Sleipnir

Unlike the gods which rule over the more familiar civilisations of Greece and Rome, the gods of the Norselands, whilst mighty cosmic beings, are not all powerful. In their natural form they are born, grow old and die, and can be killed in war as readily as mortal men. Divine strength alone is never enough to assure them of their supremacy, as wits and cunning count for much in Norse Mythology, far more than brute force ever could. Second to none in cunning was the god Loki (whose exploits can be found in this site, click here for one). Though cruel and ambitious at heart, Loki just sometimes could be the saviour of those he is destined to destroy. This is one such story.

The Ride of the Valkyries
Drawing by John Charles Dollman.

Early in the days of the Nine Worlds, the Aesir, or war gods, established the world of Midgard as the realm of Men, and the golden land of Asgard as their own domain. At the centre of Asgard lay the towering walls of Valhalla, the Hall of the Slain. It was here that Odin, King of the gods, made his great throne, and watched over the cosmos, as his two loyal Ravens, Huginn and Muninn, whispered the tidings of the Nine Worlds to him. Valhalla itself was a mighty structure, with spear shafts as rafters, a roof thatched with shields, five hundred and forty doors; each one wide enough for eight hundred armed warriors to pass through abreast at any one time. This was entirely practical, for the Hall of Valhalla was filled with mighty heroes. Odin, aware that the stability of the cosmos depended on a delicate balance between all the races that inhabited it, knew that in the end it must come to one final, apocalyptic war - Ragnarök. In ever vigilance for when that day might come, the greatest heroes amongst the world of men, when they fell in battle, were borne to Valhalla by the faithful handmaidens of Odin - the Valkyries. Every day in Valhalla, these heroes, known as the Einherjar, marched forth to fight and hone their skills in war, and every night they would return to feast, consuming huge quantities of eternally replenishing pork and wine. But strong arms and valour alone would not prevail.

Freyja
Painting by J Doyle Penrose.

One day, a strange sight greeted the Aesir as they awoke in Asgard. A humble man appeared, leading a weary looking packhorse towards them. The man came before the bewildered gods with a startling proposal. Bowing before the Aesir, the man offered to build them a mighty stronghold, so powerful and great that it would never yield before any foe, not even the cruel Jötunn could breach it. Furthermore, the man claimed to be able to do so in just three seasons. But the man asked in return a great price. As wages for this great work, the man demanded the hand of the goddess Freyja in marriage, as well as the Sun and the Moon for his own. Freyja, not one of the Aesir, but of the Vanir, or fertility gods, was renowned throughout the Nine Worlds for her beauty, and coveted by many a god, let alone a man. As for the Sun and Moon, their journey around the Earth kept the life force of the Worlds flowing, and the consequence of their loss was unthinkable. The Aesir held council. In their pride, the gods could not believe that this man could do all he claimed in just three seasons. But to be safe, the Aesir returned to the man and promised him all he had asked - if he completed the work in one winter, without the help of any man. If by the first day of summer any part of the citadel was incomplete, he would forfeit his wager. The man humbly accepted the terms, asking only that he be permitted the help of the loyal stallion, who he called Svaðilfari, at his side. But before the Aesir could deliberate on this, Loki spoke out, decreeing that this seemed fair and reasonable. Since the gods were confident of victory, all agreed, and the bet was on.

On the first day of Winter the man set to work straight away on the citadel, his stallion eagerly following the bidding of its master. Soon however, it had not escaped the notice of the Aesir, "what great rocks that horse drew". This was clearly no ordinary horse, as it dragged the mightiest boulders in its wake with ease. So magnificent was the horse, the fortress began to take shape with alarming speed. The Aesir began to become unsettled, particularly as the greatest warrior among them, Thor, was away in the East at war with the Trolls. Yet they waited, still even now disbelieving that the work could be done in one Winter, especially since the man had originally said three seasons.

Loki and Svaðilfari
Drawing by Dorothy Hardy.

