The Wealth of Croesus

True happiness is not a thing to be measured by one's possessions. The idea that money alone cannot buy happiness is an ancient teaching, and remains today one of the great philosophical maxims which we preach but so rarely practice. It is folly to think that true serenity is something to be bought. This hasn't stopped many from trying however. One such man was Croesus of Lydia.

The Eastern Mediterranean c. 560 BC
Map created by the author

The land in which Croesus grew up was a nation which has largely been lost in the mists of time. For over five centuries, the Kingdom of Lydia had been powerful nation, enjoying the prosperity and envy only a far larger realm would normally bring, when the great King Alyattes died in the five hundred and sixtieth year before Christ. The ruling House of the Mermnadae had been blessed with strong rulers, and their domains had soared to heights of culture long forgotten now. It is testament to the wealth of Lydia that in fact, the first known coins were minted there. The most powerful cities in Asia Minor had all been subdued by the prowess of the Lydian Kings, and even the vast Median Empire in the East was at best an equal. Alyattes had lead the Lydians to war with the Medes at the River Halys, but, at the height of the battle, a solar eclipse occurred (this was indeed a real event), seeing this as an omen from the Heavens, both sides laid down their arms. Alyattes and King Cyaxares of Media decreed that the River Halys would henceforth be the natural boundaries of their realms, and both nations would trouble the other no more. Things were promising indeed when Alyattes son, Croesus, was crowned King of Lydia at the age of thirty five.

The Tribute to Croesus
Painting by Claude Vignon

Thirsty for treasures anew, Croesus turned West and sieged the great city of Ephesus, the greatest metropolis of the Greeks in Asia, and after a time, took the city. By so doing, Croesus became the first foreign foe to subject the Greeks to tribute. Wealth flowed into the coffers of Sardis, the great capital city of Lydia. One by one, the Greek cities of the coast fell to Croesus' might. Beaten, and humiliated, the Greeks in the West submitted to peace with Lydia, as the King overpowered more and more of the peoples of Asia. Soon, Croesus could count among his subjects the Phrygians, Mysians, Mariandynians, Chalybes, Paphlagonians, Thynian and Bithynian Thracians, Carians, Ionians, Dorians, Aeolians and Pamphylians. Wealth flowed into the coffers of Sardis. The prosperity of Croesus grew so great that Lydia became the first nation to ever mint coins in pure gold. Centuries later, the finest offerings stored at the Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi were still the gifts which hailed from Lydia. The fame of Croesus spread throughout the known world, and the power of this foreign King became legend. People far and wide sought trade with the dazzling splendour of his domains. Wealth flowed into the coffers of Sardis. One day, when all the peoples West of the Halys bowed to the Lydian King, when the riches of Sardis were without number, when Croesus stood at the very height of his power, a stranger approached the mighty citadel which housed the royal palace. This man's name was Solon.

Solon comes before Croesus
Painting by Gerard van Honthorst

A native of Athens, a humble and learned man, Solon was himself a renowned statesman, poet and philosopher, who gave many laws to the people of Athens. In his latter days, retired from public life in Athens, Solon set out to see the world, visiting many of the great courts of the Orient. Having graced the court of Pharaoh Amasis in Egypt, at the invitation of Croesus, Solon now came to the palace of Sardis. Croesus gave Solon a lavish room in the palace, and granted him the most extravagant luxuries to furnish his chamber. Soon after his arrival, Croesus gave Solon a spectacular tour of the treasuries, and not a single splendid or shining thing was left unseen, desperate to impress Solon as the King was. Room after room of the most fabulous pearls, emeralds and sapphires stretched before them, as it was once said that Croesus counted his jewels as a man might count the grains of sand in a beach. When at last the glittering tour came to an end, Croesus, burning with pride, turned to his guest and spoke:


         " 'My dear guest from Athens', he said, 'we have often heard about you in Sardis:
            you are famous for your learning and your travels. We hear that you treasure
            knowledge and have journeyed far and wide, to see the world.
            So I really want to ask you whether you have ever come across anyone
            who is happier than everyone else? "
                                         - CROESUS SPEAKS TO SOLON


Solon, without hesitation, replied "Yes my lord: Tellus of Athens". Croesus, taken aback that he himself was not named, asked Solon with urgency to explain why. Solon proceeded to tell the story of Tellus of Athens, a modest man who had many fine sons, and watched them grow old and have many grandchildren, who all survived. At the peak of his life, having enjoyed the fruits of his times, he died a glorious death and was honoured highly by his city. In a war between Athens and Eleusis, Tellus had hurled himself into the breach, routing the Eleusinians at the cost of his own life. His name was remembered by Athens, and a magnificent funeral was granted to him on the spot of his final departure.

