Heroes, Gods and Monsters of the Greek Myths

by Bernard Evslin

  “Give me the eye!” cried one. “I want to see! My turn to see!”

  “Give me the tooth—then you will see me, see me…you will see me smiling.”

  “I want the tooth for biting. If you take the tooth, then I must have the eye.”

  “And what will I have—I, I, I?…”

  Swiftly Perseus stepped among them, shuddering as his hand touched their withered claws. Swiftly he seized the tooth and eye and stepped back.

  “Where’s the tooth? Give me the tooth!”

  “Where’s the eye? Give me the eye!”

  “It’s my turn! You’ve had it too long!”

  “My turn…my turn.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Where is it?…Where’s the tooth?…Where is it, where’s the eye?…You have it…You must have it…No, you, you, you—”

  “I have it,” said Perseus. “I have them both, tooth and eye.”

  “A stranger!”

  “A thief!”

  “A man!”

  “A man! Give me the eye so that I may see him!”

  “A man! Give me the tooth so that I may smile at him!”

  “But he has them.”

  “Oh, yes, he has them.”

  “Give them back to us, young sir, so that we may see you and smile at you…Please…please…”

  “I have your tooth and your eye,” said Perseus, “and I will return them to you only in exchange for your secret.”

  “What secret? What secret?”

  “Where do I find the Nymphs of the West?”

  “Oh, that secret. No, we may not tell. No, it’s a secret within a secret, and they are for keeping, not for telling. We dare not tell. It’s a Gorgon secret; they will rip us to pieces if we tell.”

  “You belong to the Immortals and cannot die,” said Perseus, “so you will crouch here through the ages with no tooth in your mouth, no eye for your head. And while you may do without smiling or without chewing, you will soon be wanting your eye. Oh, yes…think how long and dark the moments are for two of you when the third sister has the eye. Think of your darkness now. Think of the torment of hearing a voice and not being able to see who is speaking, and it has only been a few minutes. Think then of these minutes stretching into hours, and the hours into days, and the days into months, and the months into years—dark years, endless, boring, heavy, dark years with mind and memory growing emptier and emptier…”

  “Give us the eye, the eye! Keep the tooth, and give us the eye!”

  “There is a little jelly in my hand. It lies between my thumb and forefinger. Just a bit of pressure, a bit more, and it will be crushed, useless, unable to see. I am impatient. I must have the secret. I must know where to find the Nymphs of the West. The secret! Quickly! My finger is pressing my thumb. The jelly trembles. Can you not feel the pain in your empty sockets?”

  “Aieeee…”

  “Stop!”

  “Do not crush it! We will tell…We will tell…”

  “Quickly then.”

  And, speaking together swiftly, sobbing and tittering and sighing, they told him how to find the Nymphs of the West, who alone could give him what he needed to overcome Medusa.

  Now who were these nymphs, and why were they the guardians of this secret?…Ages past, when Hera married Zeus, Mother Earth gave her as a wedding present a tree that bore golden apples. Hera loved this tree very much, but after a while she found she could not keep it in her own garden for Zeus would steal the beautiful golden apples and distribute them as favors to the nymph or dryad or naiad or Titaness or human girl he happened to be courting at the time. Therefore, Hera took her magic tree and planted it at the very end of the earth, on the uttermost western isle, a place of meadows and orchards of which Zeus knew nothing. Here it was that the Titan, Atlas, stood, shoulders bowed, forehead knotted, legs braced, holding up the end of the sky. It was the three daughters of Atlas, enchantingly beautiful nymphs, whom Hera appointed to guard the treasure. It was a wise decision. These lush and fragrant dryads made better guards than any dragon or three-headed dog or sea-serpent for such monsters could be killed or chained or outwitted, but no one could get past the nymphs. They danced among the trees and shouted gay invitations to the marauder until he forgot all about his quest and came to dance with them. Then they would stroke him and give him wine to drink and dance him about in circles until he was so befuddled they could do what they chose with him. Then they would dance him to the edge of the cliff and push him into the sea. They did all this under the eye of their father, Atlas, who groaned occasionally under his burden, or stamped his foot, making the earth shake, or shrugged his shoulders, making comets fall. These strange storms of the Titan’s grief gave the island a bad name; fishermen avoided it, and sailors. Other dark secrets came to be buried here with the Nymphs of the West, and they guarded them with the same fatal skill with which they guarded the golden apples. So it was that they held the Gorgon secret.

