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)

The Trident and the Spear

Every city which rises to greatness does so from humble beginnings. So high can a nation rise that so mythic can her origins seem. Every great thing, be it a nation, a person, even an idea, has to start somewhere. To our ancestors of old, greatness was a sure sign of favour from on high. For the hand of a god must surely have been at work when one of the most influential cities in human history, for better or worse, was born.

Athena
2nd century AD Roman bust  from Velletri

The Olympians had fought a terrible fight for mastery of the Cosmos. Their forefathers and creators of the Universe, the Titans had not yielded their divine grip easily. After so great a struggle, the harmony of the World was worth more than anything to the gods, even to Zeus the Thunderer, King of the gods and Lord of the Sky. Now fidelity was one thing that Zeus the Thunderer knew not, and many a hero of the ancient world owed his existence to the philandering adventures of the god of gods. It was little surprise therefore, when Zeus undertook a clandestine affair with the beautiful Titaness Metis. However, when the Fates prophesied that the child of Metis would be mightier in spirit and wiser in understanding than its father, Zeus the father of gods and men was convulsed with fear. Long ago, his father Kronos had heard similar words, with dire consequences. The Heavens had groaned under the Titanomachy, and could ill afford so ruinous a war for a second time. So Zeus the Thunderer decided on a little evil for a greater good. Weaving his divine powers of transfiguration, the shape of Metis he shifted to that of a common fly, and the god swallowed her whole, so that she may never give birth to this legendary child.

Time passed, but troubles did not for the Lord of Olympus. As the days grew late, a terrible pain struck the god inside. What began as an ache inside his royal head, soon swelled to a pounding agony that would not die. Time soon came when even the Thunder himself, conqueror of Typhon and Heaven could bear the torment no more, and summoned to his side Hephaestus, the god of the forge and weaver of fire. "Take up thy hammer and rend asunder this head that pains me so, lest this torture afflict me for all the ages to come", said Zeus. The lame god of the smith stood dumbstruck by this command - split open the head of Zeus? But the father of gods and men was inexorable, and irresistible. So Hephaestus took up his hammer and tongs, and with a mighty strike, he breached the Divine Crown. A roar of thunder and a flash of light rolled over the skies. Then, in a blur of speed an apparition appeared. From the fissures in the skull of Zeus there leapt a figure, strongly built yet distinctly feminine, agile yet fully armed, wise yet ready for war, a new goddess entered the cosmos. Athena, goddess of wisdom, mistress of stratagem, lady of the spear and patron of heroes.

Around this time, far below on the mortal plain, the tribes of Attica came together under their King, Cecrops. Born of Mother Earth herself, Cecrops taught the Atticans the still young arts of reading and writing, of literature, of burial and brought the institution of marriage to the tribesmen. Civilisation as we know it, was being born. Soon, however, the simple villages of Attica groaned under the advance of the people, and a new home was needed. Under the leadership of their vibrant King, the Atticans set off through the harsh landscape of Attica, where open plains give way to beaten rock. After a time they came to a place in the West, largely flat yet punctuated by towering pinnacles of rock. The sea lay yonder, yet wise Cecrops knew that to build their new city on the shore itself was too dangerous in an era of rampant piracy on the high seas. Away from the shore then, yet near enough for trade, the people set foot upon a mount with a commanding position over the plain and the sea. Here would be founded their new city, and grandiose would it be. But every new city needed a patron god, but who?

Poseidon
The Artemision Bronze

Word reached Olympus of the gathering under Cecrops upon the Mount. Just then,  the Fates declared that the city that would be founded upon that place would rise to a greatness rivalling the best of all Greece. Glory and honour would walk hand in hand to whomsoever should become her patron. A frenzy gripped Mount Olympus, and the all the divine array wondered. Two among them immediately took the floor. Athena, ever ready with sharpened word and thought, leapt to her newborn feet. But Poseidon, god of the sea, shaker of the earth and lord of horses, bowed to few. Even Zeus himself, King of all gods kept a close eye on his ambitious younger brother, for most vexed was Poseidon when he lost the Heavens in the division of the cosmos. Torn between loyalty to his brother, however unruly, and care for his daughter, despite the danger she posed as his successor, Zeus decreed that the people should decide the patron of their city. Immediately, the two deities spirited down from Olympus and made landfall upon the mountain. With a blinding flash and a roar of thunder, the people cowered at the sight of the divine array. Fearful lest they choose one over the other, the people knew not what to do. Cecrops their King, however, decided. Turning to his gods, he declared that the patronage of the new city would belong to the one who presented the greatest gift to it. Poseidon and Athena, uncle and niece, eyed each other, and readied their contest.

