Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece Page 10

  The next morning they climbed a high mountain, so that they might see for themselves where the island lay in the ocean. In the meantime the giants had rushed forth from the other side and closed off the harbor with tremendous blocks of stone. But in the harbor lay the Argo, guarded by Heracles, who had again refused to leave the ship. When he saw the huge fellows begin working their mischief, he shot many of them to death with his arrows. And now the other heroes returned and wrought such havoc among the giants with their spears and arrows that they were utterly beaten and lay in the narrow harbor like a forest of hewn trees, some with head and breast in the sea and their feet on the sandy shore, others with their limbs in the water and head and breast on the strand, but all of them destined to be the prey of fishes and the food of birds.

  When the heroes had thus successfully emerged from the battle, they weighed anchor and sailed out to sea. But in the night the wind changed, and a storm drove in upon them from the opposite side, so that they were forced to cast anchor near land. This land was again the island of the hospitable Doliones, but the Argonauts thought they were on the coast of Phrygia. Nor did their erstwhile hosts, whom the noise of the landing had roused from sleep, recognize the friends with whom they had caroused so merrily only the day before; they reached for their arms, and an ill-starred battle ensued. Jason himself thrust his spear into the heart of the king, and neither did the slayer know his victim nor the victim the slayer. Finally the Doliones were put to flight and shut themselves up in their city. The next morning both sides saw their mistake.

  Jason, the leader of the Argonauts, and all his men were filled with bitter grief when they beheld good king Cyzicus lying in his own blood. For three days, the heroes and the Doliones together mourned their dead. They tore their hair and arranged bouts and funeral feasts in honor of the slain. Then the Argonauts set out on their way. But Clite, the wife of the fallen king, strangled herself with a rope, for she could not bear to go on living now that her husband was no more.

  HERACLES LEFT BEHIND

  After a stormy voyage, the heroes landed in the bay of Bithynia where the city of Cius lies. The Mysians, who lived here, received them kindly, heaped dry faggots for a fire to warm them, piled green leaves to make soft beds, and, even though night had fallen, served them with an abundance of wine and food.

  Heracles, who scorned all comforts, left his companions seated at their feast and went off into the woods to carve himself a better oar for the work of the coming morning. He soon found a pine which seemed just what he wanted, not too thick with boughs, and in length and breadth somewhat like a slender poplar. He laid his bow and quiver aside, threw off his lion’s skin, put his club down next to it, gripped the trunk with both hands, and pulled the tree out by the roots—the earth still clinging to them—so that it looked as if a tempest had torn it from the ground.

  Now his young friend Hylas had also left the banquet board. He had risen and taken a bronze pitcher to draw water for his master and friend, in order to prepare for his return. On an expedition against the Dryopes, Heracles had killed the boy’s father in a dispute, but had taken Hylas himself with him and reared him as his servant and friend. When the beautiful boy reached the well, the moon was full and radiant. As he leaned over the water, pitcher in hand, the nymph of the well saw him, and was so charmed by his beauty that she twined her left arm around him, while with her right hand she clutched his elbow and drew him down into the depths. One of the heroes, Polyphemus by name, who was awaiting Heracles not far from the well, heard the boy cry out for help. But he could not find him. Just then he saw Heracles coming from the woods. “Must I be the first to tell you the sad news?” Polyphemus called to him. “Your Hylas went to the well and did not return. Robbers must have seized him, or perhaps wild animals. I myself heard him cry out in distress.” When Heracles heard this, the sweat broke out on his forehead, and the blood beat painfully in his veins. Angrily he threw down the pine and, as a bull stung by the gadfly leaves the herd and the herdsman, he ran through the thickets to the well, uttering cries of grief.

  The morning star stood over the mountain peak, and a favorable wind arose. The helmsman urged the heroes to make the most of it and come aboard. They were gliding along gaily in the faint flush of dawn, when too late they remembered that two of their number, Polyphemus and Heracles, had been left behind. A stormy quarrel broke out over whether or not they should sail on without their valiant friends. Jason said nothing. He sat in silence, and sorrow gnawed at his heart. But Telamon was overcome with wrath. “How can you sit there so quietly?” he called to their leader. “I suppose you are afraid that Heracles might put your own prowess to shame! But why do I waste words! Even if all our companions agree with you, I alone should turn back to the man we have deserted.”

