The Heroes; Or, Greek Fairy Tales for My Children

Then Talus said, ‘Who are you, strange maiden, and where is this ichor of youth?’

Then Medeia held up a flask of crystal, and said, ‘Here is the ichor of youth.  I am Medeia the enchantress; my sister Circe gave me this, and said, “Go and reward Talus, the faithful servant, for his fame is gone out into all lands.”  So come, and I will pour this into your veins, that you may live for ever young.’

And he listened to her false words, that simple Talus, and came near; and Medeia said, ‘Dip yourself in the sea first, and cool yourself, lest you burn my tender hands; then show me where the nail in your vein is, that I may pour the ichor in.’

Then that simple Talus dipped himself in the sea, till it hissed, and roared, and smoked; and came and knelt before Medeia, and showed her the secret nail.

And she drew the nail out gently, but she poured no ichor in; and instead the liquid fire spouted forth, like a stream of red-hot iron.  And Talus tried to leap up, crying, ‘You have betrayed me, false witch-maiden!’  But she lifted up her hands before him, and sang, till he sank beneath her spell.  And as he sank, his brazen limbs clanked heavily, and the earth groaned beneath his weight; and the liquid fire ran from his heel, like a stream of lava, to the sea; and Medeia laughed, and called to the heroes, ‘Come ashore, and water your ship in peace.’

So they came, and found the giant lying dead; and they fell down, and kissed Medeia’s feet; and watered their ship, and took sheep and oxen, and so left that inhospitable shore.

At last, after many more adventures, they came to the Cape of Malea, at the south-west point of the Peloponnese.  And there they offered sacrifices, and Orpheus purged them from their guilt.  Then they rode away again to the northward, past the Laconian shore, and came all worn and tired by Sunium, and up the long Euboean Strait, until they saw once more Pelion, and Aphetai, and Iolcos by the sea.

And they ran the ship ashore; but they had no strength left to haul her up the beach; and they crawled out on the pebbles, and sat down, and wept till they could weep no more.  For the houses and the trees were all altered; and all the faces which they saw were strange; and their joy was swallowed up in sorrow, while they thought of their youth, and all their labour, and the gallant comrades they had lost.

And the people crowded round, and asked them ‘Who are you, that you sit weeping here?’

‘We are the sons of your princes, who sailed out many a year ago.  We went to fetch the golden fleece, and we have brought it, and grief therewith.  Give us news of our fathers and our mothers, if any of them be left alive on earth.’

Then there was shouting, and laughing, and weeping; and all the kings came to the shore, and they led away the heroes to their homes, and bewailed the valiant dead.

Then Jason went up with Medeia to the palace of his uncle Pelias.  And when he came in Pelias sat by the hearth, crippled and blind with age; while opposite him sat Æson, Jason’s father, crippled and blind likewise; and the two old men’s heads shook together as they tried to warm themselves before the fire.

And Jason fell down at his father’s knees, and wept, and called him by his name.  And the old man stretched his hands out, and felt him, and said, ‘Do not mock me, young hero.  My son Jason is dead long ago at sea.’

‘I am your own son Jason, whom you trusted to the Centaur upon Pelion; and I have brought home the golden fleece, and a princess of the Sun’s race for my bride.  So now give me up the kingdom, Pelias my uncle, and fulfil your promise as I have fulfilled mine.’

Then his father clung to him like a child, and wept, and would not let him go; and cried, ‘Now I shall not go down lonely to my grave.  Promise me never to leave me till I die.’

PART VI

WHAT WAS THE END OF THE HEROES

And now I wish that I could end my story pleasantly; but it is no fault of mine that I cannot.  The old songs end it sadly, and I believe that they are right and wise; for though the heroes were purified at Malea, yet sacrifices cannot make bad hearts good, and Jason had taken a wicked wife, and he had to bear his burden to the last.

And first she laid a cunning plot to punish that poor old Pelias, instead of letting him die in peace.

For she told his daughters, ‘I can make old things young again; I will show you how easy it is to do.’  So she took an old ram and killed him, and put him in a cauldron with magic herbs; and whispered her spells over him, and he leapt out again a young lamb.  So that ‘Medeia’s cauldron’ is a proverb still, by which we mean times of war and change, when the world has become old and feeble, and grows young again through bitter pains.

