was in her too. She saw the images of her brothers lying dead, and,
saying that he who had slain them should lose his life, she threw the
billet of wood into the fire of pine knots.
Straightway it caught fire and began to burn. And Althæa cried, “Let him
die, my son, and let naught remain; let all perish with my brothers, even
the kingdom that Œneus, my husband, founded.”
Then she turned away and remained stiffly standing by the hearth, the
life withered up within her. Her daughters came and tried to draw her
away, but they could not—her two daughters, Gorge and Deianira.
Meleagrus was crouching upon the ground with Atalanta watching beside
him. Now he stood up, and taking her hand he said, “Let me go with you to
the temple of the gods where I shall strive to make atonement for the deed
I have done to-day.”
She went with him. But even as they came to the street of the city a
sharp and a burning pain seized upon Meleagrus. More and more burning it
grew, and weaker and weaker he became. He could not have moved further if
it had not been for the aid of Atalanta. Jason and Peleus lifted him
across the threshold and carried him into the temple of the gods.
They laid him down with his head upon Atalanta’s lap. The pain within
him grew fiercer and fiercer, but at last it died down as the burning
billet of wood sank down into the ashes. The heroes of the quest stood
around, all overcome with woe. In the street they heard the lamentations
for Plexippus and Toxeus, for Prince Meleagrus, and for the passing of the
kingdom founded by Œneus. Atalanta left the temple, and attended by the
two brothers on the white horses, Polydeuces and Castor, she went back to
Arcady.
II. Peleus and His Bride from the Sea
I
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_P_RINCE PELEUS came on his ship to a bay on the coast of Thessaly. His
painted ship lay between two great rocks, and from its poop he saw a sight
that enchanted him. Out from the sea, riding on a dolphin, came a lovely
maiden. And by the radiance of her face and limbs Peleus knew her for one
of the immortal goddesses.
Now Peleus had borne himself so nobly in all things that he had won the
favor of the gods themselves. Zeus, who is highest amongst the gods, had
made this promise to Peleus: he would honor him as no one amongst the sons
of men had been honored before, for he would give him an immortal goddess
to be his bride.
She who came out of the sea went into a cave that was overgrown with
vines and roses. Peleus looked into the cave and he saw her sleeping upon
skins of the beasts of the sea. His heart was enchanted by the sight, and
he knew that his life would be broken if he did not see this goddess day
after day. So he went back to his ship and he prayed: “O Zeus, now I claim
the promise that you once made to me. Let it be that this goddess come
with me, or else plunge my ship and me beneath the waves of the sea.”
And when Peleus said this he looked over the land and the water for a
sign from Zeus.
Even then the goddess sleeping in the cave had dreams such as had never
before entered that peaceful resting place of hers. She dreamt that she
was drawn away from the deep and the wide sea. She dreamt that she was
brought to a place that was strange and unfree to her. And as she lay in
the cave, sleeping, tears that might never come into the eyes of an
immortal lay around her heart.
But Peleus, standing on his painted ship, saw a rainbow touch upon the
sea. He knew by that sign that Iris, the messenger of Zeus, had come down
through the air. Then a strange sight came before his eyes. Out of the sea
rose the head of a man; wrinkled and bearded it was, and the eyes were
very old. Peleus knew that he who was there before him was Nereus, the
ancient one of the sea.
Said old Nereus: “Thou hast prayed to Zeus, and I am here to speak an
answer to thy prayer. She whom you have looked upon is Thetis, the goddess
of the sea. Very loath will she be to take Zeus’s command and wed with
thee. It is her desire to remain in the sea, unwedded, and she has refused
marriage even with one of the immortal gods.”
Then said Peleus, “Zeus promised me an immortal bride. If Thetis may not
be mine I cannot wed any other, goddess or mortal maiden.”
“Then thou thyself wilt have to master Thetis,” said Nereus, the wise
one of the sea. “If she is mastered by thee, she cannot go back to the
sea. She will strive with all her strength and all her wit to escape from
thee; but thou must hold her no matter what she does, and no matter how
she shows herself. When thou hast seen her again as thou didst see her at
first, thou wilt know that thou hast mastered her.” And when he had said
this to Peleus, Nereus, the ancient one of the sea, went under the waves.
II
With his hero’s heart beating more than ever it had beaten yet, Peleus
went into the cave. Kneeling beside her he looked down upon the goddess.
The dress she wore was like green and silver mail. Her face and limbs were
pearly, but through them came the radiance that belongs to the immortals.
He touched the hair of the goddess of the sea, the yellow hair that was
so long that it might cover her all over. As he touched her hair she
started up, wakening suddenly out of her sleep. His hands touched her
hands and held them. Now he knew that if he should loose his hold upon her
she would escape from him into the depths of the sea, and that thereafter
no command from the immortals would bring her to him.
She changed into a white bird that strove to bear itself away. Peleus
held to its wings and struggled with the bird. She changed and became a
tree. Around the trunk of the tree Peleus clung. She changed once more,
and this time her form became terrible: a spotted leopard she was now,
with burning eyes; but Peleus held to the neck of the fierce-appearing
leopard and was not affrighted by the burning eyes. Then she changed and
became as he had seen her first—a lovely maiden, with the brow of a
goddess, and with long yellow hair.
But now there was no radiance in her face or in her limbs. She looked
past Peleus, who held her, and out to the wide sea. “Who is he,” she
cried, “who has been given this mastery over me?”
Then said the hero: “I am Peleus, and Zeus has given me the mastery over
thee. Wilt thou come with me, Thetis? Thou art my bride, given me by him
who is highest amongst the gods, and if thou wilt come with me, thou wilt
always be loved and reverenced by me.”
“Unwillingly I leave the sea,” she cried, “unwillingly I go with thee,
Peleus.”
But life in the sea was not for her any more now that she was mastered.
She went to Peleus’s ship and she went to Phthia, his country. And when
the hero and the sea goddess were wedded the immortal gods and goddesses
came to their hall and brought the bride and the bridegroom wondrous
gifts. The three sisters who are called the Fates came also. These wise
and ancient women said that the son born of the marriage of Peleus and
Thetis would be a man greater than Peleus himself.
III
Now although a son was born to her, and although this son had something
of the radiance of the immortals about him, Thetis remained forlorn and
estranged. Nothing that her husband did was pleasing to her. Prince Peleus
was in fear that the wildness of the sea would break out in her, and that
some great harm would be wrought in his house.
One night he wakened suddenly. He saw the fire upon his hearth and he
saw a figure standing by the fire. It was Thetis, his wife. The fire was
blazing around something that she held in her hands. And while she stood
there she was singing to herself a strange-sounding song.
And then he saw what Thetis held in her hands and what the fire was
blazing around; it was the child, Achilles.
