The White Raven

Coronis
Painting by Adam Elsheimer

Though a beautiful land of vast plains and towering mountains, Thessaly, in northern Greece, held a dread curse over her ruling house. The house of Phlegyas was damned by Olympus, as the King of the Thessalian Lapith tribe had blasphemed terribly against the most high. Both children of Phlegyas would feel the wrath of gods. The King's son, Ixion, dared vengeance upon Zeus himself, and was now condemned to be bound to a wheel of fire that roared through the vaults of Heaven until the end of times. The fate of the King's daughter, Coronis, hung in the balance...

The maiden of Larissa, the hand of Coronis was sought after far and wide, by mortal, and immortal. But far from winning the hand of any earthly prince, she won something more - the heart of the Sun god himself, Apollo the son of Zeus. While travelling with her father to the land of the Epidaurians deep in the Argolid, when alone one night, the son of Zeus came down to her from on high. Finding the Thessalian princess alone from her kin, out of sight and out of earshot, the god made his strike. Coronis, overwhelmed by the glory of an immortal god, succumbed to the allure of the son of Zeus.

Some months passed, and soon time bore witness to the swell in the belly of the Larissan maid. Apollo, son of Zeus and lord of light, rejoiced at the coming of his child. Commanding his faithful servant, a raven of purest white, he bade the bird keep watch on Coronis, and bring tidings of her to Olympus. Down to the earthly plain it flew, a glimmer of white, for in those days of old the raven was as white as the first winter snow, and 'soft as the swan'.


              " But his own bird the raven chanc'd to find
                The false one with a secret rival joyn'd
                Coronis begg'd him to suppress the tale,
                But could not with repeated pray'rs prevail "
                     - THE RAVEN UNCOVERS THE INFIDELITY OF CORONIS


Grim were the tidings indeed, for it seemed the absence of Apollo had hit Coronis hard. The Thessalian princess had since fallen for Ischys, a Thessalian boy, and it was her meeting with the lad that the snowy raven caught sight of now. Cold dread flooded him icier than the snows like which he seemed. The raven agonised over what to do, should he defend his master's honour, and furiously peck the stranger away? Should he chastise Coronis for dishonouring the father of her unborn child? Should he do nothing? At length, the mischievous nature of the raven took flight, and the snowbird soared to the skies, hurtling to the Kingdom of the Sun.


            " The raven to her injur'd patron flew,
               And found him out, and told the fatal truth
              Of false Coronis and the favour'd youth "
                   - THE RAVEN REVEALS CORONIS

Terrible was the fury of the god, cuckolded by a mere mortal, and worse, when the lady was with his child. All colour drained the Sun god's ever youthful complexion bar the red of rage. Madness of jealous anger flooded him, banishing afar reason and good sense. His radiant hand as a flash of his father's lightning darted toward his bow, the dread of giants and all creatures of darkness. With a scream, he wrenched the string back, feathered arrow nocked, and released. Sure and true, the golden dart raced through the Heavens and Earth, and transfixed itself in the breast of Coronis. Where once the sun god had touched in life, he now struck in death. To her knees fell the maiden of Thessaly, gentle groans, and no words, as her life-force trickled out from the burning wound. Apollo's fire grew not cooler, but hotter still, as he found no release from grief at his fell deed. As her soul leaked from her wound, Coronis cried with her last breath:


          " Ah cruel god! Tho' I have justly dy'd,
            What has, alas! my unborn infant done,
            That he should fall, and two expire in one? "
                    - CORONIS' PLEA

The Argolid
Photograph taken by the author

With that, her noblest words, she departed life, as the fires of the sun god's dart consumed her mortal form. Her words pierced both fire and sky, and reached Apollo's ears. A thundering remorse pulsed through him, as he was seized with grief and regret. So great was the heat that emanated from within him the snowy raven was scorched, his magnificent plumage, once pure as hope, now blackened with grief. Charred deeply, from that day the raven and all his descendants would bear the mark of that day, and that is why the raven has black feathers. Soaring down to her body, the sun god heard the cries of a baby, and resolved to protect the child. The son of an immortal god, the child could not die, alas her mother bore not the same shield against Death. From amongst the embers, the screaming child was ripped, a ray of the sun god's hope. To him was given the name of Asclepius, who would one day be the god of healing and rejuvenation. Apollo set him in the land which conceived him, the land of the Epidaurians in the Argolid, there to be raised by the finest tutor of the age, the centaur, Chiron, who had taught Achilles himself. For the god of healing, it was the beginning....

