D'Aulaires Book of Greek Myths

by Ingri d'Aulaire

  Weeping and grieving, Orpheus wandered about searching for an entrance to Hades, and when at the end of the world he found it, he did what no living man had ever done before: he went down to the realm of the dead to beg for the return of his beloved. His music had power to move hard rocks; it might also move the cold heart of Hades. Hope gave him back his songs, and, playing and singing, he walked down the dark, steep path.

  His silvery voice floated down through the dark like a gentle summer breeze and its magic moved the iron gates of Hades. They sprang open and let him in, and Cerberus, the three-headed watchdog, lay down at his feet and let him pass. The whole dark underworld stilled and listened to Orpheus’ music as he entered the realm of the dead singing about his great love, begging to have his Euridice back. The fluttering souls hushed. Those condemned to eternal pains stopped groaning, and their torturers, the avenging furies, the Erinyes, dropped their whips and wept tears of blood.

  Hades, the pitiless king of the dead, sat on his black marble throne with Queen Persephone at his side. Even he was so moved by the music that tears rolled down his sallow cheeks and cold Persephone sobbed. Her heart was so touched that she turned to her husband and begged him to let Euridice go back to the sunny world above. Hades gave his consent, but he made one condition: Orpheus must not look at his bride before they reached the realm of the living. She would walk behind him, but if he turned, and looked at her, she must return to the underworld.

  Overcome with joy, Orpheus started up the dark path, and as his music faded into the distance, gloom again descended over the underworld. The way was long, and as Orpheus walked on and on, doubt began to creep into his mind. Had Hades deceived him? Were the sounds he heard behind him really Euridice’s footsteps? He had almost reached the upper world, and could already see a dim light ahead, when he could bear his doubts no longer. He had to turn and see if she really was there. He saw her sweet face, but only for an instant, for again Hermes appeared at her side. He turned her about and led her back to the dark gloom below. Faintly, Orpheus heard her whisper farewell. He had lost her forever through his lack of faith.

  Orpheus never again found joy on earth. He wandered into the wilderness to grieve in solitude. He sang, but now his songs were so mournful that tears trickled down the cheeks of wild beasts and the willows wept.

  A band of wild nymphs stormed through the woods shouting to Orpheus to join them. They yelled and carried on so loudly that they could not hear his silvery voice and were not touched by its magic. They wanted him to dance with them, but he had no heart for their revelry, and in a fury they threw themselves over him. They tore him to pieces and tossed his body into a river. The river stopped its gurgling to listen, for the haunting voice of Orpheus still issued forth from his dead lips as he floated down to the open sea.

  The Muses grieved over him. They searched the sea till they found his body on the shores of the island of Lesbos. There they gave him a proper funeral, and at last he could rejoin his beloved Euridice as a flitting ghost in the underworld.

  THE MUSES sang not only of the gods and of the spirits sprung from Mother Earth, but also of great kings and heroes, descended all from mighty Zeus. The tales of heroes and brave men still ring in our ears as we listen to the Muses sing.

  MORTAL DESCENDANTS OF ZEUS

  EUROPA AND CADMUS

  JOYOUSLY the Muses sang about lovely Europa, chosen by Zeus to be the first Queen of Crete. Her father, King Agenor of Tyre, was a descendant of Io, the girl who had fled to Egypt in the shape of a white cow.

  Zeus had been looking far and wide for a maiden worthy of being Queen of Crete, the island where he had been raised. One day his eyes fell on Europa, and her beauty quite captured his heart.

  Changing himself into a snow-white bull, he trotted about in the meadow by the sea where Europa was playing with her maidens. At first she was afraid of the strange bull who suddenly stood beside her, but as he looked at her with big, soft eyes, she lost her fear. She tied a wreath of flowers around his broad neck and gently patted his glistening sides. The bull knelt down at her feet, and trustingly she climbed up on his back and asked him to take her for a ride. He walked up and down the beach with her, and Europa laughed and clapped her hands and called to her maidens to come and see the marvelous bull she had found. But suddenly the bull turned and rushed away over the sea with her. Her maidens cried out in terror and the king came running out of his palace, just in time to see the bull and his daughter disappear beyond the horizon.