Cleobis and Biton
Painting by Nicolas Loir

Croesus listened with amusement at Solon's admiring words of Tellus, as he asked who the second happiest person he knew was, this time certain that he would gain the accolade. "Cleobis and Biton", came the reply, as not for the first or last time, Croesus' face fell. These men made enough to live adequately, and were blessed with great strength, which they put to good use in athletic games. Both brothers were devoted to their family, and earned their fame through their selfless actions. One day there was to be a festival to the goddess Hera at Argos, and the twins' elderly mother was desperate to go. The oxen that were to pull her cart, however, could not be found in the fields. Unfazed, the brothers harnessed themselves to the yoke, setting off with the cart - and their mother - in tow. The brother pulled the cart for forty five stades (a stade being the length of the stadium at Olympia, about 192 metres), all the way to the sanctuary. The gathered people looked on in amazement at the sight before them, as the brothers arrived at the sanctuary at last. The Argive men shouted their awe and congratulations to the brothers for their strength, whilst the Argive women praised the mother for the fortune she had been bestowed in her sons. Overcome with joy, the mother came before the statue of the goddess, and prayed that she would give her sons the finest reward humankind can receive. That night, with the ceremony complete, and the feasting subsided, the brothers at last laid down in the temple to rest. Drained by their immense feat, the brothers never again got up the next morning, as the goddess spirited both away to the Heavens. The Argives, glowing with admiration, raised statues to the twins and dedicated them at Delphi, and honoured them as the best of men.

Solon ended his remarkable story, as Croesus was angered that he had still not been named. "My dear guest from Athens, do you hold our happiness in utter contempt? Is that why you are ranking us lower than even ordinary citizens?" Wise Solon answered the King, "It follows, Croesus, that human life is entirely a matter of chance". A man may live for thirty thousand days, yet it takes but one to raise him to the towering heights, and an instant to hurl him to the deepest depths. Many a man is wealthy yet unlucky, and many a man of moderate means has the blessings of fortune. While the poor man is not as capable of coping with disaster, his good luck will watch over him, as he is stranger to disease and disfigurement and catastrophe, is blessed with fine looks and illustrious progeny. If in addition to all this he dies a heroic death, then he may truly be called happy. Call no man happy until he is dead, just fortunate, for the winds of Fate are fickle indeed. In the real world, no person is truly self sufficient, as one person possesses some things yet lacks others. Yet he "who retains more of these advantages than others, and then dies well, my lord, is the one who, in my opinion, deserves the description in question". Divinity may offer prosperity with one hand and ruin with the other.

These noble words, however, fell on deaf ears, as Croesus was furious that he had still not been confirmed as the happiest man on Earth. Sending Solon away with contempt, the King set about showing the world his true greatness. So began the chain of events which would change the course of civilisation forever...

To be continued...

NOTE: Something must be said about the book from which this story was taken (follow the links below to find it at Amazon). This work has lifetimes' worth of knowledge and understanding within it, with a series of carefully interconnected stories making one majestic tale. If you ever wanted to know where the true conflict between the East and the West began, read this. You will neither regret nor forget it.


United Kingdom

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(I can not recommend this work enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside, is formidable)

United States:

The Histories:
The Histories (Oxford World's Classics)
(I can not recommend this work enough. The sheer number of the most gripping stories inside, is formidable)

The Thieves, the Deceivers and the Sowers of Discord

Thwarted by the trickery at which Hell's minions are so adept, Virgil and Dante struggle up the vast escarpment which leads forth to the seventh of the Rotten Pockets of the penultimate Circle of Hell (for the previous instalment in this saga, please click here). Drained to exhaustion by the journey, it is with tremendous effort that the two poets drag themselves to the towering crest. After a few words of encouragement from Virgil, with one last heave, Dante clears the summit and finds himself on a slender bridge over a vast gorge, its inky blackness hiding all but faint cries emanating from the blackened depths.

