The Fetters of Fenrir

                  “ Among the Aesir is he whom some call the mischief-monger of the Aesir, and

                    the first father of falsehoods, and blemish of all gods and men... ”

                                                     - LOKI, THE TRICKSTER

Loki - The Trickster
Image taken from the 18th century Icelandic
manuscript SÁM 66.

Among the Aesir, or war gods of the Norse lands, there was one who never truly belonged. For while all other gods were descended from Búri, Loki was half Jötunn (for the origin of these races, click here) with Fárbauti, a Giant, as his father and Laufey, a god, as his mother. For while in his most common physical form Loki resembled the Aesir and men, in his heart he bore the wanton cruelty of the most savage among the Jötunn. One of the most notorious tricksters of all time, “He surpassed other men in that wisdom which is called sleight”, able to shape shift at will and take the form of any being, mortal and immortal, monster and man. Though friend to the Aesir in the beginning, Loki and his progeny would one day spell doom for the nine worlds, its gods and men.

In secret, Loki begat with the Jötunn Angrboða three fearsome offspring. The first was the great wolf, Fenrir, famous for his strength. The second, Jörmungand, was a serpent fated one day to be the mortal nemesis of the god Thor. The third was a daughter, Hel. The gods, however, soon learned of a prophecy that warned of their doom at the hands of Loki’s brood, conceived in the land of Jötunheim. Odin ordered the gods to take the offspring and bring them before him. Turning first to Jörmungand, the King of the gods grasped the snake by his tail and hurled him into the ocean which surrounds Midgard (the realm of men). Odin then rounded on Hel. Casting her into Niflheim, Odin gave her power and rule over the dead of each of the Nine Worlds. Those who henceforth died of sickness or old age would ‘go to Hel’. Niflheim was ever after a grim place, where:

                   “ Her hall is called Sleet-Cold; her dish, Hunger; Famine is her knife;

                     Idler, her thrall; Sloven, her maidservant; Pit of Stumbling, her threshold;

                     Disease, her bed; Gleaming Bale, her bed-hangings... ”

                                                   - THE LAND OF HEL

Fenrir bound
Image taken from the 18th century Icelandic
manuscript SÁM 66.

Hel herself resembled a beautiful woman on one half of her body, and that of a rotting corpse on the other. Things were not going to Odin’s plan, for Loki’s children only grew in power. Jörmungand terrorized the high seas, and soon grew to such gargantuan size that his coils could encircle the entire world and take his own tail in his mouth. Hel’s minions grew vast in number, and at her command, the mighty dragon, Nidhogg, began to gnaw at the roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasill. Guarding her gates, the hound of hell known as Garm, unlike his Greek counterpart Cerberus, was possessed of demonic bloodlust, and his chest was at all times dripping with human blood. It is written that Ragnarök, the doom of the gods, will be heralded by Garm’s roar sounding throughout the Nine Worlds, as the hound is no longer to be sated by human blood, but thirsts for the very life-force of gods. But most pressing among the Aesir’s problems was Fenrir. The gods had raised the Wolf as their own in their home of Asgard, with only Tyr, the god of war and heroic glory, brave enough to feed scraps of meat to him. Soon, like his brother Jörmungand, Fenrir began to mature. The gods grew fearful of how much Fenrir grew every day, and mindful of the prophecy foretelling their own doom at his hands the gods conceived a plan. They could not simply kill the Wolf, as the shedding of blood of one they had raised would pollute the sanctity of Asgard forever. Instead they turned to trickery of their own.

The Aesir forged a very strong fetter, called Laedingr, and brought it before the Wolf. The gods asked Fenrir if he would test his strength against the chain. Fenrir considered this “no overwhelming odds” and let the gods do as they wished. To the horror of the Aesir, however, the fetter was broken at the Wolf’s first kick. The Aesir then forged a new fetter, Drómi, stronger again by half than the first chain. The gods flattered the Wolf, and told him that his fame would be great indeed if he could shatter these shackles. The Wolf considered this, and inheriting his father’s evil ways, dreamed of his own legend should he succeed. Reasoning that he must expose himself to risk if he was to become renowned, Fenrir allowed himself to be bound once more:

                 “ Now when the Aesir declared themselves ready, the Wolf shook himself,

                   dashed the fetter against the Earth and struggled fiercely with it,

                   spurned against it, and broke the fetter, so that the fragments flew far... ”

                                                 - FENRIR SHATTERS HIS BONDS

Fenrir bites off the hand of Tyr
Image taken from the 18th century Icelandic
manuscript SÁM 66.