  Trembling, Europa clung to the horns of the bull. But to her surprise, not a drop of water touched her toes, for Nereids swimming all about smoothed the waves with their hands and made the sea a polished road for the bull to run on. Then the bull turned his head and spoke. He was not a bull, he said, but Zeus himself, and he had come to earth to make her his bride and the Queen of Crete.

  When Zeus arrived in Crete with Europa, he put a royal crown of jewels on her head as a token of his love, and she lived in Crete in glory and delight to the end of her days. She had three sons: Minos and Sarpedon, who became great kings, and Radamanthus who was so wise that after his death he was made a judge in the underworld.

  When Zeus returned to Olympus, he ordered his son Hephaestus, the smith, to make a bronze robot that would watch over Crete and Europa. Three times a day, Talos, the robot, walked with clanking steps around the shores of the island, and whenever an enemy ship approached, he hurled rocks at it and sank it.

  The king of Tyre had sent his three sons to search for their kidnaped sister. Two of the brothers soon gave up, but Cadmus, the third brother, sailed on to Greece with his men. There he went to the oracle at Delphi and asked where Europa could be found. His sister was well and happy, he was told, and he must give up the search for her. Instead, he should stay in Greece and found a new kingdom; a snow-white cow would lead him to a good site for a walled city.

  Cadmus left Delphi, and indeed, before long, he met a white cow. He followed her uphill and downhill, over mountains and through valleys, and at last the cow lay down on top of a knoll in the middle of a wide plain. Cadmus saw with pleasure that it was a perfect site for a walled city. He sent one of his men for water from a nearby bubbling spring. The man did not return. Cadmus sent another man to look for him. He did not return either, and, one after another, Cadmus sent off all his men, but not one of them came back. At last, he went himself to see what had happened and found a dragon guarding the spring. The monster had devoured all his men, and now it was so sluggish and sleepy that Cadmus easily slayed it. But that did not bring his men back to life and Cadmus could not build a walled city all alone. He sacrificed the white cow to the gods and begged them for help. Athena answered his plea. “Plow a field,” she told him. “Pull out the dragon’s teeth and sow them in the furrows.”

  This advice sounded strange, but Cadmus did as he was told. As soon as the dragon’s teeth were sown, up shot a host of fierce warriors. They rushed at Cadmus, waving their swords and the terror-struck hero gave himself up for lost. Again, Athena called to him: “Throw a rock among them!” He did, and at once the warriors flew at one another, each accusing his neighbor of having thrown the rock. They fought furiously till only five were left, and they were badly wounded. Cadmus nursed them back to health and they became his faithful men and helped him to build Thebes, the great walled city with seven gates.

  Cadmus became a great king and the gods favored him. Zeus gave him Harmonia, a daughter of Aphrodite, for his queen. The gods gave the bride a magic necklace to keep her beautiful and young and Thebes, ruled by Cadmus and his descendants, became one of the greatest Greek cities.

  TANTALUS AND PELOPS

  THE MUSES sang about Tantalus, condemned to suffer forever in the underworld. He stood in water up to his neck, but could never quench his thirst, for whenever he bent to drink, the water receded. Above his head hung branches loaded with fruits, but whenever he tried to pick one, the branch bent out of his reach.

  Tantalus was a son o
f Zeus, and he had been so favored by the gods that he had been invited to feast with them on high Olympus. In return, he had asked the gods to come to dine in his palace in Asia Minor. He was a king of vast riches, but nothing he owned seemed good enough to set before his exalted guests. His son, Pelops, was his greatest treasure, and, wanting to give the gods his best, Tantalus decided to sacrifice him. He made a stew of him and set the dish before the gods. But the Olympian gods detested human sacrifice. Outraged, they threw Tantalus to the punishing grounds in the underworld and brought Pelops back to life. But one of his shoulder bones was missing, and the gods replaced it with a piece of ivory. They all gave him rich gifts. Poseidon gave him a team of fast horses and told him to set off and win himself a new kingdom.

