In the meantime Callirrhoë had learned of her husband’s sad end, and her sorrow was tinged with the desire for swift revenge. She threw herself on her face and implored Zeus to work a miracle, to let her little sons Acarnan and Amphoterus grow suddenly into manhood, that they might punish the slayers of their father. Because Callirrhoë was guiltless and devout, Zeus heard her prayers. Her sons, who had gone to bed as children, awoke as men full of vigor and the lust for vengeance. They left on their mission and first went to Tegea. There they arrived at the very moment the sons of Phegeus reached the city with their unhappy sister Arsinoë and were about to depart for Delphi in order to dedicate those fatal gifts of Aphrodite to the oracle of Apollo. When the youths fell upon them to avenge the murder of their father, Agenor and Pronous did not know who their attackers were, and before they could even discover the reason for the onslaught, they died by the sword. The sons of Alcmaeon then justified their action to Agapenor and told him the true story of what had happened. Next they travelled to Psophis in Arcadia, entered the palace, and killed both King Phegeus and his queen. Escaping pursuit they reached their island in safety and brought their mother the news of vengeance taken. At the advice of their grandfather Achelous, they journeyed to Delphi and gave both necklace and veil to the oracle of Apollo. When this was accomplished, the curse which had hung over the family of Amphiaraus was at last dispelled, and his grandchildren, the sons of Alcmaeon and Callirrhoë, recruited settlers in Epirus and founded Acarnania. After the murder of his father, Clytius, son of Alcmaeon and Arsinoë, left his kinsmen on his mother’s side with loathing and found a refuge in Elis.
THE HERACLIDAE
THE HERACLIDAE COME TO ATHENS
WHEN Heracles had been received in heaven and his cousin Eurystheus, king of Argos, had nothing more to fear from him, he turned on the children of the demigod. Most of these lived in Mycenae, the capital of Argos, with Alcmene, the hero’s mother. When they became aware of the persecutions menacing them, they fled and put themselves under the protection of Ceyx, king of Trachis. But when Eurystheus asked this petty monarch to give them up and threatened to make war on him if he refused, they doubted the safety of their refuge and fled from Trachis. Iolaus, the distinguished kinsman and friend of Heracles, cared for them like a father. As a boy he had shared all the adventures and hardships of Heracles, and now that he was aging and gray-haired, he took the orphaned brood of his friend under his wing and roamed through the world with them. They set out to occupy the Peloponnesus, which was their father’s by conquest.
In the course of their journey, constantly pursued by Eurystheus, they came to Athens, which was ruled by the son of Theseus, Demophoon, who had just driven Menestheus from the throne he had usurped. On their arrival in Athens, the Heraclidae went straight to the market place, prostrated themselves before the altar of Zeus, and implored the protection of the people of Athens. They had been there but a short time when a herald, sent by King Eurystheus, appeared, faced Iolaus defiantly, and said to him in contemptuous tones: “You seem to think that this is a safe refuge for you and that you have come to a city which will act as your ally! Foolish Iolaus! Do you think that anyone at all would consider exchanging a mighty ally like Eurystheus for a weak one such as yourself? Away with you and all your charges! Away to Argos, where you will be fairly judged—and stoned to death!”
Iolaus answered him calmly. “Far be it from me to do as you say. For I know that this altar is a refuge which will protect me not only from an insignificant nobody like you but even from the hosts of your master. The land to which we have come is a land of freedom!”
“Then be advised,” continued Copreus, for that was the name of the herald, “that I am not here alone. Enough men come behind me to snatch your charges from the refuge of this city which you seem to think safe for you!”
When the Heraclidae heard these words, they broke into lamentation, but Iolaus addressed the Athenians in a loud voice. “Citizens of Athens,” he said, “do not allow the wards of Zeus to be led off by force, nor the wreaths we wear as suppliants to be soiled, lest your gods be dishonored and your city disgraced!”
At this call for help, the Athenians thronged together from all sides, and only now did they see the little group of fugitives huddled around the altar. “Who is that noble old man? And those beautiful youths with flying locks?” questioned a hundred lips. And when they learned that those seeking their protection were sons of Heracles, they were not only filled with compassion but with awe as well. They bade the herald who was about to lay hand on the boys to let them be, and to state his demands to the king of the land in proper fashion.
