Mythology

Mythology Monday: Jason

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*spoiler warning, the following excerpt comes from an early draft of Love and War, which takes place AFTER Aphrodite. **

As I turned a corner, I spotted Jason walking up the hill toward the cabins, carrying a large box.
“Jason?” Had they finished unloading the shipment? A quick glance toward the dock assured me that wasn’t the case. Then what was he doing? I caught up just in time to see him walk around the hospital toward the dumpsters.
“Oh,” I said, feeling foolish. He was probably just throwing something away. Rolling my eyes at myself, I rounded the corner of the hospital and paused. Jason wasn’t here.
The hospital backed up into a thin strip of forest. Frowning, I batted the low hanging branches out of the way, and stumbled through the underbrush. I walked until I reached the rocky ledge at the end of the ocean and saw no sign of him.
“Jason!” I called, glancing around. Considering how much noise I’d made going through the trees, I’d have heard him if he was here. Even the brush looked undisturbed, except for where I passed through.
“Weird,” I declared, circling the building once more. When I walked back around the dumpster, my skin prickled, hair raising on the back of my neck. I paused, one foot still raised to take the next step.

Strangest thing. For a second, I could have sworn I heard screaming.

~@~

Jason was a very, very famous Greek hero who was unique in that he was not technically a demigod. Jason’s father was Aeson who was the son of Cretheus and Tyro.

Cretheus was Aeolus’s son. Aeolus was kind of the god of wind, depending on which version of Aeolus you’re talking about, but that is a complexity for another day. All that matters for this myth is that all versions of Aeolus referred to in Jason’s genealogy are either the wind god, or the grandkid of the wind god by Poseidon.

Tyro was the daughter of Salmoneus, another of Aeolus’ children. So he’s got demigod in his blood going back several generations and linking to the same god.

Meanwhile, his mother, in most versions of the myth was Alcimede. She was the daughter of Clymene and either Phylacus or Cephalus, either way her father was a descendant of Aeolus. Clymene was a daughter of Minyas who was a son of Poseidon and Hermippe, who was a daughter of Boeotus who was a son of Poseidon.

So super inbreeding = super hero in Greek Mythology, yes?

Anyway, Jason’s Uncle Pelias (Aeson’s half brother via Tyro) overthrew Aeson, taking over Thessaly. He then killed off all of Aeson’s descendants so there would be no challenge to his throne, but Alcimede pretended Jason was still born and the entire village played along and wailed and cried for the dead baby who was actually fine. She sent Jason to Chiron the Centaur for his safety, and visited so frequently that most people figured she was having an affair with Chiron. She encouraged that rumor and helped it spread because no one knew Jason was in his keeping and it allowed her to see her son.

Meanwhile Pelias was paranoid someone would overthrow him so he consulted the Oracle of Delphi who warned him to beware of the man with one sandal.

Jason grew up without an idea of who he was, just figuring he was some normal kid undergoing hero training by a centaur. When he was old enough to rule, his mother told him the truth of who he was, and he set off to reclaim his kingdom. He lost a sandal on the trip because he paused to help an old woman cross the river. The old woman was actually Hera, and she gave him a blessing.

He gets to Pelias, who notices his missing sandal, and explains he’s there for his kingdom. Pelias tells him he’ll surrender the kingdom to him if he can find the Golden Fleece. More on the Golden Fleece next Monday.

Mythology Monday: Pandora’s Box

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Pandora was the box. The myths always get that part wrong. When the mortals stole fire from the God-King’s domain with the help of traitorous gods, Zeus molded the perfect woman out of clay and breathed not a soul into her small frame, but something darker: ingredients to break mankind.

“She looks like us,” Ares said in surprise when he set eyes on the first mortal woman. “Mostly.”

At the time, the human body held an entire soul: two heads, four arms, and four legs. They were complete beings, but still they felt unsatisfied. The human drive to always do more, have more, be more, left them hungry. Already humans had stolen the Fire of Knowledge from the gods, now they longed for Ichor and the secrets of immortality.

“This is the only way?” Artemis asked, glancing at the woman with unease. “Are you certain?”

“I’ve seen every possible outcome of the mortals’ current path,” Apollo replied. “Unchecked, they will destroy us all, god and man alike.”

Resolved, all the gods of Olympus contributed toward Pandora’s creation. Athena taught her wisdom, Hephaestus curiosity, Ares passion, and Artemis strength. As her lessons progressed, Pandora’s love for the gods grew. But when Zeus asked her to use her gifts to live among traitorous gods and men alike, she resisted.

“You’re asking me to infiltrate, to spy, to destroy,” she protested. “There must be another way. Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t send me to them.”

“You were made for this,” the God King decreed.

Eventually Pandora’s love for the gods prevailed. She loved Zeus’ children and knew that if men no longer had need of the gods, the gods would soon die for want of worship.
Love makes monsters of us all.

The humans regarded Pandora as a curiosity, as she did not resemble them. Little did they know they were looking upon their future. The humans were kind to Pandora. She grew to love their company, but sensing their destructive nature found she could not entirely dismiss Zeus’ plan.

She broke off pieces of her not-soul and sowed them among mankind. But all her attempts to cause division within the human soul were met with failure. They were too complete, too perfect in their formation to bend and break to the plagues, cold, and darkness. Instead of turning against each other, their resolve against the gods of Olympus grew.

