Theseus and the Minotaur

The legend of the hero Theseus is matched only by the infamy of the beast he slew - the Minotaur. When the city's hour of need was at its greatest, the hero came forth to face the threat beyond the sea...

Theseus discovers the sword
Painting by Antonion Balestra

Long ago, before the days of Hellenic greatness, before even the Trojan War, there sat Aegeus on the throne of Athens, eighth in line since great Cecrops had received the olive from the goddess Athena and founded the city which forever honours her name. As a young man, Aegeus had sought a Queen to secure the still fragile Athenian dynasty, and came to the city of Troezen, a power in the nearby Eastern Peloponnese. Smitten with Aethra, daughter to King Pittheus, the humble Aegeus pledged himself to her. When the night of their betrothal came, and the wedding was consummated, a god's will compelled Aethra out of the Palace and into the night. Drawn far from the walls, her foot touched the glassy waters of the ocean, as she waded to the island of Sphairia. There, embraced in Poseidon's realm, she was embraced too by the god of the watery realm. Thus was her son to have two fathers, one a mortal man, the other a god, a son of Kronos. When Dawn arrived, and the enchantment lifted, Aethra was racked with guilt, and confessed to Aegeus. Distraught, the Athenian King resolved to return to Athens. But before he did, he left a trial for his yet unborn son. Taking his own sword and sandals, he dug a ditch just wide enough, and concealed the regalia within, and sealed them in their earthen tomb below a mighty boulder such that no man who lacked royal or divine blood could lift. Aegeus told Aethra that when the time came, the boy might come to him bearing the sword and sandals, and his birthright would then be his.

Thus was the infant boy, who was gifted the name of Theseus, raised in the land of his mother. With royal blood of both mortal and immortal kind flowing in his veins, a strong young lad he became, the envy of all in his company. Then one day he asked his mother of his father, for rumours had he heard of his mystical parentage. Aethra told the boy of the boulder, and that he should take what he found beneath it to King Aegeus of Athens, and follow his path there. Finding the great stone, in the grip of vines and of moss, Theseus placed his strong hands on either side, and heaved. Royal blood and divine sinew strained, and the pinnacle was torn from the ground. A flash of sunlight shone from below, and there no more tarnished than the day they were lain there, the sword glinted, and the sandals too. Taking them, a warmth in his fingers, Theseus set out on the long road to Athens.

When at last the Acropolis appeared on the horizon, Theseus arrived in a city of misery, for Athens was submit to the will of the wrathful King of Crete - Minos. Long ago, enraged by the assassination of his son at the hands of jealous Athenians, Minos had warred down Athens to the point of capitulation. In desperation, the Athenians begged the Oracle of Delphi for advice. Her words were unsually unambiguous - submit to Minos' wish. The ambassadors of Athens came before the Cretan King, and offered surrender, if he would spare their city. Minos offered them peace, but on one terrible condition. Every nine years, Athens must send to Crete the seven most promising young boys, and the seven most beautiful young girls, where they were to be thrown deep into the labryinthine dungeons of Knossos. Rumours abounded in the courts of the world, terrible stories of unspeakable horror. Long ago, the great architect Daedalus had designed the Labyrinth for one grisly purpose, to contain the monstrous brood of Queen Pasiphae and the Cretan Bull, a creature both man in body and beast in head, the bloodthirsty Minotaur. The Ambassadors balked. The choice that lay between King Aegeus now, either humiliation or destruction. Resigned to his fate, a grieving Aegeus had accepted the cruel tribute that was demanded of him, to sacrifice the few for the survival of the many. The day Theseus arrived in Athens was the third time the emissary of Crete had arrived to exact the tribute, and Athens mourned her third loss.

Theseus, alone happy in a sea of mourning, approached the broken King ahead, holding high the shining sword, and clad in the fine sandals of the House of Erechtheus. A glint of sunlight, the King raises his head. He sees the blade he cast beneath the earth so long ago, and for the first time in many long years,a  ray of happiness pierced his life, for well did he know that there was but one person who could have claimed them. A rare smile breaks his face, as he runs to give his child his first embrace, just as many others around wail as they give their last. Tomorrow will be the day when the ships sail for Crete's dark domain, and the last victims are yet to be chosen to meet their fate. Aegeus welcomed Theseus to the city, and honoured him as a citizen of Athens, and the people cheered, momentarily distracted from the dark day ahead.

Long ago King Aegeus had decreed that there was only one way to decide fairly, and that was a lottery of all the citizens of Athens, with no exceptions. Evening came, and the lottery of death could be delayed no more. Athenian fathers and mothers wept as their children placed their tokens in the vessel. Woe that the King should see his son return on this day, for Theseus too honoured the pact, and placed his own mark within. Tense was the atmosphere, and grievous the anticipation. All men felt as though the gallows awaited, the base dread of every parent incarnate, present, and inevitable. Seven stones were chosen from the girl's ballot box, seven families broken, and the palace groaned beneath their cries. The screams had barely abated when seven more were chosen from the boy's box. Six rolled out, and six mothers screamed, yet when the seventh rolled out, it was the King himself who joined them, for there, unambiguously, was the stone that poor Theseus had cast within. Never had a father known such joy and such terror in one day. Aegeus embraced the prodigal son, but his rules were absolute, and Aegeus was a just ruler. Theseus would be joining his thirteen fellow citizens on their final voyage. But Theseus, no stranger to danger, filled with valour and bravado in equal measure, vowed to slay the monster that lurked below the King's Palace. With such longing, anything to distract him from clear logic, Aegeus dared to trust in him.