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

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Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

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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 favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

The Lycian Peasants

Leto in the Wilderness
Artist Unknown

Mother to two of the greatest of the deities of Olympus, the Titaness Leto was a force to be reckoned with. Niobe had felt her dread wrath, and that of her brood. The daughter of the Titans Coeus and Phoebe, much of her origins were shrouded in the mysteries of Asia. Though when at last a maiden of Heaven she became, and the eyes of Zeus the Thunderer met her gaze, revealed at last was she. Hera, Queen of the gods, ever paranoid of the wandering affections of her consort, hounded Leto across the face of the Earth. Heavy with the seed of Zeus, Leto grew weary of the chase. Enraged, Hera ordered the Fates to forbid Leto to give birth on terra firma under the Sun. When at last the pains of labour struck, with nowhere else to turn, turned away by the vile words of Hera, the Titaness came to the island of Delos. Finding a measure of peace at last under the weeping boughs of a forgotten glade, the goddess fought that ungodly pain. First came forth Artemis, the lady of the moon and hunt. Nine days and nights the Titaness laboured still, until with the help of her daughter, a twin was brought into the world -  Apollo, god of light, healing and truth. Sympathetic nymphs, naiads and dryads had shielded Leto from the servants of Hera, but when the screams of the newborn deities pierced the skies, the lady of Olympus was made aware of them, and seethed with rage once more. Vowing never to give Leto rest, She sent forth all manner of dark creatures to hound her and her brood. Far and wide she fled, desperate for respite.

Leto Fountain, Palace of Versailles
Photograph taken by Daniel Gaudry

"At last, outwearied with the toil, and parched with thirst", the exhausted matriarch came to the arid and harsh land of Lycia, where once the fearsome Chimaera had once tread. A blasted land, with little verdance in its hills, the eyes of Leto spied a rare pool of crystal water. Parched with thirst, it played on her mind as the mirage does on the desert traveller. Shimmering in the light, the parched Titaness could resist no longer, and sped with all haste to its banks. Some of the rustic folk of Lycia were there at the lake's shores, reaping the bending osiers, the dank bulrushes and fragrant weeds. The Lycian folk, a people not known for their warmth of hospitality with strangers, eyed the stranger with deepest suspicion. A threatening buzz arose from within their wretched ranks, as Leto came in her approach. Wearied and near broken with toil, she eyed the peasants with more than a dash of humility. They angrily called out to her to stay away, and come not near the crystal waters, so wickedly opposing her primal need. Leto called out to them:


                   " Water I only ask, and sure 'tis hard
                      From Nature's common rights to be debarr'd,
                      This, as the genial sun, and vital air,
                      Should flow alike to ev'ry creature's share.
                      Yet still I ask, and as a favour crave,
                      That which, a public bounty, Nature gave... "
                             - LETO'S PLEA


Leto desperately invoked the pity of her newborn twins, yet still the fiendish folk would not desist, nor with vulgar words restrain. Young Apollo stretched out his arm in supplication, a mere baby, yet no more than his mother's word to the hearts of the Lycian peasants could it reach.

Feeling the pains of dehydration now, Leto moved to cup the crystalled water in her hands, but the dastardly folk spoiled her relief. Foul, abusive words they hurled, and worse still "with spiteful feet the villains trod, over the soft bottom of the marshy flood, and blacken'd all the lake with clouds of rising mud". A once crystal lake was now a murky depth, its purity defiled by the evil whims of a hostile crowd.

The Transfiguration of the Peasants
Painting by Johann Georg Platzer

Now the desperation of a Titaness turned to rage, as "her thirst by indignation was suppress'd". Vengeance coursed through her godly veins, all worries of hydration cast aside as the serpent sheds his skin. The frustrations of long chase, the pains of twin labour and the pangs of thirst mingled as Leto cast her gaze to the Heavens. "May you live, she passionately cry'd, doom'd in that pool for ever to abide". No sooner had her words of wrath left her parched lips, than the wretched folk dived into the pool, void of all shame. To the murky depths they plunged, and as swiftly as they fell, their last vestiges of humanity were gone. When next they pierced the crystal surface, no shouts of insults would come forth, but instead a hoarse croak. Wrenched wide by their bawling, their mouths grew cavernous; a mottled green, their backs. Seldom to see the light, their bellies grew a pale white, their eyes wide and alert. Men and women no more were they, but frogs, condemned forever to dwell within the mud...

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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 favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

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

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Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

The Children of Niobe

The Children of Niobe
Painting by Jacques Louis-David

Cursed indeed was the House of Tantalus. A divine and royal line descended from Zeus the Thunderer, polluted by murder and betrayal. For Tantalus, the King of Phrygia, had dared to deceive the gods, had slain his own son and now lay condemned for eternity in the dark unyielding night of unholy Tartarus. Yet far above the blackened plain the accursed king left a daughter, Niobe, a sister to Pelops. Alas that the sole heiress to the line inherited her father's pride! For oft did Niobe dare to think, that she and she alone stood high as the gods, oblivious to Arachne's fate.