  And with this he gripped Tiphys, the helmsman, by the breast, and would have compelled him to put about for the land of the Mysians, had not Zetes and Calais, the two sons of Boreas, seized his arm and held him back with angry words. But while they were still contending with one another, Glaucus, a god of the sea, rose out of the foamy tide, grasped the stern of the ship with his strong hand, and called to the voyagers: “Do not quarrel, O heroes! You shall not take fearless Heracles with you to the land of Aeetes, against the will of Zeus! Destiny has decreed other labors for him. A love-struck nymph stole Hylas, and Heracles has remained behind because of his yearning for him.”

  After he had revealed these things, Glaucus sank back into the sea, and the dark waters swirled over him. Telamon was ashamed. He went up to Jason, laid his hand in his, and said: “Do not bear me a grudge, Jason. Sorrow led me astray and I spoke rash words. Let my fault be gone with the winds, and may we wish each other well as before.”

  Jason was glad to make peace, and they journeyed over the waves with a fresh and fair breeze. Polyphemus made his home with the Mysians and built them a city. But Heracles went on where the will of Zeus called him.

  POLYDEUCES AND THE KING OF THE BEBRYCIANS

  The next morning, at sunrise, they cast anchor near a peninsula stretching far into the sea. Here Amycus, king of the wild Bebrycians, had his stables and country house. This sovereign had imposed an irksome rule upon all strangers: that no one was to leave his territory without first having boxed with him. In this way he had already done away with a great number of his neighbors. On this occasion also he approached the ship which had just arrived and challenged the oarsmen with mocking words. “Listen, you rovers of the sea,” he called to them, “there is one thing you must know: that is that no stranger may quit my country without having boxed with me. So choose the best man among you and send him to me, or your doom will be sealed.”

  Now it happened that one of the Argonauts was the best boxer in Greece, Polydeuces, the son of Leda. Stung by the challenge, he said to the king: “Do not wrangle with us. We are ready to obey your rules, and I am your man.”

  The king of the Bebrycians looked at the bold hero, and his eyes rolled in their sockets like those of a wounded mountain lion glaring at its assailant. But young Polydeuces was serene as a star in the heavens and swung his hands about in the air to see if, what with the long hours of rowing, they had lost their suppleness.

  When the heroes left the ship, the two boxers took up their positions opposite each other. One of the king’s slaves threw two pairs of boxing thongs on the ground between them. “Choose whichever pair you like,” said Amycus. “I do not want to go to the trouble of selecting them by lot. You will soon be able to tell from your own experience that I am an excellent tanner and can darken cheeks with blood.”

  Polydeuces smiled quietly, took the thongs which lay nearest him, and had his friends strap them to his hands. The king of the Bebrycians did the same, and now the boxing began. Like a breaker which rushes upon a ship and whose force the skillful helmsman counters only with great difficulty, the king hurled himself against the Greek and allowed him no breathing-spell. Yet lithe Polydeuces always succeeded in dodging the onslaught and su
ffered no wounds. Soon he found out his adversary’s weak side and dealt him many an unparried thrust. But the king too took his advantage where he saw it, and so jaws rang with the sound of blows, and teeth rattled with thwack after thwack, nor did they stop until they both were panting, and had to step to one side to rest and dry the sweat streaming from every pore. Hardly had they resumed the bout when Amycus missed his opponent’s head and struck only his shoulder, while Polydeuces hit him near the ear, so that the bones in his head cracked and he dropped to his knees in great pain.