Dawn arrived, Light and impending doom both carried in her wake. The ferrymen readied black sails upon the ships, for it seemed a funeral sail. But it was then that Theseus, son of two fathers, who boldly commanded the black be cast aside in favour of white. He vowed before the men and women of Athens that he would conquer the Minotaur, and that the dark days would soon be at an end. Fresh hope filled the hearts of the Athenians, and people dared to wonder. Aegeus took the boy aside and asked him one thing, that should he succeed against the odds, to fly the white sail on his return, so that Athens may know in advance of his fate. Theseus agreed, and father and son embraced for what all around believed the last time. Sails white as the snow on Olympus' lofty heights billowed, and the voyage was begun. Twice before the ferrymen had made this journey, twice before had they steeled themselves against the soft weeping of yore. This time however, a different atmosphere prevailed. Buoyed by the limitless reserve of fortitude that Theseus seemed to possess, the thirteen clung to the one thing Pandora had saved so long ago - hope.

Dolphin Fresco
Image taken from the Queen's Megaron, Palace of Knossos

When at last the ferrymen hurled their ropes on Cretan docks, fear lanced through the Athenians more terrible than ever, for no mere emissary stood to await them, but Minos himself and his daughter, Ariadne. Now Minos was no simpleton nor ignorant fool. News reached his ears from far and wide. Least of all could Crete escape the stories of the twice fathered son. Yet there was one part of the legend the King, himself a son of Zeus and Europa, longed to know. Thus he cried:


                     " You, if Troezenian Aethra bore you to Poseidon the earth shaker,
                      bring this splendid gold ornament on my hand back from the depths
                      of the sea, casting your body boldy down to your father's home... "
                                - KING MINOS CHALLENGES THESEUS

From his finger the King took his sovereign's ring, and cast it into the azure sea, a tiny flash of gold against the ripples of blue. The spirit of Theseus within held no fear, as without a moment's fear, he dived from the Athenian prow into the waves. Out of the murky blackness of the deep a dolphin soared, and beckoned Theseus to follow. Down and down into the foot of the ocean they went, until the halls of Poseidon they reached, bright with the spirit of gods. Shining Nereids played hither and thither, hippocampi wallowing in the surf. There ahead sat enthroned Amphitrite, the consort of the god himself upon the coral throne. There at the foot of it all sat the ring, an insignificant band before the lady of the ocean herself.

High above the Cretans and Athenians sat anxiously, the Minoans smiling, the Athenians tense. But then, the surface of the Ocean was rent asunder, as a powerful hand burst forth from the azure waves, clasping a sovereign's ring. Behind it came the body of Theseus, the twice fathered son if Poseidon. The Athenians shouted with joy, hope sprang anew. Even the Cretans were struck dumb. But Minos, himself heaven born, was not swayed. He saw now a mere equal, yet Theseus was son to the god of the sea, whereas he was son to the god of gods himself. To him he summoned his guards, and bade them cast the Athenians into gaol.

Ariadne gifts the twine to Theseus
Painting by Niccolo Bambini

In the dungeons of Knossos, a city whose beauty concealed a secret spattered with blood, the Athenians were sealed for their final night, one last night Minos granted them before they gazed upon the face of death. But it was not only Minos who had noticed something about Theseus, for in the moment she first saw him, Ariadne, struck by the barb of Cupid, had been drawn to the young prince. Well did she know of the horror with the Labyrinth's walls, and great was her pity for the young Prince. Coming to his cell, she bore a gift, a simple gift which no guard would question. A simple ball of string. Through the bars she passed the invaluable twine, instructing Theseus to tie one end at the entrance to the unconquerable maze, and hold the other at all times, so that he might see the light of day again should he prevail against the odds. She gave to him one further thing, a piece of knowledge great Daedalus himself had once told her. "Go forwards, always down and never left nor right". Theseus, overwhelmed, gave thanks to Ariadne, and swore to come for her if he triumphed. With a smile she withdrew into the night.

Dawn arrived to a blood red sky over the idyllic island of Crete, as the jailer arrived to unlock the cells. Black were the omens, grieving the moods. Just one among the Athenian party looked straight ahead. Theseus, heart pounding, gazed into the dark entrance of the Labyrinth. A torch burned in a bracket in the dark tunnel ahead. Fumbling, his hand found the ball of twine, and wisely did he fix one end upon the bracket. The thirteen followed close behind him, daring not to be without him in the house of death. Bold Theseus led the way, and faithful was he to Ariadne's word, for onward he strode, never a branch in the dark path did he take.

