Ancient Greek Myths and Legends

Heroes, Monsters and Gods

1. Prometheus and Pandora2. Perseus and Medusa

3. Hercules and the Twelve Labours4. Theseus and The Minotaur

5. Daedalus and Icarus6. Achilles and Hector

Prometheus and Pandora

Prometheus was a titan, one of the race of giants who fought an unsuccessful war against Zeus and the other gods - and it is certainly true that he was a great deal wiser than his brothers.

For he alone knew that the war was doomed to failure. He realised that, huge and immensely strong though the Titans undoubtedly were, they also suffered from a common trait amongst the giants. They just weren’t very bright. A Titan might tear up a mountain instead of going round it, but he would probably find out that he was going the wring way anyway. A titan might be able to hurl a rock the size of an island a hundred miles or more, but he would invariably miss whatever he was aiming for.

On the other hand, of course, the gods were as quick-witted as they were skilled in the art of war. First there was Zeus, the King of Olympus, armed with his devastating thunderbolts.

Then there was Poseidon with his trident, Apollo with his golden arrows, the invisible Hermes… it was an invincible army, and Prometheus could see that his brothers would be lost against it.

Lose was what they did. Most of them were sent to a dark and damp prison in the depths of Tartarus. Atlas – perhaps the most famous Titan of all – was condemned to hold up the heavens on his shoulders for all time. But Prometheus, who had let everyone know that he was neutral from the start, got away free. That was when he created man.

Prometheus loved men in the way that people love their pets. He was immensely proud of everything they did, and boasted about them to almost anyone who would listen, and generally fussed over them in every way possible. Instead of feeding them with food, he fed them with knowledge – scraps of information he picked up from Athena, the goddess of wisdom and his only real friend in Olympus. One day she would tell him about mathematics and straight away he would rush down to earth to pass it on. The next day it might be art or architecture, the day after that science or engineering.

As the years passed and mankind became more intelligent, Zeus, who had been watching all this from his throne, grew uneasy. He might have been a jealous God, but he was not cruel enough to destroy the newly formed human race. And so mankind continued to flourish. One day, however, there was trouble.

Prometheus had told men to stay on the right side of the gods by regularly sacrificing the best animals from their herds. A special bull had been chosen for Zeus, but the question was, which part should be reserved for the god, and which part should the men keep? Prometheus was the mediator in the dispute, but he unwisely decided to play a trick on Zeus.

He took two sacks, and put all the best portions of meat into one, and all the most disgusting parts of meat, the bones and the hooves, into another. He covered both with a layer of fat to make them look as delicious as possible. Then he took both to Zeus: “Oh mighty King”, he said, “Why should there be any quarrel between gods and men? Why don’t you choose the sack for yourself?”

Zeus, who had never suspected that a Titan could think up such a scheme, was completely tricked. He chose the bones. When Zeus opened the sack and found out, he was furious. “Man may have his steak,” he thundered, “but he will have it raw!” And with those words, he snatched all the fire from the world.

It seemed that mankind had got the worst deal after all. Without fire they could take no pleasure in their food and once the sun had gone down, they could only stay indoors, huddled under animal skins for warmth. But Prometheus was willing to do anything to help his creation.

One day, he stole up to Olympus. For he still had one friend in the home of the gods: Athena. Hearing him knock on the side door, the goddess of wisdom unbolted it and let him in. Then Prometheus rode up to the sun, and, using his bare hands, broke off a blazing fire-brand. This he carried back to earth. And in this way people were once again able to enjoy their meat grilled.

But this time Prometheus had gone too far. When Zeus heard how he had been defied for a second time, his anger knew no bounds.

“Prometheus!” he cried. “You crossed me once and I forgave you because of your loyalty to me in the war of the Titans. But this time there can be no forgiveness. This time you must pay for your crime”. And saying so, he seized Prometheus and chained him to a pillar on the freezing slopes of the mountains. As punishment, every morning a huge vulture landed on the wretched Titan’s chest and even as he screamed in rage and horror, tore out his liver and devoured it. And every night, while Prometheus shivered in sub-zero temperatures, his liver grew

whole again. In this way, the horrible torture could be repeated again and again until the end of time.

Zeus punished mankind too. But as man had offended indirectly, his punishment was of another sort. First he visited the god Hephaestus who worked at a great forge in Olympus. “I want you to make me a woman,” the King of the Gods commanded. “I want her to be more beautiful than any woman ever seen on the face of the earth. She must be perfect – as perfect as a goddess.”

Hephaestus did as he was told. He fashioned a woman out of clay, moulding her perfect features with his own hands. The result was Pandora.

When Zeus saw the blacksmith-god’s work, he was well pleased and instructed Hermes to carry her into the world at once. There she was married to a King Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus and the only other Titan who had not joined in the war against the gods.

Now Epimetheus had been warned never to trust the gifts of Zeus, but seeing the terrible fate that had befallen his brother, he was too afraid to refuse. And Epimetheus did feel proud to be married to the beautiful Pandora.

Now, Epimetheus kept a large, ebony box in a special room, guarded day and night. In this box he had collected and imprisoned all the things that could harm mankind. It was the one room in the palace that Pandora was forbidden to enter, and naturally it was the one room that aroused her curiosity.