The traitorous gods on the other hand were more amenable to distraction. Pandora was too much like the goddesses the brothers had left behind on Olympus to ignore. Epimetheus resisted her charms not at all, Prometheus for little longer. Soon the brothers fell to infighting, and when nine months passed and the first demigods were born, chaos swept across the land.

Because of their mother’s lack, the children only held half a soul, yet the humans could not help but love them, could not help but want them, could not wish but to be them. A single, golden step between the mortal and divine. First one soul, then another split in half and remade themselves in the semi-divine children’s image.

But instead of becoming stronger, the division caused the humans to become weak. The worst traits were amplified, their best halved. They spread across the globe, intent on consuming more and ever more. By the time they realized their mistake, they could no longer find the missing half of their souls.

Her grim mission complete, Pandora returned to her Olympian home, eager to be reunited with her gods.

Zeus did not welcome her back to Olympus.

“Where am I to go?” she demanded, heartbroken.

“Live among men or throw yourself off this mountain for all I care. You’ve outlived your usefulness.”

And so Pandora left. Ares did not take long to find her.

“Did you know what would become of us?” he asked, already wearied of his new role of war god.

“When their souls split, your role expanded to include the dark sides of your gift,” Pandora replied. “Man must always need you if you’ve any hope of surviving. There’s a price to balance.”

Ares shook his head, staring down the mountain as if his gaze could pierce the fog so he could see the battle and bloodshed below. “This is no kind of balance.”

“It will be.” Pandora drew Ares to her and whispered the last piece of her not-soul into his ear. A single word that had never before been uttered.

“Why me?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“You’ll need hope more than anyone.”

~@~

When the gods got together to create mankind, Zeus was hesitant. He’d been around for enough uprisings to know that creation didn’t always inspire loyalty. So he made sure to always cause dissent by creating some humans that were more intelligent than others, some who were stronger, ect. et. His treatment ties well into the soulmate myth, which features four-armed humans who were ripped into two so they could never become too fulfilled.

His treatment of early humans was harsh enough to lose the support of the two Titans who’d supported him during the Titanomachy: Epithemeus and Prometheus.

Prometheus was mankind’s biggest supporter. He helped create man and argued for their continued safety. When Zeus demanded sacrifices, Prometheus convinced him all the parts of animals that couldn’t be eaten were the bee’s knees, leaving humanity a vital thing called food.

But it wasn’t until he stole fire that he really invoked Zeus’ ire. Depending on the myth, fire is fire, or fire is knowledge. Either way, the damage was done once the fire was stolen and Zeus wanted revenge. So he asked Hephaestus to create the first woman: Pandora.

All the gods chipped in for her creation and sent her to live with Epithemeus. In some versions she was sent with the jar (it’s a translation error it was ever referred to as a box), in others the box was with the Titans all along. Either way, she opened the box, releasing the woes of mankind, and instantly realized her mistake and slammed the box closed, trapping one last spirit inside (or in some versions releasing it as well).

Hope.

 

Mythology Monday: The Origin of the Sphinx Guest post by Raye Wagner

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I wanted to thank Raye Wagner, and her version of Artemis for hosting today’s Mythology Monday. Raye is the author of a novel called Curse of the Sphinx and it’s prequel novella, The Sphinx. To see my review of the novella, click here.

~@~

The Origin of the Sphinx is a tale that haunts like a somber lullaby; the ache lingering even after the melody has faded.

I’ve tried to be understanding, sympathetic even; after all Apollo is my brother. He’s always been a bit rash, impulsive… impetuous. And there can be good in that at times. But not in this story.
It was said by some that Hera created the beast. That she was responsible for setting the Sphinx at Thebes to cause horror and loss to the city and its populace. Hera’s infidelity was nothing if not retaliation, and giving birth to your daughter is hardly the creation of a monster.
Phoibe, born of Hera, was the result of a dalliance with a Greek shepherd. She was raised by her father and his wife for only a few years before being entrusted to a humble weaver-woman. The woman loved the young demigod, and watched over her carefully…tenderly.
Are you familiar with the tale of the Judgment of Paris? It illustrates both Hera’s beauty, and her power. She is like a bright rose nestled amongst sharp thorns. Or lightening that strikes a blackened sky; Hera is a dazzling presence that commands attention. The mortal tongue lacks words to describe her exquisiteness, and her daughter was similarly blessed. Or cursed? She was every bit as magnificent as her mother in appearance, but Phoibe’s sweet vulnerability set her apart.
Of course, she would attract attention of the gods.
Apollo saw her first and made his claim. He swore he would destroy anyone or anything that harmed her. I have never seen him so enamored. His eyes lit up when he spoke of her, and his happiness radiated until it was nearly palpable. The sun shone brightly that year; the summer was much longer than it should have been. He would leave Olympus in the middle of counsel meetings, sneak out from his temple – even when worshipers were present – just to be with her. He laughingly told me of a time that a petitioner was making a sacrifice to him and he just disappeared: Phoibe had called his name.
Apollo was reckless in his love. Phoibe was his air, his song, his sunshine.
She refused him. She had never been in love with him, or if she had, it was not of the lasting persuasion. Mad with grief, Apollo fled, and buried himself in… only the gods know what. But immortality kept him from utter destruction.
His love turned sour, and Apollo festered in his agony. Drunk with bitter jealousy, he appeared the night Phoibe gave birth to her first child. He killed his rival and again begged Phoibe to be with him. When she refused, he lashed out. His pain was a weapon and he cursed the young daughter that should have been his. That should have loved him. That should have called him father.
Apollo’s curse transformed the cherubic baby into an immortal monster. Part human, part eagle, part lion. Still breathtaking. The Sphinx.
The weaver-woman raised the creature. She gave her the love of a mother, but this love could not erase the bitterness of Apollo’s curse. She has travelled much, this cursed one. Egypt, the Far East, Thebes…
It was in Thebes that she found happiness; a sense of belonging. It was in Thebes that the Sphinx fell in love.
Love. It is gentle and warm as soft candle glow. Yet the flame has power to become an inferno, capable of consuming even the gods.
The dawn of the Sphinx? It is a tale filled with love.