Even Odin now grew fearful that they would never bind the monster, and in desperation sent Skírnir, a messenger of the Aesir, to the realm of the dwarves to ask for aid. The dwarves were skilled craftsmen, and made a fetter called Gleipnir out of six things: “the noise a cat makes in foot-fall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a rock, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird”. The Aesir brought Gleipnir before Fenrir, and flattered him once again, assuring him that he would snap it with little effort. To the eye, the dwarven fetter appeared to be no more than a silken ribbon however, and Fenrir was cunning. The Wolf, sensing deception, declared that he would receive no glory for breaking “so slender a band”, but if there be trickery within then he would not allow the fetter to come upon his feet. Desperate, the gods assured Fenrir that they would release him if it proved too strong. But the Wolf, as a son of Loki, would not succumb so easily to deceit. Fenrir agreed to the god’s challenge on one condition, that one among the Aesir rest their hand in his mouth “for a pledge that this is done in good faith”. Looking among each other, their courage buckled, only Tyr strode forth and volunteered to the Wolf’s request.  So, his bond fitted, Fenrir lashed out, struggled and churned and writhed against the ribbon. But the dwarves were skilled craftsmen, for whenever the Wolf shuddered, the band grew tighter and hardened. The gods rejoiced at last, all except Tyr, for when he saw their treachery laid before him, Fenrir slammed his jaws shut and violently wrenched the god's hand off. The Aesir dragged the Wolf across the world, and ran his fetter through a rock and bound it deep in the ground. Fenrir tried to bite the Aesir, so they thrust a sword into his mouth. The saliva which ran from his jaw formed a river in Asgard, as the Wolf seethed with rage. However, he still lived, and another prophecy stated that Fenrir will one day gain his revenge, and at Ragnarök, his chains will be broken...

The stories of Norse Mythology are entertaining in their own right, but one of the many enduring motifs within them, is the careful crescendo up to the end of the world. Masterfully, the Norse skalds (bards) slowly and steadily set the scene for Ragnarök, turning god against god as friendships are formed and broken. Those who were once greatest of allies at the creation become worst of foes at the end. It only makes the end more powerful when we know why the tensions have built. It is for this precise reason why studying the past is a path to boundless understanding.

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology (Penguin Classics)
(A fast paced version well suited to the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology (Penguin Classics)
(A fast paced version well suited to the casual reader)

The Shield of Achilles

So long as Greece’s finest champion, the favoured Achilles, nursed his wounded pride by the proud Achaean ships, the Trojan War slipped ever close to victory for the mighty city (For background to this, click here). With Zeus the Thunderer himself favouring Priam’s sons, Hector routs battalion after battalion of the Greek armies, throwing Achaea’s finest back against the ships themselves. Not even towering Ajax, cunning Odysseus, powerful Diomedes or Menelaus of the loud war cry could face the godlike Prince of Troy. Hector even manages to set the first Achaean ship ablaze, causing Patrocles, Achilles’ cousin and greatest friend from home, to beg Achilles to allow him to fight. Achilles relents, but commands strictly that he is to return when the Trojans have been pushed back from the ships. Patroclus takes the great warrior’s armour, and leads the Myrmidons against Prince Hector, setting into motion a chain of events which will spell doom for Priam’s citadel...

Patroclus cuts a bloody swathe through the Trojan ranks aboard his great chariot, and the tide of war begins once again to swing in Achaea’s favour. Fleeing in terror before what appeared to be Achilles himself, the Trojans are thrown back to the very walls of Troy itself. Forgetting Achilles’ dire warning not to go beyond the ships, Patroclus soon finds himself faced by Hector himself. This time however, the gods are decided. It is not Hector’s time. So, at the height of his prowess, and with Greeks clamouring for Trojan blood at the walls themselves:

Achilles mourns over the body of Patroclus
Painting by Nikolaj Nikolajewitsch Ge.

“ Death cut him short. The end closed in around him.

Flying free of his limbs,

His soul went winging down to the House of Death,

Wailing his fate, leaving his manhood far behind,

His young and supple strength. ”

       - THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

A ripple of foreboding tears through both armies. Both sides fight for the body of the young boy, and many times it changes hands. At last, Menelaus manages to bear the corpse away from the fighting, while Hector and Aeneas break the Achaean lines once more. With Greeks fleeing in terror, Menelaus desperately tells a messenger, Antilochus, to send word to Achilles of the fate of his cousin, hoping at last he will be persuaded to rejoin the fighting. With trepidation, Antilochus approaches Achilles’ tent and finds him sitting by the shore. “Patroclus has fallen! They’re fighting over his corpse! He’s stripped, naked – Hector with that flashing helmet, Hector has your arms!”. A black cloud of agony swirls over Achilles, as he lies, broken with grief and rage. He smears dirt and ashes over his fine clothes and writhes in the dust. The women wail with sorrow, as the great runner begins to weep. But then Thetis, the nymph whose son Achilles was, looked down in pity:

                        “ I am agony – mother of grief and greatness – O my child!

                          Yes, I gave birth to a flawless, mighty son...