  Now, following the directions of the Gray Ones, Perseus flew west. He flew and flew over a strange misty sea until he saw the mighty hunched figure of Atlas holding up the sky. Then he dipped toward earth. The nymphs were dancing when a shadow flew over the grove.

  “It’s Hermes!”

  “Welcome, sweet Herald! Welcome, dear cousin!”

  “Come down!…Come quickly! Tell us all the news!”

  Perseus came lower and hovered a few feet above the ground.

  “He’s not Hermes!”

  “But he has Hermes’ sandals. Hermes has a helper! Oh joy!”

  “Not a god at all, a man! A lovely young one. All fresh and clean and lovely.”

  “Come down, man!”

  “Come play with us, stay with us…”

  “Come dance with us.”

  “You must be a great thief to steal Hermes’ sandals; come tell us how you did it.”

  “Come down…Come down…”

  Still standing on air, Perseus bowed. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to dance with you and tell you stories, but I have a promise to keep first, a promise to keep, weapons to get, an enemy to kill.”

  “Oh, you foolish men with your ridiculous quests, your oaths and enemies and impossible voyages. When will you learn to eat the fruit and spit out the pits and sleep without dreaming in the arms of your beloved? Have you ever slept in a woman’s arms, sweet young sir?”

  “My mother’s.”

  “Your mother’s…Good for a start, but not enough, not enough. Come kiss us, lad—we need kissing. It has been a dry summer.”

  “I cannot kiss you now,” said Perseus. “Even up here I smell your apple-blossom scent, and grow bewildered, and almost forget who I am. What then if I were to come close and touch your apple-ruddy skin and drink your cider breath? I would grow drunk as bees among honey suckle, lose my sting, and forget my oath. Please help me, Nymphs. Do not bewilder me.”

  “Come down…stop this talking, and come down…Forget your quest, we’ll give you something better. Come down…”

  “Look, you lovelies,” said Perseus. “My father was Zeus who wooed my mother as a shaft of fire, a fountain of light. My birth was strange, and the auguries thereof. Deeds are my destiny, adventure my profession, and fighting my pleasure. Unless I fight and win, I am no good for love either. Have you ever seen a rooster after he is beaten in a fight? His comb sags, he is unfit for love, he disappoints his hens. Tell me your secret. Give me what I need to fight Medusa. Tell me where to find her, and I will go there. By the gods, I will come back with her head in my pouch. Then, then, then I will be fit for you, beautiful ones. I will come back and tell you the tale of my battle, and other tales too, and dance with you, and do your pleasure.”

  “He speaks well, sisters. He must be the son of a god.”

  “He is our cousin then. We owe him loyalty.”

  “The Gorgons are our cousins too.”

  “But so ugly. So
ugly and so foul. I prefer this handsome new cousin.”

  “Yes, I like this one, this flyer with his bright yodel and silver spurs. He will keep his promise, I know. He will come back and tread his chicks most nobly.”

  “Let us tell him…quickly…the sooner we tell, the sooner he will go, and the sooner he will return.”

  “I smell rain on the wind. With any luck the clouds will come and hide the eyes of Father Atlas so he cannot see us dance with the stranger and grow jealous.”

  “Quickly, then…”

  They ran to Perseus and, seizing his ankles, pulled him down, and clung to him, kissing and whispering. He grew dizzy with their apple fragrance and the touch of their smooth hands and the taste of their lips; but they were not trying to befuddle him now, only to touch him because they were unable to reveal anything to anyone they could not touch. And when he put their whisperings and murmurings together he learned what he had to know about where the Gorgons dwelt and how to find Medusa.