Rachel's head shot 2013, II

Author Bio:
Raye has spent half her life immersed in books (reading not swimming), but stopped believing she could write fiction after the sixth grade. Her teacher thought her writing was “disturbed”, and, at a parent-teacher conference, asked her mother to seek counseling for her.
Years later, with both Bachelors and Masters degrees in nursing, Raye reduced her practice to be at home with her family. Her children would say she read more, which is probably be true. One afternoon, as she sat out on the patio watching her boys play in the kiddie pool, inspiration struck, and she began recording the legend behind the Greek myth of the Sphinx.
Raye lives in Middle Tennessee with her husband, a pair of kids she claims as her own, and a dog named George.
Origin of the Sphinx is her first publication, and the beginning of the Sphinx series.
Incidentally, she didn’t get counseling all those years ago.
She might still need it.

Mythology Monday: Werewolves

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Greek mythology does feature a werewolf myth. Enjoy this deleted scene from a (very) early draft of Persephone to learn the full story behind werewolves.

Hestia leaned back, considering me with her fiery eyes. “Have you heard of the demigod Arcas, who killed the first werewolf–”

“Werewolf?” I sputtered.

“Zeus wished to add the muse Callisto to his list of conquests, however she was devoted to Artemis, and refused his advances. Zeus then disguised himself as Artemis, and seduced her.”

I raised my eyes at this information as Hestia continued, “Callisto was soon with child, and Artemis was enraged. Once the child was born, Artemis turned Callisto into a bear, and Zeus hid the child Arcas from Artemis.

He grew, and lived a relatively normal life until one day he got in trouble for stealing from King Lycaon. Once Lycaon discovered who he possessed in his dungeons, he tried to blackmail Zeus, threatening to kill Arcas unless Zeus blessed him with more wealth and power.”

I laughed, and she smiled at me, “Yes, not his brightest moment. Zeus cursed the king to become a werewolf, and allowed his son to have the honor of hunting down a beast with all the strength of a wolf and all the cunning of man–”

“The perfect game,” I muttered.

“Beg pardon?”

“Never mind,” I said waving my hand for her to continue.

“After a period of adjustment, Arcas hunted the King and successfully killed him, though he received a mortal wound in the process–”

“Did he have any kids? Pass down the curse?”

“Any children he created in human form remained human, and any children he created in wolf form were wolf.”

“Did he bite anyone?”

“That would not change them into a wolf. The only way to transform from human to animal is to be cursed by a god.”

“Oh.” I said disappointed.

Hestia smiled at me, “As Arcas lay dying in the woods, a large bear suddenly approached him–”

“Oh no!”

“Yes, the bear was his mother, as he drew back his bow to kill her, and when she realized he did not recognize her, despite her lingering in the shadows and watching him his entire life, she died of a broken heart. Zeus was horrified by their deaths, and in a rare moment of guilt memorialized them both in the stars as the constellations Ursa Major, and Ursa Minor.”

Mythology Monday: Vampires

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Hades snorted. “These aren’t books, these are—” He paused. “Dusk? Seriously?”
“What? It’s good!”
“I considered creating a dimension of Tartarus that forced souls to watch the movie based on this book for all eternity. Complete with shrieking harpy fan girls in the audience.”
I snatched my phone back. “Have you even seen it?”
“Cassandra made me watch it.” Hades shuddered.
“It’s a great movie and an even better book!”
“It’s ludicrous. What is with this recent human obsession with vampires?”
I sat up in my chair. “Were there ever any vampires?”
“Well, there was Hecate’s daughter, Empusa. She would seduce men and drink their blood as they slept. Poseidon’s daughter, Lamia—”
“Like the Midnight World books!”
“What?”
I scooted my chair closer to him and pulled up the book on my phone. “Born vampires are called Lamia, and made vampires are called—”
“Yeah, sorry I asked. Anyway, Lamia was Poseidon’s daughter. She had an affair with Zeus and had several kids. Hera found out about it and forced her to devour her children—” I gasped and Hades paused. He looked as though he was going to say something, perhaps to defend Hera, then shrugged and continued with the story. “Afterward, Lamia continued to drink the blood of mortal children until Zeus took pity on her and removed her eyes.”
“How exactly was that supposed to help?”
“It makes it harder to catch the children.”
I shook my head. “That’s…you know what, there are no words.”
“There were also Striges, or Strix, which were birds that fed on blood, and there was that island of the blood dri—”
“Okay! I’m sorry I asked.” I held up my hands in surrender. “I meant—” I pointed to my phone “—vampires like these.”
“Refined gentlemen who occasionally drink blood? It’s a complete myth.”
I thought it was ironic to hear that from Hades while sitting in the Underworld, but refrained from pointing that out. “What’s your favorite book? Oh, let me guess. Inferno.”