One day, although Epimetheus had forbidden her, Pandora couldn't resist her curiosity any longer. Waiting until Epimetheus was out, she managed to talk her way past the guards and enter the room. She had stolen the key from beside his bed and nobody thought to stop her. Was

she not, after all, the king’s wife? Trembling, she knelt beside the box. It was smaller and older than she expected. She was certain it would contain treasure that would make her the envy of the world. She turned the key and opened the box…

…and all at once all the spites and problems that Epimetheus had for so long kept locked up, exploded into the world. Old age, sickness, they flew out as if in a great cloud of buzzing, stinging insects. One moment she was standing there with a grin on her face. The next she was screaming in the heart of an intense darkness that in seconds, had stripped her of her beauty and brought her out in a thousand boils.

At that moment, all the things that would make life difficult streamed out of Pandora’s box and into the world:

Old age, sickness, anger, envy, famine, spite, violence, intolerance, drought, war, pollution, racism, sexism, terrorism, vandalism, paranoia, claustrophobia, xenophobia, insomnia, infidelity, selfishness, corruption, gluttony, obesity, crime, poverty, alcoholism, insanity and much, much more.

From that moment on, mankind has had to live with all its troubles.

However, there was one item that escaped Pandora’s box which might act as a source of happiness for mankind. That item was hope.

Perseus and Medusa

There was once a king called Polydectes who ruled on an island called Seriphos, and he fell in love with a woman who happened to live in his palace. This woman was called Danae, and she had been found washed up on the shores of the island along with a young son called Perseus, who now served Polydectes as a soldier.

Now although Polydectes loved Danae who was still very beautiful – Danae did not quite feel the same way about Polydectes. For the king was a tyrant and a very bad ruler.

Left to himself, the king would have forced Danae to marry him, but of course there was Perseus to consider. The boy was strong, afraid of nothing and very quick-tempered … in short, just the sort to let fly with a sword if anyone laid a finger on his mother. Worse still, he was very popular on the island, and there would have been an uproar if something horrible had ‘accidentally’ happened to him. Well, the king thought about it for a time and at last he came up with a plan. He announced his marriage, but pretended that he was going to marry another girl, the daughter of a friend of his. He then threw a great banquet and invited everyone in the neighbourhood.

Of course, everybody brought gifts. But when Perseus turned up at the wedding, he turned up empty-handed. For Perseus, besides being very young, bold and strong, was also very poor.

When he saw Perseus, King Polydectes pretended to be furious. But secretly he was pleased, for he has known all along that Perseus wouldn't be able to afford a present.

“What, no present!” he shouted. There were gasps of surprise around the banqueting tables. “Don't you know that it is a tradition to bring your king a present when he decides to get married?”“But I don't have any money, sire,” Perseus explained. “No money! That’s what comes of being a lazy good-for-nothing!”All these words were intended to make Perseus lose his temper, and they worked. For he went very red in the face and cried out: “I am not, sir! And to prove it, you can have anything you want for your wedding present. You only have to name it.”“Anything?”“Anything” Perseus said.

“Then what I would like for my wedding present is a Gorgon’s head. If you’re so clever, bring me a Gorgon’s head.”Several of the courtiers lost their appetite with sheer terror. ‘Very well, sire. If the head of a Gorgon is what you want, then a head of a Gorgon is what you shall have”.

Of all the monsters and beasts in Ancient Greece, the Gorgons were perhaps the most gruesome. Men were petrified by them. The three Gorgons had once been very attractive girls. Then Medusa had fallen in love with Poseidon, the god of the sea, and had slept with him in the temple of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. This had been most unwise. To punish Medusa for behaving improperly in her temple, Athena turned her – and her sisters – into the Gorgons. And that was how they became so ugly. Instead of teeth they had sharp tusks like wild boars. Their hands were made of bronze and they had wings on their shoulders. But what was most remarkable about these horrors were their hair. Their hair was made of living snakes, slimy green and silver snakes with hissing tongues and gleaming eyes. There were dozens of them, sprouting out of the Gorgons’ skulls, writhing over their foreheads, curling round their necks and twisting over their shoulders. Everyone who saw the face of a Gorgon turned to stone. The king knew that Perseus would never get near them. Even if he found them he couldn't look at them. One look and he would be doomed. As soon as Perseus set off on his seemingly hopeless mission, the coast was clear for Polydectes to get to Danae. Perseus travelled far and searched for a long time but he found no trace of Medusa and her sisters. He wondered if he had been a bit hasty in agreeing to the king’s request. At that moment, a figure suddenly appeared, stepping out of the flames of his bonfire. It was a woman, tall and beautiful and with bright eyes. On her head she wore a helmet, and she carried a spear and a gleaming shield. It was Athena, goddess of wisdom. ‘I know who you’re looking for. The only way to find Medusa is to ask the Grey Ones. But anyone who sees Medusa turns to stone. Listen carefully, Perseus. Your life will depend on it…’

A short while later, Perseus crept up the Grey Ones who were sitting beside a bog arguing. They were always arguing. They had been born with only one eye between the three of them. Perseus crept up behind them as they argued and before they could stop him, snatched away the eye. “I’ve got your eye,” Perseus said, “and I wont give it back until you tell me where I can find Medusa”.