Theseus victorious
Painting by Charles-Edouard Chaise

For an age, or so it seemed, this strange procession took place, the presence of the twice fathered heir to the throne the only thing preventing the thirteen falling into ruinous panic. A shattered human bone came into view from the darkness, a race of pulses. Further in and further down they went, when soon a most nauseating stench rose to their nostrils. The stink of death, and rotting cadavers. The pounding hearts dared to shake the walls, matched only by the unearthly sound of snoring in the darkness beyond, as Theseus bade his kin remain silent, lest their presence be revealed. Further in and further down, as though down the throat of Hell they went now, until a clearing suddenly opened up before them. There, in the heart of the great Labyrinth atop a mound of mangled bones spattered with blood, lay the dealer of so many Athenian deaths. "A mingled form and hybrid birth of monstrous shape... two different natures, man and bull, were joined in him...". The monstrous brood of the Cretan Queen and the Cretan Bull lay stretched out, snoring loudly as it slept, gorged on human flesh. Then the courage of one of them failed, the sight of so many of their kin cruelly slaughtered, and a scream. A heavily lidded taurian eye wrenched open, and snores turned to roars. Theseus moved quick as a flash, and leaped onto the creature's back, swift as an arrow, before it found its feet. Nerves racing, Poseidon and Aegeus' son summoned all his might, divine and royal blood thundering through his veins, and flung his arms around Asterion's mighty neck. More than once the Minotaur's lethal horns near pierced his chest, as the crew of Athens gasped, their own lives on the line now. Tighter was the hero's iron grip, fiercer the monster's rage, wakened from its nine year slumber. Slammed against the great Labyrinth's walls, no other man could have held on, but no other man was Theseus. Seeing the terror on the faces of his kin, he had all the motivation he needed, and Theseus wrenched one last time with all his strength, forcing the creatures on one knee. The Minotaur snorted loudly, and breath left its body. With a loud crunch, the massive form fell upon the bones of its victims, cast down to the Inferno, never again to rise and trouble the realm of men. Blood still pounding in his ears, Theseus did not at first hear the screams all around, but no screams of fear were they, but sheer relief mingled with joy...



United Kingdom

The Life of Theseus:
Plutarch's Lives: Theseus and Romulus, Lycurgus and Numa, Solon and Publicola (Loeb Classical Library): Vol 1
(A series of well written biographies of great men of ancient Greece and Rome, including Theseus, and the most complete and in depth source for him. Fun to read and not at all academic or dull!)

United States

The Life of Theseus:
Plutarch Lives, I, Theseus and Romulus. Lycurgus and Numa. Solon and Publicola (Loeb Classical Library®) (Volume I)
(A series of well written biographies of great men of ancient Greece and Rome, including Theseus, and the most complete and in depth source for him. Fun to read and not at all academic or dull!)

Icarus

A long time ago, there lived an eccentric but brilliant inventor in the city of Athens. His name was Daedalus, and his was a destiny of immortality, but hand in hand walked tragedy. Renowned far and wide for his mastery of craftsmanship and design, it was not long before his great name spread far beyond the borders of Attica. Delighted and humbled by success, when word arrived one day that he had been commissioned by the great King Minos of Crete, he hardly dared refuse. It was to be a decision that would change his life forever...

The Island of Crete
Photograph taken from the NASA Earth Observatory

King Minos ruled over a powerful nation, mastery of the seas and the envy of Greece was his.But he concealed a dark secret. A dreadful abomination had been born unto his family, a creature that had thus far been death to all who came in its way. This affliction had come about not long earlier, for , drunk on glory and the riches of his nation, Minos vowed to sacrifice to the gods the first thing which came from the Ocean. Hearing his words, Poseidon the Earthshaker and master of the Ocean, sent forth a shining white bull from the depths. Stunned, and entranced by the beats majesty, Minos had second thoughts. Forgetting his promise, the King kept the bull for his own, and sacrificed a lesser creature in its place. But the eyes of a god are always watching. Angered by his attempt at deception, Poseidon sent a terrible curse to drive madness into the monster's brain, all docility and peace banished from its raging mind. Worse still, the god placed a curse upon Queen Pasiphae, wife of the King, and inspired within her an unyielding lust for the monster. Minos was distraught at the destruction which was dealt to his lands. Only mighty Heracles was able to humble the Cretan Bull, and spirit it away to distant lands, but the beast left a legacy more horrific than Minos could ever have imagined. Powerless against her retribution, his wife gave birth to the monster's blighted seed. From the impious union was born a bloodthirsty fusion of man and bull - the Minotaur. Rumour began to spread on Crete of the princess's ghastly deed, and the King desperately tried to cover his family's dark secret, and thus turned to Daedalus.


Coming before the King, Daedalus heard Minos' terrible plight and dilemma. He could not slay the creature, as it was his own blood, and the murder of a family member was a crime against the gods that would pollute his royal line forever. He could not let it walk free either, lest his terrible shame be common knowledge. It was cunning Daedalus who concocted the solution. He devised an incredible feat of engineering within which to house the beast, "where rooms within themselves encircled lye, with various windings, to deceive the eye". The Great Labyrinth, upon its completion, defied all else that had come before it. Indeed, it was said that so intricate and outlandishly complex was the warren of passages and tunnels, even Daedalus himself only discovered the way out with great difficulty. Ever after, anything complicated has been called labyrinthine in English. Deep into the bowels of the darkness was the Minotaur cast, by his own grandfather, there forever to dwell and languish away from the touch of Apollo's rays (his fate is another story, and will come in a later post).

Daedalus and Icarus
Painting by Frederic Leighton 

Time passed on the idyllic island, yet Daedalus began to long for the home he had not seen for so long, to raise his young son, Icarus, in peace. But cruel Minos had other plans. Such was his shame and furious sensitivity at his Queen's unholy brood, and his envy of Daedalus' talents, he ordered both the inventor and his son thrown into the high tower over the Royal Palace, lest the secrets of the Labyrinth ever became public. The mighty Cretan navy patrolled the sea lanes around the island, and ruled the waves. Escape by sea was impossible. The Minoans ruled the trade routes by land. Escape by land was impossible. Cunning Daedalus knew there was but one choice, if they should ever hope to see home again, and it lay above:


  " In tedious exile now too long detain'd,
    Daedalus languish'd for his native land,
    The sea foreclos'd his flight; yet thus he said:
    Tho' Earth and water in subjection laid,
    O cruel Minos, thy dominion be,
    We'll go thro' air; for sure the air is free... "
         - DAEDALUS HAS THE IDEA


So began his most ingenious work. Taking the tools that were cast in gaol with him, and using all materials he could find, he began to fire the bellows, and sweat dripped from his brow. High was the tower, refuge only to the birds of the sea as company to the illustrious duo, and Daedalus plucked the quills from their feathered forms, letting not one go to waste. Each one he honed and perfected, and arrayed them in rows, rising by degree from end to end. Through the middle he laid a twine of flax, and by wax was the plumage held fast. Life went on far below, convinced as Minos was that his secret was safe, as all the while the wings took majestic shape. All the while youthful Icarus, not yet wizened to the designs of men, idly played with the feathers and toyed with the wax, much to the father's amusement and frustration.


Then, at long last, the day of reckoning arrived. The final stroke of Daedalus' hammer fell upon the brazen wings, and together did they neatly fit. Four had he made, two for the father and two for the son. With steady hand he lashed them to his back, and took his first flap. With flawless balance he rose into the air, and for the first time did man know the sensation of flight. But purpose was not forgotten by the old master, and he at once bade young Icarus hurry. Chance, which seldom comes twice, was now to be seized. Thus did the father bid the son:


                                          " My boy, take care,
                                            To wing your course along the middle air;
                                            If low, the surges wet your flagging plumes;
                                            If high, the sun the melting wax consumes:
                                            Steer between both: nor to the northern skies,
                                            Nor south to Orion turn your giddy eyes;
                                            But follow me... "
                                                 - DAEDALUS WARNS ICARUS

Icarus Fallen
Painting by  Herbert James Draper

So with concern and fear for the audacious breakout, Daedalus fixed a pair of wings to his son, tears rolling down his cheek. All ready now, he embraced his son,knowing not it would be his last. Turning now to vast window, father and son took position, and together leapt into the azure yonder.With the joy of the winds in his hair, young Icarus soared triumphantly to the domain of the clouds, excitement fused with the thrill of adventure of the god's own land. Daedalus lead them on, as Crete fell far behind. The isles of the sea punctuated the haze far below, Delos, Paros on the left, Samos and Lebynthos on the right. For an age the air was their abode, but it was then that the warnings of his father began to desert headstrong Icarus. With the world at his feet, to the Heavens he now aspired, pride rising higher than his wings. Thundering forth, poor Daedalus was left behind. The father called out to the son, but upon deaf ears his cries fell. To the dominion of Helios Icarus set his sights, and to the burning orb he spurred his wings. So great his hubris, so hungry his eyes, he thought nothing of the rising heat. His body withstood the burning glow, but not all things could. The quills which bore him flight were bound in wax, and the radiant sun began to undo the work of the master. Softer and softer did it run, as Icarus soared on and on. Soon no more could it take, and vaporised it soon became. The eyes of Icarus widened in terror, as he saw his folly laid bare before him, but too late. Feathers tumbling all around, the haughty boy lingered for a moment in silence before with a deafening scream he plummeted from the Heavens. For an age the foolish boy fell, until there on the crest of the ocean he met his fate, in waters which henceforth bore his name.

Poor Daedalus meanwhile, desperate to find his son, called out in vain, for father he was no more. "Ho Icarus! Where are you? As he flies; Where shall I seek my boy? He cries again, and saw his feathers scatter'd on the main...". Far below on the calm surface of the water he spied the feathers his own hands had bound. Feeling the warmth of the sun high above, he knew at once. Grief insurmountable gripped poor Daedalus, and against his own craft he cursed, and the island below he named Icaria in his son's memory. For an age it seemed, the great inventor mourned on high, hoping on hope it was not true, All had been in vain, his great breakout for naught. Against King Minos he raged, whose cruelty had forced him into a cage.

Fatigued at last from wearying flight, on the fertile Sicilian pastures he came to rest, where Cocalus, King of that realm, gave the great man sanctuary, for great was the name of the Daedalus, and great the esteem in which he was held. Hanging up his wings for the last time, the inventor prayed to Apollo, offering his gift of flight. For a time Apollo granted him peace, until disturbing news arrived. Minos, enraged that his quarry had escaped his clutches, had set out in hot pursuit, hunting them down through all the kingdoms of Greece. But the bitter Cretan King knew well that Daedalus was no fool, and would not remain in plain sight, and enacted a cunning scheme to lure him out. In the court of each city he presented a dilemma. Brandishing from his robes a spiralled seashell, he promised great reward to the one who could run a string through its heart without breaking it apart. Many times he presented his challenge, and every time his hosts failed.

Then one day to Cocalus a messenger of the heartless King approached, and once more did he produce the shell. Cocalus, oblivious to the identity of the stranger's master, summoned his newfound friend. The wizened old inventor, marvelling at the task, yet unaware of its creator, saw at once a plan. Setting a drop of honey at one end, he released an ant at the other, and round the creature a string tied. The tiny insect soldiered through the shell, fixed on the honey, bearing the string with it in tow. Marvelling at the wisdom of Daedalus, Cocalus proudly presented the result to the messenger, who at once alerted his King. Well did Minos know that only Daedalus could have solved this riddle, and demanded at once that Cocalus hand him over. Seeing the malevolent nature of Minos, and the humble genius of Daedalus, however, Cocalus made his choice. He agreed, though persuaded Minos to bathe first. It would prove to be the Cretan's last. Some say the agents of the Sicilian slew the King as he bathed, others that the inventor boiled the water. For certain, however, Daedalus was at last avenged, and his nemesis ended. Some small measure of peace was at last his...