Prince Peleus sprang from the bed and caught Thetis around the waist and
lifted her and the child away from the blazing fire. He put them both upon
the bed, and he took from her the child that she held by the heel. His
heart was wild within him, for the thought that wildness had come over his
wife, and that she was bent upon destroying their child. But Thetis looked
on him from under those goddess brows of hers and she said to him: “By the
divine power that I still possess I would have made the child
invulnerable; but the heel by which I held him has not been endued by the
fire and in that place some day he may be stricken. All that the fire
covered is invulnerable, and no weapon that strikes there can destroy his
life. His heel I cannot now make invulnerable, for now the divine power is
gone out of me.”
When she said this Thetis looked full upon her husband, and never had
she seemed so unforgiving as she was then. All the divine radiance that
had remained with her was gone from her now, and she seemed a white-faced
and bitter-thinking woman. And when Peleus saw that such a great
bitterness faced him he fled from his house.
He traveled far from his own land, and first he went to the help of
Heracles, who was then in the midst of his mighty labors. Heracles was
building a wall around a city. Peleus labored, helping him to raise the
wall for King Laomedon. Then, one night, as he walked by the wall he had
helped to build, he heard voices speaking out of the earth. And one voice
said: “Why has Peleus striven so hard to raise a wall that his son shall
fight hard to overthrow?” No voice replied. The wall was built, and Peleus
departed. The city around which the wall was built was the great city of
Troy.
In whatever place he went Peleus was followed by the hatred of the
people of the sea, and above all by the hatred of the nymph who is called
Psamathe. Far, far from his own country he went, and at last he came to a
country of bright valleys that was ruled over by a kindly king—by Ceyx,
who was called the Son of the Morning Star.
Bright of face and kindly and peaceable in all his ways was this king,
and kindly and peaceable was the land that he ruled over. And when Prince
Peleus went to him to beg for his protection, and to beg for unfurrowed
fields where he might graze his cattle, Ceyx raised him up from where he
knelt. “Peaceable and plentiful is the land,” he said, “and all who come
here may have peace and a chance to earn their food. Live where you will,
O stranger, and take the unfurrowed fields by the seashore for pasture for
your cattle.”
Peace came into Peleus’s heart as he looked into the untroubled face of
Ceyx, and as he looked over the bright valleys of the land he had come
into. He brought his cattle to the unfurrowed fields by the seashore and
he left herdsmen there to tend them. And as he walked along these bright
valleys he thought upon his wife and upon his son Achilles, and there were
gentle feelings in his breast. But then he thought upon the enmity of
Psamathe, the woman of the sea, and great trouble came over him again. He
felt he could not stay in the palace of the kindly king. He went where his
herdsmen camped and he lived with them. But the sea was very near and its
sound tormented him, and as the days went by, Peleus, wild looking and
shaggy, became more and more unlike the hero whom once the gods themselves
had honored.
One day as he was standing near the palace having speech with the king,
a herdsman ran to him and cried out: “Peleus, Peleus, a dread thing has
happened in the unfurrowed fields.” And when he had got his breath the
herdsman told of the thing that had happened.
They had brought the herd down to the sea. Suddenly, from the marshes
where the sea and land came together, a monstrous beast rushed out upon
the herd; like a wolf this beast was, but with mouth and jaws that were
more terrible than a wolf’s even. The beast seized upon the cattle. Yet it
was not hunger that made it fierce, for the beasts that it killed it tore,
but did not devour. It rushed on and on, killing and tearing more and more
of the herd. “Soon,” said the herdsman, “it will have destroyed all in the
herd, and then it will not spare to destroy the other flocks and herds
that are in the land.”
Peleus was stricken to hear that his herd was being destroyed, but more
stricken to know that the land of a friendly king would be ravaged, and
ravaged on his account. For he knew that the terrible beast that had come
from where the sea and the land joined had been sent by Psamathe. He went
up on the tower that stood near the king’s palace. He was able to look out
on the sea and able to look over all the land. And looking across the
bright valleys he saw the dread beast. He saw it rush through his own
mangled cattle and fall upon the herds of the kindly king.
He looked toward the sea and he prayed to Psamathe to spare the land
that he had come to. But, even as he prayed, he knew that Psamathe would
not harken to him. Then he made a prayer to Thetis, to his wife who had
seemed so unforgiving. He prayed her to deal with Psamathe so that the
land of Ceyx would not be altogether destroyed.
As he looked from the tower he saw the king come forth with arms in his
hands for the slaying of the terrible beast. Peleus felt fear for the life
of the kindly king. Down from the tower he came, and taking up his spear
he went with Ceyx.
Soon, in one of the brightest of the valleys, they came upon the beast;
they came between it and a herd of silken-coated cattle. Seeing the men it
rushed toward them with blood and foam upon its jaws. Then Peleus knew
that the spears they carried would be of little use against the raging
beast. His only thought was to struggle with it so that the king might be
able to save himself.
Again he lifted up his hands and prayed to Thetis to draw away
Psamathe’s enmity. The beast rushed toward them; but suddenly it stopped.
The bristles upon its body seemed to stiffen. The gaping jaws became
fixed. The hounds that were with them dashed upon the beast, but then fell
back with yelps of disappointment. And when Peleus and Ceyx came to where
it stood they found that the monstrous beast had been turned into stone.
And a stone it remains in that bright valley, a wonder to all the men of
Ceyx’s land. The country was spared the ravages of the beast. And the
heart of Peleus was uplifted to think that Thetis had harkened to his
prayer and had prevailed upon Psamathe to forego her enmity. Not
altogether unforgiving was his wife to him.
That day he went from the land of the bright valleys, from the land
ruled over by the kindly Ceyx, and he came back to rugged Phthia, his own
country. When he came near his hall he saw two at the doorway awaiting
him. Thetis stood there, and the child Achilles was by her side. The
radiance of the immortals was in her face no longer, but there was a glow
there, a glow of welcome for the hero Peleus. And thus Peleus, long
tormented by the enmity of the sea-born ones, came back to the wife he had
won from the sea.
III. Theseus and the Minotaur
I
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_T_HEREAFTER Theseus made up his mind to go in search of his father, the
unknown king, and Medea, the wise woman, counseled him to go to Athens.
After the hunt in Calydon he set forth. On his way he fought with and slew
two robbers who harassed countries and treated people unjustly.
The first was Sinnias. He was a robber who slew men cruelly by tying
them to strong branches of trees and letting the branches fly apart. On
him Theseus had no mercy. The second was a robber also, Procrustes: he had
a great iron bed on which he made his captives lie; if they were too long
for that bed he chopped pieces off them, and if they were too short he
stretched out their bodies with terrible racks. On him, likewise, Theseus
had no mercy; he slew Procrustes and gave liberty to his captives.