Then she said to Pelias’ daughters, ‘Do to your father as I did to this ram, and he will grow young and strong again.’  But she only told them half the spell; so they failed, while Medeia mocked them; and poor old Pelias died, and his daughters came to misery.  But the songs say she cured Æson, Jason’s father, and he became young, and strong again.

But Jason could not love her, after all her cruel deeds.  So he was ungrateful to her, and wronged her; and she revenged herself on him.  And a terrible revenge she took—too terrible to speak of here.  But you will hear of it yourselves when you grow up, for it has been sung in noble poetry and music; and whether it be true or not, it stands for ever as a warning to us not to seek for help from evil persons, or to gain good ends by evil means.  For if we use an adder even against our enemies, it will turn again and sting us.

But of all the other heroes there is many a brave tale left, which I have no space to tell you, so you must read them for yourselves;—of the hunting of the boar in Calydon, which Meleager killed; and of Heracles’ twelve famous labours; and of the seven who fought at Thebes; and of the noble love of Castor and Polydeuces, the twin Dioscouroi—how when one died the other would not live without him, so they shared their immortality between them; and Zeus changed them into the two twin stars which never rise both at once.

And what became of Cheiron, the good immortal beast?  That, too, is a sad story; for the heroes never saw him more.  He was wounded by a poisoned arrow, at Pholoe among the hills, when Heracles opened the fatal wine-jar, which Cheiron had warned him not to touch.  And the Centaurs smelt the wine, and flocked to it, and fought for it with Heracles; but he killed them all with his poisoned arrows, and Cheiron was left alone.  Then Cheiron took up one of the arrows, and dropped it by chance upon his foot; and the poison ran like fire along his veins, and he lay down and longed to die; and cried, ‘Through wine I perish, the bane of all my race.  Why should I live for ever in this agony?  Who will take my immortality, that I may die?’

Then Prometheus answered, the good Titan, whom Heracles had set free from Caucasus, ‘I will take your immortality and live for ever, that I may help poor mortal men.’  So Cheiron gave him his immortality, and died, and had rest from pain.  And Heracles and Prometheus wept over him, and went to bury him on Pelion; but Zeus took him up among the stars, to live for ever, grand and mild, low down in the far southern sky.

And in time the heroes died, all but Nestor, the silver-tongued old man; and left behind them valiant sons, but not so great as they had been.  Yet their fame, too, lives till this day, for they fought at the ten years’ siege of Troy: and their story is in the book which we call Homer, in two of the noblest songs on earth—the ‘Iliad,’ which tells us of the siege of Troy, and Achilles’ quarrel with the kings; and the ‘Odyssey,’ which tells the wanderings of Odysseus, through many lands for many years, and how Alcinous sent him home at last, safe to Ithaca his beloved island, and to Penelope his faithful wife, and Telemachus his son, and Euphorbus the noble swineherd, and the old dog who licked his hand and died.  We will read that sweet story, children, by the fire some winter night.  And now I will end my tale, and begin another and a more cheerful one, of a hero who became a worthy king, and won his people’s love.

STORY III.—THESEUS

PART I

HOW THESEUS LIFTED THE STONE

Once upon a time there was a princess in Trœzene, Aithra, the daughter of Pittheus the king.  She had one fair son, named Theseus, the bravest lad in all the land; and Aithra never smiled but when she looked at him, for her husband had forgotten her, and lived far away.  And she used to go up to the mountain above Troezene, to the temple of Poseidon and sit there all day looking out across the bay, over Methana, to the purple peaks of Ægina and the Attic shore beyond.  And when Theseus was full fifteen years old she took him up with her to the temple, and into the thickets of the grove which grew in the temple-yard.  And she led him to a tall plane-tree, beneath whose shade grew arbutus, and lentisk, and purple heather-bushes.  And there she sighed, and said, ‘Theseus, my son, go into that thicket and you will find at the plane-tree foot a great flat stone; lift it, and bring me what lies underneath.’

Then Theseus pushed his way in through the thick bushes, and saw that they had not been moved for many a year.  And searching among their roots he found a great flat stone, all overgrown with ivy, and acanthus, and moss.  He tried to lift it, but he could not.  And he tried till the sweat ran down his brow from heat, and the tears from his eyes for shame; but all was of no avail.  And at last he came back to his mother, and said, ‘I have found the stone, but I cannot lift it; nor do I think that any man could in all Troezene.’