United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which goes all out on archaic high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which goes all out on archaic high poetry)

Bird, Bull and Mare

Heracles was well on his way to proving himself more than just a man when he had completed his fifth gruelling task, his Fifth Labour. Desperate to earn forgiveness, he had slain the Nemean Lion, the Lernaean Hydra, captured the swift Ceryneian Hind and the fierce Erymanthian Boar, and cleaned the ghastly stables of King Augeias (for the previous episode, click here). But, to his anguish, the slaying of the Hydra and the cleaning of the stables had been rendered void by King Eurystheus, on account of the help and payment Heracles had received, though in reality an expression of Eurystheus' envy of the hero's prowess.

Lake Stymphalis

Photograph taken by Ulrich Tichy.

Heracles was furious, believing himself to be halfway to the Tenth Labour, finding he still had another seven to go. But there was little time to spare. Much needed to be done. Fresh reports reached the towering citadel of Tiryns of foul creatures of the abyss terrorising the peoples of Greece. King Eurystheus ordered the son of Zeus to set off for the Lake by the city of Stymphalos, not far away on Arcadia, and kill the birds which had taken up residence there. Believing this a strangely easy sounding task, Heracles set off from mighty Tiryns, soon arriving at Lake Stymphalis. Hearing reports that the birds lurked within a great forest by the water's edge, the hero made ready to slay them. However, these were no ordinary birds. For the Stymphalian Birds were sacred to Ares, the god of war, and were fierce creatures. Possessing beaks and talons made of solid bronze, the Stymphalian Birds were flesh eaters, and their droppings were also toxic to living things. The Birds had been terrorising the people of Stymphalos, decimating their cattle, and feasting on its citizens. Furthermore, the Birds roosted within a swamp, which Heracles soon discovered would not support his weight. Just as Heracles began to think the task impossible, the goddess Athena came before him, taking pity on his plight. Giving him a strange kind of rattle, forged by the god Hephaestus himself, the goddess of wisdom told the hero of another of the Birds' many features - they had extremely sensitive hearing. As the goddess departed, Heracles formed a daring plan. The next dawn, the hero climbed a mountain by the Lake and strung his bow. Taking up the castanet, Heracles rattled it with all his strength, creating a thunderous racket. Screeching in agony, the Stymphalian Birds took flight, right into Heracles' sights. Loosing his arrows, tainted as they were with the fiery poison of the Hydra, Heracles soon brought the Birds down. Delighted, Heracles returned to Tiryns, and was careful not to mention his divine assistance this time.

Heracles and the Cretan Bull

Mosaic in the National Archaeological Museum of Spain, Madrid.

Irate once again that Heracles still lived, Eurystheus decided against ordering the hero to slay the next beast, but to drag it all the way to Tiryns before him. Sending Heracles to the domain of King Minos away on the Isle of Crete, Eurystheus commanded him to bring to him the monstrous Cretan Bull. Once again, Heracles set forth from Tiryns, crossing the Ocean to Crete. King Minos received Heracles eagerly, for the Cretan Bull was ravaging the countryside, laying waste to all in its path. The Bull, it transpired, was the divine retribution exacted upon the King for his blasphemy. Some time before, King Minos, thrilled with his domains and grateful to the gods for their blessings, vowed to sacrifice whatever creature should come from the sea to Poseidon, lord of the Oceans. Hearing this vow, Poseidon sent forth from the depths of the Ocean a mighty white Bull. Utterly bemused at the sight of the Bull breaking from the surf, Minos was stunned by the beauty and elegance of the docile and noble creature. So entranced was he, the King forgot his promise to Poseidon, and sent it to join the rest of his many herds on the island, sacrificing another, lesser beast in its place. But Poseidon was angered that Minos had broken his oath. Moving his hand over the Bull, the god sent a consuming madness into the mind of the Bull, causing it to thrash in a beserk rage. Pleading with Heracles to aid him, Minos offered all the support the hero might need. Heracles declined, vowing to take the Bull alone, lest he once again rail in failure on his return. Confronting the mighty Bull in the mountains of Crete, Heracles wrestled the monster. Man and beast struggling for an age, Heracles at last managed to get a hold on one of the Bull's horns, and its jaw. Grappling with the beast all the way to the shore, Minos looked on, rejoicing at the hero's great strength. Restraining the creature on his ship, Heracles herded the Cretan Bull all the way to the Palace at Tiryns, where Eurystheus capitulated and declared the Labour a success. The Labour complete, Heracles released the Bull, which charged off into the countryside, eventually coming to the land of Attica, terrorising its peoples around Marathon. But the arrogance of the Athenians was something all other Greeks gladly saw punished, and Eurystheus was content. Indeed the Cretan Bull would one day father the Minotaur, the bane of the Athenians...

The Mares devour Diomedes

Painting by Gustave Moreau.