The King of Athens at the time was named Ægeus. He was father of
Theseus, but neither Theseus nor he knew that this was so. Æthra was his
mother, and she was the daughter of the King of Trœzen. Before Theseus was
born his father left a great sword under a stone, telling Æthra that the
boy was to have the sword when he was able to move that stone away.
King Ægeus was old and fearful now: there were wars and troubles in the
city; besides, there was in his palace an evil woman, a witch, to whom the
king listened. This woman heard that a proud and fearless young man had
come into Athens, and she at once thought to destroy him.
So the witch spoke to the fearful king, and she made him believe that
this stranger had come into Athens to make league with his enemies and
destroy him. Such was her power over Ægeus that she was able to persuade
him to invite the stranger youth to a feast in the palace, and to give him
a cup that would have poison in it.
Theseus came to the palace. He sat down to the banquet with the king.
But before the cup was brought something moved him to stand up and draw
forth the sword that he carried. Fearfully the king looked upon the sword.
Then he saw the heavy ivory hilt with the curious carving on it, and he
knew that this was the sword that he had once laid under the stone near
the palace of the King of Trœzen. He questioned Theseus as to how he had
come by the sword, and Theseus told him how Æthra, his mother, had shown
him where it was hidden, and how he had been able to take it from under
the stone before he was grown a youth. More and more Ægeus questioned him,
and he came to know that the youth before him was his son indeed. He
dashed down the cup that had been brought to the table, and he shook all
over with the thought of how near he had been to a terrible crime. The
witchwoman watched all that passed; mounting on a car drawn by dragons she
made flight from Athens.
And now the people of the city, knowing that it was he who had slain the
robbers Sinnias and Procrustes, rejoiced to have Theseus amongst them.
When he appeared as their prince they rejoiced still more. Soon he was
able to bring to an end the wars in the city and the troubles that
afflicted Athens.
II
The greatest king in the world at that time was Minos, King of Crete.
Minos had sent his son to Athens to make peace and friendship between his
kingdom and the kingdom of King Ægeus. But the people of Athens slew the
son of King Minos, and because Ægeus had not given him the protection that
a king should have given a stranger come upon such an errand he was deemed
to have some part in the guilt of his slaying.
Minos, the great king, was wroth, and he made war on Athens, wreaking
great destruction upon the country and the people. Moreover, the gods
themselves were wroth with Athens; they punished the people with famine,
making even the rivers dry up. The Athenians went to the oracle and asked
Apollo what they should do to have their guilt taken away. Apollo made
answer that they should make peace with Minos and fulfill all his demands.
All this Theseus now heard, learning for the first time that behind the
wars and troubles in Athens there was a deed of evil that Ægeus, his
father, had some guilt in.
The demands that King Minos made upon Athens were terrible. He demanded
that the Athenians should send into Crete every year seven youths and
seven maidens as a price for the life of his son. And these youths and
maidens were not to meet death merely, nor were they to be reared in
slavery—they were to be sent that a monster called the Minotaur might
devour them.
Youths and maidens had been sent, and for the third time the messengers
of King Minos were coming to Athens. The tribute for the Minotaur was to
be chosen by lot. The fathers and mothers were in fear and trembling, for
each man and woman thought that his or her son or daughter would be taken
for a prey for the Minotaur.
They came together, the people of Athens, and they drew the lots
fearfully. And on the throne above them all sat their pale-faced king,
Ægeus, the father of Theseus.
Before the first lot was drawn Theseus turned to all of them and said,
“People of Athens, it is not right that your children should go and that
I, who am the son of King Ægeus, should remain behind. Surely, if any of
the youths of Athens should face the dread monster of Crete, I should face
it. There is one lot that you may leave undrawn. I will go to Crete.”
His father, on hearing the speech of Theseus, came down from his throne
and pleaded with him, begging him not to go. But the will of Theseus was
set; he would go with the others and face the Minotaur. And he reminded
his father of how the people had complained, saying that if Ægeus had done
the duty of a king, Minos’s son would not have been slain and the tribute
to the Minotaur would have not been demanded. It was the passing about of
such complaints that had led to the war and troubles that Theseus found on
his coming to Athens.
Also Theseus told his father and told the people that he had hope in his
hands—that the hands that were strong enough to slay Sinnias and
Procrustes, the giant robbers, would be strong enough to slay the dread
monster of Crete. His father at last consented to his going. And Theseus
was able to make the people willing to believe that he would be able to
overcome the Minotaur, and so put an end to the terrible tribute that was
being exacted from them.
With six other youths and seven maidens Theseus went on board of the
ship that every year brought to Crete the grievous tribute. This ship
always sailed with black sails. But before it sailed this time King Ægeus
gave to Nausitheus, the master of the ship, a white sail to take with him.
And he begged Theseus, that in case he should be able to overcome the
monster, to hoist the white sail he had given. Theseus promised he would
do this. His father would watch for the return of the ship, and if the
sail were black he would know that the Minotaur had dealt with his son as
it had dealt with the other youths who had gone from Athens. And if the
sail were white Ægeus would have indeed cause to rejoice.
III
And now the black-sailed ship had come to Crete, and the youths and
maidens of Athens looked from its deck on Knossos, the marvelous city that
Dædalus the builder had built for King Minos. And they saw the palace of
the king, the red and black palace in which was the labyrinth, made also
by Dædalus, where the dread Minotaur was hidden.
In fear they looked upon the city and the palace. But not in fear did
Theseus look, but in wonder at the magnificence of it all—the harbor with
its great steps leading up into the city, the far-spreading palace all red
and black, and the crowds of ships with their white and red sails. They
were brought through the city of Knossos to the palace of the king. And
there Theseus looked upon Minos. In a great red chamber on which was
painted the sign of the axe, King Minos sat.
On a low throne he sat, holding in his hand a scepter on which a bird
was perched. Not in fear, but steadily, did Theseus look upon the king.
And he saw that Minos had the face of one who has thought long upon
troublesome things, and that his eyes were strangely dark and deep. The
king noted that the eyes of Theseus were upon him, and he made a sign with
his head to an attendant and the attendant laid his hand upon him and
brought Theseus to stand beside the king. Minos questioned him as to who
he was and what lands he had been in, and when he learned that Theseus was
the son of Ægeus, the King of Athens, he said the name of his son who had
been slain, “Androgeus, Androgeus,” over and over again, and then spoke no
more.
While he stood there beside the king there came into the chamber three
maidens; one of them, Theseus knew, was the daughter of Minos. Not like
the maidens of Greece were the princess and her two attendants: instead of
having on flowing garments and sandals and wearing their hair bound, they
had on dresses of gleaming material that were tight at the waists and
bell-shaped; the hair that streamed on their shoulders was made wavy; they
had on high shoes of a substance that shone like glass. Never had Theseus
looked upon maidens who were so strange.