The Grey Ones stamped their feet and shouted: ‘Who is it?” “Can’t see him.” “Bite him!”“If you don't tell me,” Perseus continued, “I’ll throw your eye away and you’ll never see anyone again.” “All right,” the Grey Ones ground their teeth. “There’s a big cave in the valley down there.” “And make sure you get a good look at Medusa” “Look her straight in the eye. You’ll never forget your first sight of Medusa.” Perseus gave them back their eye and left them, their laughter cackling in his ears.

Athena had not only told Perseus how to kill Medusa, she had given him the means. He now carried her brightly polished shield in one hand and his sword in the other. He knew that he must be getting close to Medusa’s cave. The valley in which he stood was filled with stone people, some trapped as they turned to run, others frozen in horror, their mouths open, the screams still on their lips.

Now Perseus saw the mouth of a large cave, yawning darkly at him. Holding the shield more tightly than ever, he climbed up the gentle slope and, taking a deep breath, entered the gloom. ‘Medusa!’ he called out. His voice sounded lost in the shadows. Something moved at the back of the cave. ‘Medusa!’ he repeated. Now he could hear hissing. “I am Perseus!” “Perseus!” came a deep, throaty voice from the back of the cave. “Have you come to see me?”The Gorgon stepped forward into the light. For a dreadful moment, Perseus was tempted to look up at her, to meet her eyes. But with all his strength he kept his head turned away and instead of looking at Medusa, he looked at her reflection in the shield. Now he could see her

green skin, her poisonous red eyes and her yellow teeth, all reflected in the polished bronze. He lifted the sword. “Look at me! Look at me!” the Gorgon cried. Still he kept his eyes on the shield. Now the reflection was huge, the teeth snarling at him out of the shield. The snakes writhed furiously, hissing with the sound of red-hot needles being plunged into water. “Look at me! Look at me!” How could he find her when all he could see was the reflection? Surely it would be easier to kill her if he took just one quick look at her, just to make sure he didn't miss…‘Yes. That’s right. Look at me!”“No!” With a despairing cry, Perseus swung wildly with his sword. He felt the sharp steel bite into flesh and bone. The Gorgon screamed. The snakes exploded around her head as the whole thing flew from her shoulders, bounced against the cave wall and rolled to the ground. A fountain of blood spouted out of her neck and her body crumpled. Then at last it was over. Still not looking at it, Perseus picked up the grim trophy of his victory and dropped it into a heavy sack.

By the time his search for the Gorgon was over, a whole year had passed. When he returned, the first person he saw was a fisherman. The man burst into tears, “Oh, master Perseus! It was your mother the wicked king wished to marry. Once you were gone he tried to force her and when she refused, he made her the palace washer-woman. For a whole year she has been scrubbing floors. It’s terrible.’‘We’ll soon see about that’ said Perseus through gritted teeth. And he strode into the palace, where King Polydectes was sitting on this throne. “Greetings, sire!” he called out to the astonished monarch. It is I, Perseus, returned after twelve long months. I bring with me a present that you asked for.”“A Gorgon’s head?” Polydectes sneered. “A likely story!”“Don't you believe me, sire?” Perseus asked.“Certainly not,” the king said. ‘Would you believe your own eyes?’‘Have you got it there?’ the king pointed at the sack. ‘’See for yourself.”And with that, Perseus lifted the Gorgon’s head out of the sack and held it up for the king to see. “That’s not the …” King Polydectes got no further than that. The next moment there was a stone statue leaning out of the throne, a stone sneer on its stone face. After that, Perseus became king of the island. As for Polydectes, he was put in the palace garden, and is probably still there to this day.

Hercules and the Twelve Labours

There was once a baby born who was so remarkable that the gods themselves stared down at his cradle. For he was strong – fantastically strong – stronger than hundreds of others put together.

He was called Hercules, and he was the son of Zeus, the King of the Gods, but not of Hera, the Queen of the Gods.

Jealous of Zeus’ infidelity, Hera sent two enormous snakes to destroy him. Now each snake was several times larger than Hercules, with ferocious teeth and a spitting, poisonous tongue. But when the snakes slithered into his crib to strangle him, Hercules knotted them as if they were pieces of string, and threw them out again. Hera remained his mortal enemy for life, and when he was older, drove him mad. In his madness, Hercules thought he saw six of his worst enemies and immediately killed them all, only to find that they weren’t enemies at all but his own children. Hercules was an outcast, hated by everyone and most of all by himself. For his crime, the Oracle at Delphi sent him to Argolis, to work for twelve years under the orders of King Eurytheus.

Eurystheus was a mean, spiteful man – whose kingdom was overrun by a great many problems – and he decided to set Hercules twelve of the most difficult labours he could think of – tasks that were to become known as the Twelve Labours of Hercules.

A giant lion was terrorising his kingdom, eating men, women and children. Hercules was so miserable he did not much care whether he

lived or died. He found the lion’s den and strode in, with no weapon but his bare hands. When the beast sprang at him, Hercules took it by the throat and throttled it. When it was dead, he skinned it and wore the lion skin for a tunic.