Then she sighed, and said, ‘The Gods wait long; but they are just at last.  Let it be for another year.  The day may come when you will be a stronger man than lives in all Troezene.’

Then she took him by the hand, and went into the temple and prayed, and came down again with Theseus to her home.

And when a full year was past she led Theseus up again to the temple, and bade him lift the stone; but he could not.

Then she sighed, and said the same words again, and went down, and came again the next year; but Theseus could not lift the stone then, nor the year after; and he longed to ask his mother the meaning of that stone, and what might lie underneath it; but her face was so sad that he had not the heart to ask.

So he said to himself, ‘The day shall surely come when I will lift that stone, though no man in Troezene can.’  And in order to grow strong he spent all his days in wrestling, and boxing, and hurling, and taming horses, and hunting the boar and the bull, and coursing goats and deer among the rocks; till upon all the mountains there was no hunter so swift as Theseus; and he killed Phaia the wild sow of Crommyon, which wasted all the land; till all the people said, ‘Surely the Gods are with the lad.’

And when his eighteenth year was past, Aithra led him up again to the temple, and said, ‘Theseus, lift the stone this day, or never know who you are.’  And Theseus went into the thicket, and stood over the stone, and tugged at it; and it moved.  Then his spirit swelled within him, and he said, ‘If I break my heart in my body, it shall up.’  And he tugged at it once more, and lifted it, and rolled it over with a shout.

And when he looked beneath it, on the ground lay a sword of bronze, with a hilt of glittering gold, and by it a pair of golden sandals; and he caught them up, and burst through the bushes like a wild boar, and leapt to his mother, holding them high above his head.

But when she saw them she wept long in silence, hiding her fair face in her shawl; and Theseus stood by her wondering, and wept also, he knew not why.  And when she was tired of weeping, she lifted up her head, and laid her finger on her lips, and said, ‘Hide them in your bosom, Theseus my son, and come with me where we can look down upon the sea.’

Then they went outside the sacred wall, and looked down over the bright blue sea; and Aithra said—

‘Do you see this land at our feet?’

And he said, ‘Yes; this is Troezene, where I was born and bred.’

And she said, ‘It is but a little land, barren and rocky, and looks towards the bleak north-east.  Do you see that land beyond?’

‘Yes; that is Attica, where the Athenian people dwell.’

‘That is a fair land and large, Theseus my son; and it looks toward the sunny south; a land of olive-oil and honey, the joy of Gods and men.  For the Gods have girdled it with mountains, whose veins are of pure silver, and their bones of marble white as snow; and there the hills are sweet with thyme and basil, and the meadows with violet and asphodel, and the nightingales sing all day in the thickets, by the side of ever-flowing streams.  There are twelve towns well peopled, the homes of an ancient race, the children of Kekrops the serpent king, the son of Mother Earth, who wear gold cicalas among the tresses of their golden hair; for like the cicalas they sprang from the earth, and like the cicalas they sing all day, rejoicing in the genial sun.  What would you do, son Theseus, if you were king of such a land?’

Then Theseus stood astonished, as he looked across the broad bright sea, and saw the fair Attic shore, from Sunium to Hymettus and Pentelicus, and all the mountain peaks which girdle Athens round.  But Athens itself he could not see, for purple Ægina stood before it, midway across the sea.

Then his heart grew great within him, and he said, ‘If I were king of such a land I would rule it wisely and well in wisdom and in might, that when I died all men might weep over my tomb, and cry, “Alas for the shepherd of his people!”’

And Aithra smiled, and said, ‘Take, then, the sword and the sandals, and go to Ægeus, king of Athens, who lives on Pallas’ hill; and say to him, “The stone is lifted, but whose is the pledge beneath it?”  Then show him the sword and the sandals, and take what the Gods shall send.’

But Theseus wept, ‘Shall I leave you, O my mother?’

But she answered, ‘Weep not for me.  That which is fated must be; and grief is easy to those who do nought but grieve.  Full of sorrow was my youth, and full of sorrow my womanhood.  Full of sorrow was my youth for Bellerophon, the slayer of the Chimæra, whom my father drove away by treason; and full of sorrow my womanhood, for thy treacherous father and for thee; and full of sorrow my old age will be (for I see my fate in dreams), when the sons of the Swan shall carry me captive to the hollow vale of Eurotas, till I sail across the seas a slave, the handmaid of the pest of Greece.  Yet shall I be avenged, when the golden-haired heroes sail against Troy, and sack the palaces of Ilium; then my son shall set me free from thraldom, and I shall hear the tale of Theseus’ fame.  Yet beyond that I see new sorrows; but I can bear them as I have borne the past.’