~@~

In honor of my favorite holiday that’s just around the corner, I’m doing a vampire edition of Mythology Monday. There’s not a lot on vampires in Greek mythology, but here’s a few examples:

–The Odyssey features an “island of the blood drinkers.” Sounds vampiric enough for me. I mean, it’s a bit of a stretch because they were technically cannibalistic giants called Laestrygonians who would just as soon eat you as drink your blood. But they did drink blood and they had vampiric like servants I’ll go into more later, so I’m counting it.

Then there’s the Stardust witches, or rather, the mythical counterparts Gaimen referenced in his amazing novel.

Hecate had a daughter named Empusa that would seduce men an drink their blood while they slept. She’s likely an early explanation for sleep paralysis and she basically acted in mythology like a succubus. The goddess later devolved into a type of specter that was half-vampire half banshee in description.

Hades did a good job with the Lamia myth above, so I’ll just leave that there.

Mormo was a vampiric like creature who would bite bad children. She would also steal children and take them to the queen of the Laestrygonians.

Striges are an owl like vampiric children who would drink the blood of babies after they fed the babies poisoned breastmilk. They’re mostly a Roman myth. Occasional they would forgo babies and go after grown men. No breastmilk involved there, just seduction, sex, then the draining of blood.

Mythology Monday: Thanatos

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I winced when Thanatos fell into step behind me. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, I do.” He grinned. “It’s my job, remember?”

“Aren’t you busy, like . . . killing people?”

He shook his head. “I don’t kill people. People die, and I collect their souls. Well, I have my Reapers collect their souls. I rarely leave this realm these days.”

“So why are you making new Reapers?”

“I only make a personal appearance when someone is killed by a god. That doesn’t happen much anymore, but people will always find new ways to kill each other. Did you know that every second someone dies?”

“Forty thousand men and women every day,” I quoted, uncomfortable with the knowledge.

“Every day,” said Thanatos. “More Reapers allow for crazy things, like weekends off and reasonable hours. My Reapers are just souls, you know? They deserve the same respect as any other being. Labor laws aren’t only for the living.”

“They don’t look like souls,” I said, remembering with a shudder.

“They’re blessed. They can go out into the world and come back. Just like demigods.” He saw my worried look and added, “They’re completely under my control. I get the list from Moirae every day and divide it amongst them. They go, they come back. I’d know if anything else happened.”

“No free will?”

“Plenty of free will. No privacy. Still, it’s not hard to recruit—who wouldn’t want to visit the living world?” He studied me carefully, and I took a deep breath as homesickness filled me with longing.

“No one,” I whispered. “How can you possibly choose?”

“They have to meet a few requirements. They can’t know anyone in the living realm.” At my confused look he laughed. “That only takes a few decades. They can’t have drunk from the Lethe. Demigods get preferential treatment.” Thanatos shrugged. “Outside of that, it’s just like any job interview.”

~@~

With Halloween just around the corner, I thought this would be a good week to talk about Thanatos, the god of Death. There’s not a whole lot out there on Thanatos. He was mentioned in myths all over the place, but he didn’t really star in any of them. His mother was Nyx, goddess of night, his father was Erebus, god of darkness, and he was twin to Hypnos, god of sleep. So he has a pretty cool lineage.

Thanatos was once captured, and during his captivity no one could die. In my version of the story, Neither Thanatos, or the Reapers he controls, are supposed to kill anyone. They just release the souls from the bodies. If they don’t do it quick, the souls have to hang out in dead bodies, which is traumatizing for all involved. They *can* kill though. If they touch you and release your soul, that’s a death sentence.Thanatos doesn’t do much of the soul releasing, he’s more upper management. However when a human or being is killed by a deity, he has to respond to divine deaths.

Mythology Monday: Fall

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We hear a lot about Persephone and the division of winter and spring, but did you know there were a handful of myths and deities dedicated to fall?

The obvious would be Demeter. She was larger than a single season, but Fall was definitely her hay day (see what I did there?). The fall harvest was filled with Demeter rituals and celebrations.

Phthinoporon was the daughter of Helios and Selene and represented the season of Fall. She was also one of the twelve Horae (hours).

Karpo was another goddess of autumn, though sources differ on whether or not she was an actual goddess in her own right or one of Demeter’s many names. She was also listed as an attendant to Persephone. Robert Graves said she was the goddess of withering, but mostly she was considered a goddess of autumn, ripening, and harvesting. She also guarded the way to Mount Olympus with the help of friendly clouds.

Euros was one of the gods of wind, like Boreas. Only instead of heralding winter, he heralded autumn.

So there you have it. Some other Greek myths and figures involving fall. Enjoy the season!

Mythology Monday: Hephaestus

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Ares knocked again, lacing it with enough power to shake the building. “I know you’re in there!”

“Go away!” A gruff voice shouted back.

“Aw, hell.” Ares clenched his fist and flames sprang up from his flesh. He touched his hand to the glass, and it shattered.

“That’s—” I started.

“Awesome?” Ares interrupted, flashing me a grin.