The Sea of Olives, Delphi
Photograph taken by the author

Both god and goddess, stood aside the towering pinnacles of the Acropolis, poised for the prize of glory. Poseidon, shaker of the Earth, took the first move. Raising his mighty Trident high into the air, with a rush of godly strength he plunged the three blades into the mountain side. A deafening rumble rippled across the Earth, and the people were thrown to the ground, terrified. There, where the central prong penetrated the summit (a place today commemorated by the Erechtheion), the wounded rock spat forth a spring of water thick with brine. The Emperor of all Oceans granted to the people the gift of the sea itself, and the assurance that one day they would master it. A fabulous gift indeed. Next the virgin goddess stepped forth. The eyes of Athena looked into the souls of all mortals present, and she senses their hopes and fears. Confident, and unyielding, the daughter of Zeus took up her spear and flung it into the mount. The people watched, entranced, for before their eyes the lance began to shift. The wooden shaft lengthened and broadened, from the blade branches sprang forth, rich with the bounty of its dark fruit. To the people Athena gave the gift of the humble olive tree. Poseidon looked on, bemused and anxious.

Athens at her height
Painting by Leo von Klenze

The primordial Athenians looked on the lowly sprig with wonder and amazement, as the goddess instilled some of her divine wisdom in their minds. Cecrops beckoned his people round to cast their vote. Poseidon's gift was mighty indeed, as was his promise. Mastery of the Ocean? 'Tis the dream of empires! A great destiny had been given to them. But that all looked a long way off to the primitive people, as they looked to and fro, and saw naught but barren rock. One citizen splashed some of the water over his face, and recoiled at its salty taste. The people turned to the sapling, Athena's gift. One fellow took a blackened grape from its boughs, and crushed it in his hands, and oil splashed across his palm. Into his mouth he tossed the olive and pleasing was its taste. Seeing the thick and robust trunk too, he saw the greatness of Athena's gift. Poseidon had given them a taste of great nations, but Athena had given them a source of food, of wood and oil, and something they could trade with others. The people sank to their knees with joy, and hurled themselves at the foot of Athena, daughter of Zeus and maiden of Olympus. Poseidon, god of the seas, was infuriated, but his niece had won the day. Cecrops declared Athena the one true patron of their new city. He declared that this place, the Acropolis, would ever be sacred to her. He declared too, that in her honour the city would be named. To the roar of approval from the first Athenians, he named the city. Athens, the glory of Athena...



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)

The Flute and the Flayed

Ancient lore is ripe with tales of gods and monster, heroes and heroines and their wars, affairs and voyages. Oft is fate written in the stars, virtue praised and pride punished. When mortals rise above their stations, they are punished. But the divine powers are flawed too. Sometimes even the gods could go too far...

Athena
2nd Century AD Roman copy of a Greek original

Legend says that a long time ago, in the Golden Age of the Olympians and heroes, the goddess Athena, daughter of Zeus the Thunderer, was wandering in the sunny vales of the forest of Phrygia. The goddess' chaste ears pricked up at the sound of the birdsong in the breeze, a soothing accompaniment to the percussion of the rustling leaves. Filled with a peculiar joy, she was filled with a passion to make merry in the forest. Taking from the leaf strewn earth the bones of a young doe, the goddess fashioned from them a strange instrument. Whittling a series of pipes from the matter, she lashed them together and considered her new craft. With a modest intrigue, she placed the pipes to her mouth and blew. What a fair sound it was indeed; a soft vibration, a gentle melody and hypnotising note. Spurred on, bolstered by the music of the forest, the virgin goddess could scarcely put them down. Soon her absence was noted on the snowy peaks of lofty Olympus, and gossip flew to and fro, from scheming god and intrigued goddess. All too happy to share her new art, Athena proposed to show them all the sweet sounds at a lavish banquet in Heaven's Halls.


The eve came and the resplendent array of the skies awaited, fascinated by what was to come. When the moment came, the goblets were empty, the ambrosia consumed, the goddess rose to her feet. Brimming with excitement and nerves, she began to play. In the beginning, all was well, as the dulcet tune serenaded the divine array, and seldom were such sweet tones heard in the Palace of Olympus. Zeus the father of gods and men looked merrily on, proud of his daughter's talents. Hephaestus, master of the forge, sat entranced by the music so seldom heard in the roar of the furnace. Ares, lord of war, for whom the screams of the dying were oft his cadence, could scarce hide his delight. But it was then that the eyes of Pallas Athena saw Hera and Aphrodite. Far from listening with rapture, it was with a fits of laughter they returned her song. Though fair and noble, terrible could be the warrior maiden's fury. In anger she departed, seeking solace in the wilderness. When strolling the paths of the Forest of Ida, she stopped by a great pool of glassy water, her joy poisoned by doubt. She took up the pipes once more, and for the last time did she play. In the soft ripples of the water did she see her image cast, and within was held the revelation she sought. She had not noticed until now that as she played, she puffed her cheeks out proudly, their oft white complexion soon a crimson red. Frustrated by the immaturity of her fellow goddesses, with whom she bore a ruinous rivalry, she cast her creation aside. Laying upon the pipes a curse, she vowed calamity upon whomsoever should play them again. Woe that her malediction should have found a mark.