                          The splendour of heroes, and he shot up like a young branch,

                          Like a fine tree I reared him – the orchard’s crowning glory –

                          But only to send him off in the beaked ships to Troy! ”

                                                 - THETIS BEMOANS THE FATE OF ACHILLES

Thetis pleads to him to leave the war behind, knowing in vain that it is the fate of her son to die at Troy. But her words fall on deaf ears, as Achilles cares not whether he too is to be hurled to the House of Death, so long as he first stains the lands with Hector’s blood. Resigned to the inevitable, Thetis resolves to go to Hephaestus, the god of fire and the Smith, to forge for her son a mighty new suit of armour, one worthy of a demigod, one greater by far than the gear which Hector now bears. Soaring to the Olympian heights, Thetis throws herself at the feet of the god, and pleads for help. Remembering her kindness to him in ages past, when all other gods spurned him for his lameness, Hephaestus vows to craft the mightiest apparel a god ever made for a mortal. What follows is, in my own opinion, one of the finest passages in literature, as Hephaestus forges the Shield of Achilles. Turning his bellows on the fire, crucibles burning to the god of fire’s wishes, Hephaestus takes his great hammer in one hand and with the other grips the metal with his tongs. Laying down five layers of metal, emblazoned with finely crafted emblems, Hephaestus employs all his craft and cunning as he turns to forging the vast expanse of the Shield:

Hephaestus
Painting by Rubens.

“ There he made the earth and there the sky and the sea

   And the ever burning sun and the moon rounding full

   And there the constellations, all that crown the heavens,

   The Pleiades and the Hyades, Orion in all his power too

   And the Great Bear that mankind calls the Wagon:

   She ever wheels on her axis, watching the Hunter,

   And she alone is denied a plunge in the Ocean’s baths. ”

                      - HEPHAESTUS LAYS OUT THE SHIELD

But the god does not stop there. On the shield he then forged two great cities filled with mortal men and women. There are weddings and feasts in one of these cities, and with torches brides are brought forth, marching through the streets, as the choirs sing. Young men are dancing in the street, some playing flutes and harps. The god’s hammer brings forth the people massing in the streets to see the procession. In one place, a quarrel has broken out, and two men are fighting. The crowd around them is cheering them on.



Hephaestus presents his mighty gifts to Thetis
Painting by Sir James Thornhill.



But the god does not stop there. Surrounding the other city, a divided army has set up camp, one side arguing whether to plunder the city or share the riches with the people. Within the citadel untold riches bound, and the people within do not surrender. Hephaestus’ toil carves the image of a raid, as the people hope to break the siege, with wives and children cheering them on from the towering ramparts. Ares and Athena lead them on in war, magnificent in their armour. Spying the enemy's flocks of livestock, the besieged try to take them, but the besiegers spot their ploy and ride to the rescue, and both sides hurl their spears, as Strife, Havoc and Death plunge into the field of war.

Thetis bears the magnificent gifts to Achilles
Painting by Benjamin West.

But the god does not stop there. He forges the image of a fallow field, and broad rich plowlands, as teams drive their cattle through. When they reach the boundary of the field, they pour a libation to the gods on high. It was an image forged in solid gold, “such was the wonder of Hephaestus’ work”. A king’s estate next emerges from the metal, where labourers harvest, reaping the grain as young boys pile up the scythed sheaves. The king in the centre, marvelling at the work. Next a thriving vineyard with endless grapes and climbing vines, all awaiting the hands of the workers, who place them in wicker baskets. The workers toil on, as a young boy plucks a lyre, serenading them with song. Next a herd of longhorn cattle, rumbling out of a farmyard along some rippling stream. Nine dogs accompany them, while a pair of lions seize a bull from the front ranks and drag him off in agony. The herdsman yells to his dogs, but to no avail. The crippled god of the Smith then forged a great meadow in a shaded glen, where dwell flocks of sheep and shepherd’s huts. Round the edge of the indestructible Shield, the god forged the Ocean River in its boundless power. His godly work near complete, he creates a breastplate brighter than fire, and a helmet perfectly aligned to Achilles’ temples.

Hephaestus lays the magnificent gear at the feet of Thetis, who loses no time in flashing back down to her son, bearing the most splendid gifts of the god of fire, the final act of the Siege of Troy about to begin...

As the first and arguably greatest work of poetry in the West, The Iliad deserves a place in the bookshelves of us all. The Shield of Achilles, whose description takes up Book Eighteen of The Iliad, is in my opinion one of the finest pieces of literature ever written, and is more than worth reading. The whole work is available very easily and at a low price from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

Into the Inferno

Dante lost in the wood
Engraving by Gustave Doré. 

“ Midway along the journey of our life

   I woke to find myself in a dark wood,

   wandered from the straight path. ” 

       - DANTE AWAKES IN THE FOREST








So begins the Divine Comedy, as Dante finds himself alone and vulnerable in the wilderness of the dark forest. The fear wells up within him as the eerie silence and blackness of the wood begins to take its grip. An uneasy feeling possesses Dante, a thought that he has stumbled upon ‘the pass that never let a living soul escape’. Unsure of himself, and if he is awake or even alive, Dante begins to climb the slope ahead. No sooner had he begun than he is faced by the form of a leopard, which marks his every move. Just as our pilgrim recovers his nerve, a lion appears and starts toward him. Following in its wake was a she-wolf, who ‘forced me back to where the sun is mute’.