There came a day in that Phrygian city, as all years, when the folk gathered from across the land to honour Leto, the Titaness upon whom the eyes of Zeus had once lingered. Hither and thither the Phyrgians strayed, all the land caught up in the hustle and bustle of festival & ceremony, song and dance.  But one among their kind was far from awash with joy, as among the royal guard there appeared proud Niobe bedecked in state., "and mad with rage, yet lovely to behold". Never forgetting her father's fate, a wrathful contempt had she for the Olympians high above. Why do these fools worship the reckless gods above, said she, with a house as mighty as hers within plain sight. Her line, who had dined with gods, held Phyrgia within her grasp, knew the Titan Atlas as an ancestor who bears the Heavens above, and groaned beneath the riches of Asia? Why look to the distant gods beyond, when all this lay here and near? But of no thing was Niobe more proud than the children she bore:

                   " Seven are my daughters, of a form divine,
                     With seven fair sons, an indefective line...
                     There Leto a mother was, of two at most,
                     Only the seventh part of what I boast.
                     My joys are all beyond suspicion fix'd,
                     With no pollutions of misfortune mix'd,
                     Safe on the Basis of my pow'r I stand,
                     Above the reach of Fortune's fickle hand... "
                            - THE HUBRIS OF NIOBE

Far beyond and high above, atop the shady Mount Cynthus the goddess lurked, and clear as daylight did she hear the wicked words. A godly anger rippled through her form, Niobe's offence driven deep to her heart. To her two great children, Apollo and Artemis, she turned. "Nay more, the imp of Tantalus has flung reflections with her vile paternal tongue; has dared prefer her mortal breed to mine, and call'd me childless; which, just fate, may she repine!". In haste golden Apollo set about his vengeful mission, hearkening to his mother's will. Swift behind soared Artemis the lady of the hunt, whose deadly wrath mortals had come to fear.

The Dying Niobid
Sculpture by James Pradier

Beyond the walls of the Phrygian city there was a boy riding on the plain. The first of Niobe's brood, Ismenos, sighed deeply, when Apollo's dart speared his breast, and from his towering steed his body crashed. Sipylus next met deadly fate, when upon seeing his brother's end, he dared to flee. As the stormy winds he flew, but Apollo's aim was true. Transfixed in the neck, paralysed he stood, life force leaking where it could. At youthful Phaedimus the sun god took aim, and his brother Tantalus who bore his grandsire's name. Both brothers were wrestling on the plain, straining every nerve and muscle in their game. With a mighty shot Apollo pierced them both, their life turned black as coal, as from their mortal forms fled their soul. Grieving Alphenor saw their plight, beating his chest with sorrow, he moved to embrace the fallen boys, before by keen aimed dart he fell. Pierced through the heart, for Apollo had aimed for no other part. Damasichthon next, beardless and young, cried out for mercy, but alas the god heard him late. Two arrows sheared his form, one the knee one somewhere warm.

Swiftly did the news reach Niobe's ear, grief and anger mingled into one. But humility she knew not, as towering was her pride still. Poor Amphion her husband, stricken with the darkest thought, had sheathed a dagger and driven into into his breast. Tears streaming from her eyes, Niobe roared in defiance "Tho' seve'n are slain, superior in number I remain". Her daughters looked upon her, seeing the doom their mother had brought on them now. Far above Leto screamed, and to her call deadly Artemis soared. The bow's thunderous twang echoed through the vale, as in terror all wondered what it would hail.

Around the pyres of their seven brothers they stood, seven daughters who need not have suffered, clad in garments of mourning black. From the eyes of one and the eyes of all fell a tear of purest grief. When that one was stung a sudden by more than emotion, the others tried in vain to remove the lethal dart. "But to grim death her blooming youth resigns, and o'er her brother's corpse her dying head reclines". A silent arrow, winged death, arcs through the skies, more cries silenced. The deadly huntress of the moon, so skilled in tracking game, found no challenge in her dark work, as one by one the seven fell, each pierced by a different death.

The Weeping Mountain
Image taken from the Wikimedia Commons

How lamentable now was Niobe's state, hardened with woe, and dying with grief, for my her own word had she condemned herself, and fourteen lives otherwise pure. Her hair moved to no rippling wind, her eyes faded and fixed within her head. Her deadly tongue called no more, within her veins the blood began to stall. Transfixed in stone her body was, atop Mount Sipylus, the Weeping Mountain. Unafflicted by stormy winds, yet pierced by grief and wounded pride, there she stands even today, a warning of unearthly pride, for no rest can she find...