If King Eurystheus was grateful, he did not show it, but simply set Hercules his Second Labour. Next was the Lernaean Hydra. This water serpent grew two more heads every time one was cut off. By the time Hercules came face to face with the Hydra, it had fifty heads, all gnashing their poisonous teeth. Hercules was quick with his sword and nimble on his feet. But though he slashed through many snaking necks without being bitten, the struggle only became more difficult. The heads just multiplied! So Hercules retreated and lit a fire. Then he heated his club red-hot and re-entered the fight. This time, as he cut through each neck, he singed the ragged end with his red-hot club, and the head did not regrow. At last the Hydra looked nothing more than a burning tree stump.

There was no time to rest after fighting the Hydra. King Eurystheus sent him to kill a huge wild Nermanthian boar. When Eurystheus was so scared when he saw the boar that he ran and hid in a big jar, and ordered him to capture a stag with golden antlers, the Cerynian Hind. Hercules pounced on it while it was asleep, snared the deer with nets, and brought it back to the terrified king.

Hercules’ fifth labour was a particularly unpleasant one: to clean the Augean stables. King Augeas kept one thousand animals in sties and stables stretching the length of a foul valley. He was too idle to clean out his animals and too mean to hire farmhands. Nobody had cleaned the stables for thirty years, so the wretched beats stood up to their bellies in their dung. People for miles around complained about the smell. Hercules stood on a hilltop, looking down on the valley, holding his nose. He saw a river bubbling close by, and it gave him an idea. Moving boulders as easily as if they were pillows, he built a dam, so that the river flowed out of its course and down the valley instead. Startled horses and cows and sheep and goats staggered in a torrent of rushing water, but the dung beneath them was scoured away by the river. Hercules only had to demolish the dam with one blow of his club, and the river flowed back to its old river bed. The animals stood shivering and shaking themselves dry, in a green, clean valley.

King Eurystheus was ready and waiting with his next commands. Hercules was to destroy a flock of bloodthirsty man-eating birds at the

Stymphalian Lake, which he accomplished by shooting them all with his Hydra-poisoned arrows. He then had to tame the mad bull of Crete, the father of the beast the Minotaur in the Labyrinth He managed this with the help of King Minos of Crete, and travelled back to Greece on the back of the bull as it swam across the Mediterranean.

By now the king had began to feel very nervous of his slave. He hid inside his big bronze vase whenever Hercules came back from doing his work. “Hercules,” said the King, ‘so far you have killed the Nemean Lion, The Lernaean Hydra and the Stymphalian Birds. And you have captured the Cretan Bull, the Ceryneian Hind and the wild boar of Erymanthus. Seven labours done. Now I want you to capture the four mares of the Thracian King Diomedes, famous horses that could run faster than the wind”.

King Diomedes was in the habit of feeding his horses the flesh of people that got on his nerves. Hercules turned the tables and fed Diomedes to his own horses. After that, the vicious horses calm down, and Hercules took them away. ‘Your horses, sire,’ Hercules said. King Eurystheus ignored him and commanded: “Bring me the jeweled belt word by the Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons!” The Amazons either killed or got rid of any male children that came along and only raised the females. This was one task for which Hercules did not intend to use his great strength. He simply went to the Queen of those savage female warriors and explained why he was there. However, Hera decided that this one was too easy for Hercules, and appeared in the form of an Amazon and rallied the warrior women against Hercules. Hercules thinks Hippolyta has betrayed him and he kills her before sailing away with her belt.

For his tenth labour, Hercules had to sail all the way to an island called Erytheia. On the island of Erytheia there was a giant named Geryon, who had three bodies and three sets of legs all connected at the waist. Hercules had to fetch Geryon's beautiful herd of cattle, which were coloured red by the sunset. So Hercules borrowed a giant golden cup from the sun god Helios and sailed across the Mediterranean to the island of Erytheia. Before he could take the cattle, Hercules had to kill the giant Erytion and his two-headed dog who guards them. After that, Geryon himself came to fight him, but Hercules killed the three-bodied giant with his trusty club. Then Hercules herded the cattle into his golden cup-boat and sails back to Greece.

Eurystheus then ordered Hercules to go fetch golden apples from the nymphs known as the Hesperides, who represented the sunset. These

golden apples were Hera's wedding gift when she married Zeus. To get the apples, Hercules enlisted the help of the Titan Atlas, who was doomed by Zeus to hold the sky up on his back. Hercules told Atlas that he'd hold the sky up for a little while if the Titan wouldn't mind fetching some of those lovely golden apples. Atlas, who was seriously sick of holding up the sky, agrees. When he came back with the apples, however, he suggested that Hercules keep the sky on his shoulders while Atlas delievered the apples to Eurystheus. Hercules thought that sounded suspiciously like a trick. He agreed with Atlas, but told the Titan to take back the sky for a second while Hercules put a pad on his shoulders to ease his burden. When Atlas took the sky back, Hercules headed off with the apples. After Hercules took the apples to Eurystheus, Athena returns the golden fruit to the Hesperides.

For the twelfth and final labour, Eurystheus thought up the worst thing he can imagine: Hercules has to bring back the three-headed hellhound, Cerberus, Hades' vicious beast that guards the gates of the underworld.

Hercules made his way down under to Hades, god of the dead. Hercules went before Hades and asked to borrow Cerberus, so that the hero can complete his final labour. Hades agreed, as long as Hercules could wrestle the three-headed dog into submission without using any weapons. He found Cerberus and squeezed the animal with his muscle-bound arms. Cerberus bit, scratched, and put up a ferocious fight, but Hercules refused to let go. Eventually, Cerberus realised he'd been beaten and calmed down. Hercules took Cerberus back for Eurystheus to see and then returned the hellhound to Hades.