Marsyas in the Forest
Painting by Pyotr Basin

One day, when the memory of the pipes had passed into legend, there lived a shepherd who made Forest of Ida his serene home. His name was Marsyas the son of Oeagrus, and no man was he, but a Satyr. A servant of the god Bacchus, the Satyrs lived a merry life of revelry, dancing and song, frequently spreading havoc and drunken anarchy where their cloven feet trod. Marsyas, however, possessed a gentler spirit, preferring the solitude of the forest to the chaos of the plains. There came a day, however, that neither the Satyr nor the forest would ever forget. Stumbling upon a clearing in the thick canopy of the trees, where lay a crystal pool of ice cool water, Marsyas stopped to refresh. Throwing the pleasant water over his face, he gave a sigh of satisfaction, droplets from his tangled beard breaking the mirror like reflection of the surface. Turning to dry his face, however, he spotted a strange yet curious thing cast in the bushes at the water's edge. Stained with earth and covered in moss, it seemed a relic of an ancient past. Picking the strange object up, the Satyr, acquainted as all Satyrs are with the ways of merriment, realised at once that it bore the form of an instrument. Scraping aside the grime and muck, dousing it in the clear water, he saw the simple pipes in their fresh glory.


Tentatively, the Satyr put the pipes to his lips and blew. The note was rough, but charming. He blew again. Better, but a shade of the performance of the instruments original creator. For an age did Marsyas obsess over the pipes, unable to resist the allure he could not explain, the will to keep playing. Throughout the hours when the sun drenches the Earth did the Satyr practice anew, studious and assiduous. Day by day the Satyr's prowess grew, and with his talent came music sweeter than ever before. Birds began to perch upon nearby boughs, listening intently to Marsyas' song, the notes fairer even than their own. Creatures and being from far and wide began to marvel at the Satyr's song, but before long the curse began to manifest. Pride, the ruin of the great, wove its intoxicating spell in the Satyr's mind, as his humility could deflect the shower of praise no more. Time passed, and soon Marsyas declared himself a musician beyond compare in the world. The fatal hour arrived when the Satyr challenged Apollo, the god of music himself, to a contest.


High on Olympus, Apollo heard his challenge, and the god was angered by the daring of a mortal. Soaring down from the frozen summit, Phoebus Apollo came before Marsyas, and the admiring crowds scattered in fear and awe. Shaking with rage, Apollo declared the contest begun. The Muses, the spirits of the arts, were summoned to judge, and the terms were set. Whoever showed the greater mastery of music would triumph, and the victor won the right to treat the defeated as he pleased. Alas that Marsyas was deaf to the subtle warning that lay veiled within, as the curse brandished its edge, and the proud Satyr accepted. The stage was set. Marsyas took the pipes his beloved pipes, Apollo the lyre with which he was so skilled. The god played first. What ambience the grove had never known! With each pluck of the god's fingers upon the strings, soothed was the soul of all beings present, and the Muses sighed in awe of their master. When the god finished his piece, all gathered saw the end coming for the Satyr. But Marsyas, spurred on by the curse, boldly raised the pipes to his lips. With a jolt the gathered assembly was stunned into silence. With each honey soaked note, the very forest itself seemed to sing, vibrating with raw power. All earthly woes lay distant and forgotten for all mortals there that day, and warmed were the hearts of the Muses. Incensed by fire, alas, was the heart of Apollo. Just as the Satyr neared the boundary of the grove, victory near at hand, the god called to him. If the Satyr could play as he could now, Apollo would concede defeat. Intrigued, yet proud, Marsyas agreed. Without delay did the sun god spin his lyre around, striking a haunting melody, his instrument upside down. The Muses, delighted, applauded the god's performance, before turning to Marsyas, expectant. With a glint of malice in his eye, well did Apollo know that it was impossible to play the pipes upside down. Too late did the Satyr realise this too. His mouth went dry with terror, as the judges were struck with disappointment. To the son of Zeus was triumph assigned, and to the Satyr, ignoble defeat

Marsyas Flayed
Painting by Titian

Near dumbstruck, the Satyr watched helplessly as the god approached, vengeance that only a god could muster flaming in his eyes. Poor Marsyas searched for words but none could be found, none to quench the fire before him now. Hands grabbed him from all around, and terror flooded his veins. Thus was begun a punishment terrible to behold. Strapped to a nearby oak was the quivering Satyr, and tightly bound. The servants of Apollo seized their blades and descended upon poor Marsyas.







                  " 'Why do you tear me from myself, he cries?
                     Ah cruel! Must my flesh be made the prize?
                     This for a mere pipe?' He roaring said,
                     Meanwhile the skin from off his limbs were flay'd.
                     All bare, and raw, one large continu'd wound,
                     With streams of blood his body bath'd the ground.
                     The blueish veins their trembling pulse disclos'd,
                     The stringy nerves lay naked and expos'd;
                     His guts appear'd, distinctly each express'd,
                    With ev'ry shining fibre of his breast... "
                      - THE PUNISHMENT OF MARSYAS


His muffled screams were the last song of Marsyas, raw muscle and tendon bare to the elements now. Such was the justice of Apollo, so great the price of a mortal daring to raise himself above a god.