The Thieves
Engraving by Gustave Doré

Overcome with curiosity, Dante stoops, desperate to catch word of the voices far below. But it is in vain, all he can discern is that whoever it is that speaks must be running swiftly. Turning to his master, he begs to know, and the two descend into the murky pit. Coming to the edge of a steep bank, a hideous sight greets their eyes. The souls of sinners, naked and terrified, run across the valley floor, desperate to seek cover which is not there. For the ground is coated in the writhing coils of countless serpents, some far mightier in size than any snake which makes the Earth above its home. The hands of many are bound in the serpentine coils, and yet more are wrapped around their limbs. Just then, the figure of a man sprints past our poets in fear, as a snake rears its great head, its eyes fixed upon him. In a flash as though of lightning, the serpent lunges, its aim true as it strikes the man, murderous fangs piercing his neck. Another flash, and the sinner erupts in flames, a heap of crumbling ash left in his wake. As though a phoenix, soon the man rises anew from the ashes. Sensing Dante's bewilderment, Virgil calls out to the soul, questioning him as to his presence here. "Not too long ago I rained from Tuscany", the man replies, a man named Vanni Fucci, who once stole from the sacristy of Pistoia. Bitter and angry at his fate, Fucci rises up and curses God, but briefly, as a swarm of spitting snakes descends upon him, binding him so tightly that not a muscle can move. Alerted to the blasphemy within his domain, a fierce monster gallops towards them, a raging centaur, his back alive with serpents. Virgil turns to Dante and declares the creature to be Cacus, the famous giant who in the most ancient times once prowled the Aventine Hill, one of the Seven great Hills of that would one day give birth to Rome. Having once stolen a herd of precious cattle, Cacus was slain by Heracles, another foul beast conquered underneath that club. Now he rules over the thieves in Hell.


Three tortured souls suddenly see our two poets looking down upon them. "Who are you two?" one calls out to them. But the spirit pays dearly for his moment's distraction. A colossal snake pounces upon him, binding him in six coils. With a pitiful whimper, the sinner's flesh begins to melt, and the serpent and the man soon become as one, fused into a hideous chimaera. Moaning softly, the soul ambles off into the blackness. The second accursed man is soon seized by another creature, and the man transforms into the snake, and the snake to he. Wisely, the third man flees in fear, destined to continue this deadly game for eternity. For herein lies the true horror of the plight of thieves in Hell. Just as they stole the material things of men in life, now their very identity is taken from them in Hell.

The Deceivers
Engraving by Gustave Doré

Hurrying along the Rotten Pocket, Dante bemoans the sheer number of Florentines he has seen here in Hell. Arriving at the crest of a new valley, our pilgrims look down into the eighth of the Rotten Pockets of the Eighth Circle of Hell. Suddenly reminded of the fireflies rising to the night sky, Dante looks down into the abyss. For this valley is not shrouded in blackness, but shimmers brightly with many brilliant flames. Each flame blusters about the pit, blazing brightly, too brightly to reveal what each holds inside. Virgil turns to his protégé and explains the sorry fortunes of this place, for within each burning conflagration is bound a soul, each swathed in fiery doom. Suddenly spotting a flame with two heads, our inquisitive poet asks what is behind this peculiar fate. Within this flame, Virgil explains, are bound Ulysses (Odysseus) and Diomedes, two great heroes from ancient times, who now suffer jointly in Hell (for the feats of Diomedes, please click here). Both men conceived the trick that spelled the doom for proud Troy. Spurning the valour of arms on the open field, cunning Ulysses and powerful Diomedes turned to malicious fraud to achieve their victory, a sin for which they now burn in Hell. Dante yearns to speak to the heroes of yore, but Virgil intercedes. These men hail from an era long gone, an era which Virgil himself once saw in life, and only he may commune with them. The blazing flame approaches, and the higher of its two peaks flickers, and begins to speak. The voice is that of Ulysses, and the hero tells the tale of his last great voyage over the sea, far beyond the boundaries of the known world. Eager to seek what lay beyond the Western Ocean, his crew rowed for five days and nights, until a fell tempest blasted their ship upon the slopes of Mount Purgatory. Ulysses is overcome by grief at his memories, as another flame approaches.