“Not how glass reacts to fire.” I finished, staring at the pellets of glass covering the sidewalk.

Ares frowned at me and started to say something, but was cut off when a huge hulking shape burst from the arcade screaming obscenities and tackled him.

Ares lit up like a match, flames encasing his body like the top of a baked Alaska. The man punching the daylights out of Ares was undaunted by the fire.

“Knock it off!” I pulled at the big guy’s shoulder. Fire licked my arm and I yelped, surprised by the unexpected pain. The man, Hephaestus, I realized, spun around at my touch and raised his hand as if he were going to hit me, then froze.

I shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare.

“Yeah, she’s pretty. Now get off me.” Ares pushed at the bigger man until he relented. “You okay?”

He grabbed my hand, which was taking its sweet time healing. A pulse of power passed through me, speeding up the process, but I hardly noticed.

Hephaestus stood, towering above me, but that wasn’t what made me step back in fear.

Half of his face was an unrecognizable web of scar tissue. It looked melted. Skin hung in odd places. His empty eye socket drooped toward his nose. Like one of those Photoshop tricks where you click the mouse, and an image swirls into a grotesque parody of its former self.

“What happened to you?” I gasped. Gods could heal from anything, so what could possibly disfigure a deity? I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face. It rippled, like a current of electricity was passing under his skin.

“I took my weapons back.”

I shuddered as images of the long metal stakes bombarded my mind. Once upon a time, he’d created a weapon that could kill gods with a scratch, but they’d all been melted down centuries ago.

“I’ve told you a hundred thousand times,” he continued, glowering at Ares, “I don’t make them anymore. Bringing her along to charm me into it is just low.”

~@~

Hephaestus was perhaps one of the most interesting gods in Greek mythology. He was a god who was either disabled or somehow deformed (the myths vary), which is what people focus on, but Hephaestus was also an incredibly powerful artist. Like Athena, Hephaestus gave skill to mortal artists and was believed to have taught men the arts alongside the goddess of wisdom, which would account for all the temples and festivals they had in common. Both were also believed to have healing powers. He also made almost every magical weapon and tool every featured in Greek mythology: Hermes’ sandals, Poseidon’s trident, Aphrodite’s girdle, every throne on Olympus, Chariots, Pandora, the very fire Prometheus stole, and almost every other item imbued with magical power. He also created Automatons and other robot like machines that sound like something you’d see in that creepy movie “9.” The location of his forge varied by myth. It was either in Olympus, in Poseidon’s realm, in volcanoes, or Underworld adjacent.

He is either the son of Zeus and Hera, or Hera’s alone as revenge for Athena. He was cast out of Olympus for either having a deformed foot, or for protecting Hera from Zeus’ advances. He was raised by Thetis, the mother of Achilles, or the citizens of Lemnos, who taught him their craft, or both (he returned after being cast out by Hera and was cast out by Zeus.) The spot where he fell in Lemnos was believed to cure madness, the bites of snakes, and hemorrhage. Priests of Hephaestus knew how to cure wounds inflicted by snakes. On Lemnos, Hephaestus hooked up with a sea nymph named Cabeiro, and the two had two children who became metal workings gods called the Cabeiri. Sometimes his foot is messed up in the fall from Olympus (he fell for over a day), sometimes since birth, sometimes by arsenic, and sometimes not at all.

Hephaestus got his revenge for being cast out by sending Hera a beautifully crafted throne that would not let her get up once she sat down. When the Olympians begged his help to release their mother, Hephaestus simply said he had no mother. Eventually, Dionysus got him drunk enough to relent and he released Hera so long as his banishment was revoked and he could marry Aphrodite (or possibly Zeus gave Aphrodite to him to stop the other gods from fighting over her). Although according to Homer he married the youngest Grace and Aphrodite’s personal messenger, Aglaea. Other accounts say he married Aglaea after his divorce to Aphrodite and they had several children together (the youngest set of Graces): Eucleia (“Good Repute”), Eupheme (“Acclaim”), Euthenia (“Prosperity”), and Philophrosyne (“Welcome”).

Aphrodite and Hepheastus had, by all accounts, a loveless marriage that resulted in no children. Aphrodite was always off cheating with Ares (she gets a bad wrap for this, but she and Ares were involved long before Hephaestus blackmailed Zeus/Hera). Once Hephaestus set a trap and caught the two in a net mid-sex, then put the net on display for all the gods to come have a look at the cheating couple and afterwards, (might have) divorced her.

Hephaestus was by no means faithful himself. Once Athena visited Hephaestus’ forge to ask for weapons and he tried to force himself on her, but she teleported out from beneath him before she could come to any harm and his sperm impregnated the earth (Gaia) with Erichthonius. Athena ended up raising the kid (kind of, but that’s another myth) and he later went on to rule Athens.

Hepheastus also (might have) hooked up with a nymph in Sicily (Aetna) and (depending on the myth) produced a set of twins who became associated with two geysers that led to the Underworld. And he was a known consort of Anticleia and had one son by her named Periphetes. Periphetes was lame in one leg and had one eye like a cyclops. He beat travelers on the road from Athens to Troezen to death with a club for kicks until Theseus killed him.

Hepheastus also had a handful of mortal children, kings, heroes and Argonauts mostly, by different women, and his Roman equivalent Vulcan also had two more sons, a fire breathing cannibal named Calcus (killed by Hercules) and a blind founder of Praeneste, Caeculus.