They spoke to the king in the strange Cretan language; then Minos’s
daughter made reverence to her father, and they went from the chamber.
Theseus watched them as they went through a long passage, walking slowly
on their high-heeled shoes.
Through the same passage the youths and maidens of Athens were afterward
brought. They came into a great hall. The walls were red and on them were
paintings in black—pictures of great bulls with girls and slender youths
struggling with them. It was a place for games and shows, and Theseus
stood with the youths and maidens of Athens and with the people of the
palace and watched what was happening.
They saw women charming snakes; then they saw a boxing match, and
afterward they all looked on a bout of wrestling. Theseus looked past the
wrestlers and he saw, at the other end of the hall, the daughter of King
Minos and her two attendant maidens.
One broad-shouldered and bearded man overthrew all the wrestlers who
came to grips with him. He stood there boastfully, and Theseus was made
angry by the man’s arrogance. Then, when no other wrestler would come
against him, he turned to leave the arena.
But Theseus stood in his way and pushed him back. The boastful man laid
hands upon him and pulled him into the arena. He strove to throw Theseus
as he had thrown the others; but he soon found that the youth from Greece
was a wrestler, too, and that he would have to strive hard to overthrow
him.
[Illustration]
More eagerly than they had watched anything else the people of the
palace and the youths and maidens of Athens watched the bout between
Theseus and the lordly wrestler. Those from Athens who looked upon him now
thought that they had never seen Theseus look so tall and so conquering
before; beside the slender, dark-haired people of Crete he looked like a
statue of one of the gods.
Very adroit was the Cretan wrestler, and Theseus had to use all his
strength to keep upon his feet; but soon he mastered the tricks that the
wrestler was using against him. Then the Cretan left aside his tricks and
began to use all his strength to throw Theseus.
Steadily Theseus stood and the Cretan wrestler was spent and gasping in
the effort to throw him. Then Theseus made him feel his grip. He bent him
backward, and then, using all his strength suddenly, forced him to the
ground. All were filled with wonder at the strength and power of this
youth from overseas.
Food and wine were given the youths and maidens of Athens, and they with
Theseus were let wander through the grounds of the palace. But they could
make no escape, for guards followed them and the way to the ships was
filled with strangers who would not let them pass. They talked to each
other about the Minotaur, and there was fear in every word they said. But
Theseus went from one to the other, telling them that perhaps there was a
way by which he could come to the monster and destroy it. And the youths
and maidens, remembering how he had overthrown the lordly wrestler, were
comforted a little, thinking that Theseus might indeed be able to destroy
the Minotaur and so save all of them.
IV
Theseus was awakened by some one touching him. He arose and he saw a
dark-faced servant, who beckoned to him. He left the little chamber where
he had been sleeping, and then he saw outside one who wore the strange
dress of the Cretans.
When Theseus looked full upon her he saw that she was none other than
the daughter of King Minos. “I am Ariadne,” she said, “and, O youth from
Greece, I have come to save you from the dread Minotaur.”
He looked upon Ariadne’s strange face with its long, dark eyes, and he
wondered how this girl could think that she could save him and save the
youths and maidens of Athens from the Minotaur. Her hand rested upon his
arm, and she led him into the chamber where Minos had sat. It was lighted
now by many little lamps.
“I will show the way of escape to you,” said Ariadne.
Then Theseus looked around, and he saw that none of the other youths and
maidens were near them, and he looked on Ariadne again, and he saw that
the strange princess had been won to help him, and to help him only.
“Who will show the way of escape to the others?” asked Theseus.
“Ah,” said the Princess Ariadne, “for the others there is no way of
escape.”
“Then,” said Theseus, “I will not leave the youths and maidens of Athens
who came with me to Crete to be devoured by the Minotaur.”
“Ah, Theseus,” said Ariadne, “they cannot escape the Minotaur. One only
may escape, and I want you to be that one. I saw you when you wrestled
with Deucalion, our great wrestler, and since then I have longed to save
you.”
“I have come to slay the Minotaur,” said Theseus, “and I cannot hold my
life as my own until I have slain it.”
Said Ariadne, “If you could see the Minotaur, Theseus, and if you could
measure its power, you would know that you are not the one to slay it. I
think that only Talos, that giant who was all of bronze, could have slain
the Minotaur.”
“Princess,” said Theseus, “can you help me to come to the Minotaur and
look upon it so that I can know for certainty whether this hand of mine
can slay the monster?”
“I can help you to come to the Minotaur and look upon it,” said Ariadne.
“Then help me, princess,” cried Theseus; “help me to come to the
Minotaur and look upon it, and help me, too, to get back the sword that I
brought with me to Crete.”
“Your sword will not avail you against the Minotaur,” said Ariadne;
“when you look upon the monster you will know that it is not for your hand
to slay.”
“Oh, but bring me my sword, princess,” cried Theseus, and his hands went
out to her in supplication.
“I will bring you your sword,” said she.
She took up a little lamp and went through a doorway, leaving Theseus
standing by the low throne in the chamber of Minos. Then after a little
while she came back, bringing with her Theseus’s great ivory-hilted sword.
“It is a great sword,” she said; “I marked it before because it is your
sword, Theseus. But even this great sword will not avail against the
Minotaur.”
“Show me the way to come to the Minotaur, O Ariadne,” cried Theseus.
He knew that she did not think that he would deem himself able to strive
with the Minotaur, and that when he looked upon the dread monster he would
return to her and then take the way of his escape.
She took his hand and led him from the chamber of Minos. She was not
tall, but she stood straight and walked steadily, and Theseus saw in her
something of the strange majesty that he had seen in Minos the king.
[Illustration]
They came to high bronze gates that opened into a vault. “Here,” said
Ariadne, “the labyrinth begins. Very devious is the labyrinth, built by
Dædalus, in which the Minotaur is hidden, and without the clue none could
find a way through the passages. But I will give you the clue so that you
may look upon the Minotaur and then come back to me. Theseus, now I put
into your hand the thread that will guide you through all the windings of
the labyrinth. And outside the place where the Minotaur is you will find
another thread to guide you back.”
A cone was on the ground and it had a thread fastened to it. Ariadne
gave Theseus the thread and the cone to wind it around. The thread as he
held it and wound it around the cone would bring him through all the
windings and turnings of the labyrinth.
She left him, and Theseus went on. Winding the thread around the cone he
went along a wide passage in the vault. He turned and came into a passage
that was very long. He came to a place in this passage where a door seemed
to be, but within the frame of the doorway there was only a blank wall.