Bracing for his end, Dante spies the figure of a man approaching and cries, ‘Have pity on my soul... whichever you are, shade or living man!’ The stranger reveals to Dante that he once was a poet of old who ‘sang of that just man, son of Anchises, who sailed off from Troy after the burning of proud Ilium’ (He refers to his epic poem – The Aeneid). Dante rejoices as he recognises Virgil, and begs the poet to protect him from the savage beasts. ‘But you must journey down another road’, the great man answered, when he saw Dante lost in tears, ‘if ever you hope to leave this wilderness’. Guided by the comforting words and company of the legendary poet, Dante discovers that he is to be lead through Hell:



                               “ Where you will hear desperate cries, and see

                                    Tormented shades, some old as Hell itself,

                                    And know what second death means, from their screams. ”

                                                               - VIRGIL WARNS US OF WHAT IS TO COME


Our pilgrim is filled with dread at the thought of descending to the Pit, and confesses to his guide that he feels unworthy to follow in the steps of other great men, like Aeneas or St Paul, who once trod the path to Hell. Virgil explains how it was he came to Dante, guided by the will of the Virgin Mary, who took pity on our wandering pilgrim, lost in the forest. The departed soul of Dante’s beloved Beatrice in Heaven came down to Hell and tasked Virgil as to be his infernal guide. Comforted by his story, and word of Beatrice, Dante renews his journey to the accursed place armed with fresh courage. Descending down a barren slope, the two poets reach a vast Gate, the way to the vestibule of Hell itself. Dante spies, in horror, the legend inscribed above the Gate, the last line of which has entered immortality:

 

                                “ I AM THE WAY INTO THE DOLEFUL CITY,

                                    I AM THE WAY INTO ETERNAL GRIEF,

                                    I AM THE WAY TO A FORSAKEN RACE.



                                  JUSTICE IT WAS THAT MOVED MY GREAT CREATOR;

                                   DIVINE OMNIPOTENCE CREATED ME,

                                   AND HIGHEST WISDOM JOINED WITH PRIMAL COMPASSION.



                                  BEFORE ME NOTHING BUT ETERNAL THINGS

                                   WERE MADE, AND I SHALL LAST ETERNALLY.

                                   ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE. ”

                                                             - THE GATE OF HELL

The descent into Hell
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Virgil turns to his faithful follower, and warns him that all his cowardice and distrust must die on this spot, if he is to brave the journey and the sight of the tormented souls. Placing his hand upon Dante’s shoulders, and encouraging him with a smile, the two cross the Gate of Hell. Immediately an unearthly din breaks the deathly silence:



                             “ Here sighs and cries and shrieks of lamentation

                                  Echoed throughout the starless air of Hell;

                                  At first these sounds resounding made me weep:

                                Tongues confused, a language strained in anguish

                                  With cadences of anger, shrill outcries

                                  And raucous groans that joined with sounds of hands, ”

                                                      - DANTE HEARS THE CRIES OF THE DAMNED



Our pilgrim turns to his guide and asks of the souls so overwhelmed with grief. The great poet reveals that these are the souls of those who lived a life of neither blame nor praise. Men and women who stood undecided, neither faithful nor faithless. So too lie the ‘repulsive choir of angels’ who took no side in the War in Heaven between Satan and God. ‘Heaven, to keep its beauty, cast them out, but even Hell itself would not receive them, for fear the damned might glory over them’. As for the men and women - unknown in life, both Heaven and Hell turn from them, as they bathe in melancholy at their separation from God. 'Why do they lament so bitterly?' asks Dante. Gazing upon the ghastly sight before him, Dante finds his courage, and stomach, tested once again. He spies a banner rushing through the dank air, as though fated to never stop, and behind it follow vainly the souls of the indecisive. Punished to chase a thing and never catch it, this was not the only torment the souls endured:



                             “ These wretches, who had never truly lived,

                                  Went naked, and were stung and stung again

                                  By the hornets and the wasps that circled them



                               And made their faces run with blood in streaks;

                                 Their blood, mixed with their tears, dripped to their feet,

                                 And disgusting maggots collected in the pus. ”

                                                  - THE PUNISHMENT OF THE INDECISIVE



Filled with nausea, our pilgrim gazed beyond and saw a throng of souls gathered upon the shore of a large river. Asking his guide for what they waited, Virgil leads the way to the River Acheron, which forms the boundary of Hell. Suddenly, across the dark waters appeared a boat, steered by an ancient man, ‘with eyes of glowing coals’- Charon, the boatman, who bears the souls of the damned into Hell. Aware that Dante was of the land of the still living, Charon commands our pilgrim to get away from, ‘all these people who are dead’. Placating the boatman, Virgil reveals his purpose there, and his words bring silence to the fearsome Charon:



Charon goads the damned onto the ferry
Engraving by Gustave Doré.



“ But all those souls there, naked, in despair

Changed colour and their teeth began to chatter

At the sound of his announcement of their doom ”

        - THE DAMNED BEMOAN THEIR FATE

Weeping bitterly, the souls of the damned board the craft, as Charon strikes with his oar all those who lag behind. A sudden wind blasted forth from the ‘tear drenched land’, filling Dante with panic, and bringing our two poets on their way into the First Circle of Hell...

