Favorite Greek Myths

by Bob Blaisdell

  Odysseus and his men hoisted the log and rushed towards the slumbering Cyclops. They jabbed the burning spear into the monster’s eye, which sizzled and spit, and twisted the point.

  The giant, groaning in agony, reached out here and there for Odysseus and his men, but they had run and safely found a corner where Polyphemos’ terrible hands could not reach.

  His shouts roused the Cyclopes who lived on the other side of the mountain.

  They came to his entry way and shouted:

  “What is it, Polyphemos? Why are you screaming? Did somebody hurt you?”

  “Noman!” said Polyphemos.

  “Oh, then,” said the other Cyclopes, “if no man has hurt you, why are you bothering us?” They returned to their own caves.

  When it was morning, Polyphemos’ sheep wailed, like babies, to be allowed to go out to graze on the rich, lush meadows. Odysseus and his men, clever schemers, were clutching the wool underneath the giant sheep’s bellies, hoping to ride out past the Cyclops. Polyphemos lifted the rocky cliff from the cave’s entrance and told his sheep, lovingly running his hands over their backs, “You feel sorry for me, don’t you? You are walking slowly today because you are sad that your master is now blind.”

  When the sheep reached the gentle meadows, Odysseus and his men let go their hold of the wool and tumbled to the grass. Then they herded several of the sheep and ran down the hillside towards the safe cove where their ships lay.

  Polyphemos by now had realized the men had escaped, and he was in a rage, calling out at them, “Come back! Let me give you the gift you deserve!”

  Odysseus could not resist taunting the rude Cyclops, and he called out to him, “You wicked, beastly monster. Know that it was Odysseus who blinded you!”

  Polyphemos felt his dark way along and climbed a mountain and broke off the top of it. While Odysseus and his men sailed away, Polyphemos heaved that mountaintop in the direction of Odysseus’ voice. The rocky peak barely missed Odysseus’ ship’s stern, and in the tall wave the splashing mountaintop created, the ships bounded forward on the sea, away from the island of the one-eyed Cyclopes.

  They then sailed to Aiolia, where lived Aiolos, the keeper of all the winds. Aiolos was fond of Odysseus and wanted him to reach his home on rocky Ithaca. He gave the captain a bag of winds; the only wind Aiolos left out, which he sent after them to sweep them along home, was the west wind. On and on the ships sailed. But, just within sight of their homeland Ithaca, Odysseus’ men grew curious to see what treasures their captain had in the bag from Aiolos, and opened it up; the terrible winds tossed their ships clear back to Aiolia. The weary men went back to Aiolos’ palace, and Aiolos was angry and disappointed to see them: “That Cyclops Polyphemos must have cursed you to his father Poseidon. The sea god bears a grudge against you, and I cannot help you. Now leave my island before Poseidon punishes me in turn.”

  After this came a total absence of wind. For six days the ships had to be rowed by the sailors. This was exhausting work. At the end of six days the weary fleet landed on a strange island, and decided to rest there. While the rest of his fleet put into a deep bay, Odysseus cautiously kept his own ship moored in open waters. What happened next showed that his instincts had been correct: a party of sailors from the fleet went inland to look for food and met with a tribe called the Laistrygones, who, being the fiercest of cannibals, tore them to pieces and ate them on the spot. This brought the entire tribe to the place where the fleet was resting in the deep bay. Swiftly and violently, Odysseus’ entire fleet was demolished and devoured by the Laistrygones—all save his own ship and crew. As they sailed away from the island, Odysseus and his men mourned the sudden loss of so many of their friends.

  Their next adventure was on the island called Aiaia, home of the enchanting immortal witch Circe. Several of Odysseus’ men went to her, and she fed them, but with her magic turned them into swine. The messenger god Hermes flew down to Odysseus, giving him a magic charm and guidance on how to reverse Circe’s witchcraft. Odysseus then tricked her with the charm and forced her to turn his snorting sailors back into men. She was happy to do so; what’s more, she became a kindly hostess. Odysseus and his men lived with Circe for a year, comfortable and happy, almost forgetting their homeland. Odysseus then asked Circe for news of his home, his wife Penelope and son Telemachos, and Circe told him the person to ask was the seer Teiresias. He knew the past, present and future and would tell them all to Odysseus, as well as how to return home. “But I must warn you, dear Odysseus,” said Circe, “you must travel into the underworld, Hades’ land of the dead, to find him.”