Then she kissed Theseus, and wept over him; and went into the temple, and Theseus saw her no more.

PART II

HOW THESEUS SLEW THE DEVOURERS OF MEN

So Theseus stood there alone, with his mind full of many hopes.  And first he thought of going down to the harbour and hiring a swift ship, and sailing across the bay to Athens; but even that seemed too slow for him, and he longed for wings to fly across the sea, and find his father.  But after a while his heart began to fail him; and he sighed, and said within himself—

‘What if my father have other sons about him whom he loves?  What if he will not receive me?  And what have I done that he should receive me?  He has forgotten me ever since I was born: why should he welcome me now?’

Then he thought a long while sadly; and at the last he cried aloud, ‘Yes!  I will make him love me; for I will prove myself worthy of his love.  I will win honour and renown, and do such deeds that Ægeus shall be proud of me, though he had fifty other sons!  Did not Heracles win himself honour, though he was opprest, and the slave of Eurystheus?  Did he not kill all robbers and evil beasts, and drain great lakes and marshes, breaking the hills through with his club?  Therefore it was that all men honoured him, because he rid them of their miseries, and made life pleasant to them and their children after them.  Where can I go, to do as Heracles has done?  Where can I find strange adventures, robbers, and monsters, and the children of hell, the enemies of men?  I will go by land, and into the mountains, and round by the way of the Isthmus.  Perhaps there I may hear of brave adventures, and do something which shall win my father’s love.’

So he went by land, and away into the mountains, with his father’s sword upon his thigh, till he came to the Spider mountains, which hang over Epidaurus and the sea, where the glens run downward from one peak in the midst, as the rays spread in the spider’s web.

And he went up into the gloomy glens, between the furrowed marble walls, till the lowland grew blue beneath his feet and the clouds drove damp about his head.

But he went up and up for ever, through the spider’s web of glens, till he could see the narrow gulfs spread below him, north and south, and east and west; black cracks half-choked with mists, and above all a dreary down.

But over that down he must go, for there was no road right or left; so he toiled on through bog and brake, till he came to a pile of stones.

And on the stones a man was sitting, wrapt in a bearskin cloak.  The head of the bear served him for a cap, and its teeth grinned white around his brows; and the feet were tied about his throat, and their claws shone white upon his chest.  And when he saw Theseus he rose, and laughed till the glens rattled.

‘And who art thou, fair fly, who hast walked into the spider’s web?’  But Theseus walked on steadily, and made no answer; but he thought, ‘Is this some robber? and has an adventure come already to me?’  But the strange man laughed louder than ever, and said—

‘Bold fly, know you not that these glens are the web from which no fly ever finds his way out again, and this down the spider’s house, and I the spider who sucks the flies?  Come hither, and let me feast upon you; for it is of no use to run away, so cunning a web has my father Hephaistos spread for me when he made these clefts in the mountains, through which no man finds his way home.’

But Theseus came on steadily, and asked—

‘And what is your name among men, bold spider? and where are your spider’s fangs?’

Then the strange man laughed again—

‘My name is Periphetes, the son of Hephaistos and Anticleia the mountain nymph.  But men call me Corynetes the club-bearer; and here is my spider’s fang.’

And he lifted from off the stones at his side a mighty club of bronze.

‘This my father gave me, and forged it himself in the roots of the mountain; and with it I pound all proud flies till they give out their fatness and their sweetness.  So give me up that gay sword of yours, and your mantle, and your golden sandals, lest I pound you, and by ill-luck you die.’

But Theseus wrapt his mantle round his left arm quickly, in hard folds, from his shoulder to his hand, and drew his sword, and rushed upon the club-bearer, and the club-bearer rushed on him.

Thrice he struck at Theseus, and made him bend under the blows like a sapling; but Theseus guarded his head with his left arm, and the mantle which was wrapt around it.

And thrice Theseus sprang upright after the blow, like a sapling when the storm is past; and he stabbed at the club-bearer with his sword, but the loose folds of the bearskin saved him.

Then Theseus grew mad, and closed with him, and caught him by the throat, and they fell and rolled over together; but when Theseus rose up from the ground the club-bearer lay still at his feet.