Mythology Monday: The Three Judges of the Underworld

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“Making friends already?” Hades asked. I looked at him in mute appeal, and he grinned. “Persephone, allow me to introduce you to everyone. You’ve met Moirae, I see.” At my nod he continued. “This is Charon, my ferryman; Thanatos, God of Death; his twin brother Hypnos, God of Sleep; and Aeacus, Rhadamanthus—”

“Call me Rhad,” he interjected.

“—and Minos, my judges,” Hades finished.

I nodded as each man stood in turn. I knew some of the names from Latin class but seeing them matched up with actual faces was unnerving.

“And this is my—” Hades broke off and cleared his throat. “May I present my wife, Persephone.”

I moved to stand as they had for me, but Hades put a firm hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. They all bowed then returned to their seats. People dressed in white robes served the food. I wondered if they were the people who drank from the Lethe. Dinner chatter began on the far side of the table, seeming to revolve around Charon recounting his day on the ferry.

I stared down at the white tablecloth, trying to remember which of the silver utensils I needed to use for the first course. A silver plate was placed before me with a fried pink oyster mushroom served with grapefruit. It was topped with an orange nasturtium blossom.

“So . . . ” I turned to Moirae, who glared daggers at me, and quickly turned back to Hades. “Uh, what did you do today?”

He looked surprised by the question. “It’s barely been an hour since I last saw you.”

“It’s called small talk,” I snapped. “You should try it some time.”

He sighed. “Fine. I spoke with Hestia about your history lessons, arranged for you to begin self-defense lessons with Charon—”

“What?” Charon piped up from his end of the table. “When did that happen?”

“Just now,” Hades said around a bite of chicken. “I’m multitasking.”

“Why does she need to learn self-defense?” Aeacus asked.

I popped the flower into my mouth, savoring the spicy flavor. I wondered how they’d known I was a vegan. Everyone had something different on their plates. Maybe it was just a cool Underworld trick, like the rooms decorating themselves.

“You’re going to have Charon teach her?” asked Thanatos. “He won’t be able to shut up long enough to teach her a single move. I’m way better at self-defense.”

“Not everyone can kill someone just by touching them,” Hypnos pointed out.

“You’ll be busy guarding Persephone any time she leaves the palace.” He looked at me. “You’re perfectly safe in all but the public areas of the palace. Only certain souls can enter the living quarters. Just stay out of the public sections, the ballroom, the front lobby, the banquet hall, and the court room, unless either myself, Cassandra, or Thanatos are with you.”

“Hah!” Thanatos laughed at Charon. “You may be the self-defense guru, or whatever, but I’m the one people want around if there’s any real trouble.” He looked at Hades. “I’m going to need to recruit more Reapers to cover my shift.”

“What?” Cassandra snapped. “You have too many Reapers already! One of them nearly killed Persephone today.” She saw my eyes widen and sighed. “Fine, not nearly killed. Gods, you deities need to learn to appreciate a good exaggeration.”

“I’m well aware of what happened this afternoon.” Thanatos yawned. “And since my Reapers are banned from the living quarters, that means I have to distribute the list. If I’m also expected to act as a guard, then I’ll need more Reapers to keep things moving smoothly.”

“And last week?” Cassandra asked. “What was the reason then?”

“You guys won’t believe who I met on the ferry today,” Charon said from his side of the table.

“Who?” Minos asked.

“Okay, you guys remember that movie with the . . . ”

I didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence because Thanatos drowned him out. “More people are dying every day. I need help.”

I shifted closer to Charon, but couldn’t hear him over Cassandra.

“Bull! You only had a handful of Reapers during the plague!”

“And maybe a tenth of the population,” he retorted.

“How many do you need?” Hades asked.

Cassandra sighed loudly and sat back in her seat. Heads shook around the table, and I caught more than a few amused grins. Cassandra seemed to be the only one who was bothered by the Reapers.

“A hundred?”

“You get fifty. And keep them out of the palace, would you?”

Thanatos grinned and took a bite of his steak. I studied him closely. He wore black robes, grim-reaper style. His dark hair was pulled back from his narrow face. His dark eyes met mine from across the table and I gulped, staring hard at the soup before me. I didn’t want Death shadowing me. I glanced at his twin brother, Hypnos. He looked just like Thanatos, only his robes, eyes, and hair were grey. Not old-people grey; more like the color of smoke.

Charon laughed. “Give us a week, Thanatos. Persephone will be able to kick your bony ass across the Styx.”

The table erupted into cacophony. Everyone was talking over everyone else, adding wagers and jesting with each other. Lethians deftly ducked between the dueling deities, serving the main course. A plate of corn-filled phyllo tulips and eggplant topped with tomato sauce was put in front of me and I took a nervous bite.

“You’re on!” Thanatos replied. He gave me a devilish grin. “One week, Persephone.”

“That’s okay,” I squeaked. I didn’t want to go hand to hand against Death.

No one heard me. Hades’ eyes glittered in amusement. He gave me a look that said see what you started? as plainly as if he had spoken.

“I’m also trying to clear my schedule to teach you about your abilities.” Hades smiled wryly. “And I’ve still got to prepare for Brumalia. You’re keeping me busy.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be any trouble.”

He chuckled. “Don’t apologize. It’s a welcome diversion.”