For his next task, King Eurystheus bade Heracles go forth and bring to him the Mares of King Diomedes of the Bistones. Since the Bistones were a highly aggressive Thracian tribe, Eurystheus did allow Heracles to take a company of armed men with him this time, as long as the hero simply brought back the horses. Thinking this oddly reasonable, Heracles once again left mighty walled Tiryns, venturing north to the wild lands of Thrace. Ambushed almost immediately, Heracles and his warriors were caught unawares. Fierce though the Bistones were, the Mares they rode were towering creatures, powerful and strong. With the might of Heracles' strength, however, the hero and his companions managed to repel them, just. Coming across the mangers where the Mares were tethered, Heracles and his good friend Abderus overpowered the guards and led the Mares back toward the coast. The Bistones, however, soon discovered the theft, and set off in hot pursuit. Leaving Abderus to guard the Mares, Heracles charged the warriors, who were now led by their fearsome King, Diomedes, the son of Ares himself. Fierce though the Bistones were, the son of Zeus threw them back again and again, until only he and the towering King were left. After a titanic struggle, Heracles made a prisoner of Diomedes, deciding to lead him back to Eurystheus too, as an added gift. However, coming back to the Mares, he saw the animals standing there, but Abderus was nowhere to be seen. Spotting that the mouths of the Mares were spattered with blood, and a few crunched bones at their feet, however, Heracles suddenly realised a terrible truth of the Mares which Eurystheus had neglected to mention. The Mares were carnivorous. Driven into a rage with grief, Heracles hurled Diomedes at the Mares, who proceeded to devour their master. Only when sated with human flesh were the beasts calm once again. Seizing his chance, Heracles tied the strongest bonds around their jaws, binding them tightly shut.

Leading them all the way back to strong walled Tiryns, Heracles presented the beasts to Eurystheus. Impressed, Eurystheus agreed that Heracles had completed his Labour fairly, and offered the Mares as a sacrifice to Hera. Realising that Heracles was more than a man, the King, knowing he had only four Labours left to give, began to conceive ever more daring tasks for the son of Zeus...

United Kingdom

The Library of Greek Mythology:

The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)

(A vast collection of stories from old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

United States

The Library of Greek Mythology:

The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)

(A vast collection of stories from old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

To Lower Hell

Shaken from the sight of the wrathful souls at war with each other, Dante is surprised to suddenly see before him in the distance a towering wall of stone (for the previous episode of this, please click here). Seized by curiosity, he sees great flames bursting upon its lofty battlements, just too far away to perceive. Before his questions can be answered however, an ancient craft appears in the dank waters of the Styx. A boat, ragged with age breaks the surf, steered by a fearsome man, bent with age. He is Phlegyas, boatman of the Styx (and also, in life, was the father of Ixion - for more see here).

The Furies taunt Dante
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

His spiteful exhortations rebuked by swift words of Virgil, Phlegyas steps back to receive his crew. Our pilgrim notices that only when he places a foot in the skiff does it sink with the weight - the weight of the living. Sweeping across the Styx low in the waves, Dante spies in horror a slimy hand emerge from the dark depths. "Who are you, who come before your time?" the shade enquires. The poet recognises the dead man's face; it is Filippo Argenti, a man he once knew in life, an arrogant and foul man. "May you weep and wail, stuck here in this place forever, you damned soul!" Dante bravely replies. Argenti tries in vain to reach for the boat, but harsh words from Virgil lash him back to the depths. Virgil turns to his protégé and commends his rebuke of so vulgar a soul. Reaching the foot of the walls, they set foot upon land once more. A reddish glow seems to rise beyond the citadel. This is the city of Dis, a keep which guards the lower regions of Hell, reserved for graver crimes yet.

The bright glow Dante sees is that of the Eternal Fire burning beyond, maiming so many souls yet to come. Atop the battlements of Dis lurk many thousand Fallen Angels, who once rose in impious war against God himself (for this story, please click here). Intimidated by their jeers, Dante is reassured by Virgil, who tells him that none can harm him, by God's command, they are fearsome to the mind and eyes alone. Approaching the gate, they find their way barred by the demonic host. Awaiting aid, the two poets rest awhile, as Virgil once more strengthen Dante's resolve, reassuring him that he has passed this gate once before. Just then a new apparition appears, but it is no servant of Heaven. The Three Furies; Megaera, Alecto and Tisiphone, and in their wake the Gorgon Medusa (whose story is told here). Quickly clapping his hands over Dante's eyes, Virgil does not trust to chance that our poet may allow curiosity to defeat his fear. For one the glance of the Gorgon will ensure Dante never leaves this place. The fell spirits taunt and chide the pilgrim for his life, and his fear. But, just then, an angel arrives from Heaven, scattering the evil spirits and condemned shades afar. Denouncing the Fallen Angels for their futile resistance, the shining spectre opens the gates for the two poets, and their journey begins in Lower Hell.

The Heretics
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

The land of Hell is different here. 'A countryside of pain and ugly anguish' stretches before Dante's eyes. Scattered in the plain all about are countless graves, open too, their lids cast aside, and roaring flames pouring from within. To his anguish, Dante can just make out the screams of the tortured souls, bound in their deathly graves. Here, in the Sixth Circle of Hell, are condemned those who spread heresy in life. Just as their fiery tongues spread malice in life, so now they bathe in fire in Hell. False prophets of Christendom lie afire, as do ancient philosophers of the Epicurean school, who believed that the soul died with the body on Earth. Nor are the deep graves for one soul each. Each sarcophagus is home to many, all packed within the inferno. Yet another soul, Farinata, is one Dante knew in life, who was his enemy in Florence in days of old. The two speak of the ills of Florence and her scheming politics, as another soul rises from its fiery grave. He was once Cavalcanti in life, and begs Dante tell him of his son, does he still live? Shocked by the shade's emotion, Dante cannot speak. Misinterpreting his silence, Cavalcanti believes his son dead, and retires, weeping, to his ordeal, cursed to ponder it for all time. Dante begs Farinata to go and tell the spirit of Cavalcanti that his son is indeed alive on Earth, and that his silence was not meant as he took it. Seized by curiosity once more, Dante enquires as to why so many souls have asked him of the current affairs on Earth. The souls damned in Hell, Farinata tells him, are cursed to see the future, and future alone, and know nothing of the present, "this much the sovereign lord grant us here". When the Final Judgement comes, the future will be closed off to them, and all hope will be lost, left to see nothing but their own endless torment.