The Divine Comedy is the cornerstone of Italian literature, and indeed even the Italian language. Being the first work of epic poetry written in Italian, it formed the model for all that has come since. Most of the stereotypes of what Hell, Heaven and Purgatory are like come directly from this. The punishment of the damned is a classic example of Contrapasso, the idea that the punishment fits the crime. It is a powerful piece epitomising the fear of what lurks after death takes us, and a grisly warning against trespassing the laws of good. In future posts, we will descend with Dante into Hell, and see the hideous fates of the evil men and women of history. Inspiring countless motifs in modern culture, the Divine Comedy is easily available at a low price from Amazon:

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)

Bellerophon and the Chimaera

It is a simple truth among the stories told by human beings that the most remembered are those which tell of the triumph of man over nature, good over evil and the seemingly ordinary man over a seemingly invulnerable foe. Yet the greatest stories always hold a great moral truth within their words, and hold a dire warning against the transgression of the natural order of things. No man or woman could become too powerful or too beautiful without disaster befalling them. The gods had a way of punishing such pride. One of the earliest myths of Greece evokes all of these things – the story of Bellerophon and the Chimaera.

Bellerophon and Pegasus
Painting by Alexander Andreyevich Ivanov.

Born the son of Glaucus, King of Corinth, Bellerophon was blessed with near physical perfection and the “fine gallant traits that go with men”. Yet he was of a cursed line. For his grandfather was Sisyphus, a proud man whose everlasting punishment in Tartarus is legendary (see the full story in a later post, here). One tragic day, Bellerophon ‘s actions resulted in the accidental death of his own brother Deliades, and he was forced into exile. A broken man, Bellerophon arrived in the court of King Proetus of Argos (who incidentally was the brother of Acrisius, the man who would shape the destiny of Perseus – for his story, click here). Taking pity on the fair youth before him, Proetus used his virtue of kingship to expiate Bellerophon of his crime. Unfortunately for the hero, Proetus’ wife Queen Antea soon took more than an honourable liking to Bellerophon. She tried many a trick to seduce him, yet the hero’s will stood firm. Angered, Antea plotted against him. With malice in her eye, she came before Proetus and deceived him thus, “I wish you’d die, Proetus, if you don’t kill Bellerophon! He’s bent on dragging me down with him in lust though I fight him all the way”.

Tricked by Antea’s falsehoods, Proetus seethed with rage. He stopped short of striking Bellerophon down there and then, but conceived a stratagem to see to his end. He sent Bellerophon to deliver a sealed letter to King Iobates of Lycia (the area of southern Asia Minor). Little did the hero know that Iobates was in fact Antea’s father, and that the letter contained word that Bellerophon had attempted to ravish his daughter. So off he went to Lycia, where he was entertained by Iobates in his court for nine days and nights. The King was impressed with the man’s bearing and showered many gifts upon him. On the tenth day, Iobates inquired into the reason for Bellerophon’s coming, and the hero handed the King the letter. Iobates was stunned, and could not believe what he was reading. Torn between his duty to his guest and his daughter, he resolved to set Bellerophon a task which he would almost certainly not survive. He therefore ordered him to slay the Chimaera.

The Chimaera
Etruscan bronze dated to the 5th century BC, found in Arezzo.

“ Grim monster sprung of the gods, nothing human,

All lion in front, all snake behind, all goat between,

Terrible, blasting lethal fire at every breath! ”

                   - THE CHIMAERA

One of the most terrible of all the offspring of the fearsome Typhon and Echidna (For more about Typhon, see the very first post on this site here), the Chimaera was a formidable monster. It had inherited its father’s volcanic flames, and breathed fire hot enough to undo metal, earth and rock. To see the Chimaera was an omen of impending doom and natural disaster, and the monster was a plague upon the earth, devastating the land of Lycia and preying upon its people and cattle. Seeing that he would almost certainly be killed if he faced the creature alone, the goddess Athena resolved to come to Bellerophon’s aid. Athena put strength in his heart, and offered to him the bridle to tame the winged horse Pegasus (which had sprung from the blood of Medusa, whose story is here). Mounting his admirable steed, Bellerophon flew to meet his foe. Even upon noble Pegasus, brave Bellerophon struggled to get anywhere near the Chimaera. For whenever he sought to lunge upon the beast and run it through with his lance, the monster would spit forth an inferno. But suddenly, Bellerophon was possessed of an idea. He mounted upon his lance a block of lead and flew as hard and as far as he could at the Chimaera. Just before he would be immolated, he managed to drive the block of lead in the creature’s gullet. The Chimaera snarled and belched forth its fiery breath. But the intense heat was turned upon its creator, melting the block and choking the monster.

Bellerophon slays the Chimaera
Painting by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo.