But not all beings shared Apollo's wrath. The fauns, silvans, nymphs, naiads and spirits of the forest, once serenaded by the Satyr's song, came to his mutilated corpse. Tears flowed from their eyes at their gaping loss, the knowledge that his pure song might never woo them again. It is said that even vengeful Apollo himself was later moved to regret, and not readily did he string his lyre in ages to come, remorseful of his act. "With their tears that flow'd, a kindly moisture on the earth bestow'd, that soon, conjoin'd, and in a body rang'd, sprung from the ground, to limpid water chang'd; which, down thro' Phrygia's rocks, a mighty stream, comes tumbling to the sea, and Marsya is its name..."

Like poor Actaeon before him, Marsyas felt the terrible fate of stumbling innocently in the path of a god. It was the folly of a fool to violate the laws of Heaven, but to challenge them openly, why only those blind to all other things would dice with such death. Nevertheless, even in the ancient world there were many who questioned the magnitude of poor Marsyas' punishment...

United Kingdom

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

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

United States

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

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

The Son of Tantalus

The struggles between men and gods often bring out the very best, and the very worst in both in the legends of the ancient world. The lowliest peasant could be raised to the divine, and the mightiest king could fall to the most humiliating ruin. For there existed a delicate balance between the mortal world and the immortal plain, a balance which held bound within it dire consequences for those who sought to violate the laws of nature. For every man blessed with Paradise in the golden, sun drenched Elysian fields, many more were cursed to hideous retribution in the fires of Tartarus. One such malign soul was Tantalus.

The Tantalisation of Tantalus
Painting by Giocchano Assereto

The son of Zeus, the thunder god himself, and the sea nymph Plouto, Tantalus was of an exalted line. King of the mighty realm of Phrygia too, he was a powerful man indeed. The bounty of the Earth, the reverence of man and the lineage of gods, however, had made Tantalus a proud man. Soon, he began to to question the omnipotence of the Olympians. However, his cruel leanings as yet unknown, one day Tantalus was invited to the dine at a banquet with the gods themselves, high on Mount Olympus (just as Ixion had been too, for this story, please click here). Far from being honoured at this request from on high, Tantalus decided to use this opportunity to put the gods to the test. Legend spoke of a magical substance that was the food of gods, a divine material borne to Olympus by doves shining white as the burning sun. This substance was ambrosia, which sustained the ageless life of the immortals, and granted invulnerability to whomsoever should seek sustenance from it. At the table of Olympus, the gods honoured Tantalus by allowing him to taste Ambrosia, and nectar, the drink which sustained the immortals. Through sleight of hand, Tantalus slipped a portion below the table, with an eye to sharing this majestic food with mortal men, out of spite for the gods. The King of gods and men was unmoved, though he saw Tantalus' ploy, such envy was to be expected from mortals, who so frequently believed their own plight to be greater than that of all others. The worst, however, was yet to come.

The Fall of Tantalus
Engraving by Hendrick Goltzius

Tantalus invited the gods to try a dish of his own making, as gratitude for the warm hospitality they had granted him. Happily, they agreed. Resolved to testing their so called omiscience, Tantalus decided upon a grisly trial. Cruel and heartless to the bone, Tantalus murdered his own son, Pelops, and boiled his flesh. Slicing the corpse up, Tantalus crafted a fine dish, one which veiled its gruesome secret from mortal eyes. Returning to the banquet hall, Tantalus served up the evil dish to the assembled gods. At once, the enraged gods were made aware of Tantalus' fell designs, as all things are laid bare before their eyes. All that is, except for Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, who absent mindedly began to chew on one of Pelop's shoulders, distracted by grief as she was at the loss of her daughter Persephone (whose story will be told in a future post). The fury of the Thunderer was a terror to behold, for the slaughter of one's own kin was the gravest of crimes, the most vile of corruptions and most heinous of sins a man could commit. Zeus banished Tantalus to Tartarus, the deepest, darkest and most grim depths of the Underworld. In this cruel land, the most evil men and women met their fates, and it was here too that the Titans were bound in their infernal prison (for this story, please click here). Like Sisyphus before him, Tantalus was doomed to an eternity of vain struggling (for the damnation of Sisyphus, please click here). Tantalus was ordered to stand in a pool of water, deep in unholy Tartarus. Zeus imbued within him an agonising thirst, yet whenever Tantalus should try to drink from the pool, the Thunderer commanded the waters to recede before his very eyes, so that his thirst should never be quenched. Furthermore, Zeus imposed another ordeal:


           " Trees spread their foliage high over the pool and dangled fruits above
              his head - pear trees and pomegranates, apple trees with their glossy
              burden, sweet figs and luxuriant olives. But whenever the old man made
              to grasp them in his hands, the wind would toss them up towards the clouds "
                                                           - THE PUNISHMENT OF TANTALUS