  Then they pulled him to a huge tree whose twisted roots stood half out of the ground. They searched among these roots and gave him three things: a shield of polished bronze, bright as a mirror, and he was told that he must never look at Medusa herself but only at her reflection in the shield; a sword, sickle-shaped, slender and bright as the new moon; and, lastly, a Cap of Darkness—when he put it on he disappeared altogether, and they had to grope about to catch him and to extract three kisses each for the three gifts.

  He took off his Cap of Darkness and rose a bit in the air, gleaming with happiness. “Thank you, sweet Nymphs. Thank you, beautiful cousins. With these gifts I cannot fail.”

  “Will you keep your promise?…Will you come back and tell us your story?…Will you come back to dance and play? Will you come back another day?…”

  “Farewell…Farewell…” cried Perseus. He rose to the top of the trees, smiled at the sight of Hera’s golden apples shining among the leaves, and resolved to steal one when he came back to take home to his mother. Then he soared away past Atlas’ angry face, scowling back at him; he flashed past the mighty shoulder of the Titan and flew northward again, following the outer rim of the earth.

  With the Cap of Darkness on his head, invisible as the wind, Perseus followed the curve of the dark sea that girdles the earth until he came to the Land Beyond—the Land of the Hyperboreans where the sea is a choked marsh, and the sky is low and brown, and the weeds give off a foul stench. Here, he had been told, was where the Gorgons dwelt.

  He came to earth, picked his way through the rattling weeds, and came to a kind of stone orchard which looked like one of our own graveyards, a grove of statues. Looking closer, he saw that they were the old, worn-down stone figures of men and beasts; and he realized that he was looking at those who had seen Medusa’s face and had been turned to stone between one breath and the next. There was a stone child running, a stone man dismounting from a stone horse, and stone lovers, touching. Perseus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He drew his new-moon sword, held it ready, and raised his bright shield. He had to judge all his movements by the weight of things because the Cap of Darkness made him invisible even to himself.

  Now, going silently as he could, he made his way among the terrible stone figures until he heard a sound of snoring. He stood still and looked. Glittering in the muddy light were brass wings. He raised his shield now, not daring to look directly, and held it as a mirror and guided himself by the reflection. In a covering of weeds lay three immensely long, bulky shapes. He saw brass wings and brass claws. Two of them slept as birds sleep with their heads tucked under their wings. But the third one slept with her face uncovered. Perseus saw the hair of her head stand up and writhe as he looked into his mirror shield, and he knew that it was Medusa. He felt the roots of his own hair prickling with horror as if they too were turning into snakes.

  He kept the shield in front of his face and walked backward. The head of Medusa grew larger in the shield. He saw the snakes swelling, writhing furiously, darting their tongues, biting each other in their fury at the stranger’s approach so that their blood ran like sweat over her forehead. He tilted his shield to keep her head in the center because she was directly below him now. He smelled the terrible stench of the bleeding snakes. Then he raised his sword, and, guiding himself by the reflection, struck a savage downward backhand blow, feeling the horror, anger, pride, and pleasure of battle mingling in him like a mighty potion, firing him with the furious triumph of the deed done at the very moment of the doing. His sword whipped with a magical momentum, shearing its way through the snakes, through the thick muscles and tendons, through the lizard toughness of her hide, through bone and gristle and sinew, striking off the monster head as a boy whips off the head of a dandelion in the field.

  Swiftly he stooped, scooped up the head by its limp dead snakes, stuffed it into his pouch, and stood amazed for where her blood had fallen, two creatures sprang up, a warrior holding a golden sword and a beautiful white horse with golden mane and golden hooves and astounding golden wings. They were Chrysaor and Pegasus, children of Poseidon, whom Medusa had been unable to bear while she lived as a monster, and who had grown full-size in her womb.

  But Perseus did not stop to look as the sisters were waking. He sprang into the air and flew off as fast as he could. The Gorgons, without losing an instant, spread their brass wings and climbed into the air and sped after him, howling. He wore the Cap of Darkness, and they could not see him; but they could smell the blood of the cut-off head and followed the spoor like hounds of the air, howling. He did not dare look back but heard the clatter of their brass wings and the snapping of their great jaws. Athene, however, had cobbled well, magically well. His sandals carried him faster than the Gorgons could fly. He drew away from them until he heard only a very faint tinkle and a cry like wind-bells chiming. Then he lost them altogether.