With that Hercules' Twelve Labours were complete. He had finally atoned for killing his children. As a reward for completing all of the tasks that Eurystheus assigned him, the gods did not forget him. They cut him out in the stars and hung him in the sky, to rest from his labours for all time, among the singing planets.

Theseus and The Minotaur

In the days when Athens was not a major city but a small town on the edge of a cliff by the sea, a strange thing would happen every seven years. Athens appeared to be gripped by a mysterious disease. The doors and shutters would close. The children would be forbidden to play. Their parents would sit indoors, their hands clasped and their faces grim. Nobody would be in sight. Nobody would move. Only a whisper would be heard, carried by the wind along the empty streets.“Minos…”And then a second name, a name that throughout Ancient Greece could inspire only the deepest dread.“Minotaur…”

Minos was the King of Crete, the Island of a hundred cities, one of the most powerful kings in the world. For there was no island quite like Crete at the time. Its harbour, built to hold a hundred ships, was huge, fortified by towering walls and guarded by turrets rising up at intervals and garrisoned twenty-four hours a day. The capital – Knossos – was a mass of colour and life. The Cretan people jammed together in the narrow streets, piled high with luxuries shipped from the furthest corners of the civilised world. Silks and satins, spices and exotic foods, ivory and jewels … while the sun shone, the buying and selling never stopped.

Yet there was a darker side to Crete. And even Minos, a great king and the son of Zeus himself, could not escape its shadow. For many years, Minos had sacrificed the best bull from his herd to Poseidon, for Crete depended on its sea power and Poseidon was, of course, God of the sea. One year, however, the King had decided to hold back his best animal. It was a huge, white bull, the sort of creature that could sire a whole herd of prize cattle, and it seemed absurd to waste it on the altar. Instead, he had sacrificed his second best bull, hoping that Poseidon wouldn't notice.

Poseidon did notice and his revenge was as horrible as his anger was great. He left Minos untouched but turned his powers on the King’s wife, making her fall pregnant from a white bull. A Minotaur was spawned, half-bull, half-man. The Minotaur went wild, destroying most of Crete and killing many of its inhabitants. Filled with shame and horror, Minos turned to the oracle to find out how to avoid the terrible scandal that was now attached to him. The oracle told him to build a labyrinth at Knossos in which to conceal the Minotaur. The labyrinth was a maze designed and built by a great architect, Daedalus. He created a maze so

complicated, with many twists and turns, so many false starts and dead ends, that no man, once trapped inside, would find his way out.

Now a favourite son of Minos, called Androgeus, set sail for Athens to take part in the games which were held there every five years. He was a strong, skilful athlete, but the Athenians under King Aegeus grew jealous of his success, and one evening they lay in ambush after the games had ended and fell upon him as he walked to his lodgings. Androgeus fought bravely but he was heavily outnumbered. They killed him and left his body in the road.

When King Minos head of this he was beside himself with grief and rage. At once he ordered his fleet to set sail and the next day, when King Aegeus awoke, he found the town surrounded. Fighting was impossible. The Cretan army surrounded the town. Aegeus had no choice. Kneeling before Minos, he surrendered himself the Cretan King’s mercy.“We must all suffer for the crime” King Aegeus said. “And suffer you shall,” Minos said. “For this is my decree. I have lost a son. Every seven years, you will send seven of your most courageous youths and seven of your most beautiful girls. Do not ask for what purpose. You will never see them again. This will be your tribute to me for the death of my eldest son. Fail and Athens will burn.” Every seven years, fourteen Athenians were chosen by lot and taken away by ship to Crete and an unknown death. And in Crete, whilst the colourful throng jostled in the street, the Minotaur stalked its victims through the maze.

‘Why do we send tributes to Crete every year,’ asked Prince Theseus of his father Aegeus, the King of Athens. “To keep King Minos from making war on us,” said King Aegeus, though he did not like to talk about it.‘As slaves?’‘Not as slaves’, said King Aegeus reluctantly.“Never again! This year, I’ll go as one of the fourteen, and kill this Minotaur!”Nothing the King could say would change his mind. As the tribute-ship set sail, old King Aegeus called from the dockside, ‘I shall keep watch on the clifftop every day, son! If you succeed, raise a new white sail. If you fail, raise a black one.’ ‘I shall succeed!’ said Theseus. King Minos laughed to see a King’s son arrive from Athens. But his daughter, Ariadne, sat listening. She was ashamed of her father’s cruelty, and hated to see how he fed the horrible beast in the labyrinth. She was still more unhappy when she saw the brave and handsome Theseus dragged away to feed the monster. Down went Theseus in the

dark, but he paused, not knowing which way to go. The guards marched away.“Prince Theseus!” It was Ariadne. “Here. Take this.” She dropped a ball of thread. ‘Even if you can kill the Minotaur, you wont ever find your way back to the entrance unless you use this.” Theseus tied one end to the entrance and set off, unwinding it as he went, forgetting everything except the Minotaur. He felt his way in the dark. It was true: without the

string he would have been hopelessly lost in the maze of winding corridors. Suddenly, the Minotaur bellowed in his ear and flung him through the darkness. It stamped on him with his hooves. They fought in the darkness. The half-bull, half-man crushed him with his arms and lashed him with his tail. But Theseus took hold of the horns and twisted them first one way, then the other.