Then Theseus took his club and his bearskin, and left him to the kites and crows, and went upon his journey down the glens on the farther slope, till he came to a broad green valley, and saw flocks and herds sleeping beneath the trees.

And by the side of a pleasant fountain, under the shade of rocks and trees, were nymphs and shepherds dancing; but no one piped to them while they danced.

And when they saw Theseus they shrieked; and the shepherds ran off, and drove away their flocks, while the nymphs dived into the fountain like coots, and vanished.

Theseus wondered and laughed: ‘What strange fancies have folks here who run away from strangers, and have no music when they dance!’  But he was tired, and dusty, and thirsty; so he thought no more of them, but drank and bathed in the clear pool, and then lay down in the shade under a plane-tree, while the water sang him to sleep, as it tinkled down from stone to stone.

And when he woke he heard a whispering, and saw the nymphs peeping at him across the fountain from the dark mouth of a cave, where they sat on green cushions of moss.  And one said, ‘Surely he is not Periphetes;’ and another, ‘He looks like no robber, but a fair and gentle youth.’

Then Theseus smiled, and called them, ‘Fair nymphs, I am not Periphetes.  He sleeps among the kites and crows; but I have brought away his bearskin and his club.’

Then they leapt across the pool, and came to him, and called the shepherds back.  And he told them how he had slain the club-bearer: and the shepherds kissed his feet and sang, ‘Now we shall feed our flocks in peace, and not be afraid to have music when we dance; for the cruel club-bearer has met his match, and he will listen for our pipes no more.’  Then they brought him kid’s flesh and wine, and the nymphs brought him honey from the rocks, and he ate, and drank, and slept again, while the nymphs and shepherds danced and sang.  And when he woke, they begged him to stay; but he would not.  ‘I have a great work to do,’ he said; ‘I must be away toward the Isthmus, that I may go to Athens.’

But the shepherds said, ‘Will you go alone toward Athens?  None travel that way now, except in armed troops.’

‘As for arms, I have enough, as you see.  And as for troops, an honest man is good enough company for himself.  Why should I not go alone toward Athens?’

‘If you do, you must look warily about you on the Isthmus, lest you meet Sinis the robber, whom men call Pituocamptes the pine-bender; for he bends down two pine-trees, and binds all travellers hand and foot between them, and when he lets the trees go again their bodies are torn in sunder.’

‘And after that,’ said another, ‘you must go inland, and not dare to pass over the cliffs of Sciron; for on the left hand are the mountains, and on the right the sea, so that you have no escape, but must needs meet Sciron the robber, who will make you wash his feet; and while you are washing them he will kick you over the cliff, to the tortoise who lives below, and feeds upon the bodies of the dead.’

And before Theseus could answer, another cried, ‘And after that is a worse danger still, unless you go inland always, and leave Eleusis far on your right.  For in Eleusis rules Kerkuon the cruel king, the terror of all mortals, who killed his own daughter Alope in prison.  But she was changed into a fair fountain; and her child he cast out upon the mountains, but the wild mares gave it milk.  And now he challenges all comers to wrestle with him, for he is the best wrestler in all Attica, and overthrows all who come; and those whom he overthrows he murders miserably, and his palace-court is full of their bones.’

Then Theseus frowned, and said, ‘This seems indeed an ill-ruled land, and adventures enough in it to be tried.  But if I am the heir of it, I will rule it and right it, and here is my royal sceptre.’

And he shook his club of bronze, while the nymphs and shepherds clung round him, and entreated him not to go.

But on he went nevertheless, till he could see both the seas and the citadel of Corinth towering high above all the land.  And he past swiftly along the Isthmus, for his heart burned to meet that cruel Sinis; and in a pine-wood at last he met him, where the Isthmus was narrowest and the road ran between high rocks.  There he sat upon a stone by the wayside, with a young fir-tree for a club across his knees, and a cord laid ready by his side; and over his head, upon the fir-tops, hung the bones of murdered men.

Then Theseus shouted to him, ‘Holla, thou valiant pine-bender, hast thou two fir-trees left for me?’

And Sinis leapt to his feet, and answered, pointing to the bones above his head, ‘My larder has grown empty lately, so I have two fir-trees ready for thee.’  And he rushed on Theseus, lifting his club, and Theseus rushed upon him.