The Peloponnese
Photograph taken by Ulrich Tichy

Condemned to an eternal fate of thirst and hunger, the fate of Tantalus was sealed, bound in the abyss. Stunned by Tantalus inhumanity, Zeus ordered Clotho, one of the Three Fates, to restore Pelops to life. Realising that Pelops had a peculiar stance due to his mangled shoulder, Hephaestus, the god of the forge, crafted a new shoulder from the finest ivory, and granted it to the young prince. Aphrodite, goddess of sensuality bestowed the gift of extraordinary beauty upon Pelops, taking pity upon the prince too. Poseidon, the god of the oceans and the Lord of Horses, gave Pelops a winged chariot which could ride the surface of the seas. Setting forth from Olympus lofty heights, Pelops travelled the lands of Greece, the legends of his grace and prowess spreading before him. Even the lands he travelled through took their name from him, and it is indeed after Pelops that the Peloponnese is named.

Word soon spread throughout the lands of Greece however, of the proclamation of King Oinomaos of Elis, that to the best of men he would give the hand of his daughter, Hippodaemia, in marriage. Any man was welcome to try, but should he fail, he would die. For the challenge was a chariot race, whereby the suitor would attempt to reach the Isthmus of Corinth. Oinomaos would set off in immediate pursuit, in full armour, and if he caught up, he would slay the man. Twelve men had so far accepted the King's deadly challenge, and twelve lay slain, their heads now hanging from the Royal Palace. For the King, unbeknownst to the suitors, possessed the horses and arms of Ares, the god of war, and no human mercy. The stakes were high indeed, when Pelops arrived at the court of Oinomaos.

The Land of Elis
Photograph taken by the author

Entering the throne room, Pelops came before the King to accept the lethal challenge. Lurking nearby, however, was Hippodameia herself, and she was immediately struck by the dart of Eros, stunned by the handsome form of Pelops, blessed by the gods as he was. That night, before the race began, Hippodameia made a secret visit to the quarters of Myrtilos, the King's charioteer. Begging him to help her and come to Pelops' aid in the race, she won Myrtilos over, who agreed, harbouring secret desires for the princess himself. Dawn arrived and rose into the sky, as the line was set and the chariots were made ready. Careful to avoid being seen, however, Myrtilos approached the King's chariot and removed the axle pin from the wheels, replacing it with one made of wax. Pelops soared off the line, racing along the coast of the land which bore his name. With a shout, King Oinomaos set off in pursuit, spear raised and primed for blood once more. However, the sun beat down, and the stresses of the race soon took their course, and the wax began to melt. The King's chariot began to fall apart, and Oinomaos, entangled in the reins was thrown to the sand, dragging helplessly through the ground. Battered, broken and dying, Oinomaos realised Myrtilos' treachery, and with his last words cursed the charioteer to die by Pelops' hand.

Triumphant with victory, Pelops returned to claim Hippodameia's hand, stopping on the road to collect some water. On his return to his new princess he saw Myrtilos attempting to steal away with his new bride, maddened as the charioteer was with passion. Enraged, Pelops seized Myrtilos and hurled him from Cape Geraistos, fulfilling the prophecy of King Oinomaos. Myrtilos however, seething with injustice, proclaimed a terrible curse upon the House of Pelops and his progeny, that it should be forever hounded by strife, and afflicted by death, its descendants doomed to die before their time...

The tale of the treachery of Tantalus, and the adventures of Pelops, is a legendary one in the lore of the ancient Greeks. The cursed line of Pelops would continue to shape the course of history for generations, and the curse would inflict its terrible price for years to come. Not even mighty Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, and grandson of Pelops through his father Atreus, would escape it. But the legacy of Pelops that lives on today is the land of Southern Greece, a land of magnificent beauty, among whose illustrious sons can be counted the formidable Spartans, the greatest warriors ever born. What of Tantalus? Well, his legacy is found within our very language. For even today in English, if a person is tantalised, they are victim to temptation...


United Kingdom

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

The Odyssey:
The Odyssey (Penguin Classics)
(One of the greatest pieces of world literature, which recounts the punishment of Tantalus)

The Metamorphoses:
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A Roman epic poem, which recounts the plight of Pelops, and many other heroes)

United States

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

The Odyssey:
The Odyssey (Penguin Classics)
(One of the greatest pieces of world literature, which recounts the punishment of Tantalus)

The Metamorphoses:
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A Roman epic poem, which recounts the plight of Pelops, and many other heroes) 

Bird, Bull and Mare

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

Lake Stymphalis

Photograph taken by Ulrich Tichy.

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

Heracles and the Cretan Bull

Mosaic in the National Archaeological Museum of Spain, Madrid.

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

The Mares devour Diomedes

Painting by Gustave Moreau.