Recognising the accent of Lombardy which Virgil speaks so well, the flame begs to know of the plight of Romagna, is it in peace or war?  This time, Virgil encourages Dante to speak, proficient in the Italian tongue as he is. For the flame chains within the soul of Guido da Montefeltro, once a great Lord of Urbino and warrior to the Pope. Romagna is still the prey to the savages of war, Dante sadly informs him, as Ravenna's land still seeks peace. Dante asks Guido if he will tell him his story in return. The soul mournfully declares that if he thought Dante had any chance of returning to the land of the living, he would not, but since all who enter Hell never leave, he will do so this once. With bitter fury, Guido reveals that he would have joined the heavenly host, pious friar and loyal defender as he was, but for the machinations of Pope Boniface VIII, whose name he curses in Hell. As the Pope once warred with Palestrina seemingly without end, Guido had advised him to offer amnesty, and then renege upon it after the surrender. The stratagem worked, and the fortress fell, as the papal troops razed it to the ground. Horrified at the slaughter, Guido entered the order of St Francis of Assisi, becoming a devout Franciscan. As the years took their toll, and the spirit of Guido left his body, St Francis came for him, but woe! A cruel cherub of Hell got there first, and dragged him to the fiery depths. For here are punished those who received the gifts of wisdom, but use them for malicious ends, a fate Dante feels great sorrow for. But the hour grows late once more, and our two poets make for the penultimate Rotten pocket of the Eighth Circle of Hell:


                         " Who could, even in the simplest kind of prose
                                   describe in full the scene of blood and wounds
                                   that I saw now - no matter how he tried!
             
                           Certainly any tongue would have to fail:
                                   man's memory and man's vocabulary
                                   are not enough to comprehend such pain. "
                                                        - THE SOWERS OF DISCORD

The Sowers of Discord
Engraving by Gustave Doré

With a shudder of nausea at the grotesque sight before him, Dante reasons that if all the slain from battles past, from wars waged on Italy's fertile plains, were piled high, the sight would be nothing compared with this. For the souls of the damned here have a terrible fate, as their corporeal forms are ripped asunder. As the souls run in chaos and agony, there stand above them horned daemons, each rending flesh with a violent swipe of their cruel blades. Before Dante's very eyes, one soul desperately sprints past, fleeing a daemon behind. But alas, another in front slices him open, spilling his guts onto the filthy floor. As Dante looks upon the man in pity, the soul looks up and the two gaze upon each other. He reveals himself to be Muhammed, the prophet of Islam, deformed and torn in this cruel land. Before him flees Ali, his son-in-law, fleeing the murderous blades. Muhammed explains that all here were condemned to this realm for spreading discord and schism in life (Dante viewed Islam as itself a breakaway faith of Christianity, and condemns Ali for his division of Islam into the Sunni and Shi'a sects). Just as they tore apart societies in life, now they are themselves torn asunder in Hell. Each soul runs a deadly circuit through the Pocket, their wounds slowly healing, only for them to be ripped open once again when they reach the beginning. Muhammed warns Dante of the others still alive on Earth that they are heading for a similar fate, the heretical preacher Fra Dolcino being one of them. The deadly guardians closing in, Muhammed takes flight once again. More shouts, and more souls thunder by, many of them Italians. Gaius Scribonius Curio, the man who advised Julius Caesar to cross the Rubicon and make war on Rome, approaches, though he is mute, for a vengeful daemon has severed his tongue. Another soul, headless, bearing its severed head as though a lantern, calls out to them, daring them to look on at his "monstrous punishment". The decapitated man reveals that he was once Bertran de Born, the man who encouraged the young Prince Henry to raise arms against his own father, King Henry II of England.

Despairing, Dante wonders how many more people he will see in Hell that he recognises. As the two poets begin their journey to the final Rotten Pocket, Dante is left pondering, what dread fate awaits those condemned to the very bottom of Hell, and what manner of crime will earn a being a place there?