  THE RETURN

  Perseus had his prize. Medusa’s head was wet and fresh in his pouch, and he was eager to get back to Sephiros to boast to his mother and make Polydectes eat his words; but first he had promises to keep.

  Therefore, he flew back to the Island of the Hesperides and danced with the three Apple Nymphs. All night they danced in the orchard. They danced him as they had never danced a marauder before. They whirled him among the trees, one after the other, then all together, faster and faster. He grew drunk as a bee on their apple fragrance, their ruddy skin, and their petal touch. He was a hero! He had just finished his first quest; killed his first enemy. He was drunk on triumph too, strong with joy. He danced and strutted and gleamed. When dawn came he saluted it with a great bawling golden-voiced challenge. He celebrated like a hero, and the nymphs were so giddy with pleasure that they watched him helping himself to a golden apple from Hera’s tree and only smiled.

  But now the ground trembled. The sky growled thunderously. It was full morning now. The mist that had been hiding the eyes of Atlas had blown away, and the Titan looked down and saw his daughters enjoying themselves in the orchard, a sight he could not endure. He stamped his foot and made the earth shake, roared thunderously, and shrugged his shoulders making comets fall, huge flaming bolts of rock that bombarded the orchard, setting fire to the apple trees.

  Perseus’ blood rose as murder sang in his heart. He flew straight toward Atlas’ mighty face, poised there before the gargantuan frown, and, standing on air, opened his pouch and drew out Medusa’s head. The Titan turned to stone. He was a mountain now, holding up the western end of the sky. It is a mountain till this day—Mt. Atlas.

  “Farewell!” shouted Perseus. “Farewell, sweet cousins…beautiful nymphs. Farewell, my apple-lovelies.”

  “Will you come again? Will you come again?…”

  “Will I not?” cried Perseus. “Every mid-summer I will return, and we will do the orchard dance again until the trees flame. Farewell…” and he flew away.

  Southward he flew, then eastward. He crossed a desert; and now, far below, he saw the first gleam of that matchless
blue that belonged to his own sea. But as he followed the Philistine shoreline which is the eastern boundary of that sea, he saw a very strange sight: a naked girl chained to a rock and, pushing toward that rock, the huge blunt head of a sea monster. The shore was black with people, an ant-swarm of people, watching.

  He came lower and saw that the girl was wearing magnificent jewels. She was not weeping, but gazing straight ahead, blankly. On the shore, in front of the crowd, stood a tall man and woman wearing crowns. Perseus took a quick look and saw that the monster was still some way off. He dropped to earth and, taking off his Cap of Darkness, spoke to the man wearing the crown, “Who are you? Who is the girl, and what is the sacrifice? Is it a private ceremony or one decreed by the gods? My name is Perseus, and I wish to know.”

  The Queen put her face in her hands, and wept. The King said, “I am Cepheus, king of Joppa. This is my wife, Cassiopeia, and that unfortunate girl is my daughter, Andromeda. My wife, foolish, boastful woman was vain of her beauty and that of our daughter—not without reason, as you see; but she took it into her head to praise herself among the people, saying that she and Andromeda were more beautiful than any Nereid, who, as you may know, are very jealous and enjoy the patronage of Poseidon. So they went weeping to the god of the sea, saying my wife had insulted them and demanding vengeance. Poseidon sent that sea serpent, longer than a fleet of warships, whose breath is fire, to harry our coast, destroy our shipping, burn our villages, and devour our cattle. I consulted the oracle who told me that the only way I could wipe out my wife’s offense was to sacrifice my daughter to the monster. I love my daughter; but I am king, and private woe must yield to public welfare. Therefore you see her, the lovely innocent child, bound to the rock, and the beast swims near, swims near…”

  Perseus said, “When public welfare battens on private woe, there is a great disorder in events, a filmy confusion that needs the cleanliness of a sword. Poseidon is my uncle, King, and I feel free to play with his pets.”