The beast kicked and butted and struggled. But Theseus had been fighting all his life. He whirled round, bringing his sword crashing through the air. The blade bit into the creature’s neck, cutting through sinew and bone. The Minotaur shrieked. The animal head fell away from the human body. It stood for a moment, gushing blood, arms flailing in the air. Then at last the beast collapsed, gave a gargling gasp and lay dead.

Filled with panic, Theseus scrabbled around for the ball of string. There! No! There! Yes! No he had only to wind it in and so retrace his steps.

At the door of the labyrinth, Ariadne stood waiting. “You’re alive! You escaped!” she cried, and took him by the hand and led him away. They freed the other prisoners, and ran to the harbour. “You must take me with you, or my father will kill me too!” said Ariadne. ‘Come aboard!” said Theseus, raising the black sail with his hands. Theseus abandoned

Ariadne, leaving her behind on the island of Naxos. But in his rush, he forgot to change the black sail for a white one.

King Aegeus, watching day after day from the cliff below Athens, saw the ship as it came into view. He saw the black sail full of wind. And in that moment, he knew that his son Theseus had been killed by the Minotaur. In terrible despair, he threw himself off the high white cliff onto the rocks below. And ever after, the sea was called the Aegean Sea, after the father of that ungrateful hero, Theseus. But Minos never again demanded Athenians to be sacrificed to Crete.

Daedalus and Icarus

The man who built the labyrinth where the Minotaur lived under the orders of King Minos was called Daedalus, and his son was Icarus.

Beating his wings harder and harder, Icarus soared up into the sky and out over the Aegean Sea. It was hard to believe it but the plan had worked. For here he was now, flying alongside his father, Daedalus, as they left the island of Crete behind them and travelled on towards their freedom. Icarus glanced over at his father and grinned. "Come along, Father," he shouted over the sound of the wind rushing past them. "Smile, we’ve done it, we’ve escaped and we’re free."“When my feet are back on solid ground and that island is many, many miles behind us, then you will see me smile,” Daedalus yelled back. “Now, keep your mind on what we have to do and remember, not too high, not too close to the sun.”Daedalus thought back to the moment, a few days before, when he had thought up the plan which would help them escape - not only from the labyrinth but from the kingdom of King Minos as well. He cast his mind back even further, to the day when he realised that his own life and that of his son were in great danger. How had they come to this moment?

Only a short time ago Daedalus was being hailed as the great architect, the skilled inventor, the master craftsman. His incredible inventions and constructions were known and admired throughout many lands and when he arrived in Crete, many years earlier, King Minos was happy to welcome him to his land and quickly began to make use of his talents. One of his first tasks was to construct a huge labyrinth, a vast underground maze of tunnels which twisted and turned in every possible direction, so that, on entering the labyrinth, a person would very quickly become lost and would be unable to find their way out again. This giant maze served one simple purpose. It was to contain the Minotaur, a huge beast, half man, half bull. Standing twice as high as any man, the Minotaur had horns, as long as a man’s arm, with sharp points, on which it skewered its victims. It had almost unbelievable strength and was constantly hungry – hungry for the flesh of humans.

King Minos had come up with his own special way of satisfying the Minotaur’s hunger. Every year, he demanded that Athens send him a tribute of seven young men and seven young women and these would be sacrificed to satisfy the creature’s hunger. One by one they would be forced to enter the labyrinth. They would then wander, sometimes only for hours but sometimes for many days before, somewhere in the pitch

black tunnels, they would encounter the Minotaur. It goes without saying that none of them was ever seen again. Well, that’s not quite true actually, as one of the young men, not only found and killed the Minotaur, but also found his way out again.

This superhuman was Theseus, son of Zeus and stepson of King Aegeus of Athens. He had forced his stepfather to agree to let him be sent as one of the seven young men, swearing that he would somehow kill the Minotaur and return home safely. As their ship docked in the harbour below the mighty palace of Knossos, and the youths were dragged from the ship, Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos, was watching.

She saw Theseus and found herself falling in love with him there and then. She vowed to herself that somehow she would help him when it was his turn to enter the maze. And this was the moment when Daedalus found himself involved, in a way which he knew would not end well for him and his young son. Ariadne went to him and asked him to help her save Theseus from the jaws of the Minotaur. He gave her a great ball of flaxen thread.

“Somehow you must get this thread to Theseus. Tell him to tie one end to the door of the labyrinth and hang on to the other end. He can then use it to find his way back out again. But you must be ready to flee the moment he escapes, for, when your father finds out what you have done, your life will be in great danger.” And so will mine, he thought to himself, so will mine. Their plan worked well. Theseus found the Minotaur and, after a long battle in the dark passages of the maze, he killed the beast. Using the thread, he made his way back to the door and to Ariadne. Making their way quickly to his ship, they set sail for Athens.

Daedalus was left behind to face the consequences and it took very little time for Minos to find him. The King was angrier than anyone could remember (and this was a man who was noted for his evil temper). He blamed Daedalus for the whole thing and dragged both him and Icarus to the door of the labyrinth.“This is where you two will end your days,” he screamed. “In there, in the dark, along with the rats.” With that the guards threw them inside and swung the heavy door shut.

