Favorite Greek Myths (Yesterday's Classics) (18 page)

So Theseus bade good-by to his mother and his grandfather, and began his journey by land. He had not gone far among the wild rocks and crags near to Trœzen, before he was attacked by the robber, Periphetes, who was called the club-bearer. This robber came running toward Theseus, swinging a great iron club. He looked very terrible indeed; but Theseus, with his father's sword in his hand, went bravely forward, and soon left the club-bearer lying dead in the road. The way to Athens was now so much the safer. Theseus took the great iron club of Periphetes and went on.

Next, he met with the pine-bender, a giant named Sinis, who used to catch all the travellers passing his way, and tear them to pieces. The pine-bender did this by bending down the tops of two pine trees and then letting them spring back again, after having tied his captives between them. Sinis carried a young pine tree for a club. Enormous as this club was, it was not so strong as the iron one which Theseus now carried. So when Sinis tried to tie Theseus to the tops of two pines, he found that he had met his match; for the iron club of Theseus came crashing down on the pine-tree club of Sinis, and splintered it into shreds. Then a blow or two more stretched the giant out under his pines.

Before Theseus had gone very much farther on the road to Athens, he came to a village where all the people were living in terror of a fierce wild boar. He found this animal and killed it.

Then he went on till he came to the shore of a gulf, where the robber, Sciron, lived. Sciron had a strange way of showing hospitality to travellers. After inviting them to remain over night at his house, he used to seat himself on the edge of a high cliff, and set his guests to washing his feet. While they were engaged in this work, he would kick them off the cliff into the sea. But he never did this again after Theseus travelled that road; for Theseus threw Sciron himself over the same cliff.

Not far away lived another robber, Procrustes, who used to pretend to entertain strangers at his hut. Then, if they were too long for his bedstead, he would cut off their heads or their feet; if they were too short for it, he would stretch them to fit it. Procrustes, too, was slain by Theseus. Afterward other robbers and giants met the same fate.

By the time that Theseus reached Athens, he was well known in that city; for the people all along the way had been eager to spread the news of what he had done. In fact, only one man in all Athens knew nothing of his coming, and that man was his own father, Ægeus, the king.

At this time Medea, a beautiful woman and famous sorceress, was living in the king's palace. As she had a son whom she wished to place on the throne after King Ægeus was gone, perhaps it was natural that she should be sorry to have Theseus come to Athens. But this perfectly natural feeling of Medea's led to a very wicked act.

By means of her knowledge of poisonous herbs she mixed a very powerful cup, which would cause instant death to any one who drank of it. Then, telling King Ægeus that the young stranger was a traitor, and had plotted against his life, she contrived to make him hand this cup to Theseus, when he presented himself at the throne.

With no thought that it could contain poison, Theseus innocently raised the fatal cup to his lips, intending to drink to the king. Just then Ægeus noticed the sword Theseus carried, and he knew by the carving on its ivory hilt that the so-called traitor was his own son. Instantly, he struck the cup from the hand of Theseus, and welcomed the young man as a father should welcome his son.

When Medea saw that her wicked scheme had miscarried, and that Theseus was recognized by his father, she was frightened. She did not dare to plan any further mischief to Theseus, but used all her enchantments to get herself safely away. First, she compelled a thick mist to rise from the river. Then, in the sudden darkness and confusion caused by the mist, she called her winged dragons, jumped into her chariot, and was soon far away from Athens, where she never dared to return.

The people lost no time in telling the king all the brave deeds that Theseus had performed on his way from Trœzen. The king was so well pleased with what he heard, and so glad to have his son come to Athens, that he appointed three days of public rejoicing and feasting. In the midst of all this merrymaking, a messenger came to tell King Ægeus that the collectors of the tribute had arrived from Crete.

A long time before, the oldest son of King Minos of Crete had been slain in Athens. To avenge the death of the prince, King Minos brought a great army against Athens, and compelled the Athenians to pay him a tribute every ninth year, of seven young men and seven maidens, chosen from among the noble families of Athens. It was whispered that the children of the tribute, as these young men and maidens were called, were destined to be devoured by the Minotaur, a bloodthirsty and savage creature, with the body of a man and the head of a bull, which King Minos kept in a labyrinth near his palace. No one who entered the labyrinth had ever been known to come out again. The cruel tribute had been paid twice already, and now the Athenians must pay it for the third time.

Theseus at once resolved to kill the monstrous Minotaur, and so make an end of the tribute. Although King Ægeus tried to persuade him not to do so, he offered himself, before the lots were drawn, as one of the seven young men. This pleased the Athenians, and made Theseus very popular.

On the day appointed, the six other young men and the seven maidens were drawn by lot, and everything was made ready for sailing. When starting out on such a sad voyage, it seemed fitting that the ship which carried the children of the tribute should be rigged with black sails. This had been done on the two former occasions when the tribute had been paid. Now that there was some hope of a happy outcome of the voyage, King Ægeus gave Theseus a white sail, which he told him to hoist instead of the black one, if he should succeed in killing the Minotaur, and should start out on the homeward voyage, safe and well. The aged king then bade his son good-by, and said to him, "From the top of yonder rock I shall watch every day for your return."

Then the black-sailed ship passed slowly out of the harbor. The young people that it carried were very sad; for they never expected to see the sunny shores of Greece again, at least none of them but Theseus. He was as cheerful and as full of courage as when he set out for Athens with his father's sword hanging at his side.

W
HEN
the children of the tribute arrived at Crete, Theseus informed King Minos that he meant to kill the Minotaur. King Minos told the prince that if he could perform this task, he and all his companions might go free, and that nothing more should ever be said about the tribute.