The Violent against people and property
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Moving on at Virgil's bidding, and coming to a steep bank, a dreadful stench rises from a nearby pit. It is a vast grave, vomiting forth vile miasma. The inscription on the coffin lid nearby states "Within lies Anastasius, the Pope". Indeed, a great many men of the cloth are condemned in Hell, neither Pope nor Cardinal is safe from judgement. Coming to another ridge, they spy a monster, the Minotaur of Crete, lying at the edge of the abyss, guarding the Seventh Circle of Hell. Virgil cries out to the Bull, reminding him that he is cursed there too, cast down to the House of Death by Theseus long ago. The Minotaur writhes in rage, an anger so intense the beast cannot rise, shuddering pathetically by the Pit. Here, in the three rings of the Seventh Circle, are punished the violent, each guilty of malicious violence to a different being. Descending into the first ring, a vast river of boiling blood flows past in cruel torrents. Burning in this foul current are those who through violence injured other men or their property in life. Galloping around the rim of the river Phlegethon are a herd of Centaurs, who hunt with their arrows any soul which tries in desperation to claw its way up from the river. Our pilgrim recognises powerful men of old burning up to the eyebrows, he sees Alexander, the tyrant Dionysius, even Attila, King of the Huns and the Scourge of God, all tormented in the sanguine waves. Eyeing the two poets with suspicion, Chiron, leader of the Centaurs, demands their purpose, lest they be shot too. Once again, Virgil takes control, and asks guidance for the way beyond, ordered thus by the Almighty. Dante, as a living man, cannot touch the Phlegethon, and is borne across a ford by the Centaur Nessus, as they approach the second ring.

The Suicides
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Reaching a grand forest, the poets enter the second ring. No leaf here was green however. Twisted, gnarled and entangled trees sprouted forth leaves of charcoal black, as cruel thorns of poison bloomed where flowers should be. This is a forlorn place, one of sorrow and melancholy. In the high branches, harpies stir, foul birds, shrieking eerie calls. Wails and lamentations of grief sounded all about, and Virgil eyes our pilgrim:




                       " And so my teacher said, 'If you break off
                                a little branch of any of these plants,
                                what you are thinking now will break off too'.

                        Then slowly raising up my hand a bit
                               I snapped the tiny branch of a great thornbush,
                               and its trunk cried: 'Why are you tearing me'... "
                                                           - DANTE UNCOVERS THE TORMENTED
                                                       
To his horror, Dante realised that all of the trees of this forest are souls, cruelly bound as trees. As blood spurts forth from the stump, the soul cries in pain. Here are punished the suicides. Just as they scorned the gift of their bodies in life, now they are denied their own form here in Hell. The soul reveals himself to have once been Pier delle Vigne, an advisor to King Frederick II of Sicily. He was once his most loyal servant, but due to the intrigues of jealous courtesans, fell from favour and was cast into jail. Lamenting his injustice and losing all hope, he took his own life, dashing his head against the cell wall. He came to Hell, and his earthly body was torn away from him, as King Minos hurled his soul down here. Just as he had shown no care for his body in life, no care was shown for his soul in Hell. His soul fell in this land, and germinated a tree. The Harpies relentlessly feed on his leaves, and their constant movements break off branches, leaving him in constant agony. Just then new souls run into the clearing, terrified and lost. They are profligates, who recklessly did violence to their own property in life. One hides in desperation in a thorny bush. Suddenly a pack of ferocious hounds charge in, snapping branches as they go, as they maul the poor soul, tearing his flesh with their fangs. The thorny bush laments in pain, a soul who was once a Florentine in life who hanged himself in his home. Dante is left to ponder the bond he feels to his native city, weeping at so many others like him now cursed in Hell... Yet much remained along the path of the Inferno...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:

Dante: Inferno (Penguin Classics)

(A nice edition which even has the original Italian on the left hand side of the page!)

Oxford World's Classics:

The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Accessible and well annotated, also includes Purgatorio and Paradisio)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Divine Comedy: Volume 1: Inferno (Penguin Classics) (Pt. 1)
(A nice edition which even has the original Italian on the left hand side of the page!)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Accessible and well annotated, also includes Purgatorio and Paradisio)

The First Steps Into Hell

A ringing clap of thunder suddenly rouses Dante from his slumber, as the boatman’s craft nears the banks of Hell (for the precursor to this, the entrance of Dante to the Inferno, please click here). Finding himself “upon the brink of grief’s abysmal valley that collects the thundering of endless cries”, our pilgrim must once again be of stout heart and brave resolve, as he slowly descends into the accursed pit of Hell. The darkness was so thick that, but for the guiding hand of the poet Virgil, he would surely be lost. Seeing a look of anguish breaking Virgil’s face, Dante asks what hope there is for him to remain strong, when his guide so clearly is frightened? Not fear, Virgil tells his protégé, but pity it is he feels for the coming souls, condemned for eternity in the void.

