Percy Jackson's Greek Gods

by Rick Riordan

  Not all of Poseidon’s relationships worked out so badly. He dated one girl named Eurynome who was really nice. By the way, her name is pronounced your enemy, and I don’t know how Poseidon could say that without laughing. Oh, your enemy, give me a kiss! My girlfriend is your enemy! I’m going out with your enemy! Anyway, they had a kid together named Bellerophon, who became a great hero.

  Another one of Poseidon’s girlfriends, Aethra, gave birth to an even greater hero named Theseus. So don’t start thinking all the important heroes were Zeus’s kids. That’s just Zeus’s PR machine at work.

  My favorite thing about Poseidon? If he really liked you, he could grant you shape-shifting powers. He did that for one of his girlfriends, Mestra, so she could turn into any animal she wanted. He also gave that power to one of his demigod grandsons, Periclymenus, who could fight as a snake or a bear or even a swarm of bees.

  Me, I can’t change shape. Thanks a lot, Dad.

  On the other hand, some of Poseidon’s kids didn’t turn out too well. Maybe it depended on what kind of mood he was in, or what he’d had for dinner, but sometimes Poseidon sired actual monsters. One of his sons was a man-eating Cyclops named Polyphemus. Another was an ugly giant named Antaeus, who liked to break people in half. And you think your brothers are bad.

  Another time, Poseidon fell in love with a princess named Theophane, who was so beautiful, every guy in her kingdom wanted to marry her. They just wouldn’t leave her alone. They followed her down the street. They broke into the palace, demanding to see her. They even tried following her into the bathroom. She was like a superstar surrounded by paparazzi. No peace or privacy ever.

  Finally it got so bad that she prayed to Poseidon, who had been trying to date her too. “If you can get me away from my other suitors,” Theophane said, “I’ll be your girlfriend. Just get me out of here!”

  The earth rumbled. A deep voice said, “NO PROBLEM. TONIGHT, GO TO THE SHEEP PENS.”

  That didn’t sound like much of a plan to Theophane, but when darkness fell, she put a veil over her face and tried to sneak out of the palace. Immediately she was spotted. Sixty guys swarmed her with bouquets of flowers, shouting, “Marry me! Marry me!”

  Theophane ran for the sheep pens. She dodged a mob of guys with boxes of chocolates, then twelve dudes with guitars trying to serenade her.

  By the time she reached the sheep pens, over a hundred suitors were at her heels. Theophane was so desperate she dove straight into the pens.

  POOF!

  Instantly she turned into a ewe—a female sheep—and was lost in the herd.

  The mob of love-struck guys stopped and looked around, baffled. They searched the pens but couldn’t find Theophane anywhere. Eventually they gave up and went back to stake out the palace, figuring Theophane would return there sooner or later.

  “Thank the gods!” bleated Theophane.

  “You’re welcome,” said a big ram, right next to her.

  Theophane gulped. (Can ewes gulp?) “Poseidon?”

  The ram winked. “You like my new wool coat? Because I like ewe. Get it? Ewe?”

  Theophane started to feel queasy. “I suppose I have to be your girlfriend now?”

  “A deal’s a deal,” Poseidon said.

  They had some quality time together as sheep, which I’m not going to go into, or I’ll get queasy myself. A few months later, the ewe Theophane gave birth to a magical ram named Krysomallos, who for some reason had wool made of gold.

  Eventually, Krysomallos would be skinned for his fleece, which became known as the Golden Fleece, which means I am related to a sheepskin rug.

  This is why you don’t want to think too hard about who you’re related to in the Greek myths. It’ll drive you crazy.

  Last story about Poseidon, and it’s a tearjerker: how he almost took over the universe and ended up as a minimum-wage bricklayer.

  Happened like this: Hera got it into her head that the gods should have a rebellion against Zeus.

  I can’t blame her, really. Zeus could be a total diaper wipe. She decided that the universe would be in much better shape if it were run by the whole Olympian council like a democracy, so she gathered some of the other gods—Poseidon, Athena, and Apollo, the god of archery—and she told them her plan.