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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 favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

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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 favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Cain and Abel

Though much is written, read, preached and even painted of the fall of Adam and Eve, somewhat less is their fate after their expulsion spoken of. But the trials and pains of the first Man and Woman had barely begun when their teeth first sank into the Forbidden Fruit...

Abel - Son of Adam and Eve
Painting by Theophanes the Greek

Fear and guilt their only companions now, Adam and Eve took their first steps beyond the Gates of Eden, a cherubim hovering high above, sword of piercing fire gleaming bright. Outcasts, accursed and exiled they were, but free. The whole world stretched before them, a world before the dominion of Men. For seven days and seven nights they mourned and lamented in grief. But on the eighth day, the tears stayed their fall, and the blow softened. A new emotion rose within, for in place of sadness their struck the pangs of hunger. For seven days the first Man and Wife wandered the bare land in search of food, a long time indeed for us today, longer still for the couple who once called Eden home. Far and wide they searched and still no food they found. Then at last they came to the Tigris river. Grieving at the pain of loss and pain of hunger, Eve wept by the banks of the great river. Then it was that Satan the Adversary, Lucifer of old, came down to her. With honeyed words the Fallen Archangel soothed her and led her back to Adam, but Adam, fooled once but not again, saw the truth behind the veil of beauty. "Hast thou again been ensnared by our adversary, by whose means we have been estranged from our abode in paradise and spiritual joy?"

It was then that Eve saw through it too at last, and loud was her wail, as she railed against the accursed one "Woe unto thee, thou devil. Why dost thou attack us for no cause? What hast thou to do with us? What hath we done to thee?... Why dost thou harry us, thou enemy and persecute us to the death in wickedness and envy?".

It was then at last that He the Adversary of Man, Satan was allowed the chance to vent his fury upon the two:


         " All my hostility, envy, and sorrow is for thee, since it is for thee that
           I have been expelled from my glory, which I possessed in the Heavens,
           for in the midst of the angels and for thee was I cast out in the Earth...

          ...and Michael the Archangel went out and called the angels saying:
          Worship the image of God as the Lord God hath commanded...
          and I answered, I hath no need to worship Adam..
          Why dost thou urge me? I will not worship an inferior and younger being
          that I, for I am his senior in the Creation, before he was made was I already made.
          It is his duty to worship me... "
               - THE CRAFT OF SATAN

Bided rage and wounded pride did he pour upon the first Man and Woman, his disguises cast aside, Serpent no longer, but Fallen Angel. But near his match was the anger of Adam, who saw the very source of his ruin before him now. "O Lord my God, my life is in thy hands. Banish this Adversary far from me, who seeketh to destroy my soul", spake he, and in that moment the Lord of Hell vanished from sight, the gentle breeze all that punctuated the silence. But a moment had passed when a flash of light heralded the arrival of the Archangel Michael, who bore the pity of Heaven to the first couple, and unto Adam he imparted the knowledge of the land, how to work it, and how he might grow food from it so that he might be sustained. To Eve he brought tidings of coming pain, "Prepare thee to bear", said he, and to Heaven he swiftly returned.

The Fratricide of Cain
Painting by Peter Paul Rubens

Adam beheld his wife and saw she was with child, and soon enough the progeny was born who would bring such disaster to the Line of Adam. Upon the grass the babe lay, and in his tiny hand he took a blade of grass, and eagerly gave it to Eve. To him they gave the name of Cain. It was not so long later that Eve gave birth again, to a son again. To him they gave the name of Abel. But the birth was far from easy, for a terrible nightmare afflicted Eve. A gory phantasm had emerged in the blackness of her dreams, the blood of her newborn son in the hand of Cain, and her first born was gulping it down as a ravenous beast. From whence, or whom, this ghastly vision had been sent, was a mystery, though it came when the Morning Star was at its brightest. The last time so wretched a vision had come to her, terrible indeed were the consequences...

Adam, fearful of this premonition, acted swiftly, determined to avoid further catastrophe in their lot in life. He decreed that the boys would be separated from each other, and each would live in his own dwelling. Adam raises Cain in his own ways, a tiller of the ground and tender of Earth, whilst Abel becomes a shepherd of his flock, caring for his sheep.