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

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

United Kingdom

The Library of Greek Mythology:

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

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

United States

The Library of Greek Mythology:

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

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

The First Labours of Heracles

Standing high amongst all the heroes of Classical lore, and possessed of one of the most famous names in civilisation, is Heracles. Son of Zeus, slayer of countless fierce monsters, towering of stature, founder of cities and raised to godhood, the answer to why his name has emerged from the ravages of time unscathed is not easily forgotten. The name of Heracles will always be associated with the famous Twelve Labours, daunting and formidable tasks worthy of testing the potential of a man to become a god. Let us then look to the beginnings of the adventures, and the first labours of Heracles.

Heracles strangles the Serpents
Sculpture in the Capitoline Museums, Rome.

There was once a mortal man named Amphitryon, who lived with his wife Alcmene in the grand city of Thebes (the kingdom of Oedipus, for more please click here). But the King of gods and men, Zeus the Thunderer, was ever the ceaseless philanderer, and his eyes had found Alcmene. One time, when Amphitryon went away to war, the god came down to Earth, slowing the passage of time, so that the night grew long and the slumber of mortals endured. Assuming the shape of Amphitryon, Zeus entered the house and deceived Alcmene into believing her husband had returned from the war at last, as the two embraced. The following day, Amphitryon himself returned to Thebes. Yet his wife did not greet him with the enthusiasm he expected. Upon questioning her, she revealed in utter confusion that he had of course returned last night and that she had conceived by him. Suspecting divine play at hand, Amphitryon consulted the blind seer Tiresias, who revealed that Alcmene bore twins, one the son of Amphitryon, the other the seed of Zeus. Furious at her husband's repeated affairs, Hera, Queen of the gods, planned a torturous future for his extramarital offspring. When the boys were born, the son of Amphitryon was named Iphicles, and the son of Zeus, so that Hera might be appeased, was named Heracles, a name which means 'The Glory of Hera'. Far from being sated, the goddess raged at the insult. Hera sent forth from Olympus two serpents to the cot of Heracles, commanding them to strangle the infant. Shrieking at the sight, Alcmene cried out for Amphitryon to help, but upon looking back at the infant's cot, saw Heracles playing with the lifeless bodies of the snakes, whose lifeforce he had crushed with his bare hands.

Raised as one of their own by Amphitryon and Alcmene, Heracles learned the ways of the bow, the sword and the lyre, and soon surpassed all peers in his size and near boundless strength:


                 " The mere sight of him was enough to show that he was a son of Zeus:
                    for his body measured four cubits, a fiery gleam shone in his eyes,
                    and he never missed his mark with his arrows or javelins... "
                                                                      - THE STATURE OF HERACLES


Serving his adoptive father loyally in the fields, tending to the cattle in the mountain pastures, one day two nymphs came to the son of Zeus. They were Pleasure and Virtue, and they prophysied a momentous choice that lay before Heracles. Either he could lead a simple and easy life, or one of toil but boundless glory. A proud son of the greatest of gods, the hero chose the latter. Not long after, the Minyans, another Greek people, marched upon Thebes in arms, resolved to destroy the great city in war. Amphitryon fell in the battle, and in a rage, Heracles lead the Thebans to a fresh assault, unleashing his fury upon the Minyans, slaying many and putting them to flight. Men looked on in awe at the feats of Heracles.

As a prize for his valour, King Creon of Thebes presented to Heracles his own eldest daughter, Megara, and his younger to Iphicles. Megara gave to Heracles three sons; Therimachos, Creontides and Deicoon. The gods, too, gave gifts to the hero. The sun god Apollo gave to him a bow and quiver, such that he would never miss a target.  Hermes gave a sword, Athena a robe and Hephaestus forged a breastplate of gold for the glory of Hera. But the wrath of Hera would not be so easily abated. The vengeful goddess sent a madness to descend over Heracles' eyes. The hero writhed in the agony of his mind, blind to those all around. In his writhings, Heracles murdered his own children and two of Iphicles' too. Coming to his senses, deepest shame welled up inside Heracles at what he had done. Tormented by his unholy crime, Heracles went into exile from Thebes, coming to the Oracle of Delphi for purification. Little did he know that the words of the Oracle could be influenced by Hera. The Oracle spoke, and pious Heracles listened. She commanded the hero to journey to the court of King Eurystheus (who was the grandson of Perseus, for more about him please click here) in the mighty walled city of Tiryns, and serve the King for ten years, and complete any task that may be assigned to him, and upon completion of his service, he would be granted immortality.

Heracles slays the Lion of Nemea
Painting by Rubens.