When Bellerophon returned to the court of Iobates, the King could scarcely believe his eyes as he welcomed the hero back. Many times would Bellerophon ride against the enemies of Lycia, winning countless victories off the back of his airborne mount, his fame spreading with his triumphs. In one last effort to honour the letter which brought Bellerophon to his shores, Iobates handpicked the finest men in Lycia and ordered them to ambush the young hero as he returned one day. Fearless Bellerophon, however, killed them all.  A god’s hand was at work, the King thought to himself, and at last he embraced the man as an honoured friend. The Lycians gave to him a grand estate, and the King his daughter’s hand.

Soon, the darker side of the successful human psyche reared its head. As his name grew legendary, his grandfather’s traits began to show in young Bellerophon. His pride grew and arrogance in its wake. Soon, he believed himself worthy to set foot upon Olympus itself, and he goaded Pegasus to bear him to the immortal peak. Enraged, Zeus sent a gadfly to sting Bellerophon’s mount. Pegasus writhed in agony, and hurled the hero from its back. Landing in a thorn bush, blinded and made lame, Bellerophon lived out the rest of his days homeless and shunned by man, a living warning of what befell those who abused the gifts of the gods.

A classic tale of heroes, gods and monsters, the story of Bellerophon and the Chimaera is a potent tale even thousands of years after its time, the subject of many Renaissance paintings and childhood stories. The word 'Chimaera' itself has entered the English language, meaning 'hybrid' or 'fantasy', and it has even entered the language of science, being the technical term for an organism which contains the genetic material from more than one source. The story exists in many places in ancient lore, the two most substantial places being lsited below, easily available to any reader from Amazon:

United Kingdom

The Iliad:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A masterpiece of literature, and the cornerstone of all Western storytelling)

The Library of Greek Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(Less poetic, but contains a collection of many of the myths of Greece)

United States

The Iliad:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A masterpiece of literature, and the cornerstone of all Western storytelling)

The Library of Greek Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(Less poetic, but contains a collection of many of the myths of Greece)

The Body of Ymir

The worship of elemental gods and songs of heroes did not die out with the rise of Christendom. In the Norse lands, the pagan gods endured. Even as late as the thirteenth century AD, the adventures of Thor and the stories of giants, terrible monsters, gods, Dwarfs and Elves flourished. Indeed many words in the English language are more Norse than Roman. The day of the week, Thursday, takes its name from the thunder god Thor and means Thor’s Day. The time of year, Easter, takes its name from the Northern goddess Ēostre, and it is indeed from the worship of this goddess that the tradition of the Easter egg has been drawn. Thriving long after the mythologies of Greece, Rome and Egypt, Norse mythology is as diverse and enthralling as it is influential. So let us begin at the beginning itself, and discover how the world came into being.

At the birth of time, there was a great void of nothingness, and it was called Ginnungagap. To the north of Ginnungagap were the dark and frozen wastes of that place called Niflheim, in which all evil things would dwell. In the south lay Múspell, a fiery domain which burned with heat so intense that only the Fire Giants could live there. One day the fires of Múspell met the ice of Niflheim:

         “ And when the breath of heat met the rime, so that it melted and dripped,

           life was quickened from the yeast-drops, by the power of that which sent the heat,

           and became a man’s form. And that man is named Ymir. ”

                                                                             - THE BIRTH OF YMIR

Audumla suckles Ymir
Painting by Nicolai Abraham Abildgaard.

So was born the Frost Giant Ymir, first of the jötunn, or race of giants with whom the gods are at everlasting war. Ymir slept, and a sweat came upon him. From the sweat in his left armpit was born a male and female giant, from the union of his two feet another giant was born and it was from these three that all the jötunn were descended. But also from the shards of Niflheim and sparks of Múspell was born the cow Audumla. Four streams ran from her udders, and it was from this milk that Ymir found sustenance.

Odin, King of the Gods
Engraver unknown.

The primordial cow then begun to lick the salty ice blocks which had formed.  At the end of the first day, a man’s hair emerged from the ice. At the end of the second day, a whole head had emerged. Then after the third day a whole man was there. His name was Búri, the first god born into existence, and it was from him that all the Aesir (war gods) and the Vanir (fertility gods) were descended. Búri produced a son, Borr, who in turn begot three sons; Vili, Vé and Odin. Mightiest of the three brothers, it was Odin who would be the most powerful and rule one day as King of the Gods. But the jötunn were a cruel race, and Ymir was evil. Odin lead his brothers and warred upon the giants, killing Ymir and bathing the cosmos in his blood. Indeed so intense was the flow of blood from the dead giant, all the jötunn were drowned in it, except for Bergelmir, the grandson of Ymir. So ever after the jötunn and the gods were at war, and will be until the judgement. Now here we have a major difference between Norse mythology and that of the Classical civilisations. In the stories of Greece, everything happened in the past. In Norse legend however, the mythology is past, present and future. The stories lay out clearly how the world was created and how it will end, in a cataclysmic war known as Ragnarök (The Twilight of the Gods). Many feuds and enemies are made among the gods, giants and monsters, which will all be unleashed at Ragnarök. But that is for a future post, so I return to the creation.