Adam and Eve weep over the body of Abel
Painting by William-Adolphe Bouguereau

So the sons of Adam grew strong, and under their care the earth grew bountiful in Cain's flora, and Abel's fauna. But over time, lonely Cain grew envious of his brother and the company of his flock, where he had naught but plants to share his plot with. When the time came to pass, and the first harvest rose from Earth's tilled pastures, Cain offered the bounty of the land to God. When the first lambs breathed the air of the pure skies, Abel offered the finest of his flock unto God. God looked kindly upon the offer of Abel, "but unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell". Feeling humiliation course through him, Cain's anger grew at with injustice. The Morning Star glowed brightly. Denied the presence of God, Cain looked upon Abel, and saw not a brother of his flesh, but one who had taken the favour of the Lord in place of him. Then it was that Cain spake with his brother, and it came to pass that together they walked in his long tamed fields. Brighter still glowed the Morning Star. The fire of injustice burned in the veins of Cain, and, seizing a bough from his own tree, the first born of Adam struck Abel upon his crown, and slew him upon the face of the Earth. His bearing regaining as he panted with the exertion, Cain looked upon the broken corpse of Abel, and an ominous feeling gripped him, as it had his father when the flesh of the apple had touched his lips.

The sky darkened, and the voice of the Lord sounded unto Cain. "Where is Abel thy brother? And Cain spake, I know not: am I my brother's keeper? To him the Lord called, What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground". Cain fell to his knees, for he knew that nothing could be hidden from the Most High. The judgement of God thundered across the fields of the Earth, "And now thou art cursed from the Earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; when thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the Earth...". The punishment was more than Cain could bear, and he feared that any who found him would slay him now. "Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him".

Banished to the Land if Nod to the east of Eden, Cain set forth upon his ageless exile, unable to face his mother and father after what he had done. So was set the curse of Cain, that would linger in his descendants, that the Great Flood would one day seek to purge. Great was the lamentation of Adam and Eve when they came upon the body of Abel, their son, and sorrow too was to be found even in the eyes of his flock, who wept for their fallen master. But the trials of the first family were far from over...
         

The story of Cain and Abel can be found in the Book of Genesis, Chapter four of the Biblical Old Testament. However, much more can be found in several of the many books rejected from the original Bible, a collection of scripts known as the Apocrypha. Cain's treachery can be found in the following excerpts:


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The Apocrypha
The Sacred Books and Early Literature of the East, Vol. 14 of 14: With an Historical Survey and Descriptions (Classic Reprint)
(Containing many books rejected from the Bible more than a thousand years ago, adding enormously to the stories of Genesis)

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The Apocrypha
The Lives Of Adam And Eve From The Old Testament Apocrypha
(Containing many books rejected from the Bible more than a thousand years ago, adding enormously to the stories of Genesis)

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!)

Atalanta

Strength, wisdom, charisma and valour - all virtues of a heroic persona. But contrary to popular belief, heroism was not a male monopoly in the ancient world, even in Greece. Sometimes a heroine could beat a hero at his own game. No finer an example of this was there than Atalanta.

Orchomenos of fair Arcadia
Photograph taken by Heinz Schmitz

In the idyllic pastures of Arcadia, there was once born a princess to King Iasus. But the King, who desired above all other things a son to continue his Royal House, was greatly dismayed. So the King ordered the baby to be left to die in the mountains, as was custom in Greece at the time for the unwanted (a practice frequently used by the Spartans to deal with deformed children who were believed to be incapable of growing into active citizens - for more on this, read here). But, like the shepherd who was ordered to do the same with young Oedipus, the man tasked with the grisly labour found himself, at the last moment, unable to condemn a child to such a fate. Taking pity on the wailing child, he carried her deep into the Arcadian mountains. Upon the slopes of Mount Partheneon, he struggled up the escarpment, coming to rest near a mountain spring. Reasoning here a better place than many others, the man lay the baby down in the grass, and took his leave. But what the herder had failed to spot was the mouth of the cave beyond the clearing, in the dense scrub.  From deep within the darkness, a furry muzzle emerged. Swift behind it the form of a great bear, a mother who had recently lost her cubs to hunters. Staying her savage instinct, the bear took pity on the feeble child before her, and suckled the child. Taking the child as her own, bear and girl lived together in the mountains.


Over time, Atalanta grew, and learned to hunt and fight as the bear, and became hardened to the world. Slowly, she began to grow into a woman, and a striking one at that. The match of any Arcadian girl in beauty, and surpassing them all in strength, endurance and sheer will. Years of exposure to the Sun had reddened her cheeks, so that she seemed to be perpetually blushing. This was one of her most formidable qualities - the other, was that any man who looked upon her would be at once charmed and stricken with fear, for a reason they would never know. She grew into a truly exceptional hunter, such that the goddess of the hunt herself, Artemis, favoured her greatly. Atalanta valued her solitude in the mountains, and committed herself, like her great patron, to a lifetime of chastity.