  In Greece there was a beautiful princess whose name was Hippodamia. She was the daughter of Oenomaüs, the King of Elis, and whoever married her would inherit his kingdom, but her father loved her so dearly that he could not bear to part with her. He had a team of horses given to him by Ares, the god of war, whose son he was, and whenever a suitor came to ask for his daughter’s hand, Oenomaüs challenged him to a chariot race. If the suitor won, he would win the princess; if he lost, he would lose his head. No horses on earth could outrun the horses of Ares, and the heads of twelve suitors already hung at the gates of the palace. When Pelops arrived in Elis to woo the princess, Oenomaüs did not know that Pelops also had a team of magic horses, and the King looked forward to nailing the thirteenth head on the gates! But Hippodamia fell in love with the young prince and wanted to save his life. She asked her father’s stable boy to fix the king’s chariot so that Pelops would win. The stable boy, eager to please her, did more than he was asked to do. He took out the wooden pins that held the wheels to the axle, and replaced them with pins of wax.

  Never had there been such a race! The fiery horses ran neck to neck, and the king, to his surprise, could not pull ahead, no matter how hard he swung the whip. Then suddenly the wax pins gave way. The wheels of the chariot flew off and the king was thrown to his death.

  Pelops married Hippodamia and became the King of Elis. He flung the faithless stable boy into the sea, and gave the old king a magnificent funeral feast inviting heroes from all over Greece to take part in athletic games in his honor and offered fabulous prizes to the winners, for Pelops had brought with him the great riches of his father, Tantalus. The games were held on the plain of Olympia, in Elis, and were to be repeated every four years. They were called the Olympic games.

  DANAÜS, PERSEUS, AND THE GORGON

  LOUD was the song of the Muses about Danaüs, first of a line of great kings and heroes.

  King Danaüs of Libya had fifty daughters, his brother, King Aegyptus, had fifty sons. The fifty sons wanted to marry the fifty daughters, but they were rough and rowdy and King Danaüs did not want them for sons-in-law. He feared that they might carry off his daughters by force, so secretly he built a ship with fifty oars and fled with his daughters. The fifty princesses pulled at the oars and rowed the ship across the wide sea. They reached Argos, in Greece, and when the people there saw the king standing in the prow of a gorgeous ship rowed by princesses, they were awed. They were certain that Danaüs had been sent by the gods, and made him their king.

  Danaüs was a good ruler, and peace and happiness reigned in Argos until one day another splendid ship arrived. And who should be at the oars but King Aegyptus’ fifty sons, who had come to claim their brides. Danaüs did not dare to oppose them and had a lavish wedding feast prepared. But secretly he gave each of his fifty daughters a dagger and ordered them all to kill their husbands as soon as they were alone. Forty-nine of the brides obeyed him. But Hypermnestra, the eldest, fell in love with Lynceus, her prince, and fled with him. In vain did Danaüs try to find new husbands for his widowed daughters; nobody dared to marry them. The forty-nine Danaïdes had to live a life without joy, and when they died and came to the underworld, they were sentenced to carry water forever in sieves, trying in vain to fill a bath and wash off their sins.

  When King Danaüs grew old, there was no heir to his throne, and he had to send for Hypermnestra and Lynceus, who were living in great happiness. They became King and Queen of Argos, and their son became King after them. When he died, his son, Acrisius, inherited the throne. Acrisius, however, had no son. He had only a beautiful, golden-haired daughter whose name was Danaë, but her beauty brought no joy to her father. He wanted a son and heir to his kingdom. When an oracle told him that he would die by the hand of his daughter’s son, he put Danaë in a sealed chamber that had neither windows nor doors, only an opening in the roof. There no suitor could see her beauty and she would remain unwed and childless. But Acrisius forgot to reckon with Zeus. The thunder-god spied the lonesome maiden through the opening in the roof, and in the shape of a golden shower he descended to her. No longer was Danaë lonesome, for now she was the happy bride of Zeus. But when her father heard the cries of an infant from her chamber he broke through the walls in a rage, intending to kill his grandson. When he learned that Zeus was the child’s father he did not dare to lay hands on him. Instead, he put Danaë and her son, Perseus, in a chest and threw it into the sea. If they drowned, Poseidon would be to blame.