But below that doorway there was a flight of six steps, and down these
steps the thread led him. On he went, and he crossed the marks that he
himself had made in the dust, and he thought he must have come back to the
place where he had parted from Ariadne. He went on, and he saw before him
a flight of steps. The thread did not lead up the steps; it led into the
most winding of passages. So sudden were the turnings in it that one could
not see three steps before one. He was dazed by the turnings of this
passage, but still he went on. He went up winding steps and then along a
narrow wall. The wall overhung a broad flight of steps, and Theseus had to
jump to them. Down the steps he went and into a wide, empty hall that had
doorways to the right hand and to the left hand. Here the thread had its
end. It was fastened to a cone that lay on the ground, and beside this
cone was another—the clue that was to bring him back.
Now Theseus, knowing he was in the very center of the labyrinth, looked
all around for sight of the Minotaur. There was no sight of the monster
here. He went to all the doors and pushed at them, and some opened and
some remained fast. The middle door opened. As it did Theseus felt around
him a chilling draft of air.
That chilling draft was from the breathing of the monster. Theseus then
saw the Minotaur. It lay on the ground, a strange, bull-faced thing.
When the thought came to Theseus that he would have to fight that
monster alone and in that hidden and empty place all delight left him; he
grew like a stone; he groaned, and it seemed to him that he heard the
voice of Ariadne calling him back. He could find his way back through the
labyrinth and come to her. He stepped back, and the door closed on the
Minotaur, the dread monster of Crete.
In an instant Theseus pushed the door again. He stood within the hall
where the Minotaur was, and the heavy door shut behind him. He looked
again on that dark, bull-faced thing. It reared up as a horse rears and
Theseus saw that it would crash down on him and tear him with its dragon
claws. With a great bound he went far away from where the monster crashed
down. Then Theseus faced it: he saw its thick lips and its slobbering
mouth; he saw that its skin was thick and hard.
[Illustration]
He drew near the monster, his sword in his hand. He struck at its eyes,
and his sword made a great dint. But no blood came, for the Minotaur was a
bloodless monster. From its mouth and nostrils came a draft that covered
him with a chilling slime.
Then it rushed upon him and overthrew him, and Theseus felt its terrible
weight upon him. But he thrust his sword upward, and it reared up again,
screaming with pain. Theseus drew himself away, and then he saw it
searching around and around, and he knew he had made it sightless. Then it
faced him; all the more fearful it was because from its wounds no blood
came.
Anger flowed into Theseus when he saw the monster standing frightfully
before him; he thought of all the youths and maidens that this bloodless
thing had destroyed, and all the youths and maidens that it would destroy
if he did not slay it now. Angrily he rushed upon it with his great sword.
It clawed and tore him, and it opened wide its most evil mouth as if to
draw him into it. But again he sprang at it; he thrust his great sword
through its neck, and he left his sword there.
With the last of his strength he pulled open the heavy door and he went
out from the hall where the Minotaur was. He picked up the thread and he
began to wind it as he had wound the other thread on his way down. On he
went, through passage after passage, through chamber after chamber. His
mind was dizzy, and he had little thought for the way he was going. His
wounds and the chill that the monster had breathed into him and his horror
of the fearful and bloodless thing made his mind almost forsake him. He
kept the thread in his hand and he wound it as he went on through the
labyrinth. He stumbled and the thread broke. He went on for a few steps
and then he went back to find the thread that had fallen out of his hands.
In an instant he was in a part of the labyrinth that he had not been in
before.
He walked a long way, and then he came on his own footmarks as they
crossed themselves in the dust. He pushed open a door and came into the
air. He was now by the outside wall of the palace, and he saw birds flying
by him. He leant against the wall of the palace, thinking that he would
strive no more to find his way through the labyrinth.
V
That day the youths and maidens of Athens were brought through the
labyrinth and to the hall where the Minotaur was. They went through the
passages weeping and lamenting. Some cried out for Theseus, and some said
that Theseus had deserted them. The heavy door was opened. Then those who
were with the youths and maidens saw the Minotaur lying stark and stiff
with Theseus’s sword through its neck. They shouted and blew trumpets and
the noise of their trumpets filled the labyrinth. Then they turned back,
bringing the youths and maidens with them, and a whisper went through the
whole palace that the Minotaur had been slain. The youths and maidens were
lodged in the chamber where Minos gave his judgments.
VI
Theseus, wearied and overcome, fell into a deep sleep by the wall of the
palace. He awakened with a feeling that the claw of the Minotaur was upon
him. There were stars in the sky above the high palace wall, and he saw a
dark-robed and ancient man standing beside him. Theseus knew that this was
Dædalus, the builder of the palace and the labyrinth. Dædalus called and a
slim youth came—Icarus, the son of Dædalus. Minos had set father and son
apart from the rest of the palace, and Theseus had come near the place
where they were confined. Icarus came and brought him to a winding
stairway and showed him a way to go.
A dark-faced servant met and looked him full in the face. Then, as if he
knew that Theseus was the one whom he had been searching for, he led him
into a little chamber where there were three maidens. One started up and
came to him quickly, and Theseus again saw Ariadne.
She hid him in the chamber of the palace where her singing birds were,
and she would come and sit beside him, asking about his own country and
telling him that she would go with him there. “I showed you how you might
come to the Minotaur,” she said, “and you went there and you slew the
monster, and now I may not stay in my father’s palace.”
And Theseus thought all the time of his return, and of how he might
bring the youths and maidens of Athens back to their own people. For
Ariadne, that strange princess, was not dear to him as Medea was dear to
Jason, or Atalanta the Huntress to young Meleagrus.
One sunset she led him to a roof of the palace and she showed him the
harbor with the ships, and she showed him the ship with the black sail
that had brought him to Knossos. She told him she would take him aboard
that ship, and that the youths and maidens of Athens could go with them.
She would bring to the master of the ship the seal of King Minos, and the
master, seeing it, would set sail for whatever place Theseus desired to
go.
Then did she become dear to Theseus because of her great kindness, and
he kissed her eyes and swore that he would not go from the palace unless
she would come with him to his own country. The strange princess smiled
and wept as if she doubted what he said. Nevertheless, she led him from
the roof and down into one of the palace gardens. He waited there, and the
youths and maidens of Athens were led into the garden, all wearing cloaks
that hid their forms and faces. Young Icarus led them from the grounds of
the palace and down to the ships. And Ariadne went with them, bringing
with her the seal of her father, King Minos.
And when they came on board of the black-sailed ship they showed the
seal to the master, Nausitheus, and the master of the ship let the sail
take the breeze of the evening, and so Theseus went away from Crete.
VII
To the Island of Naxos they sailed. And when they reached that place the
master of the ship, thinking that what had been done was not in accordance
with the will of King Minos, stayed the ship there. He waited until other
ships came from Knossos. And when they came they brought word that Minos
would not slay nor demand back Theseus nor the youths and maidens of
Athens. His daughter, Ariadne, he would have back, to reign with him over
Crete.