“Who is the king of this country?” asked Copreus, a little abashed by the firm and proud bearing of the Athenians.
“He is a man to whose judgment you well may bow,” they answered. “Demophoon, the son of immortal Theseus, is our king.”
DEMOPHOON
Before long the news of fugitives in the market place, of a foreign host, and a herald who asked that the suppliants be delivered up to him, reached the king in his palace. He himself went to the market place and heard from the herald’s own lips the demand of Eurystheus. “I am an Argive,” Copreus told him. “The persons I wish to take with me are also Argives and therefore under the jurisdiction of my king. You will not be so unreasonable, O son of Theseus, as to be the one and only man in all of Greece to take pity on these fugitives and for their sakes to engage in battle with Eurystheus and his many and powerful allies.”
Demophoon was wise and contained. To the violent speech of the herald, he merely answered: “How can I hope to see this matter right, or decide in favor of one or another, before hearing both sides? Old man, you who are in charge of these youths, say what you can for yourself.”
Iolaus, to whom Demophoon had spoken, rose from the altar steps, bowed reverently before the king, and replied: “Now I know, indeed, that I am in a free city, for here a man is permitted to speak for himself and finds a hearing. In all other places, they drove away my charges and me before I could open my mouth to speak in their behalf. The truth of our plight is this: Eurystheus was the cause of our leaving Argos. We dared not remain in his country for another hour. How can he call us his subjects and claim that we, as Argives, must bow to his decrees, when he has robbed us of all the rights of a subject? If there were truth in what he said, then he who fled Argos would have to avoid all of Greece as well! But—heaven be thanked!—not Athens! Those who dwell in this glorious city will not drive the sons of Heracles from their land. You, O king, will not permit a suppliant to be snatched from the very altar. My children, be calm! You are in a free country, and what is more, you are with your kinsman. For know, O king, that you are not sheltering strangers. Both Theseus, your father, and Heracles, the father of these boys, were great-grandsons of Pelops. And they were bound by a tie stronger than kinship: they were comrades-in-arms. Heracles liberated your father from the underworld!”
While Iolaus was speaking, he had clasped the king’s knees, taken his hand, and touched his chin. The king raised him from the ground and said: “There are three reasons why I should grant your plea. First, Zeus and this holy altar; secondly, the kinship between me and your charges; and thirdly, the benefits I owe to Heracles’ efforts in my father’s behalf. If I allowed you to be taken from this sacred place, this land would no longer be a land of freedom, a land where virtue is practiced and the gods given their due.” Then he turned to Copreus. “Herald,” he commanded, “return to Mycenae and tell this to your king.”
“I go,” said Copreus, and brandished his herald’s staff threateningly. “But I shall come again—and with the Argive host behind me. Ten thousand shield-bearers only wait for my king to give them the sign. And he himself will lead them. He is, indeed, already at your borders.”
“Hades awaits you!” said Demophoon contemptuously. “I fear neither you nor all of Argos!”
The herald withdrew, and now the sons of Heracles, a band of strong youths
and fair boys, joyously sprang up from the altar steps, put their hands into those of their kinsman, the king of Athens, and hailed him as their rescuer. Iolaus once more spoke for them and thanked Demophoon and the Athenians with words full of grateful emotion. “Should we ever return to our home,” he said, “should the children of Heracles ever be reinstated in the house of their father, they will not forget their friends, their liberators. Never will they make war on this hospitable city, but always regard her as a dear ally with a claim on their utmost loyalty.”
And now King Demophoon prepared for the attack of his new enemies. He assembled his seers and bade them make solemn sacrifice. Iolaus and his charges were, he said, to be his guests in the palace, but the old man declared that he did not wish to leave the altar of Zeus and would remain to pray for the welfare of the city. “Not until—with the help of the gods—victory is yours,” he said, “will we rest our weary limbs under the roof of our host.”