  “We tie Zeus up,” Hera said.

  Poseidon frowned. “That’s your plan?”

  “Hey, I sleep in the same room with him,” Hera said. “When he’s in a deep sleep, snoring really loudly, I’ll call you guys in. We bind him tight. Then we force him to give up his throne so we can rule the cosmos together, as a council of equals.”

  The others looked uncertain, but they all had reasons to dislike Zeus. He was erratic and quick to anger, and his weakness for pretty women had caused them all headaches.

  Besides, each of the gods was secretly thinking, Hey, I could rule the universe better than Zeus. Once he’s gone, I could take over!

  Poseidon was definitely tempted. Why not? With his big brother tied up, he would be the strongest god in the world.

  “A council of equals,” Poseidon said. “Sure. I like it.”

  “Right…” Athena glanced suspiciously at Poseidon. “A council.”

  “Great,” Hera said. “Get some strong rope—the magical self-adjusting kind.”

  “Where can you buy that?” Apollo wondered. “Home Depot?”

  “I’ve got some,” Athena said.

  “Of course you do,” Poseidon muttered.

  “Enough!” Hera snapped. “Tonight, the three of you hide in the hallway and wait for my signal. When Zeus is asleep, I will call like a cuckoo.”

  Poseidon wasn’t sure what a cuckoo sounded like, but he figured he’d know it when he heard it.

  That night, Hera made sure Zeus ate a heavy dinner and drank only decaffeinated nectar. When he was fast asleep, she called for the others. They rushed in and tied up the king of the gods.

  “Hrmmph?” Zeus snorted. “Wh-what is this?”

  He began to struggle. He tried to reach his lightning bolts, but his arms were tied fast. His bolts were on the dresser on the other side of the room.

  “TREASON!” he roared. “LET ME GO!”

  He thrashed and tried to change form to get free of the rope, but the rope tightened every time he attempted to shape-shift. He yelled at the other gods and called them all sorts of unflattering names.

  “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” he demanded.

  Even completely bound, Zeus was scary. The gods backed away from the bed.

  At last Poseidon mustered his courage. “Zeus, you’re a bad leader. We want you to abdicate, so we can all rule the cosmos as a council of equals.”

  “What?!” Zeus shouted. “NEVER!”

  Hera sighed in exasperation. “Fine! We don’t need you! We’ll convene the council ourselves and leave you here to rot.”

  “You traitorous little—”

  “Let’s go,” Hera told the others. “We’ll check on him in a few days and see if he’s come to his senses.”

  Poseidon wasn’t sure it was a good idea leaving Zeus unguarded, but he also didn’t want to stay in the room with a screaming lightning god.

  The gods adjourned to the throne room and held their very first (and very last) meeting of the People’s Republic of Olympus.

  They quickly found that voting on everything was messy. It took a long time. Just deciding on a design for the new Olympian flag took hours!

  Meanwhile, a Nereid named Thetis was strolling down the hall near Zeus’s bedroom. What was a sea nymph doing on Olympus? Maybe she was just spending the night, or visiting friends.

  She had no idea what was going on with the rebellion, but when she heard Zeus yelling for help, she burst into his bedroom, saw him tied up, and said, “Uh…is this a bad time?”

  “Thetis, thank the Fates!” Zeus cried. “Get me out
of here!”

  He quickly told her what the other gods had done. “Please,” he pleaded. “You’re a sensible sea nymph. Let me out, and I’ll really owe you one.”

  Thetis gulped. If Poseidon was part of the rebellion…well, he was the lord of the sea, and thus her boss. But Zeus was lord of everything. No matter what she did, she was going to make a powerful enemy.

  “If I let you out,” Thetis said, “promise me you’ll be merciful to the other gods.”

  “MERCIFUL?”

  “Just don’t throw them into Tartarus, or chop them into tiny pieces, okay?”

  Zeus fumed, but he reluctantly promised to be merciful.

  Thetis grabbed some scissors from the dresser and tried to cut the ropes, but she had no luck. The magical bonds were too strong.

  “Blast them with my lightning!” Zeus said. “Wait…I’m in the ropes. On second thought, don’t blast them.”