From the body of Ymir, Odin and his brothers created the cosmos. From his blood was made the lakes and oceans which surround the world, from his flesh the Earth, from his bones the mountains and crags, from his brains the clouds and from his teeth the rocks. From the maggots which crawled in his rotten form were born the dwarfs. Odin and his brothers then took the skull of Ymir and of it crafted the Heavens, and in each corner they set a dwarf. The names of these dwarfs were North, South, East and West. The brothers then took the sparks and embers which burst forth from Múspell, and from these created the Sun, the Moon and the stars which illuminated the Heavens and the Earth. The Earth was divided into nine Worlds, each home to a different race, yet all bound in the mighty World Tree, Yggdrasill. But populated by only the gods, the jötunn, and the dwarfs, the world had not yet given birth to men.

“ When the sons of Borr were walking along the sea-strand,

   they found two trees and shaped men of them:

   the first gave them spirit and life;

   the second, wit and feeling;

   the third, form, speech, hearing and sight.

  They gave them clothing and names: the male was called Askr,

  and the female Embla, and of them mankind was begotten. ”

                                          - ODIN AND HIS BROTHERS GIVE SHAPE TO MAN

Sköll and Hati chase the Sun and Moon
Drawing by John Charles Dollman.

There was born one man called Mundilfari, who was so proud of his son and daughter that he named them Sun and Moon. The gods were angered by this insolence, and condemned Sun to drive a chariot across the Heavens which pulled the true Sun, and Moon to drive the chariot which pulled the true Moon at the end of the day. Sun is chased across the sky by Sköll, a fell wolf, and Moon by Hati, the brother of Sköll. It is written that at Ragnarök, they will finally catch their prey, and the Sun and Moon will be devoured. Now that the passage of time had been decreed, the gods created Midgard, one of the nine worlds, which was the realm of men. It was protected from Jötunheim (or ‘home of the jötunn’) by the eyebrows of Ymir, which the gods set around it. For themselves, the gods built a mighty citadel, Asgard, which is connected to Midgard by the rainbow bridge known as Bifrost. The world had now been created, and gods and men began to be born.

The stories which lay out the course of Norse mythology are all contained rather nicely in a twelfth century work, known as the Prose Edda, written by Snorri Sturluson. The whole work is very readable, and also not excessive in length. The work is therefore easily contained in one book, which is available from Amazon (There is no Oxford World's Classics version):

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology (Penguin Classics)
(A fast paced version well suited to the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology (Penguin Classics)
(A fast paced version well suited to the casual reader)

Horatius at the Bridge

The rolling hills of Etruria
Photograph by the author

The birth of the Republic was a defining moment in the history of Rome, and marked a key turning point in the lives of its people. Since the founding of the City in 753 BC, Rome had seen the rule of Seven Great Kings, and had risen from a group of mud huts on the Palatine Hill to the first city in Latium. But two hundred and forty four years after the founding of the city, mobilised by the propaganda of Lucius Junius Brutus, the people of Rome had cast out their seventh King – Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, known infamously to history as Tarquin the Proud. Denounced as an arrogant tyrant, Tarquin had returned from a campaign one day to find the Gates of Rome sealed before him and the people jeering from the walls. Enraged, the King turned to his kin, the Etruscan peoples, to aid him in taking back his rightful throne. What later followed would be a conflict which would give rise to many heroes of the Republic, first among whom was the man who stood alone against the might of Etruria in defence of his city – Publius Horatius ‘Cocles’ (a name he bore in commemoration of an eye he lost in war).

Immortalised only seconds after his valiant defense, the fortitude of Horatius captured the visions of many great writers and poets of Rome and Greece. There was a time when every English schoolboy learned to memorise the words of one of my all time favourite works -Lord Macaulay’s famous poem Horatius. One man, one Roman against impossible odds, it was a golden age of older days, when heroes abounded and petty squabbles were not yet born, and legends were forged.

The King and his family were forced to flee Rome before the mob, and called on the might of the Etruscan League for aid. Many great cities answered Tarquin’s summons, including the powerful cities of Veii and Tarquinii, but greatest of all was the city of Clusium, and its widely renowned King Lars Porsenna. Seeing the danger, should Rome’s new idea of a Republic spread to other cities, Lars Porsenna raised his countrymen to war:

                                          “ Lars Porsenna of Clusium

                                                    By the Nine Gods he swore

                                            That the great House of Tarquin

                                                    Should suffer wrong no more.

                                            By the Nine Gods he swore it,

                                                    And named a trysting day,

                                            And bade his messengers ride forth,

                                                    East and West and South and North,

                                            To summon his array. ”

                                                              - LARS PORSENNA ROUSES ETRURIA TO WAR

Thus Etruria’s might marched on the young city of Rome. Within the city, panic abounded as the Republic sent forth its men to meet Porsenna, but was overrun on the Janiculum Hill. “The enemy forces came pouring down the Hill, while the Roman troops, throwing away their weapons, were behaving more like an undisciplined rabble than a fighting force”. The broken men fled across the great bridge, the Pons Sublicius, but among them one man stood firm:

Horatius
Engraving by Hendrik Goltzius

              

               “ Then out spake brave Horatius,

                           The Captain of the Gate:

                 'To every man upon this earth

                            Death cometh soon or late.