In the meantime the king had ascended the highest tower of his palace and, looking down, gauged the strength of the approaching army. Then he gathered his men, gave orders for the defense of the city, and took counsel with the soothsayers. Iolaus and his charges were fervently supplicating the gods, when Demophoon came toward them with swift steps, his face agitated and full of sorrow. “What am I to do, my friends?” he called to them with troubled countenance. “It is true that my army is ready for the Argives, but all my seers insist that I can defeat them only on one condition, and this I cannot fulfill! Hear what the oracle has said: ‘You shall slaughter neither calf nor bullock, but a maiden of noble birth. Only then can you and your city hope for victory!’ But how can this be? I myself have a daughter, young and lovely as a flower. But who can expect a father to make such a sacrifice? And what other noble citizen of Athens, having a daughter, would deliver her up to me, even if I ventured to ask her of him? Were I to do such a thing, I should have civil war to cope with at the very time I am fighting an alien foe.”
The sons of Heracles listened to the doubts and fears of their protector, and their hearts sank. “Woe to us!” cried Iolaus. “We are like shipwrecked mariners who thought they had reached the shore but are swept out to sea again by the ruthless storm. Why did we deceive ourselves with idle hopes and dreams? We are lost! Demophoon will yield us up, and how could we reproach him?” But suddenly a ray of hope shone in his eyes. “Do you know, O king, what the spirit prompts me? What can save us all? If you will only help me accomplish it! Instead of the sons of Heracles, give me up to Eurystheus! It would give him pleasure to force me, the constant companion of a great hero, to die a shameful death. But I am old and would gladly sacrifice my very soul for these youths.”
“You have made a noble offer,” Demophoon said sadly, “but it will not avail us. Do you think Eurystheus would be content to kill an old man? No, what he wants is to destroy the young and blooming sons of Heracles, to put an end to his line. If you know other counsel, speak. But what you have proposed would be useless.”
MACARIA
At that so loud a clamor and cry of woe issued not only from the Heraclidae but from the citizens assembled in the market place, that the sound carried up to the palace. Soon after the fugitives had come, Alcmene, Heracles’ mother, bowed with age and grief, and Macaria, the lovely daughter Deianira had borne him, had been taken there to hide them from curious eyes, and now they waited for what was to come. Alcmene was very old, and her thoughts were turned within, so that she knew nothing of what was going on in the world about her. But her grandchild listened to the sounds of lament rising from the heart of the city, and so great was her anxiety for her brothers that she forgot she was a girl who had been reared in deep seclusion, forgot she was unaccompanied, and hurried to the market place, into the very midst of the throng. Not only Demophoon and the Athenians but Iolaus and his charges as well were struck with amazement when they saw her.
For a while she slipped in and out among the people and in this way learned of the danger threatening Athens and the Heraclidae and of the sinister oracle which seemed to block the path to a happy issue. Now she came before the king, and her step was firm. “Regard me as a victim,” she said, “a victim which will pledge you victory and whose death will save my poor brothers from the rage of a tyrant. You were told to kill a virgin of noble birth. Had you forgotten that the virgin daughter of the noblest mortal, of Heracles, dwells in your midst? I offer myself as a sacrifice, which must be all the more pleasing to the gods since it is made of my own free will. If this city is generous enough to engage in war for the sake of the Heraclidae, and to give up its own sons by the hundreds, why should not one of Heracles’ own descendants be ready to give her life in order to insure victory to such noble men? We should not be worth protecting and saving if one of us did not think in this way. So take me to the place where my body is to be offered up. Wreathe me, as you would wreathe a ewe or a hind. Brandish the blade, for my soul will rejoice to go.”
For a long time after the girl had spoken the last impassioned word, Iolaus and those with him were silent. At last the leader of the Heraclidae said: “Macaria, you have proved yourself worthy of your father. I exult in your courage, even while I mourn your fate. Yet it seems to me that all the daughters of the line of Heracles should come together and decide by lot which is to die for her brothers.”
“I do not want to die by lot,” said Macaria. “Do not hesitate too long, or the enemy will fall upon you and the oracle be in vain. Bid the women of the city come with me, lest I die seen by the eyes of men.”
And with a retinue of the noblest women of Athens, Macaria, steadfast and joyful, went forth to die the death she herself had willed.
THE BATTLE
The king and the citizens of Athens looked after her reverently, while Iolaus and her brothers, the Heraclidae, lowered their gaze in sorrow and pain. But Fate did not allow either side to dwell on their thoughts and emotions, for hardly had Macaria disappeared when a messenger came running toward the altar, his face bright with good tidings, his voice loud with joy. “Greetings, O sons of Heracles,” he cried. “Tell me where I can find Iolaus. I have a message for him which will give him happiness.” Iolaus rose from the altar, but he could not at once banish the lines of grief and care from his forehead, and the messenger asked him the cause of his gloom.