Meleager presents the head of 
the Calydonian Boar to Atalanta
Painting by Peter Paul Rubens

There came a time, however, in the kingdom of Calydonia, when a great blasphemy was committed. King Oineus one day gave thanks to the Olympian gods, but became distracted, and forgot to honour the lady Artemis. The fierce huntress was consumed with rage, and to the Calydonian lands she sent a monstrous boar, berserk fury in its mind, to curse the realm of men. Livestock was devastated, crops were destroyed and men sent to slay the beast were gored to death. Soon the whole kingdom was thrown into disarray. King Oineus grieved, and the king's son, Prince Meleager, issued a summons across the Greek world, for the greatest hunter of each kingdom to join him in the hunt. Meleager did not fear the creature, for he had heard a prophecy that his end would only come when a brand that burned in the family hearth would be consumed by fire. What risk lay there in the hunt? Legends had spread to Calydonia of the fierce maiden of the peaks, raised by beasts, and Meleager sent heralds to Atalanta to aid them. Her bear indued hunter's instinct fired, Atalanta agreed to help, and for the first time she descended from the mountains. Meleager, from the moment he saw her, was smitten, and invited her to his hunting party.


With a blast of Meleager's horn, the hunt began. The Calydonian Boar was outlandishly fast, however, and the hunters from far and wide tried in vain to gain on the creature. With all the world's great hunters left in the dust, it was young Atalanta who bore down upon the forbidden quarry now. On the sprint, she wrenched back her bowstring, and loosed a lethal barb ahead. The dart struck the boar and drew blood, the first time any weapon had pierced its hide. Slowed by its wounds, the boar stumbled, and Meleager pounced, slaying it with his spear. Awed by Atalanta, Meleager skinned the beast and offered its hide to the huntress, for it had been she who had first drawn blood. Plexippus and Toxeus, the uncles of Meleager, infuriated that the prize had been granted to a woman, tried to seize it from her. Blinded by passion and shame for the conduct of his family, Meleager struck them down where they stood. It was then that Althaea, Meleager's mother, distraught with grief and anger for her son's deeds, cast a log upon the fire. The ancient prophecy fulfilled, the brand was wreathed in flames, and when the wood burned out, the lifeforce of Meleager waned...


It was then that the legend of Atalanta spread across the land, admiration of her prowess that had shamed the greatest men of Greece. King Iasus heard the tale, and came to her. At once, he saw in her his own line, and rejoiced to see her, grateful now of the daughter he had in place of a son. Yet hopes of continuing his line had not died, and he asked Atalanta to be wed. Atalanta, oblivious to her father's former sentence of certain death against her, and feeling little loyalty to the man, having known only a bear as a parent, said bluntly "I will not be won, till I am conquered first in speed". Having bested the might of Greece in the hunt, Atalanta saw little in the men of the world now. The king proposed a contest among the bachelors of Greece, that they might come from far and wide and win the hand of the greatest huntress of them all. Atalanta half heartedly agreed, but only under lethal terms. The bear's wrath and a hunter's endurance waxed strong that day, for she decreed that any would be suitor would be subject to a grueling ordeal. The course was laid, and the suitor would begin the foot race, unarmed. After a set time, Atalanta would enter the field, and if she caught the suitor before the course bound was met, he would be immediately slain. Should she fail to catch him, that man would be her groom.

Hippomenes casts the Golden Apples
Painting by Nicolas Colombel

Suitors came from kingdoms far and kingdoms wide, drawn by the grisly allure of the prize. From the furthest reaches of the known world, they came in droves, all eager for the huntress' hand, the favoured of forest. Many set forth from the starting line, none ever passed the finish. Many a hope was dashed on the point of Atalanta's spear, as her frustration grew at the lack of true competition. Then one day came the charming and wise Hippomenes, a humble fellow Arcadian. Hippomenes, seeing the dead litter the path to the glade, and pure of heart, prayed to on high for guidance. The goddess Aphrodite, lady of passion, took pity on him, and could not bear to see a pure soul transfixed like so many before him on Atalanta's spear. Just before the race, the goddess gave to Hippomenes three apples of the brightest gold, as alluring to the female eye as the face of Atalanta was to the male. Atalanta saw her new challenger approaching, and fought the instinct within when she looked fondly upon him. Her wild nature took flight once more, and the red descended over her eyes. So the lines were drawn, and the race was begun, and quite literally did bold Hippomenes run for his life. A good start it was, as under the watchful eyes of Aphrodite did the eager boy compete. Then, the blast of the horn, and Hippomenes heard the sound of death begin her march. The heart rending sound of approaching, running, footfalls would have struck cold the hearts of any other man, but not Hippomenes. Fighting fear, and keeping his head clear, he took the first of the blessed apples, and cast it upon the ground behind him.