Time passed, the nights grew long and the days cold. As the snow began to fall in Asgard, the man and his horse toiled away endlessly, working through the frozen eves. The towering ramparts grew higher and higher, with no sign of weariness from man or horse. On the third day before the dawning of Summer, the man was nearing the gates of the citadel, and the structure was so high and robust that it was already invulnerable to attack. The gods sat in council, and there was much consternation. Now seriously troubled that they would lose their wager, the gods looked for the one responsible for their current plight. All eyes fell on Loki, the one who had allowed the man to take the mighty horse as an assistant. The Aesir decreed that Loki would deserve a horrible death, if he could not now find a way out of their darkest hour. Threatening the deceitful god with violence, the Aesir charged Loki with stopping the completion of the citadel at all costs. That same evening, the man and his Svaðilfari emerged once more, bearing stone for the keep. As they neared the fortifications however, a mare suddenly emerged from the forests, neighing at Svaðilfari. The stallion, going beserk, thrashed around wildly until its restraints were shattered and bounded off after the mare into the forests. The horses chased each other all night, and the man chased Svaðilfari all night too.

Odin and Sleipnir
Painting by Arthur Rackham.

When day broke, the man had still not found Svaðilfari, and realised that he could not complete the work without him. Frustrated, the man fell into a fury, tearing away his disguise and revealing himself to be a giant, a Jötunn. Seeing the deception and trickery, for the evil Jötunn were not permitted in the sacred grounds of Asgard, the Aesir roared in fury. Hearing the shouts of his kin, the Thunder god himself returned to Asgard, and Thor stepped into the field. Raising Mjöllnir high over his head, the Thunderer slammed the mighty hammer with all his might into the giant's head, shattering his skull and sending shards flying through the Nine Worlds. The Giant who tried to deceive the gods was now sent flying to Niflheim, the land of the dead. Emerging from the woods came Loki, but he was not alone. A majestic horse accompanied him, the finest charger ever to walk the cosmos, with eight thundering hooves. For the mare who had seduced Svaðilfari had truly been Loki in disguise, and their union had produced the Lord of Horses - Sleipnir. The Aesir showered their gratitude upon Loki for sparing them the humiliation, and in return, Loki gifted Sleipnir to Odin. This was a mighty gift. Swifter and more powerful than any horse from the earthly plain, Sleipnir could bear Odin with the swiftness of the winds across the Cosmos upon its eight poweful legs. All was well, for now...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:

The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology (Penguin Classics)

(A fast paced 'episodic' version well suited to casual reading)

United States

Penguin Classics:

The Prose Edda: Norse Mythology (Penguin Classics)

(A fast paced 'episodic' version well suited to casual reading) 

The Labours Continue

Today we return to the story of Heracles, who, desperate for salvation, embarked on a grueling series of tasks to prove himself worthy of immortality - the Labours of Heracles. King Eurystheus, acting by the will of Hera, determined that Heracles should never complete his task, and concocted the Labours as impossible for a mortal man to achieve (for the beginning of this sage, please click here). But, defying belief, Heracles had slain the Lion of Nemea, and the Hydra of Lernaea, both fearsome monsters descended from Typhon himself.

Heracles captures the Ceryneian Hind
Painting in the New Museum, Berlin.

Returned to the mighty walled city of Tiryns, Heracles shouted with frustration when Eurystheus declared the slaying of the Hydra void, since Heracles had achieved it with help. Secretly, the King was afraid that Heracles might prove successful in the tasks he had planned, and crafted ever more daring ones to come. Having conquered two of Typhon's brood (for more about Typhon, the greatest monster in Greek Mythology, please click here), Heracles had proved himself as a warrior, but now it was to be his endurance which would undergo trial. For his Third Labour, Eurystheus commanded Heracles to trap and bring to him the Hind of Ceryneia, without inflicting any injury on the creature. This was no ordinary deer however. The Hind was sacred to the goddess Artemis, Lady of the Hunt. It was said that the Hind bore horns of purest gold, and was as swift as the winds, able to outrun even an arrow in flight. Heracles accepted the challenge, and set forth from strong walled Tiryns, entering the forests of Greece in search of the creature. Awoken one morning by a strong reflection in the forest, Heracles peered through the bushes and saw the magnificent beast. Light shining off its gilded antlers, the Hind charged off through the scrub, as the hero looked on in dismay at the cloud of dust left behind. Undeterred nonetheless, Heracles set off in pursuit. Another sighting, another failed attempt, the Hind bounded off once more. Again, and again, Heracles got only a glimpse of a flash of gold, and the creature was gone. This would not be an easy, or quick, affair. For a whole year man and beast played cat and mouse through the forests of Greece. What Heracles lacked in speed, however, he made up for in sheer endurance. The Hind, exhausted, came close to Mount Artemision, beginning to falter. As it approached the River Ladon, Heracles took a desperate shot with his bow. The arrow struck the ground just before the Hind, and the creature's forelegs stumbled. Sprinting over before it could recover, Heracles heaved the Hind over his shoulders, triumphant. On his return journey, an angered Artemis appeared before Heracles, chastising him for his desecration of her sacred property. Pleading that he caught the Hind not for himself, but for another, however, allayed the goddess' anger. Eurystheus, knowing that the Hind was the goddess' property, secretly hoped Artemis would strike Heracles down, but was foiled again.