“I am troubled for those I love,” said the old man. “Do not question me further, but rather tell me your joyful news.”
“Do you not recognize me?” asked the messenger. “Do you not know the old servant of Hyllus, son of Heracles and Deianira? You will recall that my master separated from you in the course of your wanderings, in order to enlist allies for your cause and his. Now, at just the right moment, he has come with a mighty host and is camped opposite the army of King Eurystheus.”
A stir of happy excitement ran through the group around the altar and spread to the citizens. The good news brought even old Alcmene from the women’s apartments of the palace, and gray-haired Iolaus had them bring him weapons and gird on his armor. He commended the younger children of Heracles and their great-grandmother to the care of the elders of Athens who remained behind in the city. Then he himself went out with the youths and King Demophoon to join the host of Hyllus.
Now when the allies were drawn up in battle array and the field glittered with armor as far as eye could reach, when only a stone’s throw away stood the army of King Eurystheus, who had placed himself at the head of countless rows of armed men, Hyllus, son of Heracles, descended from his war-chariot, and standing in the narrow space between the hosts, called to the Argive king: “King Eurystheus! Before we shed blood, before two great armies begin to fight for the sake of a handful of people and threaten each other with destruction, hear what I propose! Let us two decide this quarrel in single combat. If I fall at your hands, take with you my brothers, the sons of Heracles, and do with them as you wish. But if I defeat you, then let the sovereignty of my father, his house, and his rule in the Peloponnesus, be as
sured to me and mine.”
The allied hosts expressed their approval of this plan in loud applause, and the Argives muttered their consent. But Eurystheus, who had long ago proved himself a coward and who was again deeply concerned for his life, flatly rejected the proposal and would not leave his column of men. So Hyllus too returned to his host, the seers made sacrifice, and soon the battle cry was sounded.
“Fellow citizens!” Demophoon called to his men. “Remember that you are fighting for house and hearth, for the city that gave you birth, that feeds and protects you!”
On the other side Eurystheus begged his men not to disgrace Argos and Mycenae, but to add to the glory of their mighty state. And now the Tyrrhenian trumpets blared, shield thudded on shield, wheels rattled, spears rang, swords clashed, and the groans of the fallen sounded between. For one awful instant the allies of the Heraclidae recoiled from the thrusts of Argive lances, which threatened to break their ranks. The next moment they not only hurled back the enemy but surged forward themselves. For a long time the outcome was uncertain. At last the Argives fell back in confusion, and armored men and chariots all turned to flee. At that, old Iolaus suddenly felt a craving to make glorious his age by one last bold deed. As the chariot of Hyllus rolled past him to strike at the fleeing host of the enemy from the rear, the old man stretched his right hand up to the stalwart hero and begged to mount the chariot in his stead. Hyllus reverently made way for his father’s friend, for the protector of his brothers, and yielded his place to him.
It was not an easy task for those old hands to master four horses, champing the bit, but he drove forward and had just reached the temple of Pallas Athene when he saw the chariot of Eurystheus whirling up the dust ahead of him. Then he drew himself up and prayed to Hebe, the goddess of youth, to lend him the strength of youth for a single day, so that he might take vengeance on the foe of Heracles. And a miracle came to pass: two stars sank slowly out of heaven and came to rest on the horses’ harness, and a moment later a cloud of impenetrable mist enveloped the entire chariot. But the next instant mist and stars alike had vanished. Standing erect in the chariot was Iolaus, young and sound. His brown locks blew in the wind, his neck was straight and strong. He had sinewy arms and gripped the reins of the four horses with a firm hand. Storming ahead, he caught up with Eurystheus who had already passed the Scironian Rocks and was about to enter the valley in which the Argives thought to find safety. Eurystheus did not recognize his pursuer and fought back. But by dint of the youthful power the gods had lent him, Iolaus was victorious, forced his old enemy from his chariot, tied him fast in his own, and drove him toward the allied host as the first fruits of victory. The battle was won, for the leaderless host of the Argives scattered in frantic flight. All the sons of Eurystheus and countless other warriors were slain, and soon not a single enemy was left on the soil of Attica.
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