  “Hang on,” Thetis said. “I know somebody who might be able to help.”

  She turned into a cloud of salty water vapor and sped to the sea, where she found Briares the Hundred-Handed One. Briares owed Zeus for letting him out of Tartarus, so he was happy to help. Somehow, Thetis managed to smuggle the big dude into Olympus without the gods noticing, and with his hundred dexterous hands, Briares quickly untied the magical ropes.

  Zeus sprang out of bed, grabbed his lightning bolts, and marched into the throne room, where the other gods were still trying to design their new flag.

  BOOM!

  Zeus floored further discussion, along with all the other gods.

  When he was done blowing things up and using the Olympians for target practice, he punished the rebels for their treason.

  He kept his promise to Thetis. He didn’t chop the gods into tiny pieces or throw them into Tartarus. But he tied Hera up and suspended her on a rope over the abyss of Chaos, so she could contemplate what it would be like to drop into nothingness and be dissolved. Every day, Zeus would visit her with his lightning bolt in hand and say, “Yep, today might be a good day to blast that rope and watch you fall!”

  That’s the sort of loving relationship they had.

  Hera eventually got free, but we’ll get to that story later.

  As for Athena, she got off with no punishment. Totally unfair, right? But Athena was a quick talker. She probably convinced Zeus that she’d had nothing to do with the plot, and she was just biding her time before she could set Zeus free. Like an idiot, Zeus believed her.

  Apollo and Poseidon got the worst punishments. They were temporarily stripped of their immortal powers.

  I didn’t even know Zeus could do stuff like that, but apparently he could. To teach the two former gods a lesson, Zeus made them work as laborers for the king of Troy, a dude named Laomedon. Apollo became his shepherd and watched the royal flocks. Poseidon had to single-handedly build new walls around the city.

  “Are you kidding me?” Poseidon protested. “That’ll take years!”

  King Laomedon smiled. “Yes, well…I promise to reward you for your hard work, but you’d better get started!”

  Actually, Laomedon had no intention of paying Poseidon. He didn’t like the sea god. He just wanted to get as much free work as possible out of Poseidon for as long as possible.

  Since Poseidon didn’t have a choice, he set to work.

  Even without his godly powers, Poseidon was still pretty awesome. He was stronger than any mortal and could carry five or six massive blocks of stone at a time. The project took him years, but he finally constructed the mightiest walls any mortal city had ever had, making Troy nearly invincible.

  At last, tired and sore and irritated, Poseidon marched into King Laomedon’s throne room.

  “Finished,” Poseidon announced.

  “With what?” Laomedon looked up from the book he was reading. It had been so many years, he’d totally forgotten about Poseidon. “Oh, right! The walls! Yes, they look great. You can go now.”

  Poseidon blinked. “But—my reward.”

  “That is your reward. You can go. I’ll let Zeus know you fulfilled your oath, and he’ll make you a god again. What better reward could there be?”

  Poseidon growled. “I made your city the strongest on earth. I built walls that will withstand any army. You promised me compensation, and now you won’t pay?”

  “Are you still here?” Laomedon asked.

  Poseidon stormed out of the throne room.

  Zeus made him a god again, but Poseidon never forgot how Laomedon had insulted him. He couldn’t destroy Troy outright; Zeus forbade it. But Poseidon did send a sea monster to terrorize the Trojans. He also made a special point of sinking Trojan ships whenever he got the chance. And when a little event called the Trojan War came along…well, Poseidon was not on the side of Troy.

  And that’s my dad, folks: a calm, easygoing dude most of the time. But if you made him angry, he had a long, long memory.

  The only god who held longer grudges…yeah, you guessed it. Old Thunderpants himself. I suppose we’ve put him off long enough. It’s time to talk about Zeus.

  ZEUS KILLS EVERYONE

  YOU WANT SCARY?

  Think about this: Zeus was the god of law and order. The guy who threw random lightning bolts when he got angry and couldn’t keep his own wedding vows—this was the guy in charge of making sure kings acted wisely, councils of elders were respected, oaths were kept, and strangers were given hospitality.