Heracles and the Erymanthian Boar
Sculpture in the Lützowplatz, Berlin.

Carrying the majestic Hind back to Tiryns, Heracles proudly displayed his quarry to Eurystheus. Impressed that Heracles had chased - on foot - the swiftest creature that lived on the Earth, the King ordered the hero to acquire another beast of game. Rumours had reached Tiryns that the land of the city of Psophis was being devastated by a monstrous Boar, whose lair lay high on Mount Erymanthos. Eurystheus ordered Heracles to capture the Boar alive and bring it before him. Whereas the Ceryneian Hind was renowned for its speed, the Erymanthian Boar was notoriously ill tempered, having gored to death the last man who was unfortunate enough to cross its path. Setting forth once again, Heracles went on the hunt. Coming across his old friend, the Centaur Pholos, Heracles asked the wise and kindly being his advice. Brute strength and endurance alone would not prevail, came the reply, but wits would conquer the beast. Feasting together, Heracles asked his host for wine, and reluctantly, Pholos opened a jar. The intoxicating smell wafted out of the cave, and filled the nostrils of the other Centaurs. Centaurs, usually docile (and descendants of the condemned Ixion, see here), were particularly susceptible to savagery when inebriated, and the smell alone was enough to achieve this. Mad and drunk, the Centaurs stormed the cave, but Heracles fended them off with burning branches, and arrows. Emerging from the cave, Pholos saw the bodies of so many of his kin and pondered how Heracles could have slain so many. Picking up one of the arrows from a body, he marvelled at how something so small could bring down so large a beast. Distracted by his musings, however, the arrow slipped from his grip and grazed his foot, killing him instantly. What Pholos had not realised was that Heracles' arrows were coated in the lethal poison of the Hydra, which spelled instant death for any mortal. Grieving at his friend's demise, Heracles buried the Centaur, and set off alone in pursuit of the Boar, conscious that he could not use arrows to stop it, as his orders were to capture it alive. High in the mountains, the snows began to fall, as Heracles stalked the Boar. Approaching near from behind a bush, Heracles let out a great shout, and the Boar, startled, fled into the peaks. In its eagerness to flee, the Boar charged straight into a vast snowdrift, and became stranded in its icy prison. Seizing his chance, Heracles bound the exhausted beast in strong chains of iron, and bore it back to Tiryns.

Heracles diverts the rivers
Mosaic in the National Archaeological Museum of Spain, Madrid.