Immediately they were plunged into total darkness. They could not see their hands in front of their faces, let alone the tunnels and passages in which they now found themselves. But all was not lost, for, of all the people who had ever entered the labyrinth, these two were the only

ones who knew its secrets. They had designed it, they had taken charge of its construction and Daedalus knew the layout of the labyrinth like the back of his hand. It took them little or no time to find their way out of the labyrinth but that was only the first hurdle. They still needed to escape from Crete, if they wanted to survive for more than a few days.

Daedalus knew there was no way to escape by sea, as Minos controlled all the seas around the island. So Daedalus, the great inventor, the master craftsmen, drew on all his skills and made, for each of them, a pair of huge wings. These wings were made from hundreds of feathers they collected from the birds around the island and were held together with a strong wax.

“These wings will take us away from this place and to freedom,” he told his son. “However, there is one thing you must not forget. These wings are held together by wax. If it gets too hot, it will melt and the wings will fall apart. So do not fly too close to the sun. Stay low and we will be safe.”

So here they were now, gliding across the brilliant blue sky, the sun shining above them and the Aegean sea glinting beautifully far below them. Daedalus glanced back nervously over his shoulder again, to see the island of Crete getting smaller and smaller as they flew away from their prison. But Icarus could not contain his excitement a moment longer. “We’re free,” he yelled to the empty sky around him. “Free and we’re flying, we’re flying with the birds.”With a whoop of excitement, he soared up and up, gliding around the sky, zooming back down towards his father and then up again, up, up, up towards the dazzling sun.

“Icarus, not too high, not too close to the sun,” his father screamed in desperation. “The wax on your wings will melt. Stay close to me and stay low.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. The boy continued to soar up into the bright blue sky, edging nearer and nearer to the sun and, as Daedalus flew along below him, he saw a bright white feather flutter through the sky and, looking up, watched in horror as more and more feathers detached themselves from his son’s wings. He watched in despair as his son began to lose height and his despair turned to total anguish as he heard the terrified cry from his son, as he tumbled and spun past him towards the sea below.

It took only seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime, as Daedalus saw his son plummet through the sky with increasing speed to hit the waters below with a resounding splash.

Daedalus flew low in the hope of seeing the boy appear on the surface of the churning waters but he knew that nobody could have survived such a fall and that all hope was lost. With a heavy heart, and almost exhausted, Daedalus regained the height he needed and, without looking back, set his course for the island of Sicily. There he hoped that he would be welcomed and be allowed to live a trouble-free life for the rest of his days.

But however long he lived, he would never be able to forget the sound of his son’s final cry as he sped towards the water. It was only the briefest of sounds but he heard it clearly, even above the sound of the foaming waves and crying gulls – “Father, help me”.

Achilles and Hector

Some say this is the story of the greatest of all the Ancient Greek heroes: Achilles the fierce. Achilles the strong. Achilles the courageous.

Achilles’ mother was Thetis, one of the nymphs of the sea who came to the aid of sailors – and an immortal. When Achilles was born, she held him by the heel and dipped him in the waters of the River Styx, which winds its way through the Underworld. In this way, Thetis made Achilles immortal. But she made one mistake, a mistake that would one day prove to be fatal. For she forgot to immerse the heel itself and that part of Achilles remained mortal.

When Achilles grew up on Mount Pelion amongst the Myrmidons, clouds of war were gathering between Greece and Troy. Eris, goddess of discord, has sown the seeds of disaster with a golden apple written on it, ‘to the fairest’. A young Trojan prince, Paris, was summoned to judge who was the fairest between the goddesses Athena, Aphrodite and Hera, and as Aphrodite had promised him Helen of Sparta, he chose Aphrodite. Throughout Greece, a great army was forming that would soon sail on Troy.

Now Thetis had been given a prophecy. The prophecy stated that if Achilles set sail for Troy, he would win glory but never return; yet if he stayed, he would have a happy family but never win glory. So she tried to keep Achilles from leaving Greece and sailing for Troy.

The Kings of Greece were travelling the country in search of warriors prepared to fight and die with them. There was Menelaus, King of Sparta and leader of the Greek forces. For Helen had been his wife, and it had been his honour at stake when Paris has stolen her. With him was Agamemnon, King of Mycenae, King of all the Greeks, King of Kings, the brother of Menelaus. And there was Odysseus, who himself had feigned madness to avoid going to Troy and would be condemned to wander for ten years before he saw his home again.

It was Odysseus who came in search of Achilles, for a soothsayer had warned him that Troy could not be taken without him. The cunning Odysseus decided upon a trick. He said that this war would never be forgotten, and nor would the heroes who fought in it. And then he walked away, leaving Achilles thirsting for glory. And so Achilles set sail for Troy, taking with him Patroclus, his beloved cousin.

Achilles was the first Greek to leap onto the Trojan coast. The first battle was fought on the beach, and Achilles, leading the faithful Mymirdons, soon proved he deserved his reputation for valour. He added victory to victory, death to death until his name was the most feared in the entire Greek army. Priam, King of Troy, lost no more than three of his sons to Achilles. With the Myrmidons behind him, Achilles ravaged the countryside, seizing lands and sacking Trojan temples. He discovered the beautiful Trojan princess Briseis, fell in love with her, and brought her back to his tent.