  That would be like making me the god of homework and good grades.

  I guess Zeus wasn’t all bad. Sometimes he would show up at mortals’ homes disguised as a wanderer to see whether folks would let him in and offer him food. If you treated the visitor kindly, good for you! That was your duty as a Greek citizen. If you slammed the door in his face…well, Zeus would be back later with his lightning bolts.

  Just knowing that every traveler or homeless person might be Zeus in disguise kept the Greeks on their toes.

  Same with kings. Zeus was the god of kingly power, so he watched over mortal rulers to make sure they didn’t abuse their position. Obviously, a lot of kings got away with terrible things (probably because Zeus was busy chasing some girl and didn’t notice); but there was always a chance that if you did something really evil or stupid, Zeus would bring down the godly thunder and lightning and blast you right off your throne.

  Example? Salmoneus. That dude should’ve won the grand prize for being an idiot. He was one of seven brothers, all princes of a Greek kingdom called Thessaly. Since there were so many princes hanging around the palace with nothing to do except play video games and wait to inherit the kingdom, their father the king said, “You guys, get out of here! Get some exercise, for once! Why don’t you all go start new kingdoms or something? Stop loafing and get a job!”

  The seven princes didn’t really feel like founding new kingdoms. That was hard work. But their dad insisted, and so did his heavily armed guards. The princes each took a group of settlers and struck out into the wilderness of southern Greece.

  Prince Salmoneus was pretty full of himself. He named his new kingdom Salmonea. He put his settlers to work building a capital city, but he got annoyed because the people wanted to build temples to the gods before they started a palace for him.

  “Your Majesty,” they said, “we have to honor the gods first. Otherwise they’ll get angry!”

  The new king grumbled. He didn’t really believe in the gods. He was pretty sure those stories were a bunch of rubbish the priests had made up to keep people in line.

  That night Salmoneus sat in his partially built palace, watching his citizens working late, putting the final touches on the temple to Zeus, with its gold roof and marble floors. He could smell all kinds of tasty food being burned on the ceremonial fires.

  “They don’t bring tasty food to me,” Salmoneus muttered to himself. “They’re s
o afraid of the gods, but they’re not afraid of their own king? They wouldn’t treat me this way if I were a god….”

  Salmoneus suddenly got an evil idea. He remembered the games he and his brothers used to play back in Thessaly when they were kids. They would dress up and pretend to be heroes and gods. Salmoneus was always the best actor.

  He called in his most trusted advisor and said, “Trusted advisor, we have work to do. We need props and costumes.”

  His advisor frowned. “Are we putting on a play, Your Majesty?”

  Salmoneus grinned. “Sort of…”

  A few days later, Salmoneus was ready. He donned his costume, got in his newly decorated chariot, and rode into the streets of his capital.

  “Behold!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “I am Zeus!”

  A farmer was so startled, he dropped a basket of olives. A lady fell off her donkey. Many other citizens screamed and ran away, because they were afraid of getting trampled by the king’s horses.

  Salmoneus looked pretty impressive. He wore white robes lined with gold. A golden wreath glinted in his hair. Since the eagle was Zeus’s sacred bird, Salmoneus had painted eagles on the sides of his chariot. Mounted behind him, concealed under a tarp, were two brass kettledrums. When he raised his hand, his advisor (who was hiding under the tarp and not feeling very comfortable) would pound on the drums and make a sound like muffled thunder.

  Salmoneus rode through the streets, screaming, “I am Zeus! Bring me tasty food!” Finally he stopped at the steps of the new temple to Zeus and turned the chariot toward the assembled crowd. “You will worship me!” he commanded. “For I am a god.”

  One of his braver subjects called out, “You look like Salmoneus.”

  “Yes!” Salmoneus agreed. “But I am also Zeus! I have decided to inhabit the body of your king. You will worship him as you worship me. This temple will be my palace. You will bring me all your offerings. But don’t burn them anymore. That’s a waste. I’ll just eat them.”

  A few of his more timid subjects started to obey, placing food baskets on the ground near the chariot.