Entering the palace of Eurystheus, Heracles carried the Boar upon his shoulders, hurrying to show the King his catch. The King, however, terrified by the beast, hid inside a jar, and assured Heracles he would accept the task as complete if he just got rid of it. This Heracles obediently did. Humiliated by Heracles glorious achievements, Eurystheus decided that for his next task, Heracles would embark upon something much less glamorous. The King ordered the hero, for his next Labour, that he must clean the stables of Augeias, King of Elis, in a single day without assistance. This was a far more grim prospect than it sounds. The largest stables in Greece, Augeias owned over a thousand cattle, and his stables had never been cleaned. The cattle were no ordinary livestock either. Divinely blessed with good health, they produced exceptional amounts of dung. The squalor and stench of the stables was legendary. Undaunted, Heracles set forth once again from mighty Tiryns. Coming to Elis, Heracles proudly came before Aegeias and his son Phyleus, and vowed to clean the stables in a single day, in return for a tenth of the cattle (cattle, then as much as today, were extremely valuable). Disbelieving, Augeias agreed. Seeing before him the unholy and nauseating sight of the stables, and loathe to perform such a mundane task as cleaning it by hand, Heracles once again turned to wit over weapons. Walking to the boundaries of the stables, the hero made a breach in the outer wall surrounding the cattle herds. Seeing the Alpheios and Peneios rivers flowing nearby, Heracles dug a fresh channel and diverted both rivers through the stables. The roaring torrents of the river carried off over thirty year's worth of filth, and the stables were sparkling. Returning proudly to Augeias, Heracles found the King irate. Never believing it possible, Augeias denied the deal had ever existed, and offered to submit to arbitration. In the court, the casting vote was won when Phyleus, an honourable man, testified to the deal having been made before the King. Furious, Augeias watched as Heracles departed triumphant, with a tenth of his cattle.

Back in Tiryns, King Eurystheus, too, was furious. Seeing Heracles untainted by the filth of the stables, and marching with pristine cattle, the King declared the Labour void, on the grounds that Heracles had undertaken it for payment. Enraged, Heracles for the second time witnessed all his hard work go to waste, bound as he was to Eurystheus word, at the command of the Oracle. But more was yet to come...

United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(A vast collection of stories of old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

United States

The Library of Mythology:
The Library of Greek Mythology (Oxford World's Classics)
(A vast collection of stories of old Greece, written and compiled in ancient times)

The Violent and the Frauds

Filled with grief at the plight of those who took their own life, Dante and Virgil come to the edge of the grand forest of sorrow (for the previous episode in this saga, please click here). The arboreal spirits thin out, and a vast plain emerges before them, a place "whose soil refused any plant". A river of boiling blood separates the second ring from the third, a ring where the violent meet their judgement.

The Violent
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Beyond the grisly river, our pilgrim enters the third and final ring of the Seventh Circle of Hell. A vast wasteland stretches before him, a blasted land, where no plants grow, only great shifting sands cover the ground. From the skies comes a rain of fire, kindling the sands underfoot. The souls damned to this place scream in agony, as the boiling rain sears their flesh, and the burning sands scorch their soles. Shades try desperately to brush off the fire, but to no avail, the weather is relentless, endlessly spewing its conflagration on the damned of Hell. Dante notices three groups of souls condemned to this place, and enquires of his teacher Virgil of their crime. His master replies, the souls lying down upon the fiery floor are those whose violence was unto God, those who took the Lord's name in vain and blasphemed against his will. Dante spots among them Capaneus, a man who in ancient times, during the siege of the city of Thebes, cursed the name of Zeus. The Thunderer blasted Capaneus with a thunderbolt in retribution, and now he finds himself damned in Hell. Others here crouch upon the sand. These men were usurers in life, Virgil explains. They preyed on the needy, offering money to the poor, then ruthlessly charging extortionate levels of interest. They were violent against nature, betraying the compassion man should feel for his kin. For this they now burn in Hell. There is another group too, one who wander aimlessly through the cruel desert. These are the sodomites, those who needlessly scorned 'Christian nature', now wander without purpose in Hell. Dante spots many men he knew in life, illustrious men of Florence that they were. He is grieved to see that his old mentor, Brunetto Latini, now walks among these shades. Not for the first time our pilgrim sheds a tear for the damned. The two men speak of Dante's future, and Dante remembers the kindness Latini showed him in life, thanking him for showing the true path to immortality. Many more Florentines now approach, rapacious in their extortion of gold, and all revel in the glory of their great city. But time grows short, and a huge form rises out of the abyss, as the two poets continue into Hell.