Atalanta, death in her eyes, caught sight of a glint of gold on the earth ahead, and was intrigued. She came to the source of the light, and bent down to pick it up. She saw that it was an apple, but the most luxurious she had ever seen, and was consumed with desire. Shaking her head, she recalled her task. Stowing the blessed fruit in her tunic, she set off at a sprint once more. But precious time had the huntress squandered in her distraction, for now bold Hippomenes had taken the lead.

Soon, the huntress was hot on the Arcadian's heels once more. Trusting in Aphrodite, with a prayer, he cast the second apple. For a second time, Infatuation conquered Atalanta, and for a second time, Hippomenes widened the lead. Then, the end of the course in sight, Hippomenes rejoiced. His euphoria nearly deafening him, Atalanta was now barely a spear thrust behind him. Trusting the gift for a third time, he released the last of his gilded fruit. Aphrodite blessed the last with the most potent incantation of all, and in the moment of her victory, Atalanta was irresistably drawn to the flash of gold. The split second cost her the last thrill of the hunt, and the foot of Hippomenes fell upon the finishing line. A shout went up from the crowd. A bewilderment came over Atalanta, joy over Hippomenes and admiration over the king. Impressed by the boy's ingenuity, he declared the Arcadian the winner. At last, a king, a huntress, and a farm boy had found peace...

United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
Library of Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

Aelianus:
Historical Miscellany (Loeb Classical Library)
(A 3rd century AD collection of all manner of weird and wonderful stories, including the most detailed account of Atalanta that survives from Antiquity)

United States

The Library of Mythology:
Library of Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

Aelianus:
Aelian: Historical Miscellany (Loeb Classical Library No. 486)
(A 3rd century AD collection of all manner of weird and wonderful stories, including the most detailed account of Atalanta that survives from Antiquity)

Orion

Ursa Major was not the only of the great constellations of the night sky to draw the attention of the ancients. Indeed all the major stars and their formations were well known in ancient times. All of them had their own origins and stories well recorded in lore, some in as many variants as the stars themselves. One such example is the story of the constellation Orion.

Blind Orion seeks the rising Sun
Painting by Nicolas Poussin

Long ago in Hellas, a place men now call Greece, there was a divine and regal birth. Brood of the god Poseidon, Lord of the Sea, and Euryale, daughter of King Minos of Crete, this would never be a normal child. Gigantic in stature, like his cousin the Cyclops Polyphemus, the boy towered over all of his peers, in ability as much as height. The boy was named Orion, and though good at heart, warred with the violent instincts that ran through the veins of all the Giants. As a result of his being son of the Lord of the Ocean, Orion found himself one day able to walk upon the surface of the ocean without falling through it - he could walk on water, unmolested by the horrors of the deep. As Orion grew, vaster than any mortal, though not blessed with a great mind he acquired a particular passion for hunting, a noble pursuit for a man in such days, and a way he might turn his aggression away from harming his peers. Soon his reputation was legend even as a teenager, as game fled his presence on sight, for well did they know that no being could escape Orion's hurled spear. In all things, Orion was never to be seen without his one true friend and loyal companion, his hound Sirius.


Searching for distant lands for ever more challenging game, great Orion ventured to the island of Chios, its isolation from the mainland no problem for the water walking giant, carrying faithful Sirius aloft. As Orion placed his vast foot on the sandy shore, he was welcomed to the island by King Oenopion and his entourage. Though much of the regal language was lost on simple Orion, the face of the King's daughter, Merope, was not. Intrigued by the foreign princess, and perpetually condemned to solitude, the giant desired a friend more than almost anything, save perhaps the choicest game under the Heavens. Oenopion invited his larger than life guest back to the palace, and threw a banquet in honour of him, for hospitality is a concept employed by the people of Chios with spectacular finesse. Orion, who had scarcely seen so many great things to eat, was overwhelmed. Due to his requiring more food than most simply to sustain him, the party dined well into the night. The hour grew late, and Merope retired for the night, leaving the revellers to their banquet, and Orion fell sad, though knew not why. The King, ever attentive to his guests, ordered the strongest wine brought to the table. When presented with a bucket sized goblet of shimmering red liquid, Orion knew nothing of it, having never before tasted wine of such potency, and drank as though he would water. The men of Chios laughed heartily, as the giant grew dazed and confused. The drink played its evil tricks on Orion's mind, already at war in the half human and half giant. Stumbling from the banqueting chamber, the drink lead him to Merope's quarters, sapping him of his human will. Crashing through the low threshold of the door, he fell into the princess's bedchamber, to the fright of Merope. As she ran to offer what help she could, Orion, lost to his senses, seized her with more strength than a man should. The racket caused by the door summoned the King immediately. When he saw the sight before him, the darkest suspicions reigned supreme. He at once, outraged at the abuse of his hospitality, ordered Orion condemned.