The abandoned souls of Limbo
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Leaving the churning waters of Acheron behind, and the wailing of the naked, wretched forms of the recently deceased crowding fell Charon’s ferry, Dante hears only the sound of soft sighs and despair. The throng of souls ahead is composed of men and women and of infants too, resigned to untormented grief. No physical punishment afflicts these cursed souls. Noting the curiosity upon Dante’s face, Virgil tells our shaken pilgrim of the lot of man condemned to here, Limbo – The First Circle of Hell. “They have not sinned”, he begins, “But their great worth alone was not enough, for they did not know Baptism”. Here too are the souls of those virtuous men who were born before the birth of Christ, the heroes of ancient times, great writers, orators, soldiers and fathers of nations. Realisation dawning upon him, Dante looks suddenly to his guide, but his unasked question is answered. “I myself am a member of this group”, Virgil mournfully states, “for this effect, and for no other guilt, we here are lost”. Condemned to be cut off from hope, and to live on in endless desire, that is the agony that plagues these souls in Limbo.

Dante and the Classical Poets
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Pity coursing through our pilgrim, he desperately asks his guide if there truly is no salvation for him, or his pagan brethren. “I was a novice in this place when I saw a mighty Lord descend to us”, he replies (Virgil died just nineteen years before the time of Christ), and that the Lord took from Hell the souls of Abel, of Noah, of Moses, of Abram and of David the King and his family, and that before these souls were taken no other human soul had found salvation. The two continue on their journey through the woods of Limbo, talking of melancholy of past days, and the stricken hope of the souls that reside there. Ahead Dante spots four shades approaching, faces betraying neither joy nor sorrow. First comes Homer, the father of poets, then Horace, the satirist, Ovid comes third, and finally Lucan. Virgil moves to join them, creating a truly awe inspiring collection of some of the greatest minds of humanity. They turn to Dante and beckon him to join them, filling him with joy with such an honour.



Reaching the boundaries of a mighty castle, they pass through seven gates, and Dante spots many great heroes of yore. Brave Hector, Aeneas the progenitor of the Roman race, Julius Caesar, chaste Lucretia and standing apart from the group, the chivalrous Saladin, the most honourable foe to the crusaders, only recently dead. A great crowd stands by the shade of Aristotle, most admired of philosophers, which includes such figures as Plato, Socrates, Empedocles and Zeno (whose paradoxes acquired such fame). Orpheus the bard was there too, as was the orator Cicero and the philosopher Seneca. Great pioneers of science, Hippocrates and Galen too, clamour at the approach of this learned group. But the road ahead is long, and the illustrious company is broken up, as Virgil and Dante continue their journey alone into the throat of Hell.

King Minos judges the Damned
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Upon the boundary of Limbo, Dante and Virgil come to the gates of the Second Circle of Hell, and its dread guardian, King Minos who judges the damned. A hideous, bestial sight greets those who look on the evil crown, which stands upon his grotesque body and powerful tail. The authority of sin, it is he who hears the case of each evil soul brought before him. Binding the soul in his tail, the number of coils around them signifies the Circle of Hell into which they are to be cast. An endless queue awaits their doom, as the wrathful King pronounces judgement, and bellows cruel warnings at Dante, for easy it is to enter Hell, yet never will he emerge. Bold words, however, are spoken by Virgil, and Minos allows them passage into lower worlds.

Here lies a place where anguish, cries and roars ring in our pilgrim’s ears, where sounds of weeping test his nerve once more. This is an accursed place, the first place where the damned souls are punished for their earthly crimes:

The Lustful are blasted by the Tempest.
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

“ I came to a place where no light shone at all,

Bellowing like the sea racked by a tempest,

When warring winds attack it from both sides.

The infernal storm, eternal in its rage,

Sweeps and drives the spirits with its blast:

It whirls them, lashing them with punishment... ”
   - THE LUSTFUL ARE BLASTED BY THE TEMPEST

The howls and screams of the souls within blaspheme against God, as they curse their fate. Dante learns from his master that these are the shades of those who were lustful in life, those “who make reason slave to appetite”. Just as they were swept along by corrupt desire in life, so now the fell wind propels their spirits in Hell. Like cranes in flight, the lustful soar through the vault of Hell, never ending their journey, battered by an evil gale which does not cease. Our pilgrim asks the great poet who these people are, and Virgil points out the most famous of history’s licentious crowd. Virgil casts his hand toward Semiramis, the carnal Queen of Assyria, whose passions knew no bounds, there too was Cleopatra, Helen, whose machinations hurled so many men to the House of Death, Paris, whose lust spelled Troy’s doom, Tristan and Isolde of ruinous passions and Dido, whose sickening infatuation with Aeneas threatened to sway Rome from her glorious destiny. Dante himself calls to Francesca, daughter of the Lord of Ravenna, and Paolo, brother to her husband, with whom she betrayed the faithfulness of marriage. They recall their violent end, when Gianciotto chanced upon Francesca and his brother together, and in a rage slew them both, condemning them to Hell. Dante is once again overcome by the horrific sights before him, and falls into a swoon, unnerved by his first contact with the damned who are truly punished in Hell. Worse, however, and more foul sights were yet to come in the Inferno...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:

Dante: Inferno (Penguin Classics)

(A nice edition which even has the original Italian on the left hand side of the page!)

Oxford World's Classics:

The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Accessible and well annotated, also includes Purgatorio and Paradisio)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Divine Comedy: Volume 1: Inferno (Penguin Classics) (Pt. 1)
(A nice edition which even has the original Italian on the left hand side of the page!)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Accessible and well annotated, also includes Purgatorio and Paradisio)