                  And how can men die better

                            Than facing fearful odds,

                  For the ashes of his fathers,

                            And the temples of his gods, ”

                          - HORATIUS STANDS FIRM

                        

  

 

Horatius stands alone
Painting in the Capitoline Museums

Among his fleeing countrymen, two men – Spurius Lartius and Titus Herminius – turned at his words, ashamed to abandon his side. The three pledged their lives to hold the Bridge, until it be destroyed behind them. Lest the Etruscans take the Bridge and the City itself, wealth and class no longer divided Rome, as senator and plebeian alike began to tear apart the timbers of the Bridge. Amused at the three men stood before them, many times the Etruscans charged, and many times the three threw them back. Soon the Bridge began to creak and groan, and Horatius bade loyal Lartius and Herminius to flee to the city, as he alone stood as the last planks fell. Cries flew from the city calling Horatius to return before the hour grew late, but the mighty warrior stood firm and dared Etruria's finest to take arms against him:

  “ For the pursuers, looking upon him as a madman who was courting death,

    Dared no longer come to grips with him... But standing massed at a distance,

    They hurled spears, javelins, and large stones at him,

    And those who were not supplied with these threw the swords and bucklers of the slain. ”

                                                     - THE ETRUSCANS TRY TO OVERCOME HORATIUS

Horatius mocked his foes as tyrant’s slaves and careless of their own liberty, and challenged all among them to single combat. The Etruscans were struck dumb at the sight before them, for:

                                             “ Alone stood brave Horatius,

                                                         But constant still in mind;

                                               Thrice thirty thousand foes before,

                                                        And the broad flood behind.

                                              ‘Down with him!’ cried false Sextus,

                                                       With a smile on his pale face.

                                              ‘Now yield thee’, cried Lars Porsenna,

                                                      ‘Now yield thee to our grace’. ”

                                                                 - HORATIUS STANDS DEFIANT

The great man’s wounds grew grave, as lance and arrow pierced his flesh. The air was rent with a mighty crack as Pons Sublicius crashed into the Tiber. His ploy successful, Horatius raised his eyes to the Heavens with prayer:

The goddess Roma spurs on Horatius
Painting by Charles Le Brun

                        

                                         “ ‘Oh Tiber! Father Tiber!

                                                      To whom the Romans pray,

                                             A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms

                                                      Take thou in charge this day!’

                                             So he spake, and speaking sheathed

                                                      The good sword by his side,

                                              And with his harness on his back,

                                                       Plunged headlong in the tide. ”

                                                              - HORATIUS PRAYS TO FATHER TIBER

A shout of triumph from the city, as their saviour crossed the Tiber, a moan of despair from their foe. But the currents of the Tiber were strong, and the wounded hero fought hard to reach the Latin banks:

                                          “ ‘Curse on him!’ qouth false Sextus;

                                                     ‘Will not the villain drown?

                                              But for this stay, ere close of day

                                                      We should have sacked the town!’

                                             ‘Heaven help!’ quoth Lars Porsenna

                                                     ‘And bring him safe to shore;

                                              For such a gallant feat of arms

                                                      Was never seen before. ”

                                                               - LARS PORSENNA ADMIRES HORATIUS

People rushed from their homes to see brave Horatius, sure they were of the mortality of his wounds. But Horatius lived and was hailed a hero of the Republic. A bronze statue was raised to him in the most prominent part of the Forum, and to him was gifted as much land as he could drive a plough around in one day. Rome was saved, but the siege continued, and pestilence struck the Seven Hills. The blockade began to hit home, and starvation became the norm, yet for all their toil, each man ensured that one among them would not die for want of food.

The story of Horatius was legendary in Ancient times, it is no less so in modern times. Lord Macaulay's poem was responsible for the rise in the popularity of the legend once more, and is a personal favourite of my own. The story can be found in many sources, all of which can be acquired very easily from Amazon:

United Kingdom

A Roman Account:
The Early History of Rome: Bks. 1-5 (Penguin Classics)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the defence of Horatius)

A Greek Account:
Roman Antiquities: v.3: Vol 3 (Loeb Classical Library)
(An account of the legendary rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek perspective)

Lord Macaulay's Poem:
Lays of Ancient Rome (Dodo Press)
(An iconic and expertly crafted poetic retelling) 

United States

A Roman Account:
Livy: The Early History of Rome, Books I-V (Penguin Classics) (Bks. 1-5)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the defence of Horatius)

A Greek Account:
Dionysius of Halicarnassus: Roman Antiquities, Volume III, Books V-VI, 48 (Loeb Classical Library No. 357)
(An account of the legendary rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek perspective)

Lord Macaulay's Poem:
The Lays of Ancient Rome
(An iconic and expertly crafted poetic retelling)