Then Ariadne left the black-sailed ship, and went back to Crete from
Naxos. Theseus let the princess go, although he might have struggled to
hold her. But more strange than dear did Ariadne remain to Theseus.
And all this time his father, Ægeus, stayed on the tower of his palace,
watching for the return of the ship that had sailed for Knossos. The life
of the king wasted since the departure of Theseus, and now it was but a
thread. Every day he watched for the return of the ship, hoping against
hope that Theseus would return alive to him. Then a ship came into the
harbor. It had black sails. Ægeus did not know that Theseus was aboard of
it, and that Theseus in the hurry of his flight and in the sadness of his
parting from Ariadne had not thought of taking out the white sail that his
father had given to Nausitheus.
Joyously Theseus sailed into the harbor, having slain the Minotaur and
lifted for ever the tribute put upon Athens. Joyously he sailed into the
harbor, bringing back to their parents the youths and maidens of Athens.
But the king, his father, saw the black sails on his ship, and straightway
the thread of his life broke, and he died on the roof of the tower which
he had built to look out on the sea.
Theseus landed on the shore of his own country. He had the ship drawn up
on the beach and he made sacrifices of thanksgiving to the gods. Then he
sent messengers to the city to announce his return. They went toward the
city, these joyful messengers, but when they came to the gate they heard
the sounds of mourning and lamentation. The mourning and the lamentation
were for the death of the king, Theseus’s father. They hurried back and
they came to Theseus where he stood on the beach. They brought a wreath of
victory for him, but as they put it into his hand they told him of the
death of his father. Then Theseus left the wreath on the ground, and he
wept for the death of Ægeus—of Ægeus, the hero, who had left the sword
under the stone for him before he was born.
The men and women who came to the beach wept and laughed as they clasped
in their arms the children brought back to them. And Theseus stood there,
silent and bowed; the memory of his last moments with his father, of his
fight with the Minotaur, of his parting with Ariadne—all flowed back upon
him. He stood there with head bowed, the man who might not put upon his
brows the wreath of victory that had been brought to him.
[Illustration]
VIII
There had come into the city a youth of great valor whose name was
Peirithous: from a far country he had come, filled with a desire of
meeting Theseus, whose fame had come to him. The youth was in Athens at
the time Theseus returned. He went down to the beach with the townsfolk,
and he saw Theseus standing alone with his head bowed down. He went to him
and he spoke, and Theseus lifted his head and he saw before him a young
man of strength and beauty. He looked upon him, and the thought of high
deeds came into his mind again. He wanted this young man to be his comrade
in dangers and upon quests. And Peirithous looked upon Theseus, and he
felt that he was greater and nobler than he had thought. They became
friends and sworn brothers, and together they went into far countries.
Now there was in Epirus a savage king who had a very fair daughter. He
had named this daughter Persephone, naming her thus to show that she was
held as fast by him as that other Persephone was held who ruled in the
Underworld. No man might see her, and no man might wed her. But Peirithous
had seen the daughter of this king, and he desired above all things to
take her from her father and make her his wife. He begged Theseus to help
him enter that king’s palace and carry off the maiden.
So they came to Epirus, Theseus and Peirithous, and they entered the
king’s palace, and they heard the bay of the dread hound that was there to
let no one out who had once come within the walls. Suddenly the guards of
the savage king came upon them, and they took Theseus and Peirithous and
they dragged them down into dark dungeons.
Two great chairs of stone were there, and Theseus and Peirithous were
left seated in them. And the magic powers that were in the chairs of stone
were such that the heroes could not lift themselves out of them. There
they stayed, held in the great stone chairs in the dungeons of that savage
king.
Then it so happened that Heracles came into the palace of the king. The
harsh king feasted Heracles and abated his savagery before him. But he
could not forbear boasting of how he had trapped the heroes who had come
to carry off Persephone. And he told how they could not get out of the
stone chairs and how they were held captive in his dark dungeon. Heracles
listened, his heart full of pity for the heroes from Greece who had met
with such a harsh fate. And when the king mentioned that one of the heroes
was Theseus, Heracles would feast no more with him until he had promised
that the one who had been his comrade on the _Argo_ would be let go.
The king said he would give Theseus his liberty if Heracles would carry
the stone chair on which he was seated out of the dungeon and into the
outer world. Then Heracles went down into the dungeon. He found the two
heroes in the great chairs of stone. But one of them, Peirithous, no
longer breathed. Heracles took the great chair of stone that Theseus was
seated in, and he carried it up, up, from the dungeon and out into the
world. It was a heavy task even for Heracles. He broke the chair in
pieces, and Theseus stood up, released.
Thereafter the world was before Theseus. He went with Heracles, and in
the deeds that Heracles was afterward to accomplish Theseus shared.
IV. The Life and Labors of Heracles
I
[Decorative first letter]
_H_ERACLES was the son of Zeus, but he was born into the family of a
mortal king. When he was still a youth, being overwhelmed by a madness
sent upon him by one of the goddesses, he slew the children of his brother
Iphicles. Then, coming to know what he had done, sleep and rest went from
him: he went to Delphi, to the shrine of Apollo, to be purified of his
crime.
At Delphi, at the shrine of Apollo, the priestess purified him, and when
she had purified him she uttered this prophecy: “From this day forth thy
name shall be, not Alcides, but Heracles. Thou shalt go to Eurystheus, thy
cousin, in Mycenæ, and serve him in all things. When the labors he shall
lay upon thee are accomplished, and when the rest of thy life is lived
out, thou shalt become one of the immortals.” Heracles, on hearing these
words, set out for Mycenæ.
He stood before his cousin who hated him; he, a towering man, stood
before a king who sat there weak and trembling. And Heracles said, “I have
come to take up the labors that you will lay upon me; speak now,
Eurystheus, and tell me what you would have me do.”
Eurystheus, that weak king, looking on the young man who stood as tall
and as firm as one of the immortals, had a heart that was filled with
hatred. He lifted up his head and he said with a frown:
“There is a lion in Nemea that is stronger and more fierce than any lion
known before. Kill that lion, and bring the lion’s skin to me that I may
know that you have truly performed your task.” So Eurystheus said, and
Heracles, with neither shield nor arms, went forth from the king’s palace
to seek and to combat the dread lion of Nemea.
He went on until he came into a country where the fences were overthrown
and the fields wasted and the houses empty and fallen. He went on until he
came to the waste around that land: there he came on the trail of the
lion; it led up the side of a mountain, and Heracles, without shield or
arms, followed the trail.
[Illustration]
He heard the roar of the lion. Looking up he saw the beast standing at
the mouth of a cavern, huge and dark against the sunset. The lion roared
three times, and then it went within the cavern.
Around the mouth were strewn the bones of creatures it had killed and
carried there. Heracles looked upon them when he came to the cavern. He
went within. Far into the cavern he went, and then he came to where he saw
the lion. It was sleeping.