  Odysseus had never found an easy way to get home, but this was surely the hardest journey yet. His men sailed to the entrance of Hades, and Odysseus went down into the underworld, where he saw sights few living mortals see. He gave a bloody drink to the spirit of Teiresias, and the seer looked into the future for him, warning him of dangers and of all to come. Next Odysseus spoke with his tearful mother, Antikleia, who had died with sorrow because of his absence. When he tried to clasp her, she was like vapor and his arms passed through her. He spoke then to the great warriors of the Trojan War, his slain comrades Agamemnon and Achilles. Soon satisfied with his gloomy adventure, Odysseus returned with his men to Circe’s island, where she gave him further warnings about the way home.

  “As did Jason and the Argonauts, you will sail past the rocky island of the Sirens,” said Circe. “They sing divinely, but do not let your men listen to them, or your ship will be lured to its destruction on their shores. If you want to hear their heavenly songs, block your men’s ears with wax and have yourself tied to the mast.

  “After you pass the Sirens, you will reach Scylla and Charybdis. The passage between these is so narrow,” explained Circe, “the cliffs on either side cast shadows across it all day long. In a cave, far up one sheer cliff, lives Scylla, a horrible long-necked beast who has six heads with voices like those of whimpering puppies; but those deceitful mouths hold brutal, sharp teeth like knives, and when she flashes out her neck she plucks sailors from the boat just as she fishes the sea below for dolphins and sharks. No ship can pass by her cave without losing six of its men.

  “On the left side,” continued Circe, “is Charybdis, which swallows ships whole, sucking them down and down to the bottom of the sea. Once a ship enters the whirling funnel of Charybdis, then hope is gone and all will perish. Three times a day does Charybdis swallow and spew. Perhaps you will be lucky and pass over the whirlpool while Charybdis is calm; but do not risk this. I advise you, dear Odysseus, to steer your ship closer to Scylla and lose six of your worthy men rather than risk destroying your entire ship in the churning, whirling Charybdis. You will know where Charybdis is by the lush fig tree that clings to the jagged cliff above it.”

  Odysseus replied: “We will sail under the cliffs, and I will stand ready at the prow with my spears waiting for Scylla.”

  “My good Odysseus, you still do not understand. She is an immortal beast and will take your men whether you try to fight her or not. No, your best effort will be to encourage your men to keep rowing. If they panic and your ship stalls in the waters below the cliff, Scylla will enjoy a second meal.”

  Last of all, she told him that when he reached Thrinakia that he and his sailors were not to eat the cattle of the sun god Helios. “No matter how hungry you are, you must not allow the cattle to be touched, or your weary men will never reach home,” said Circe.

  Odysseus thanked Circe and set out on the seas.

  As they approached the Sirens, Odysseus deafened the men by putting wax in their ears; then he had them tie him to the mast. Listening to the delicious voices of the Sirens, Odysseus was overcome with joy. He pleaded with his men to bring him to the Sirens’ rocky shores, but fortunately they could not hear him, and rowed on, keeping the ship safe. Farther along, Odysseus was released from the mast, the Sirens’ singing still sweet in his memory.

  As they approached the passage between Scylla and Charybdis
, Odysseus remembered Circe’s warnings. He hoped even so to avoid Scylla’s menace. He stood on the prow and shouted at his men to row hard. He peered and peered, searching out the cliffs for the snake-necked killer. They heard a rush of water and looked off to their left. There they saw Charybdis sweeping all the ocean around it into a terrible whirl. “Avoid the swirling waters, my men,” ordered Odysseus.

  Charybdis suddenly sucked down the waters and the men could see the bottom of the sea. Charybdis then spewed the water in a frightening explosion; the men shouted. In the next moment Odysseus turned in his boat and saw six of his crew rising above him, grasped as prey and reeled away by terrible Scylla.

  “Odysseus,” the men called to him, “save us!”

  Odysseus could do nothing as Scylla, at the entrance to her cave, devoured them; the remaining men pulled hard on their oars. They got away, weeping for their friends.