Journeying to the city of Tiryns, Heracles came before Eurystheus. Under the sway of Hera, the King crafted a series of impossible tasks, such that no ordinary man could ever accomplish. For his first task, Eurystheus ordered, Heracles was to bring to him the skin of the Lion of Nemea. This monster was no ordinary lion. One of the dread offspring of Typhon and Echidna (for more about them, please click here), the Nemean Lion was invulnerable to the weapons of man. Its hide was impervious to spear, sword and arrow. Heracles arrived in Nemea, and soon found the creature, which terrorised the local people. Taking up Apollo's bow, Heracles loosed an arrow at the Lion, hoping for an easy victory. The arrow however, simply bounced off the monster's hide. Fashioning a club from a nearby tree, the hero tried to strike the monster, but it too was in vain. The Lion retreated to a cave in the mountains, so Heracles walled up one exit, leaving one cave mouth open. Venturing inside, the two powerful beings launched themselves at each other, the Lion's roar shaking the plains as Heracles grappled with the beast. Heracles throttled the Nemean Lion, using his own Titan strength to crush the beast's neck. Finding his knife unable to flay the body of it even in death, Heracles could only cut the monster's hide with its own claws. Wearing the hide around him as a cloak, Heracles journeyed back to Tiryns.

Heracles slays the Lernaean Hydra
Painting by Antonio del Pollaiolo.

Shocked by Heracles' prowess, Eurystheus hid inside the walls, forbidding Heracles entry to the city, fearing his might. Angered by the hero's success, Eurystheus decreed a second task, sure to prove too great this time. The King ordered Heracles to slay the infamous Hydra of Lernaea, a hideous monster which emerged from the swamps of Lerna to devastate the plains, slaughtering cattle and humans alike. Another of the fearsome brood of Typhon and Echidna, the Hydra was a vast creature, crowned with nine heads, each dribbling toxic poison. Eight of the beast's heads were mortal, but the ninth was invulnerable. Treading cautiously, Heracles, along with his nephew Iolaos, discovered the monster's lair near the springs of Amymone, hurling flaming brands to make the creature emerge. Emerge it did, and the hero hurled himself at it, grasping hold of the monster's trunk. The Hydra slithered its tails around his leg and began to squeeze, as Heracles drew forth his mighty club and swung down with all his might, striking with such force that one of the beast's many heads flew through the air, severed from its giant body. To the hero's despair, however, two new heads sprouted forth from the scaly stump. Retreating to rethink, Heracles called upon Iolaos to help. Attacking once more, as Heracles struck off the monster's heads, he ordered Iolaos to burn the stumps with a torch to prevent the creature regenerating. With one last almighty strike, Heracles severed the final head. But the head could not die, for it was blessed with immortality. So Heracles used his mighty strength to lift a huge boulder high, burying the monstrous head beneath it, so that it might never strike out again. Moving over the huge body, Heracles dipped his arrows in the creature's blood, which ran with lethal venom, sure that more fierce beings were yet to come on his adventures. Taking himself back to Eurystheus, Heracles was enraged to hear the King refuse to accept the validity of his task. Secretly furious that Heracles still lived, the King decreed that the slaying of the Hydra did not count, since the Hero had required the help of Iolaos to slay the beast. More labours were yet to come, but now Heracles was truly alone...

Revered by the Greeks, worshipped in the West and imitated by more than one Roman Emperor, the stories of the toils and hardships endured by Heracles have been told for not just centuries, but millennia. In coming posts we shall return to the adventures of Heracles, ever relentless in his quest for immortality and redemption. The stories of this great hero are scattered wide through the literature of Greece and Rome, but a good narrative may be found in the work of Apollodorus, a tome easily available from Amazon:

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 Rage of Achilles

“ Down from the high skies the father of men and gods let loose tremendous thunder,
   from down below Poseidon shook the boundless earth and towering heads of mountains.
   The whole world quaked, the slopes of Ida with all her springs and all her peaks
   and the walls of Troy and Achaea’s ships... ”

                              - ZEUS UNLEASHES WAR UPON THE FIELDS OF TROY

Thetis presents the arms to Achilles
Painting by Giulio Romano.

Newly furnished with a magnificent gift of arms from the forge of Hephaestus himself, with a roar of fury Achilles vowed bloody vengeance upon the sons of Troy, and death to Prince Hector, whose hand had felled his cousin Patroclus (for the immediate lead up to these events, please click here). As the rage pounding through Achilles reached even lofty Olympus, the gods above met in council to lay out the brutal final act of the siege of Troy. But Achilles, one of the greatest warriors ever born, was unleashed upon the field of war, the only place ever his true home.

Seeing the unstoppable power of Achilles gathering its strength, Zeus the Thunderer is worried. The Fates have decreed that Priam’s citadel will indeed fall, but also that Achilles will not be the one to take it, that he must die at Troy. Fearing that Achilles will dare to raze the walls of Troy himself if unopposed, Zeus commands the gods to take their sides and journey down to the field of war, granting aid to whoever their desire drives them. With a flash of lightning, the gods descend from on high, their spirits going one way or another. Hera, Queen of the gods, races to the Achaean ships, followed closely by Poseidon, the god of the sea and Lord of Earthquakes, Athena, the lady of war and wisdom, as well as Hermes the god of messengers and luck and Hephaestus, the god of fire and the forge. But murderous Ares, the god of war himself, swept to the Trojan ranks, flanked by Apollo, the god of the sun and the archer, Artemis his twin sister and Aphrodite of the golden hair.