The Panderers and Seducers
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

A vast monster rises before them, a fearsome Chimaera of three forms. Bearing the head of an honest man, his docile face belies his monstrous form, the body of a dragon, with a tail crowned with a lethal sting. The monster Geryon is a fitting personification of the crimes of fraud, as souls are deceived by the creature's soft face. Tricking Geryon with his words, Virgil order the beast to bear them down to the Eighth and penultimate Circle of Hell. Deep into the bowels of Hell the monster descends, Dante clinging to his mane. Soon, our two poets make landfall in the Eighth Circle, the infernal prison of the Frauds in Hell. Ten ravines divide this Circle, called the Malebolge ("The Rotten Pockets"), where those who knowingly sowed discord and deception in life are banished. In the first of the Rotten pockets, our pilgrim spies a cruel sight. Two files of naked souls stride alongside each other, one to the fore, the other behind. Bent over with weight of sin, horned demons look on armed with whips. Revelling in cruel pleasure, the demons lash with all their might upon the backs of the souls, the crack of the whip ringing through the air, accompanied by the shout of anguish of the scourged shade. These souls were panderers and seducers in life, using the passion of others to manipulate their path in life, now they are driven through this rotten pocket by these demons on Hell. Dante spots among them a man of Bologna, Venedico Caccianemico, a man he knew in life. But fearing the sting of the lash, the man dares not speak long. Virgil too, points out the hero Jason, who in his quest for the Golden Fleece seduced the sorceress Medea, abandoning her when her use was past.

The Flatterers
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

" Now we could hear the shades in the next pouch
    whimpering, making snorting grunting sounds
    and those of blows, slapping with open palms.

  From a steaming stench below, banks abound
     with a slimy mold that stuck to them as glue,
     disgusting to behold and worse to smell... "
                  - THE TORMENT OF THE FLATTERERS


Crossing into another of the Rotten Pockets, a ghastly stench befouls our pilgrim's nose. Coming to the edge of a huge ridge, Dante and Virgil look down the gorge at a grotesque sight. An ocean of human excrement fills the valley floor, smothering and drowning many unfortunate souls cast within. Dante eyes find the head of a man, so besmirched with faeces he cannot make out his features. The man shouts up, begging why the poet stares at his indignity. Dante knows his voice, it is Alessio Intermenei, a man of Lucca, a man from whose tongue fell unceasingly obscene flatteries in life. Just as these souls spewed vile words in life, so now they wallow in this putrid filth in death. Eyes watering with the evil odour, and his nausea growing, Dante continues on his baleful journey.

The Simonists
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

The Third Rotten Pocket is one Dante takes the utmost pleasure in experiencing. For here are condemned those who committed the sin of simony, corrupt men of the church who gave money for influence, exchanging gold for a position in Saint Peter's Church. This sin takes its name from a soul who is damned here, that of Simon Magus, the man who tried to bribe Saint Peter himself to grant him the power to conjure miracles. A vast expanse of bare rock stretches before the two poets, marked by a series of holes, each no wider than the sinner thrust inside it. To our pilgrim's eyes, they remind him of those pulpits from which his priest would stand and baptise from, now in twisted perversion, those men who corrupted the hierarchy of the church lie upside down within them. From each hole emerges the feet of a sinner, and from each sole bursts purging fire, as the simonist within twitches violently in agony. Our pilgrim hears the shouts of one buried nearby, a man who mistakes Dante for his own successor. The sinner buried within is Pope Nicholas III, a man who gained the Papal throne through gold and nepotism, who lavished positions in the Roman Church upon his own kin above other men. In his infernal jabberings, Nicholas names two of his successors to Saint Peter's throne, destined to be condemned to Hell for their crimes, Pope Boniface VIII and Pope Clement V, both deeply corrupt men, disgraces to the Roman Church. On realising his mistaken assumptions, Nicholas addresses Dante with a haughty speech, showing no remorse for his crimes, condemning others in his stead. Disgusted, Dante reminds the tainted Pope that Peter offered no sum for the keys of Heaven, the price that Christ asked of him was "Follow me" and no more. Berating the corrupt Pope, Dante works up a fury. "You have built yourself a God of gold and silver! How differ you from the idolator?" Dante shouts at him. Mourning the day when the Church first acquired wealth, Dante notices Virgil eyeing him, smiling, admiring his virtue. Seeing his pupil learning from his path, Virgil embraces Dante as a noble man, denouncing the evil within God's representatives on Earth...

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
Dante: Inferno (Penguin Classics)
(A nice edition which also has the original Italian on the left hand page opposite the English)

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 also has the original Italian on the left hand page opposite the English)

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