  The Argonauts shouted with joy, but the Bebrycians came to the aid of their king and attacked Polydeuces with their clubs and hunting spears. His companions whipped out their swords and threw themselves into the struggle. In the end the Bebrycians were put to flight and sought refuge in the interior of their country. The heroes then entered their stables and seized the herds, so that they had rich spoils. They spent the night ashore, bound up their wounds, and made offerings to the gods, nor did sleep weigh upon their lids as they passed the brimming cup. From the laurel to which the ship was bound with ropes they broke sprays to wreathe their brows, and sang a hymn of praise while Orpheus plucked the strings of his lyre. The very shore seemed to listen in silent delight while they sang of Polydeuces, victorious son of Zeus.

  PHINEUS AND THE HARPIES

  Dawn put an end to their feasting, and they continued on their way. After more adventures they cast anchor opposite the land of Bithynia, in which Phineus, son of the hero Agenor, now dwelt. This Phineus had been afflicted with great misfortune. Because he had abused the gift of prophecy Apollo had granted him, he had, in his old age, become blind, and those evil witch-like birds, the harpies, would not allow him to eat his food in peace. They snatched whatever they could, and whatever food remained they polluted so intolerably that no one could touch it. Phineus had only one consolation, an oracle of Zeus to the effect that he would eat unmolested when the sons of Boreas came with the Greek oarsmen. And so, when the old man heard of the arrival of the Argo, he left his chamber, starved to a very skeleton, a mere shadow. His limbs trembled with weakness, he supported his tottering steps with a staff, and when he reached the Argonauts, he sank to the ground in exhaustion. They surrounded the unhappy old man, appalled at his appearance. When he heard them about him and had collected his strength, he spoke to them pleadingly. “O noble heroes, if you are really those foretold by the oracle, help me! For the goddesses of vengeance have not only taken my eyesight but have also sent upon me these horrid birds to deprive me of my food. You will not be giving your aid to a stranger, for I am a Greek—Phineus, the son of Agenor. Once I was king of Thrace, and the sons of Boreas, who must be partners in your quest and are destined to save me, are the younger brothers of Cleopatra, who was my wife in that land.”

  At these words, Zetes, the son of Boreas, threw himself into the arms of the king and promised that, with the help of his brother, he would free him from those preying birds. Then they prepared a meal for him, but scarcely had the king touched the food when the harpies headed down from the clouds like a gale and greedily perched on the platters. The heroes shouted and cried out, but the birds were undisturbed and stayed until they had devoured the last crumb. Then they flew into the air, leaving a horrible stench behind. Zetes and Calais, the sons of Boreas, pursued them with drawn swords, and Zeus lent them wings and untiring strength, which they had need of, indeed, for the harpies sped faster than the swift western wind. But the sons of Boreas were close on their trail and at times could almost lay hands on the monsters. At last they were so near that they would certainly have slain them, had not Iris, the messenger of Zeus, suddenly appeared and addressed the two heroes. “Sons of Boreas,” she said, “the harpies sent by Zeus must not be slain by the sword. But I swear to you by the Styx, on which the gods take their oath, that these birds shall no longer trouble the son of Agenor.” At that Zetes and Calais gave up the pursuit and returned to the ship.

  In the meantime the Greek heroes busied themselves about the aged Phineus and prepared a sacrificial feast, to which they invited the starving old man. Avidly he ate of the clean and abundant food, though he seemed to be satisfying his hunger as if in a dream. Night came, and while they were awaiting the return of the sons of Boreas, King Phineus made them a prophecy in gratitude for what they had done for him.

  “First,” he said, “you will come to the Symplegades in the narrows of the Euxine Sea. These are two steep, rocky islands, which have no roots in the bottom of the ocean but are afloat in the water. Often the current drives them toward each other, and then the tide between them swells with turbulent force. If you do not want to be ground to splinters, along with all you possess, row through them as swiftly as a dove flies. After that you will come to the land of the Mariandyni, which boasts the entrance to the underworld. You will pass many other promontories, rivers, and coasts, the women’s state of the Amazons, and the land of the Chalybes, who dig iron out of the earth by the sweat of their brows. Finally you will come to the coast of Colchis, where the river Phasis pours its broad stream into the sea. You will see the towered stronghold of King Aeetes, and there the sleepless dragon guards the golden fleece, which is spread over the topmost boughs of an oak-tree.”