“Then thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, seeming pleased.

“Well, since no one else is asking,” Charon called from the end of the table, “I suppose it’s up to me. Hades, when did you get a wife?”

Everyone laughed. “You miss everything.” Cassandra snickered.

“Damn those needy souls,” Charon joked, sliding an easy grin my way, his gray eyes twinkling. “So what happened? Hades sweep you off your feet?”

“You could say that.” I glanced at Hades. I wasn’t sure what I was allowed to disclose.

“See, I had this vision—” Cassandra began.

“Always visions with you,” Thanatos groaned.

“—that Persephone was in trouble. So I calmly told Hades—”

“If by calmly you mean bursting into the throne room shrieking like a banshee,” Hades teased.

“I do not shriek,” Cassandra said indignantly.

“Yelled, then.” Rhad’s white teeth gleamed against his midnight-dark skin.

“Whatever. Anyway, Hades took off—”

“Since when did you have visions about the living?” Hypnos interrupted.

“Two living deities were involved,” Cassandra said. “These days that’s unheard of.”

“Two?” Minos asked, stroking his gray beard. “So you must be . . . ” He trailed off, looking at me speculatively.

“Goddess of Spring,” I supplied.

There were murmurs of approval from around the table.

“You’re a new one.” Hypnos sounded intrigued. “How old are you?”

Cassandra smacked him over the head. “Heathen!”

“Back to the story,” Charon said impatiently. “What was happening topside?”

Hades took over then, recounting the story dramatically. Anytime he made himself sound too heroic Cassandra put him in his place. I looked around the table with the fresh realization that this group wasn’t just a collection of souls or subjects but a trusted inner circle.

“Well, Persephone, it’s great to meet you.” Aeacus straightened his dark robes.

I nodded at him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t you worry any about any demigods,” Charon said. “Anyone who comes down here with the intent to do you harm will regret it.”

“Ah yes,” Cassandra teased. “Charon could do something really helpful, like hit them with an oar.”

“Hey! I’m the self-defense guru! Remember?”

“He could always talk them to death,” Thanatos said.

“Cassandra could shriek at them.” Hades snickered.

I laughed despite myself. For the rest of the meal, Charon grilled me about life among the living. I was surprised my voice wasn’t hoarse by the end of the meal.

~@~

In honor of Labor Day, I’d like to make a shout out to the unsung heroes of the Underworld. The people who keep it running. So today, I’m going to honor the judges of the Underworld.

Aeacus: In life, Aeacus was the son of Zeus and the demigoddess Aegina or Europa depending on the source. He may or may not have ruled over an island of ants that were turned into people (very long story) depending on the source of the myth. Aeacus ruled an island named after his mother and was by all accounts was a just and fair ruler. He even settled divine disputes.

Apollo and Poseidon asked Aeacus to help build the walls of Troy, which would later fall at the hands of his descendants. His grandkids were Achilles and Ajax. His great-great-great to an exponential degree descended was Alexander the Great. At least Alexander claimed that anyway.

Rhadamanthus is son to Zeus and Europa, brother to Minos (and by some sources Aeacus). In life he was a king, depending on the source he may have been married to Ariadne (more on her later). There was some tension between him and Minos over the rule of Crete, but no one could deny the island was governed by an excellent set of laws. Rhad was known for his unbreakable integrity.

Literature hasn’t been terribly kind to poor Rhad. Keats called him old, Yeats called him bland, and Eliot used his name as an insult. I can kind of see why. I did TONS of research on every character I pulled into Persephone. There wasn’t much to find on this guy other than he was honest.

Minos was the last of the three judges of the Underworld. He was also a child of Zeus and Europa, and a king just like this brother(s). The similarities between the siblings end there. Minos ruled Crete. Every year Minos chose nine girls and nine boys and send them to the labyrinth to be eaten by the Minotaur.

Funny story, that Minotaur. See once upon a time, Poseidon answered Minos’ prayers and sent him a beautiful white bull with the catch that he had to sacrifice it. Minor sacrificed an ugly bull instead. So Poseidon got mad. He asked Aphrodite to make Minos’ wife fall in love with the bull. Nine months later, a Minotaur was born. Horrified and embarrassed, Minos begged Daedalus to construct a labyrinth the Minotaur could never escape from.

Then he imprisoned Daedalus and his son Icarus so they could never reveal the secret of the labyrinth. More on them later.

Minos was known as the most ancient king to utilize a navy. He also has kind of split personalities. In half the myths he’s a just fair king, in the other half he’s feeding children to the Minotaur. There’s a timing issue as well, he ruled in two very different times depending on the source you read. Most researchers believe there may have been two Minos’, but the stories got combined much like the two Aphrodite’s.

Mythology Monday: Minthe

/ kaitlinbevis / 2 Comments

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“Excuse us,” I told Melissa and dragged Aphrodite down the hall. “Don’t ever talk to her like that again!”

“Like what?” Aphrodite asked, all innocence.

“Like she’s beneath us. Like anyone is beneath us. She’s not my human; she’s a person—”

“Yes,” Aphrodite agreed. “Of course she’s a person. She’s human. She is beneath us.”

I gaped at her cavalier attitude and looked to Hades for help. He hadn’t said a word since we’d walked into the house. I followed his gaze to Melissa’s mother, crossing back and forth behind the half wall that separated the living room from the kitchen.