Heracles viewed the terrible bulk of the lion, and then he looked upon
his own knotted hands and arms. He remembered that it was told of him
that, while still a child of eight months, he had strangled a great
serpent that had come to his cradle to devour him. He had grown and his
strength had grown too.
So he stood, measuring his strength and the size of the lion. The breath
from its mouth and nostrils came heavily to him as the beast slept, gorged
with its prey. Then the lion yawned. Heracles sprang on it and put his
great hands upon its throat. No growl came out of its mouth, but the great
eyes blazed while the terrible paws tore at Heracles. Against the rock
Heracles held the beast; strongly he held it, choking it through the skin
that was almost impenetrable. Terribly the lion struggled; but the strong
hands of the hero held around its throat until it struggled no more.
Then Heracles stripped off that impenetrable skin from the lion’s body;
he put it upon himself for a cloak. Then, as he went through the forest,
he pulled up a young oak tree and trimmed it and made a club for himself.
With the lion’s skin over him—that skin that no spear or arrow could
pierce—and carrying the club in his hand he journeyed on until he came to
the palace of King Eurystheus.
The king, seeing coming toward him a towering man all covered with the
hide of a monstrous lion, ran and hid himself in a great jar. He lifted
the lid up to ask the servants what was the meaning of this terrible
appearance. And the servants told him that it was Heracles come back with
the skin of the lion of Nemea. On hearing this Eurystheus hid himself
again.
He would not speak with Heracles nor have him come near him, so fearful
was he. But Heracles was content to be left alone. He sat down in the
palace and feasted himself.
The servants came to the king; Eurystheus lifted the lid of the jar and
they told him how Heracles was feasting and devouring all the goods in the
palace. The king flew into a rage, but still he was fearful of having the
hero before him. He issued commands through his heralds ordering Heracles
to go forth at once and perform the second of his tasks.
It was to slay the great water snake that made its lair in the swamps of
Lerna. Heracles stayed to feast another day, and then, with the lion’s
skin across his shoulders and the great club in his hands, he started off.
But this time he did not go alone; the boy Iolaus went with him.
[Illustration]
Heracles and Iolaus went on until they came to the vast swamp of Lerna.
Right in the middle of the swamp was the water snake that was called the
Hydra. Nine heads it had, and it raised them up out of the water as the
hero and his companion came near. They could not cross the swamp to come
to the monster, for man or beast would sink and be lost in it.
The Hydra remained in the middle of the swamp belching mud at the hero
and his companion. Then Heracles took up his bow and he shot flaming
arrows at its heads. It grew into such a rage that it came through the
swamp to attack him. Heracles swung his club. As the Hydra came near he
knocked head after head off its body.
But for every head knocked off two grew upon the Hydra. And as he
struggled with the monster a huge crab came out of the swamp, and gripping
Heracles by the foot tried to draw him in. Then Heracles cried out. The
boy Iolaus came; he killed the crab that had come to the Hydra’s aid.
Then Heracles laid hands upon the Hydra and drew it out of the swamp.
With his club he knocked off a head and he had Iolaus put fire to where it
had been, so that two heads might not grow in that place. The life of the
Hydra was in its middle head; that head he had not been able to knock off
with his club. Now, with his hands he tore it off, and he placed this head
under a great stone so that it could not rise into life again. The Hydra’s
life was now destroyed. Heracles dipped his arrows into the gall of the
monster, making his arrows deadly; no thing that was struck by these
arrows afterward could keep its life.
Again he came to Eurystheus’s palace, and Eurystheus, seeing him, ran
again and hid himself in the jar. Heracles ordered the servants to tell
the king that he had returned and that the second labor was accomplished.
Eurystheus, hearing from the servants that Heracles was mild in his
ways, came out of the jar. Insolently he spoke. “Twelve labors you have to
accomplish for me,” said he to Heracles, “and eleven yet remain to be
accomplished.”
“How?” said Heracles. “Have I not performed two of the labors? Have I
not slain the lion of Nemea and the great water snake of Lerna?”
“In the killing of the water snake you were helped by Iolaus,” said the
king, snapping out his words and looking at Heracles with shifting eyes.
“That labor cannot be allowed you.”
Heracles would have struck him to the ground. But then he remembered
that the crime that he had committed in his madness would have to be
expiated by labors performed at the order of this man. He looked full upon
Eurystheus and he said, “Tell me of the other labors, and I will go forth
from Mycenæ and accomplish them.”
Then Eurystheus bade him go and make clean the stables of King Augeias.
Heracles came into that king’s country. The smell from the stables was
felt for miles around. Countless herds of cattle and goats had been in the
stables for years, and because of the uncleanness and the smell that came
from it the crops were withered all around. Heracles told the king that he
would clean the stables if he were given one tenth of the cattle and the
goats for a reward.
The king agreed to this reward. Then Heracles drove the cattle and the
goats out of the stables; he broke through the foundations and he made
channels for the two rivers Alpheus and Peneius. The waters flowed through
the stables, and in a day all the uncleanness was washed away. Then
Heracles turned the rivers back into their own courses.
He was not given the reward he had bargained for, however.
He went back to Mycenæ with the tale of how he had cleaned the stables.
“Ten labors remain for me to do now,” he said.
“Eleven,” said Eurystheus. “How can I allow the cleaning of King
Augeias’s stables to you when you bargained for a reward for doing it?”
Then while Heracles stood still, holding himself back from striking him,
Eurystheus ran away and hid himself in the jar. Through his heralds he
sent word to Heracles, telling him what the other labors would be.
He was to clear the marshes of Stymphalus of the man-eating birds that
gathered there; he was to capture and bring to the king the golden-horned
deer of Coryneia; he was also to capture and bring alive to Mycenæ the
boar of Erymanthus.
Heracles came to the marshes of Stymphalus. The growth of jungle was so
dense that he could not cut his way through to where the man-eating birds
were; they sat upon low bushes within the jungle, gorging themselves upon
the flesh they had carried there.
For days Heracles tried to hack his way through. He could not get to
where the birds were. Then, thinking he might not be able to accomplish
this labor, he sat upon the ground in despair.
It was then that one of the immortals appeared to him; for the first and
only time he was given help from the gods.
It was Athena who came to him. She stood apart from Heracles, holding in
her hands brazen cymbals. These she clashed together. At the sound of this
clashing the Stymphalean birds rose up from the low bushes behind the
jungle. Heracles shot at them with those unerring arrows of his. The
man-eating birds fell, one after the other, into the marsh.
Then Heracles went north to where the Coryneian deer took her pasture.
So swift of foot was she that no hound nor hunter had ever been able to
overtake her. For the whole of a year Heracles kept Golden Horns in chase,
and at last, on the side of the Mountain Artemision, he caught her.