  Zeus gently steered the chest to the shore of an island, and a fisherman who was casting his nets hauled it in. Great was his surprise when he saw what the chest contained. When Danaë had told him her story, he took her and little Perseus to his hut and cared for them as if they were his own, for he was a kind old man and childless.

  In his humble hut Perseus grew into a fine and valiant youth, proud of being the son of Zeus and the beautiful Danaë. But Danaë’s beauty attracted the eye of the ruthless king of the island. He wanted her for his queen. In vain did Danaë turn him away. She was the bride of Zeus and swore that she could marry no other. The king pursued her and would have carried her off by force if Perseus had not protected her. The scheming king decided to get rid of Perseus, and he let it be known that he was going to marry a princess from a neighboring island. As was the custom, all the men in the kingdom brought him gifts. Only Perseus was so poor that he had nothing to give. So he offered his services to the king instead. This was just what the king had expected. “Slay the monster Medusa and bring me her head,” he said. No man who had ever set out to kill Medusa had come back, and the king was sure that now he was forever rid of Perseus.

  Medusa was one of three horrible Gorgon sisters, so gruesome that all living creatures turned to stone at the sight of them. They lived on an island far out at sea, but nobody knew just where.

  Perseus bid his mother good-by and set out to search for Medusa. He went over land and over sea asking his way, but nobody could tell him where the Gorgons lived. As he stood at a crossroad wondering which way to go, Athena and Hermes suddenly appeared. Zeus had sent them to help him. They could tell him the way to the island of the Gorgons, but he needed more help than that. Athena lent him her shield, polished as brightly as a mirror. Hermes lent him his sword, which was so sharp that it could cut through the hardest metal, and he also needed three magic things owned by the nymphs of the north, they told him, but even the gods did not know where these nymphs lived. That was a secret closely guarded by the three Gray Sisters, and they would never willingly reveal it, for they were the Gorgons’ sisters. But Hermes offered to take Perseus to them and find a way to get the secret out of them. He took Perseus under his arm, swung himself into the air, and flew off, swifter than the wind. They flew far, far to the west and at last they came to a land where the sun never shone and everything was as gray as dusk. There sat the three Gray Sisters. Their hair was gray, their faces were gray, and they had only one gray eye between them, which they took turns looking through. As one of the sisters was handing the eye to another, Perseus sprang forward and snatched it.

  “Now I have your eye,” cried Perseus. “You will never get it back unless you tell me the way to the nymphs of the north.”

  The three Gray Sisters wail
ed and begged for their eye, but Perseus would not give it back, and so they had to tell him the way. Again Hermes took him under his arm and flew with him far, far to the north, beyond the North Wind, where the sun never set. The nymphs of the north received them kindly, and when they heard why Perseus had come, they gladly lent him the three things he needed; a pair of winged sandals to carry him through the air, a cap to make him invisible and a magic bag to hold whatever was put into it. Now he was ready to slay the Medusa, said Hermes. He showed him the way and wished him good luck. Wearing the winged sandals, Perseus flew far to the west. When he came to the island of the Gorgons he did not look down. He looked, instead, into Athena’s polished shield, and shuddered at the sight he saw mirrored there. The three Gorgon sisters were lying on the shore, fast asleep. Long yellow fangs hung from their grinning mouths, on their heads grew writhing snakes instead of hair, and their necks were covered with scales of bronze. Around them stood the strangest stones; it was easy to see that they had once been men.

  Looking into the mirroring shield, Perseus swooped down, and with one deft stroke he cut off the Medusa’s head. Out from the monster’s severed neck sprang a beautiful winged horse, the Pegasus. He neighed and the other two Gorgons awoke. Quickly Perseus threw Medusa’s head into the magic bag and swung himself into the air. Wailing, the two Gorgon sisters took to the air on heavy wings in groping pursuit. They could not find him, for he had put on the magic cap of invisibility.