The Constellation Orion
Photograph by Rogelio Bernal Andreo

The King gave command that Orion should be blinded, so that his last vision would forever be that of the woman he longed for, and forced himself upon. Furthermore, Orion was banished from the kingdom. SO, once again, Orion set out on the road, destitute and ragged, with naught but his torn thoughts of grief and faithful Sirius to accompany him. One day, whilst on Lemnos, he encountered a stranger on the road, a stranger his eyes could not reveal as the god Hephaestus. Hephaestus took pity on the giant, and told Orion that if he sought the rays of the Sun as they were born, he would see again. His despair turned to joy, Orion eagerly asked the stranger where they could be found. Since the giant was blind, Hephaestus gave to Orion his own assistant from the forge, Cedalion. Taking up position of Orion's shoulder, Cedalion shouted directions in the giant's ear, and together they set off in search of the Land of the Sun. The vast journey, impossible for mortal feet, was swift for a giant, aided at all times by Cedalion upon his shoulder, and Sirius by his leg. At last the triad arrived at the Kingdom of the Sun, Cedalion and Sirius averting their eyes, Orion shielding them from the heat. Helios, the god of the Sun, indeed took pity on the giant, and as Orion closed his blind eyes from the heat, suddenly a slit of purest white appeared before him. He wrenched open his lids, and saw blinding light. He turned to his side, and saw a dog, and Cedalion on his shoulder, and rejoiced at his newfound sight. Thanking Helios dearly, the giant was filled with ecstasy.

For so long he had been denied the pleasure of the hunt, his great passion, and set off at once. Coming to the island of Crete, the home of his ancestors, he chased the game from sunrise to sunset. Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, was impressed by the hunter's prowess like never before in a mortal. Coming down to the Earth she offered him a unique honour, to join her in the hunt. He leapt for joy, and the games began.

Hither and thither the godly party went, and never before has so great a quarry been taken in sport. Deer, boar, bird and hare fell to the spears of Orion and arrows of Artemis. Soon near all Crete was empty of living beasts. At the moment of his pride, his giant instinct holding sway, Orion shouted to the Heavens that there was no creature on Earth that he, Orion, could not slay. But the balance of the cosmos had been tipped, that subtle yet ever levelling power which ensured no man or woman could ever be too powerful or too beautiful without disaster befalling them. Gaia, Mother Earth, was appalled at the slaughter on her body, and outraged at Orion's words. So the Titaness crafted a new beast to best the giant in his own game. Eight armoured legs she gave it, two crushing pincers and a lethal tail, brimming with fiery venom. To her new creation she gave the name of Scorpion, and thus was born the first of that race, the King of all Arachnids.

Artemis mourns the body of Orion
Painting by Daniel Seiter

At his side, Orion noticed the ground quake and churn as Mother Earth's revenge burst into the fresh air, divine fury in every inch of its chitinous hide. Orion drew back, wary of this new foe, and never was he to face such a terrible foe. He launched his spear, but alas, it span away, turned aside by the beast's armour. No arrow or blade would pierce that hide. So, across the valleys and mountains of Crete their duel raged, neither one able to best the other, Orion too swift for the creatures arms, the Scorpion impervious to Orion's blades. At last, with no more of the island left to run to, Orion, worked up to a giant's rage, hurled himself upon the monster, using his mighty strength to grapple the beast. The Scorpion writhed and injured the giant many times, but slowly, yet surely, Orion began to crush it inside its own armour. When at last victory seemed near Orion raised his head high and shouted in triumph. But alas, the momentary lapse of concentration cost him dear, for the creature's lighting flash of a move saw its stinger dart into Orion's shoulder, a lethal shot of venom upon its barb. The Scorpion died, but died avenged. Orion staggered away from the body of his conquered foe, the fiery venom robbing him of life. Lamenting his misfortune in life, he sought his last solace in the distraught eyes of Sirius, who licked his master's face one last time. So under the tears of his one true friend, Orion, the great hunter, felt the darkness close on his eyes.


Artemis, lady of the hunt, was devastated when she found his body, and appealed to Zeus the Thunderer, lord of the sky, for mercy. The god of gods was might, but could not turn the wheel of fate. Impressed by Orion's skill, yet warm human heart, he cast the giant into the skies, ever to shine in the night sky. To this day he is still there, the constellation Orion. Impressed too by the fearsome Scorpion, Zeus decided to make sure man would never forget to challenge Mother Earth, and cast it too to the skies. To this day, the constellation of Scorpio can be seen, set to rise when Orion falls. But one fellow lay not forgotten, and for his loyalty to his master and purest heart, Zeus the Thunderer placed Sirius in the skies, and the brightest of all stars he is to this day, amid the constellation of Canis Major...

United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
Library of Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

United States

The Library of Mythology:
Library of Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)