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
Dante: Inferno (Penguin Classics)
(A nice version which has both the Italian and English text)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Well annotated and readily accessible, including the entire Divine Comedy)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Divine Comedy: Volume 1: Inferno (Penguin Classics) (Pt. 1)
(A nice version which has both the Italian and English text)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(Well annotated and readily accessible, including the entire Divine Comedy)

Hector and Achilles

We return today to the thick of the action, as the Trojan War reaches its climactic showdown, culminating in the most legendary confrontation in history - the duel of Hector and Achilles. The end was coming. For ten long years Greeks and Trojans have fallen in their tens and their thousands. For ten long years the mightiest heroes have been hurled to the House of Death. For ten long years strong walled Troy has weathered the storm, Prince Hector standing valiantly between the endless ranks of Greece and the city itself...

Andromache bids farewell to Hector
Painting by Anton Pavlovich Losenko

But the tide has turned, with the slaying of Patroclus, Achilles' own cousin, Hector had sealed the Fates. Now, Greek hordes pour across the great plain of Troy, a lone figure far in front, driven mad with rage. The goddess Athena herself at his side, Achilles thunders across the plain, with Trojan battalion and Trojan god alike blasted from his path. The war has divided even great Olympus itself, with gods and goddesses torn in their loyalties, with many of their own children fighting on both sides. But now not even Ares, the god of war himself, can stand in the way of Fate. Hurling a vast boulder at the god, Athena brings murderous Ares crashing to the ground, Troy's greatest ally at last lying broken in the dust. His glittering form, bearing the armour forged by Hephaestus (for this story, please click here), god of fire and the forge himself, Achilles has no mercy for the sons of Troy, as their blood spatters his magnificent cuirass. Trojans flee in blind terror before the onslaught, desperately seeking the safety of the city, with but one man, Prince Hector, boldly facing down the coming doom. High on Troy's unbreakable walls and wizened with age, King Priam eyes the chaos of the field in despair. Calling his people back inside the walls with urgency, he sees another proud son of Troy rush to confront the carnage. Brave Agenor, another noble soul, incensed at the reversal of Troy's fortune, charges Achilles down. Barely days ago the Greeks were pinned against the beach, desperate, all hope seeming lost, as Hector even burned the first of their ships, and now Fortune had cast Troy a deadly hand. Taunting Achilles for his audacity, Agenor hurls his spear at the golden figure. His aim was true, as the deadly point soared straight at the son of Peleus' thigh. But no! A resounding clang rang out as the gleaming gifts of Hephaestus held true. Achilles' turn, but he is denied his prey, as Lord Apollo, god of the sun deflects his throw. The god spirits Agenor away, defiant against the turns of Fate. Achilles makes hot pursuit, bellowing threats at the god, oblivious to the fact that no man can slay a god.

Hector and Achilles
Painting by Rubens

As the wrathful hero clad in gold bears down upon Troy's gates with irresistible force, King Priam cries out to his son in vain. Having watched so many of his sons slain by Achilles' hands, he cannot bear to watch his favourite fall. Pleading with Hector to retreat within the walls, Priam's shouts are in vain. Moved to deranged grief at the coming judgement, the King of Troy tears his hair out in anguish, his Queen leading the women of Troy in a chorus of tears. But Hector is unmoved. To retreat now and enter the city, why he would die of shame, and disgrace would be heaped upon him. He considers for a moment, a fleeting thought, that maybe he could simply give Helen up to the Greeks, and hand over the riches of Troy to Agamemnon and Menelaus, the sons of Atreus (and grandsons of Pelops, whose story is told here). But no, Achilles will never see mercy, so bent on destruction is he. Any chance to end this war through words has gone, only death can bring that now. Hector, for a moment, cast his thoughts back to the peaceful days:


                                 " But Achilles was closing on him now
                                   like the god of war, the fighter's helmet flashing,
                                   over his right shoulder shaking the Pelian ash spear,
                                   that terror, and the bronze around his body flared
                                   like a raging fire or the rising, blazing sun... "
                                                        - THE HOUR OF HECTOR APPROACHES           

As the sun shone on the glorious arms of the gods bound to Achilles' form,  and the favour of the gods was arrayed against him, the spirit of Hector broke. Overcome with a human fear, a fear for life, Troy's last hope ran, desperate to push back the moment of his doom. Mighty Achilles, however, was relentless, tearing after Hector all the way, never letting up. Three times around the walls of Troy they ran, all eyes fixed upon them, the eyes of gods and men. High on Olympus Zeus the Thunderer looked down in pity at Hector's plight. Adamant, Zeus demands the gods decide once and for all what is to be Hector's fate, shall he be spared from the hand of Death this day, or will Achilles strike him down at last? The King of the Gods wishes greatly to spare Hector, but Athena protests, as if Zeus goes against the will of the Fates, the gods will no longer be loyal to him. Resigned to the coming end, Zeus bids Athena go forth and do as she feels is right, powerless to intervene as he is this time.