It was at this time that Achilles had his argument with King Agamemnon. They had long argued over who was a greater warrior-king, but now they argued over Briseis. Agamemnon had been forced to send another beautiful Trojan princess back to Troy as she was a priestess. So now the King of The Greeks seized Briseis for himself, which angered Achilles so much that he stormed off to his tent, refusing to have anything more to do with the war. At first nobody could believe that so great a warrior could behave in such a way, but as the days passed and Achilles failed to appear, they realised he meant just what he said. The Trojans, when their spies reported the news, returned to the battlefield with renewed vigour. This was virtually the first piece of good fortune since the Greeks had landed. The morale of an army can win a war, and suddenly it seemed as if the Trojans had the upper hand. A daring raid was led by Hector, the eldest son and fiercest warrior of King Priam, King of Troy, and the Greek lines were broken. Both Agamemnon and Odysseus were wounded in the fighting and the Greeks scattered in panic, Hector pressed on towards their fleet. If he were able to burn their ships and cut the supply lines, he might well end their whole enterprise – but still Achilles refused to fight.

It was Patroclus who saved the day. The flames were already devouring the first ship, black smoke curling up masts and brilliant sparks cascading onto the water, when Patroclus ran forward, wearing the armour of Achilles and hurled his spear into the mass of Trojans. He would have been cut down where he stood but for the fact that he so resembled Achilles that the Trojans mistook him for his cousin and fled. Then, while the Greek soldiers put out the fire, Patroclus regrouped the rest of the army and chased the fleeing Trojans towards the walls of the city. Patroclus had lived his whole life in the shadow of Achilles. Where his cousin was famous, he was unknown. Now, for the first and last time, he found himself the undisputed leader of the suddenly fearless Greek forces and a hero in his own right. He chased the Trojans right back to the walls. But Patroclus relied on luck as much as skill and now his luck

ran out. Hector caught him with a blow between the shoulder blades. His helmet was torn off and at the same moment his spear splintered. One blow and it was over.

When Achilles found out, with a cry of anger and grief he threw himself into the battle, striking out left and right, forming a bloody circle around the corpse. At last the Trojans retreated and Achilles was able to carry the body of Patroclus back to the Greek ships he had saved. He was buried with full honours beside the sea, the dying sea casting a scarlet banner across the water. Agamemnon, though wounded, came from his tent, bringing Briseis, to make his peace with Achilles. And Achilles, standing beside his cousin’s grave, swore revenge on the man who had killed him.

If Achilles was the pride of the Greek army, then Hector was his equivalent in the Trojan. The two men were natural opponents. Although the two had yet to encounter each other on the field, a deep hatred ran between them and each sought revenge on the other, Achilles for the death of Patroclus, Hector for the loss of three brothers. Hector had challenged Achilles to single combat once, but that had been when Achilles was refusing to fight. Now he accepted and for one day the war was suspended, both sides standing back to watch the confrontation.

Achilles was relentless, unstoppable. He approached the Trojan, his feet pounding the dust. As soon as he was within range, Hector hurled his spear. Achilles raised his shield and the spear clattered uselessly to one side. The two men joined in combat. So ferociously did they fight that when sword struck sword the spark could be seen a mile away. Hector was perhaps the stronger. But Achilles was the faster and, watching from the walls, the Trojans let out a great cry when he dodged one blow, carried his sword in low and ran their prince through the heart. “Achilles!” he whispered, the blood curtaining over his lip. “Let my parents have my body. Let me be buried honourably.”“Never!” Achilles cried. He twisted his sword and watched the light in Hector’s eyes go out. Then he took the body, and while King Priam looked on, helpless and in horror, he fastened it by the feet to his chariot and rode off around the city. Time and again he circled Troy, dragging Hector behind him. But the ordeal was not over for the Trojans. Although they offered their prince’s weight in gold, Achilles refused. And every day at dawn he would taunt them with it, whipping up his horses around the walls, dragging his enemy in a cloud of dust behind him. At last, the gates of Troy opened and King Priam himself crept out and

threw himself into the tent of Achilles and onto the ground. “Achilles!” the old man wept. “You have proved yourself a great warrior, but have you the compassion to prove yourself a great man? You have killed my eldest child, the son who I most loved and in whom I had most pride. Now, I beg you, show pity to an old man. Will you not be moved by a father’s tears? Let me bury my son.” Achilles gave orders for the body of Hector to be carried back to Troy and called for a truce of twelve days so the funeral could be prepared.

But Achilles has made himself enemies amongst the gods: he had sacked Apollo and Poseidon’s temples. One day in the thick of the fighting, Poseidon whispered to Paris – the man who, more than any other, had begun the war – that Achilles was not invulnerable, while Apollo guided his hand. For the gods remembered how Thetis had held him when she dipped him in the River Styx, and now Paris let loose a poisoned arrow which struck him in the heel.

At once the poison spread through Achilles’ blood. With the stars blazing in the silver sky, he died. The prophecies came true. Troy had fallen, and it could not have been taken without Achilles. Achilles had won immortal glory, and he would never be forgotten, but he would never return home to his family; he would go to the halls of Hades in the Underworld. Ever since the Trojan war, his name has always been remembered, and anyone’s fatal flaw or weakness has been known as their Achilles heel.