  Odysseus and his men soon landed on Thrinakia, the home of Helios. While their own food lasted they were happy to resist the temptation of the sun god’s marvelous herds of cattle. But as the days went on, with no wind to carry them on their way, the men became hungry and desperate. One afternoon, while Odysseus slept, the men killed, roasted and ate one of Helios’ cattle. Odysseus prayed for forgiveness, but the gods did not show mercy. As Odysseus and his men sailed away with the wind, almighty Zeus, furious with their disrespect, destroyed Odysseus’ ship and all the members of its crew—all but Odysseus.

  Odysseus, alone, had to make a return journey on a raft between Scylla and Charybis. This time he chose to take his chances with the deadly whirlpool. At the moment Charybdis pulled his puny raft into its sucking waters, Odysseus leapt and grabbed hold of a branch on the fig tree about which Circe had told him, and there he remained, for many hours, hanging like a bat, until Charybdis spit out the raft once more. Odysseus dropped near the raft, and Zeus, seeing the man’s plight, blinded Scylla’s eyes until Odysseus paddled past her cavernous perch.

  The sea nymph Calypso lived on an island, Ogygia, far across the ocean from any god or man. It was a surprise to her when she discovered the dying warrior Odysseus floating on a piece of timber on the waves. The long-haired nymph nursed the mortal back to health, sharing her food and her home with him. But as time passed, he would sit on the seashore day after day, weeping and remembering his family. He had been gone so very long from them all!

  He had been with delightful Calypso seven years when the gods on Mount Olympos decided that the nymph should send poor Odysseus on his way. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, flew across the waters and arrived at Calypso’s warm, well-stocked cave.

  “Zeus, the king of the gods, has ordered that Odysseus be sent home, lovely Calypso,” said Hermes.

  “What! After I rescued him, after Zeus’s thunderbolts destroyed his ship, now you want to take him from me?”

  Hermes let angry Calypso have her say, and then he repeated his message. She nodded, because the gods and nymphs must all obey the word of Zeus.

  After Hermes flew away, Calypso walked out to the shore and tapped weeping Odysseus on his shoulder. “Come with me,” she said.

  He followed and they ate. He ate mortal food and she the food of gods, nectar and ambrosia. Gorgeous Calypso now asked, “My mortal man, are you so sure you want to go home? If you stay with me I will make you immortal. Why is it you want to leave me? Could your mortal wife be my rival in beauty?”

  Odysseus did not want to anger the nymph and answered: “Never could Penelope be as beautiful as you, for your beauty is timeless, everlasting. But I am mortal and miss my mortal life. My dear father and my baby son who has grown into a man have spent long years missing me. You saved my life, dear one, and yet now I wish to return home.”

  “Very well,” said Calypso sadly, “As you wish.”

  The next morning, Calypso gave Odysseus everything he needed to make a raft. After five days he had completed it. On the sixth day she gave him many gifts and sent him on his way, blowing a steady breeze behind him to ease his voyage.

  On this raft Odysseus made his way to the island of Scheria, home of the Phaiakians; there, a princess named Nausicaa discovered the sea-grimed sailor, cleaned him and fed him and introduced him to her parents, the king and queen. Odysseus told his long, sad, amazing story to his kind hosts, and they wept and invited him to marry their charming daughter.

  “Thank you,” said Odysseus, “but my lone desire is to return home.”

  The king’s sailors rowed Odysseus home to Ithaca with many treasures. Odysseus was asleep when they landed, and they unloaded him and his possessions and rowed towards home, which, alas, they would never reach. Poseidon remained resentful of the injury Odysseus had caused his son Polyphemos the Cyclops, and so he punished Odysseus’ rescuers by turning their boat to stone.

  When Odysseus awoke, Athena had covered Ithaca with such a fog that he did not recognize his homeland. She appeared to him as a young boy, and he told her an incredible lie as to who he was and from where he had come. Athena laughed at him, and revealed to him now who she was, where he was and how a hundred threatening suitors would try to kill him if he returned to his palace. She then made him seem an old man and dressed him in rags, so that he could test the loyalty of his family and friends.