The Body of Hector
Painting by Jacques-Louis David

Far below on the Dardan Plain, as the two heroes reach the Gates of Troy for the fourth time, the hour as come. For all the gods to see, Zeus holds out his scales of gold, and within he placed the fates of both men, one for Hector the Prince of Troy and one for mighty Achilles. As the Thunderer raised them high, down fell the fate of Priam's son. As Zeus commanded Apollo to stand down, and all gods loyal to Troy to pull back from the field, Athena triumphantly soared down to Hector's side, and in her cunning took the shape of Deiphobus, another of Priam's sons. Warmed by the sight of his dear brother, the deceived Prince of Troy is heartened that he is no longer alone, blind as he is to the goddess's schemes. Athena speaks with the voice of Deiphobus, and sows fresh courage in Hector's heart, the valour which once broke the lines of Greece. Shouting in defiance of the Fates, Hector turns and faces his enemy boldly. Offering a pact to fierce Achilles, that the victor will return the defeated body of his foe to his friends, and not allow it to be the sport of crows and dogs, Hector appeals one last time to Achilles' mercy, but:


                             " A swift dark glance
                               and the headstrong runner answered, 'Hector, stop!
                               You unforgivable, you... talk not of pacts to me.
                               There are no binding oaths between lions and men..."
                                                    - ACHILLES TO HECTOR

Achilles Triumphant
Painting by Franz Matsch

All words spent, the hour of battle had come. With a godly throw, Achilles cast his deadly spear at the Prince of Troy. Ducking barely in time, Hector was spared the Hand of Death, as the bronze point pierced the ground. Unperturbed, Athena wrenched the weapon from the Earth and returned it to Achilles, hidden from Hector's eyes. Courage building, Hector is elated, if Achilles can miss, perhaps there is hope? For the countless thousands of Troy's sons whose blood stains the Earth now, Hector marshalled all his strength and hurled his own lance, its murderous point soaring through the air. A direct hit! But woe, though the spear struck the Shield of Achilles' dead centre, the craft of Hephaestus was not so easily undone. Not for the first time, with a deafening clang did a spear spin off the armour of Achilles. His strength sapped by his throw, Hector railed with frustration, shouting out to loyal Deiphobus to pass him another spear. But Deiphobus was no longer there, and Hector realised the trickery deployed against him. Embracing his fate at last, the noble Prince of Troy roared, "So now I meet my doom. Well let me die, but not without a struggle, not without glory, no, in some great clash of arms that even men to come will hear of down the years!"

With one last burst of glory, Hector took his sword from his side and lunged at Achilles, as an eagle which has seen its prey high up in the sky soars down to its hapless quarry. With a shout of rage, Achilles dived too, the rays of the sun falling upon his metalled form, as though the hero was aflame. Since Hector wore the armour that Achilles himself once wore, before it was torn from the lifeless form of Patroclus, Achilles' aim was true. With all his might Achilles drove his spear through Hector's throat, as the Prince of Troy at last fell broken to the dust. His lifeblood gushing from his wound, Hector gasped for breath, struggling against approaching Death. With his last efforts, he implores Achilles to give his body to Troy. But no, Achilles, inhuman with anger, savagely taunts the fallen Prince with what is to come. As the darkness begins to fall over Hector's eyes, and he at last begins to know peace, he calls down one last curse upon his conqueror, foretelling Achilles own demise will come, as soon he will join him in the House of Death. As the spirit of Hector is borne to the Underworld, the Greeks explode with shouts of triumph, as Achilles tears the armour from Hector's back. His foe's death alone unable to sate his rage, Achilles pierced Hector's ankles, threading a leather strap through them and binding them to his chariot. With a lash of his whip, Achilles charges around the walls of Troy, the lifeless Prince dragging over the harsh ground, with the eyes of all Troy on this outrage...