  As the heroes listened to the old man, they could not suppress a shudder, and were just about to question him further when the sons of Boreas flew down into their midst and gladdened the king with the message of lovely Iris.

  THE SYMPLEGADES

  Full of gratitude and moved in heart, Phineus took leave of his liberators, who sailed on to new adventures. For forty days a wind blew from the northwest and halted their voyage until offerings and prayers to all the twelve gods once more speeded them on their way. They were sailing along smoothly and swiftly when a thunderous crash struck upon their ears. This was the roar of the Symplegades striking together and recoiling, mixed with the vast echoes from the shore and the hiss of the frothing sea. Tiphys, the helmsman, stood watchfully at the tiller. Young Euphemus rose in his place, holding a dove in the palm of his right hand, for Phineus had said that if a dove flew fearlessly between the rocks, they too might venture the passage. Euphemus let fly the bird, and all heads were raised in tense expectancy. It sped through, but already the rocks were approaching each other, and the water foamed and churned in the narrow strait. Air and sea were loud with clamor, and now the cliffs met and clipped off the tail feathers of the dove. Yet it had come through unharmed, so Tiphys encouraged the oarsmen in a loud voice. The rocks fell apart, and the current streaming between drew the ship in its wake. Destruction beset them on all sides. A tall breaker surged forward, and the sight was so menacing that they shrank back in terror. Then Tiphys bade them stop rowing. The foaming wave rushed under the keel and lifted the ship high above the rocks closing in on each other. The men strained at the oars until the blades almost seemed to bend. Now the whirl bore them down between the rocks again, and they would surely have been crushed had not Athene, the patron goddess of the Argonauts, thrust the ship forward—though she was invisible to them—until it escaped, with only the tip of the stern shattered.

  When the heroes saw the sun and the open sea again, they shed their fears and drew their breath freely, feeling as though they had come up from the underworld. “This did not come about through our own strength,” cried Tiphys. “Behind me I felt the divine hand of Athene, pushing the ship strongly through the cleft. Now we have nothing more to fear, for Phineus said that after this danger was passed, all our other labors would seem light.”

  But Jason shook his head sadly and said: “My good Tiphys, I have tried the gods by allowing Pelias to impose this task upon me. Rather should I have let him destroy me. Now I must spend my days and nights in sighs and distress, not for myself, but for your lives and welfare, and in pondering how I may save you from peril and return you unharmed to your native land.” And Jason said all this only to test his comrades, but they acclaimed him lustily and wanted nothing better than to follow
their beloved leader forever.

  FURTHER ADVENTURES

  The heroes continued on their quest. Tiphys, their faithful helmsman, fell ill and died, and they had to bury him on an alien shore. In his stead they chose one of their number versed in the art of steering, Ancaeus, but for a long time he refused to take over this difficult office. Finally Hera inspired him with courage and confidence, and he took his place at the tiller and guided the ship as well as Tiphys had done. Under his direction, on the twelfth day, they made for the open sea and soon, with all sails spread, came to the mouth of the river Callichorus.

  There, on a mound near the shore of the sea, they saw the tomb of the hero Sthenelus, who had gone forth against the Amazons with Heracles, and, struck by an arrow, had died in this place. They were about to continue their voyage, when the sorrowful shade of Sthenelus, whom Persephone had given leave to ascend from the underworld, appeared to them and gazed at his kinsmen with longing eyes. He stood on the very top of the mound, looking just as he did when he went forth to battle, with a crest of four scarlet feathers streaming from, his helmet. But he was visible for only a few brief moments, and then sank back into the cheerless depths of the earth. The heroes rested on their oars, appalled at the apparition, and no one but Mopsus, the seer, understood what it was the departed spirit wanted. He counselled his companions to offer a libation for the peace of the slain man’s soul. Quickly they lowered the sails, made fast the ship, and ranged themselves around the grave. They sprinkled it with libations and slaughtered sheep and burned them.