  Keeping himself in disguise he found that his swineherd, Eumaios, reverenced Odysseus’ memory, and treated kindly all strangers. Eumaios served the beggarly-seeming man food in his shelter and told him of the savage, rude suitors; of Odysseus’ poor father Laertes, grieving and lonely on his farm, far from the city; of forlorn Penelope, awaiting Odysseus’ return; and of Telemachos, Odysseus’ brave son, who had traveled far and wide to hear any news of Odysseus.

  Hearing of all this made Odysseus eager for revenge on the suitors, but Athena tempered his anger and made him await the return of Telemachos. Telemachos had escaped the death the suitors plotted for him and now came to see the swineherd. When Odysseus saw the handsome, sturdy young man he had known only as a baby, he nearly wept. Telemachos asked Eumaios about the stranger, and the swineherd told him about the old man.

  Telemachos asked Eumaios to go to Laertes, Telemachos’ grandfather, and to his mother, Penelope, with the news of his return. After Eumaios left the hut, Athena restored Odysseus’ true form, and Telemachos was amazed.

  “Are you a god?” he asked Odysseus.

  “Not a god,” said the man, “but your father.”

  They clasped, and Odysseus was overcome by tender weeping. They then planned for the suitors’ destruction, and how Odysseus would enter the palace hall as a beggar, while Telemachos removed all the weapons from the hall. They went to town separately.

  The suitors were disappointed to see Telemachos still alive, but Penelope was delighted to see her son. She asked him, touching his shoulder, “And have you heard news of your father?”

  “No,” said Telemachos, lying to his mother at Odysseus’ request; for his father wanted to test each person’s loyalty in turn.

  “I thought you would not,” said Penelope, who now lost hope of ever seeing her dear husband again.

  Meanwhile, Odysseus’ return to the palace as a beggar showed him the outrages committed by the suitors. In his disguise, whereby Athena again made him seem an older man, he claimed knowledge of Odysseus’ return, and for this they made fun of him. “You lying scoundrel,” they said. “You tell Penelope stories so that she’ll give you a piece of bread and the corner of a hallway to sleep in.”

  “And you,” returned Odysseus, “disrespect the laws of hospitality, treating a poor old beggar with rudeness and a kind hostess with contempt, eating her out of house and home.”

  “What!” cried one of the suitors. “Talk to us like that!” And he hurled a stool at Odysseus. It struck him on the shoulder and tumbled away. Telemachos came forward in the hall and scolded the suitors for their behavior. Penelope, soon after, came from her elegant room, as beautiful as she had ever been. The suitors marveled at her dazzling face and hair
, further angering Odysseus.

  Beautiful Penelope announced, “We will have a contest. The man who is able to string my long-lost-and, alas, no doubt long-dead—husband’s bow and shoot an arrow through a row of twelve axes shall have my hand in marriage.” She then turned away and returned to her room.

  Telemachos saw an opportunity for his father’s revenge in this contest and set up the wood-handled axes in a long row, their long handles crossing each other and forming an alley of sharp curved blades. Only the strongest arms and hands could string such a large, strong bow; and only the surest archer could possibly guide his arrow through such a passage.

  Each suitor tried to string the bow, and each suitor failed. When they had stopped to rest, angry with their failure, beggar-like Odysseus asked if he might have a try.

  “Never!” cried a suitor. “Imagine a beast like you wedding a princess like she!”

  “Why are you frightened now of a humble old man?” asked Telemachos.

  The other suitors shouted that the beggar ought to be allowed a try, and Odysseus came over and sat down on a stool and picked up the bow. He looked it over, and then, like a musician stringing his instrument, easily pulled the bowstring over the tips of the bow and then plucked on the taut string. He picked up an arrow and notched it in the bowstring, and then let the arrow fly. It passed through the row of axes in an instant, perfectly.

  Suddenly the suitors were in a panic, sensing something strange had come to pass.

  Odysseus now announced his identity: “You mongrel dogs thought Odysseus would never return! But I have, and for your crimes against me and my family you all shall die!” Athena instantly restored to him his younger, stronger body.

  Telemachos and Odysseus now began their terrible slaughter, killing every single suitor, spilling blood across the floor. When their merciless deed was done, and they had washed down the tables and floors and carried out the bodies, Odysseus went upstairs to see his wife and announce his identity to her.