The truth is, this horrible Minotaur was not altogether a pleasant pet to keep, for there was always the possibility that he might get out of the labyrinth and do no end of damage. Therefore King Minos would really have been very glad to get rid of him. Nevertheless, he was so hard-hearted that he would not permit Theseus to go armed to meet the monster; hence there was very little hope of the hero's success.

That night the young Athenians were thrown into a dungeon under the palace of King Minos, one of them being destined for the Minotaur's breakfast in the morning.

Directly over this dungeon were the rooms of the two daughters of King Minos, Ariadne and Phædra. As the two sisters stood on the wall, enjoying the moonlight, they heard the complaining of the captives.

"What a pity it is," said Ariadne, "that these youths and maidens should become food for the Minotaur. I pity young Prince Theseus most of all, because he is so brave. If you are willing, we will help him to slay the Minotaur."

Phædra was as eager as Ariadne to help the young prince. So the two made a plan that they thought might succeed.

They waited till all the king's household were asleep, then stole softly to the dungeon, and opened the door. Worn out with fatigue and anxiety, all the captives but Theseus had fallen asleep. Theseus, however, was wide awake. Ariadne beckoned to him to come out. Then she and Phædra took him to the place where the famous labyrinth stood. Its white marble walls looked very high and strong in the moonlight. The night was very still, save for the lapping of the waves on the shore, and Theseus could distinctly hear the heavy breathing of the sleeping Minotaur.

"This is the best time to attack the creature; do not wait till morning," Ariadne whispered, and Theseus knew that she was right. "The Minotaur's den is in the very heart of the labyrinth," Ariadne continued. "The sound of his breathing will show you in what direction you must go. Here is a sword, and here is a clew of thread, by means of which, after you have killed the monster, you can find your way back." With these words she handed him the sword, and the clew or ball of thread, of which she kept the end in her own hand, then opened for him a door leading by a secret passage into the labyrinth.

Theseus, holding the sword in one hand and the clew in the other, entered the labyrinth. The interior was all cut up into narrow paths, bordered by high walls. So many of these paths ended in a blank wall that Theseus often had to retrace his steps. There never was another labyrinth half so intricate as this one, which was made by the famous Dædalus. Back and forth, in and out, Theseus went; he could hear the heavy breathing more and more plainly, and knew that he was getting nearer to the den of the monster he was seeking.

Meanwhile Ariadne and Phædra stood at the gate, Ariadne holding her end of the thread. They waited a long time—they could not tell how long. The moon set behind the hills, and left only the light of the stars. Then they heard a great roar that shook the strong walls of the labyrinth. After this everything was still again. It was hard for Ariadne to wait, now, for she did not know but Theseus might be lying dead inside, or, if he had not been killed by the Minotaur, might have dropped the thread in the fight, and so be lost in the maze of paths. At last she felt the thread tighten, and in a moment more out Theseus came, saying that he had slain the Minotaur.

Fortunately the galley that had brought Theseus and his companions to Crete was still lying on the shore. This made it possible to escape from King Minos before daylight. The sleeping youths and maidens in the dungeon were quickly roused, the little ship was launched, and all were soon ready to set out for Athens.

Before going aboard Theseus asked the daughters of King Minos to go with his companions and himself to Athens. "Your father, the king, will be angry," said he, "when he knows how you have aided me. This will be the best way to escape his wrath."

Having good reason to fear the cruelty of King Minos, the two princesses accepted this invitation.

On their way to Athens the young people stopped at the island of Naxos. Here, the young men, exhausted from hard rowing and greatly in need of rest, pulled the galley up on the shore, where the whole company encamped on the bare rocks for the night. Very early the next morning they set sail, and started off again; but Ariadne, being fast asleep on a rock, was left behind.

THE SLEEPING ARIADNE

When this poor princess awoke, she could hardly believe that Theseus had really meant to desert her. However, there was the galley dancing on the waves, almost out of sight. She watched it till she could no longer look off on the bright water because of the tears in her eyes, and then she heard strange music, a sound of tambourines and pipes, and the clash of cymbals.

She turned to look toward the pine wood behind her, from which the sounds came, and saw a chariot drawn by two panthers. In the chariot sat Bacchus, the god of the vine, wearing a spotted fawn-skin and a crown of cool ivy-leaves. In coming through the wood the god had twisted a spray of wild morning-glory around his lance, and had thrust the sharp end of the lance into a large pine-cone. He was surrounded by a merry, dancing crowd of nymphs and satyrs.

When Bacchus heard Ariadne's story, he said "Theseus should certainly have taken you to Athens, and considering all you did to help him, he ought, at the very least, to have made you a queen. But never mind, you shall have a better crown than any he could have given you. With these words the god placed a crown of nine bright stars on Ariadne's head. After this he persuaded the other gods to take her up into the sky, among themselves. There, in the northern sky, her crown still shines.

With all his courage Theseus must have been a very forgetful young man; for he not only left Ariadne on the island, but he forgot to hoist the white sail on the homeward voyage, as he had promised to do, if all went well. Thus it happened that the ship came back to Athens with the ominous black sail flying.

Poor old King Ægeus, watching from the rock, saw the black sail, and thinking that his son was dead, threw himself into the sea and was drowned. So when the children of the tribute arrived safe in the harbor after such a hazardous journey, there was mourning instead of rejoicing.

After Theseus was made king, he brought his mother, Æthra, to Athens, and took good care of her for the rest of her life. He ruled wisely, and was kind to the poor and the unfortunate.