As gods waged war upon gods, so too down on the plain did man against man. Spying his first foe, Achilles charged upon Aeneas, the son of Aphrodite and cousin of Hector. Breathing strength into the Trojan warrior, Apollo turned to face the wrathful Achilles. Taunting his audacity to face him alone, Achilles sprinted toward Aeneas. Facing his foe honourably, Aeneas hurls his heavy lance at the golden clad Achilles. His aim is true, and surely it would smite the life from Achilles, but no, the glittering gifts of the gods guarded the favoured Achilles. Five plies thick was the Shield of Achilles, the outer two forged of bronze, the inner two of tin and between them one of purest gold. The mighty ashen spear of Aeneas bores through two plies and held fast in the gold. Now Achilles’ turn. Taking up his spear of strong Pelian ash, the son of Peleus hurled with all his might. Straight through Aeneas’ shield the spear punched, but the Trojan crouched low, and the spear soared inches from his head and embedded firmly in the ground behind. Anguish rising in him, Aeneas fears that his time has come, as do the gods above. Drawing his sword, Achilles lunges to strike down the prince, but his blade passes only air, for Poseidon rushes to the field and bears Aeneas away to safety. The Fates have a plan for Aeneas, a magnificent destiny ahead in a distant land, it is not his time.

The Fury of Achilles
Painting by Charles-Antoine Coypel.

Furious at his humbled glory, Achilles charges into the massed ranks of the Trojans. Iphition is the first to fall, as Achilles deals him so violent a blow with his spear that the Trojan’s skull splits in half. His rage growing, Achilles rounds on Demoleon next and, with a shout, spears him in the temple, the bronze helmet buckling before the great warrior, Demoleon’s brains and gore showering his comrades. The carnage rising, Polydorus, the Prince of Troy and brother to Hector, falls to Achilles’ hands, the blood of yet another of Priam’s sons staining the fields of Troy. Then he sees him. Hector himself is close at hand. Gaze fixed upon the man who is the cause of his grief, Achilles speeds toward him as Death to a man. Apollo, seeing the danger, whisks Hector away from the battle. Roaring in defiance at the Heavens, the godlike Achilles hurls himself once again into the thick of war, rage tempered by grief for his fallen cousin. His blade hot with the blood of Trojan sons, and his anger hotter still, Achilles gives chase to his fleeing foe.

Achilles fights the River
Painting by Auguste Couder.

Coming to the banks of the Scamander River, many Trojans, looking upon the golden clad Achilles in terror, hurl themselves into its foaming waters, desperate to escape his spear. But nothing will break the lust for slaughter in Achaea’s greatest champion. Casting aside his great spear, he dives in, relentless in pursuit, hurling countless heroes to the House of Death. But Scamander is angered by the desecration of his waters. Rising from a whirlpool, the shape of a man, the god of the river begs Achilles to stop his rampage, as his channels are already choked with corpses. Scorning the god’s plea, Achilles advances, as Scamander swirls his waters to protect the fleeing Trojans, calling to Apollo for aid. His rage fired once more, Achilles charges the god himself. Bellowing as a bull, Scamander, his white rapids churning in fury, hurls his thunderous currents upon the hero. The powerful torrents batter that mighty shield, forcing Achilles on one knee. Cursing the river’s power, Achilles moves for the bank, eager to return to the battlefield. But the river refuses to let up, crashing upon the furious hero again and again:

                  “ Again and again the brilliant swift Achilles whirled...

                     Again and again the mighty crest of the river fed by the rains of Zeus

                     Came battering down on his shoulders, down from high above

                     But Achilles kept on leaping, higher, desperate now... ”

                                                 - SCAMANDER FIGHTS ACHILLES

Bemoaning that it is better to die under the spear of Hector than broken by the river, the lamentations of Achilles are heard throughout the Heavens. Rushing to his aid, the god Hephaestus, whose mighty hands made the shining armour now protecting Achilles, moves against the river. Conjuring up his divine power, the god of fire unleashes a maelstrom of fiery rage upon Scamander. The elms, willows and tamarisks upon its banks roar with flame, the lotus plants amongst its waters blacken with heat and the creatures within its waves writhe in agony as the blazing inferno takes hold. Hera sends the West and South Winds forth, and a searing gale blasts the Trojan troops, as the whole arena now erupts with fire. His waters bubbling and boiling with agony, Scamader cries in cruel pain, crippled under the onslaught. Relenting at last, the river releases its hold on Achilles, surrendering the great hero to his fate. Hephaestus quenches his flame, and makes his peace with Scamander. Fury pounding through his veins, Achilles leaps from the river and sprints toward the towering walls of Troy, focusing on one thing alone – Hector. The gods above will not interfere this time. This time, there will be no escape for the Prince of Troy, as total war descends upon the vast plains...

United Kingdom

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

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

United States

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

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