As the most famous duel in history, the final confrontation of Hector and Achilles is as legendary today as it ever was in ancient times. The poem which tells its story is one worthy of the epic events themselves. You can find it and read it (and trust me, its worth it) in the Iliad, one of the earliest surviving works of literature in the West. For over 15,000 lines of some of the greatest poetry ever written, for the price of a cinema ticket, you can get it easily of Amazon:

United Kingdom

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

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which forgoes some of the poetic epithets, more suitable for the casual reader)

United States

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

Oxford World's Classics:
Iliad (Worlds Classics)
(A translation which forgoes some of the poetic epithets, more suitable for the casual reader)

The Mortality of Gods

The natural balance and harmony of everyday life is a delicate thing so easily overturned. The alarming speed with which this can transpire is a powerful reminder of its fragility. This much was a terrible truth as much to the gods of the Norse lands as it is to us today. For the Aesir who dwelled in the highest of the Nine Worlds struggled daily for their supremacy over the cosmos, with foes outside and within. Tales abound of their triumphs, and their perils, as they desperately try to stay the hand of Chaos. One such story is the legend of the Golden Apples.

The Eagle watches
Image taken from the 18th century Icelandic
manuscript SÁM 66

One day, three among the Aesir came down to Midgard in the realm of Men. These three were Odin, King of the gods, Loki the trickster and Hoenir, one of the gods who had helped Odin in the creation of the cosmos (for the story of the Creation, please click here). In their wanderings, they scaled vast mountains, stalked great plains and crossed mighty rivers and lakes. Weary from their toil, the gods soon desired rest from their journey, and sustenance for the road ahead. Reaching the crest of a large valley, the Aesir saw before them a great herd of oxen, grazing in the dale. Delighted by this fortuitous find, the gods took the most powerful bull from its brethren, in anticipation of the splendid feast they would soon enjoy. Coming to the eaves of a magnificent forest, the Aesir slaughtered the bullock and began to roast the fine meat, as they lay down to rest under a towering tree. A little while later, eager to dine, the gods looked into the pot and saw to their horror that the meat was as raw as though no flame had so much as touched it. Thinking they had made a mistake with the fire, they tried once again, and to their dismay, the meat still would not cook. As the gods took counsel as to what this bizarre turn of events might mean, a powerful voice sounded from the branches above. The voice declared that it had stayed the fire's heat. Looking up, the Aesir saw no man or god, but a mighty eagle, perched upon a strong bough, greater in stature by far than any eagle seen before. The eagle spoke once again, and declared that the meat would cook if they would allow him a share of the ox in return. Dying of hunger, the famished Aesir assented. The magnificent bird took flight, soaring down to the cooking pot, and in a clatter of talons, seized the two hams of the bullock, and both shoulders, the finest cuts of the ox. Furious at being the sport of a mere bird, Loki seized his spear, and thrust it into the eagle.


With a shout of pain and anger, the eagle leapt into the skies with the spear, and Loki, holding on for dear life. Flying low, the eagle dragged the trickster through the scrub and harsh mountains, the god writhing in pain from the battering. Loki begged the bird to release him, but the eagle was adamant, he would release Loki only if he would give him his word that he would send out of Asgard the lady Idunn and the Golden Apples. This was an audacious request indeed, for the Golden Apples of Asgard were the divine fruit which granted immortality to whomsoever would eat from them, and were a mighty gift indeed (just like the Golden Apples from Greek Mythology, which you can read about here). For Loki, who was not truly one of the gods (for more about this, please click here), to hand over such a cornerstone of the gods' strength would be a terrible sin indeed. But Loki, ever the deceiver and bent on spreading Chaos, saw now a perfect opportunity to bring about the anarchy he so craved. Agreeing to the eagle's request, Loki was at once released, and he returned to Odin and Hoenir, neglecting to mention the fell pact he had just made.