“Would anyone like cookies?” she called, putting a plate down on the bar. “They’re just ready . . . ” Her voice trailed off when she felt the power of Hades’ stare.

“Minthe?” he breathed.

She met his eyes, and her face paled.

Melissa and I glanced at each other in confusion. What was this? “Treat her like you’d treat me,” I told Aphrodite quickly. “And listen to what she says. She’s your best bet at fitting in here. You can’t just walk around like you’re better than everyone—”

“But I am.”

I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have time for this. “Don’t act like it,” I snapped, moving away from Aphrodite and closer to Melissa.

“Hades, I wanted to tell you—” Mrs. Minthe began.

“But I thought it best she not further invoke Hera’s anger,” my mother interrupted in clipped tones.

“I thought you were dead.” Hades’ voice was careful, as if he was trying very hard to bury whatever emotions were at war within him.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asked.

“She’s the Minthe.” I managed to work the words out of my dry throat. “Isn’t she?”

Melissa knew the myth. We’d both heard it in Latin class, and then later, after my winter in the Underworld, we’d analyzed every facet of that myth to figure out what kind of girls Hades liked. Melissa met my eyes, looking pale and shocked.

“Hades and I used to see each other before I was a priestess of Demeter,” Mrs. Minthe explained.

“Hera got jealous and turned her into the mint plant,” Hades added.

“Why would Hera be jealous?” Melissa interjected. She blinked, seeming surprised at the sound of her own voice, and I knew that question had been the least important one on her mind. She’d just blurted it out without thinking.

Hades hesitated, but my mother had no problem filling in the gap. “Hades and Hera were a couple long before she married Zeus. Didn’t he tell you, Persephone?”

I didn’t bother to answer her smug question. No, he hadn’t told me, but I’d already guessed. He’d always been unusually defensive on Hera’s behalf. He’d been open with me about every other relationship he’d ever had. Obviously, that one was a sore subject, and I saw no reason to get upset about a relationship that had ended when dirt was new.

Aphrodite gave my mother a strange look and stepped closer to Hades in a show of solidarity.

“So you’re nymphs,” Aphrodite exclaimed, indicating Melissa and her mother with a wave of her hand. At Melissa’s questioning look, she clarified, “It’s easier to turn a nymph into a plant. Humans are easier to turn into animals. It’s not impossible, mind you . . . ”

“I’m a nymph?” Melissa asked her mom.

“Half,” Mrs. Minthe replied. “Honey, the difference between a human and a nymph is so inconsequential it’s hardly worth mentioning. We work well with nature. Unlike the human myths, turning into trees or rivers isn’t typical of our race, unless cursed.”

Melissa’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “Oh, so you got turned into a plant? Why?”

“It made sure even her soul was out of my reach.” Hades’ voice was bitter.

“Demeter rescued me. In return, I swore to be her priestess for all time.”

I wondered how many of my mom’s priestesses were refugees from other gods. I was about to ask when Hades interrupted. “Well, it’s good to see you, Minthe. I’m happy that you’re still alive.” He turned to my mother. “I am grateful to you for that.”

I fiddled with my necklace and studied Mrs. Minthe out of the corner of my eye. Her every feature should have been familiar to me, but too many conflicting images were vying for my attention. I saw the woman who babysat me since before I could walk. She’d baked every one of my birthday cakes. She was Melissa’s mom, and that image didn’t resonate with the youthful nymph I’d imagined from hearing the stories.

Words were being exchanged between Hades and Minthe, but I couldn’t hear them. The words didn’t matter anyway. Their eyes spoke louder, telling stories of regret and angst. I shouldn’t be in here right now. Melissa gripped my hand, and I knew she understood.

“I’ll . . . uh, I’ll be back. Tomorrow. Can you . . . ” I kept losing my train of thought, the right words slipping past me like water flowing through my fingers. “Aphrodite . . . ”

“I will be fine.” Aphrodite beamed. “You should have told me she was a nymph,” she added, as if that made all the difference.

~@~

In mythology, things went a bit different, and as always, there are quite a few versions. She was a nymph who slept with Hades. She was a nymph who unsuccessfully attempted to seduce Hades. She was an old flame of Hades that Demeter overheard venting about losing Hades to that “ugly, dark-eyed Persephone” and wondering what he could possibly see in her.

Whatever the inciting incident, the result is the same story to story. She was turned into a mint plant, stomped on, and ground into dust by either a jealous Persephone, or an angry Demeter.

Why did I change it? Well, for starters, I didn’t want Hades to cheat on Persephone while I was still establishing whether or not they were a couple. I didn’t want to leave the Minthe myth unused though, because I didn’t want readers to stress that she was going to pop up later to cause obligatory love triangle drama. So I stuck with the old flame version, only instead of Demeter or Persephone having anything to do with cursing her, I had Hera do it. That worked on a lot of levels. For starters, it’s a very Hera thing to do. I can’t count the number of myths that feature Hera transforming some poor unfortunate woman into a plant, animal, or inanimate object because of Zeus’ dalliances. And since in my universe, she, Zeus, and Hades were the original love triangle, it made sense to use Minthe to demonstrate that Hades’ affections were not a one way street. Including Demeter in the myth was a callback to the original myth, because you can bet Demeter destroyed that mint plant when restoring Minthe to human form.