Artemis, the goddess of the wild things, would have punished Heracles for
capturing the deer, but the hero pleaded with her, and she relented and
agreed to let him bring the deer to Mycenæ and show her to King
Eurystheus. And Artemis took charge of Golden Horns while Heracles went
off to capture the Erymanthean boar.
He came to the city of Psophis, the inhabitants of which were in deadly
fear because of the ravages of the boar. Heracles made his way up the
mountain to hunt it. Now on this mountain a band of centaurs lived, and
they, knowing him since the time he had been fostered by Chiron, welcomed
Heracles. One of them, Pholus, took Heracles to the great house where the
centaurs had their wine stored.
Seldom did the centaurs drink wine; a draft of it made them wild, and so
they stored it away, leaving it in the charge of one of their band.
Heracles begged Pholus to give him a draft of wine; after he had begged
again and again the centaur opened one of his great jars.
Heracles drank wine and spilled it. Then the centaurs that were without
smelt the wine and came hammering at the door, demanding the drafts that
would make them wild. Heracles came forth to drive them away. They
attacked him. Then he shot at them with his unerring arrows and he drove
them away. Up the mountain and away to far rivers the centaurs raced,
pursued by Heracles with his bow.
One was slain, Pholus, the centaur who had entertained him. By accident
Heracles dropped a poisoned arrow on his foot. He took the body of Pholus
up to the top of the mountain and buried the centaur there. Afterward, on
the snows of Erymanthus, he set a snare for the boar and caught him there.
Upon his shoulders he carried the boar to Mycenæ and he led the deer by
her golden horns. When Eurystheus had looked upon them the boar was slain,
but the deer was loosed and she fled back to the Mountain Artemision.
King Eurystheus sat hidden in the great jar, and he thought of more
terrible labors he would make Heracles engage in. Now he would send him
oversea and make him strive with fierce tribes and more dread monsters.
When he had it all thought out he had Heracles brought before him and he
told him of these other labors.
He was to go to savage Thrace and there destroy the man-eating horses of
King Diomedes; afterward he was to go amongst the dread women, the
Amazons, daughters of Ares, the god of war, and take from their queen,
Hippolyte, the girdle that Ares had given her; then he was to go to Crete
and take from the keeping of King Minos the beautiful bull that Poseidon
had given him; afterward he was to go to the Island of Erytheia and take
away from Geryoneus, the monster that had three bodies instead of one, the
herd of red cattle that the two-headed hound Orthus kept guard over; then
he was to go to the Garden of the Hesperides, and from that garden he was
to take the golden apples that Zeus had given to Hera for a marriage
gift—where the Garden of the Hesperides was no mortal knew.
So Heracles set out on a long and perilous quest. First he went to
Thrace, that savage land that was ruled over by Diomedes, son of Ares, the
war god. Heracles broke into the stable where the horses were; he caught
three of them by their heads, and although they kicked and bit and
trampled he forced them out of the stable and down to the seashore, where
his companion, Abderus, waited for him. The screams of the fierce horses
were heard by the men of Thrace, and they, with their king, came after
Heracles. He left the horses in charge of Abderus while he fought the
Thracians and their savage king. Heracles shot his deadly arrows amongst
them, and then he fought with their king. He drove them from the seashore,
and then he came back to where he had left Abderus with the fierce horses.
They had thrown Abderus upon the ground, and they were trampling upon
him. Heracles drew his bow and he shot the horses with the unerring arrows
that were dipped with the gall of the Hydra he had slain. Screaming, the
horses of King Diomedes raced toward the sea, but one fell and another
fell, and then, as it came to the line of the foam, the third of the
fierce horses fell. They were all slain with the unerring arrows.
Then Heracles took up the body of his companion and he buried it with
proper rights, and over it he raised a column. Afterward, around that
column a city that bore the name of Heracles’s friend was built.
Then toward the Euxine Sea he went. There, where the River Themiscyra
flows into the sea he saw the abodes of the Amazons. And upon the rocks
and the steep place he saw the warrior women standing with drawn bows in
their hands. Most dangerous did they seem to Heracles. He did not know how
to approach them; he might shoot at them with his unerring arrows, but
when his arrows were all shot away, the Amazons, from their steep places,
might be able to kill him with the arrows from their bows.
While he stood at a distance, wondering what he might do, a horn was
sounded and an Amazon mounted upon a white stallion rode toward him. When
the warrior-woman came near she cried out, “Heracles, the Queen Hippolyte
permits you to come amongst the Amazons. Enter her tent and declare to the
queen what has brought you amongst the never-conquered Amazons.”
Heracles came to the tent of the queen. There stood tall Hippolyte with
an iron crown upon her head and with a beautiful girdle of bronze and
iridescent glass around her waist. Proud and fierce as a mountain eagle
looked the queen of the Amazons: Heracles did not know in what way he
might conquer her. Outside the tent the Amazons stood; they struck their
shields with their spears, keeping up a continuous savage din.
“For what has Heracles come to the country of the Amazons?” Queen
Hippolyte asked.
“For the girdle you wear,” said Heracles, and he held his hands ready
for the struggle.
“Is it for the girdle given me by Ares, the god of war, that you have
come, braving the Amazons, Heracles?” asked the queen.
“For that,” said Heracles.
“I would not have you enter into strife with the Amazons,” said Queen
Hippolyte. And so saying she drew off the girdle of bronze and iridescent
glass, and she gave it into his hands.
Heracles took the beautiful girdle into his hands. Fearful he was that
some piece of guile was being played upon him, but then he looked into the
open eyes of the queen and he saw that she meant no guile. He took the
girdle and he put it around his great brows; then he thanked Hippolyte and
he went from the tent. He saw the Amazons standing on the rocks and the
steep places with bows bent; unchallenged he went on, and he came to his
ship and he sailed away from that country with one more labor
accomplished.
The labor that followed was not dangerous. He sailed over sea and he
came to Crete, to the land that King Minos ruled over. And there he found,
grazing in a special pasture, the bull that Poseidon had given King Minos.
He laid his hands upon the bull’s horns and he struggled with him and he
overthrew him. Then he drove the bull down to the seashore.
His next labor was to take away the herd of red cattle that was owned by
the monster Geryoneus. In the Island of Erytheia, in the middle of the
Stream of Ocean, lived the monster, his herd guarded by the two-headed
hound Orthus—that hound was the brother of Cerberus, the three-headed
hound that kept guard in the Underworld.
Mounted upon the bull given Minos by Poseidon, Heracles fared across the
sea. He came even to the straits that divide Europe from Africa, and there
he set up two pillars as a memorial of his journey—the Pillars of Heracles
that stand to this day. He and the bull rested there. Beyond him stretched
the Stream of Ocean; the Island of Erytheia was there, but Heracles
thought that the bull would not be able to bear him so far.