The Eagle and Idunn
Painting by Harry Theaker

On their return to golden Asgard, the gods were still as yet oblivious to the blasphemy about to unfold. One night, Loki came before Idunn, and spoke of some majestic apples he had found in a certain wood in Asgard. Unaware of Loki's lies, Idunn was intrigued, for it was though only the Golden Apples in her care were enchanted. Loki asked her if she would go to the wood, with the Golden Apples, so that she may compare them. This seemed reasonable to Idunn, so she quickly stole away from the confines of the fortress, heading for the open plains. At once, Idunn saw a shadow grow around her, and she looked up, seeing an enormous eagle swooping upon her. Snared in the creature's talons, Idunn was spirited away to the icy wastes of Jötunheim, the home of the fierce Jötunn, a race of cruel giants with whom the Aesir are continually at war (for more about this race, please click here). However, there is one among the Aesir who does not sleep, and the theft did not escape his gaze. For he was Heimdall, the vigilant watchman of the gods, who keeps an eternal sentry over the rainbow bridge which connects the realm of the gods and that of men, Bifrost. Here he awaits any sign of the coming end of the world, known as Ragnarök, ready to blast a warning on Gjall, a horn so loud its roar will shake the foundations of the Nine Worlds. Meanwhile, the Aesir were struck with anguish at the loss of the Golden Apples. Deprived of the source of their eternal youth, the gods grew feeble, and their hair was rapidly turning as white as the snows of Jötunheim. As their youth waned, so too did their strength, as even mighty Thor was bent with age. Panic spread throughout Asgard, as with the failing of the strength of the Aesir, there would be nothing to stop the Jötunn should they mount an attack on the Heavens. The dying gods held urgent council, desperate for knowledge of where Idunn and the Golden Apples had gone. Loki sat silent, relishing the agony he had unleashed. But to his horror, Heimdall took the floor, revealing the true extent of Loki's machinations. The watchman revealed that he had seen the eagle bear Idunn to Thrymheimr in the land of Jötunheim. Heimdall's revelations struck deep in Odin. For in that moment he realised the extent of the deception - the eagle was no true eagle at all, but had been the giant Thiazi, a Jötunn who dwelled in Thrymheimr and excelled in disguise. In a rage the Aesir seized Loki and threatened him with all manner of torture and death if he did not return Idunn and her Apples at once. Fearing for his life, Loki had no choice but to comply.


To assist him, the goddess Freyja lent Loki the magical hawk's plumage she possessed, which allowed its wearer to shape shift into the form of a hawk. Taking flight, Loki soared with all haste to Jötunheim. Coming to Thiazi's abode in the frozen mountains, Loki found Idunn and the Apples within, but the giant out. Transforming the lady into a nut, Loki snatched her and the Apples in his talons, and tore off back to Asgard. Just then the Jötunn returned, furious that his prize had gone. Spying a hawk on the horizon, Thiazi immediately took on his eagle form and soared after Loki. In Asgard, the Aesir saw Loki approach, tailed closely by Thiazi, and prepared a bonfire to guide Loki's way. As Loki sped over the ramparts and down to the courtyard, the Aesir lit the fires. Loki just managed to get through, but Thiazi was unable to stop in time, hurtling straight into the blaze. The flames burned his feathers, as his disguise began to unravel in the conflagration. Their anger at the giant's balsphemy still raw, the Aesir set upon him and slew him. Loki resumed his normal form and proudly presented Idunn and her Apples back to the gods, though in secret, he was maddened that his schemes had failed once again, and he ever after bore a grudge against Heimdall.

Skadi
Original artwork by Carl Fredrick von Saltza

But all was not yet at peace. For in Jötunheim, Skadi, the daughter of Thiazi, had returned home and learned the truth of her father's fate. Seizing her arms and armour, she at once made for Asgard, determined to avenge her father. The Aesir, however, impressed by her loyalty and bravery, offered their reconciliation and desire for peace. Skadi requested two things, firstly, that she be granted a husband from among the Aesir, and secondly, that they make her happy. The gods agreed to her first request, and told her she may choose from any of the gods, on the condition that she make her choice based on looking at their feet only. So the line up began, and Skadi set about her inspection, hoping to choose Baldr, the famously handsome son of Odin. Coming to the fairest pair of feet she could find, Skadi announced that she had chosen. Looking up, however, it was with dismay that she saw it was not Baldr, but Njord, the rugged god of the sea. But her disappointment was short lived, for in response to Skadi's second request, Odin obliged by granting her the gift of laughter, something no frost giantess before had yet known. As a final mark of gratitude, Odin took the eyes of Thiazi and cast them into the Heavens where they would reside forever as a constellation in the night sky... 

United Kingdom

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

United States

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