Favorite Greek Myths (Yesterday's Classics) (21 page)

When the supper was over, Ulysses told about the smoke he had seen. It was agreed that the whole company should be divided into two parts, half the men in each, with a leader; that they should then draw lots; and that those to whom the lot fell should go to see what was to be found at the place where the smoke had been seen.

So Ulysses counted off the men, of whom there were forty-four in all. Over twenty-two of them he set his friend Eurylochus; the other twenty-two he commanded himself. Then he and Eurylochus shook pebbles in a bronze helmet, and the pebble of Eurylochus bounded from the helmet first. Eurylochus was willing to go, but the men he commanded thought themselves most cruelly used. They preferred to stay near the ship and wait for Ulysses to bring them another fat buck.

Early the next morning, when Eurylochus and his twenty-two men reached the thicket, they found a glade in the midst of it. In the glade stood a beautiful palace, built of white marble blocks which were so highly polished that they shone in the morning sun like diamonds.

As the party came near the palace, hundreds of wild beasts—lions and panthers, bears and wolves—sprang up from every point and came toward them. The men expected to be torn to pieces, but what was their surprise to see these savage creatures approach them in the most friendly way. The lions rubbed against them caressingly, and the wolves wagged their tails, like house-dogs. Upon this, the men plucked up their courage and went boldly up to the palace doors. Then they heard the whirring of a loom and the voice of a woman singing. These were such sounds as they might have heard in their own homes. So with growing confidence they shouted loudly, to let the people within the palace know that some one was there.

CIRCE

Presently a woman with beautiful golden hair opened the great doors wide and invited them to enter. Eurylochus, fearing that some trap might be laid for them, remained outside, but all the others went into the palace.

Each of the twenty-two men had lost all fear now. They were ushered into rooms more beautiful than any they had ever seen before, where tapestries of the richest colors hung on the walls and embroideries of exquisite fineness covered the couches and the chairs. Everything was as luxurious as possible. These chance travellers were treated like guests of honor. They were invited to seat themselves on the embroidered chairs, and were served with wine by four pretty maids. The wine had a most remarkable flavor, but the men were sure that this was nothing to what was coming, for now and then delightful whiffs reached them from the kitchen, where they had no doubt an appetizing repast was being prepared. All these things were exactly what they liked. Nothing could have suited them better. They were not sorry now that the lot had fallen to them, and as they drank their wine, they began to nudge one another and to laugh with pleasure at the thought of what Ulysses and the rest of the crew had lost.

Then, all at once, the gracious smiles of the beautiful lady with the golden hair changed to angry frowns, and she struck each of the men sharply with a long wand that she carried in her hand. The men tried to speak, but could only squeal, and in a moment more each of them saw his twenty-one companions changed to so many frightened swine, with bright little eyes, white bristles, and curly tails. They all jumped down from their embroidered chairs, and began to run wildly about the room, squealing with all their might, and upsetting the furniture in their efforts to escape. But Circe had them fast. She drove them to the sties with her wand, and scornfully threw them a few handfuls of acorns.

Eurylochus waited for a long time outside. At length, as the men did not come back, he returned to the ship, and told Ulysses that all the men were lost.

Ulysses immediately took his sword and his bow and started alone for the palace, to see what could be done. As he was passing through the oak forest, he met Mercury in his winged cap. This was most fortunate, because Mercury knew all about Circe and her enchantments.

"Where are you going, alone in this forest?" said Mercury.

"I am going to the palace in yonder glade, to seek my men," said Ulysses.

"That is the palace of Circe," said Mercury, "and the men you are seeking are penned up in Circe's sties, eating acorns. Is not that a very good place for them?" he added, with a twinkle in his eye. "They have made you trouble enough before now. You had better go home and leave them there."

Ulysses knew the faults of his men, but he would not think of leaving them to such a fate. "No," he said, "it was I who sent them to the palace. I must rescue them or share their misfortunes."

"Very well," said Mercury. "There is a flower whose virtue is stronger than any of Circe's enchantments." He began to look about him under the trees. Just then a handsome purple woodpecker flew past them, and began tapping on the trunk of an oak. Under this tree Mercury found the flower he wanted. It was a pure white flower with a black root. Mercury plucked it and handed it to Ulysses. "Take this flower," he said. "Be very careful not to lose it. As long as you have it with you, Circe can work you no harm. You may enter her palace if you wish. She will offer you wine in which she has placed a powerful drug. Drink it. It cannot hurt you. If she strikes at you with her wand, strike at her again with your sword. When she sees that her enchantments will not work, she will be afraid. You can then compel her to restore your men to their human shape."

When Mercury said this, the little purple woodpecker came fluttering down from the oak tree with a loud cry, and Mercury told Ulysses that this woodpecker was, in reality, King Picus, who had been transformed by Circe's arts into a bird with gay feathers, but who deserved to be changed into a king again. He also said that the lions, wolves, and other beasts that guarded Circe's gate were once men who, like King Picus, had been transformed by Circe.

Mercury, having told Ulysses all that was necessary, now went back to Olympus, while Ulysses, with the white flower in his hand, walked on through the forest, and soon reached the palace of Circe. The strange beasts came bounding out and fawned on him as they had done on his companions. He called aloud at the palace doors, and Circe opened them wide. She took him into a splendid room, and invited him to be seated on a silver throne; for she knew that he was a king. She mixed wine for him in a golden cup, slyly putting in the magic drug.

Ulysses drank, without fear, believing in the power of the white flower. Then Circe struck at him fiercely with her wand. But Ulysses, instead of taking the form of some animal, stood up straight, looking more king-like than ever, and struck back at her with his sword.

Circe wrung her bands and fell on her knees, beseeching him to spare her. Ulysses made her promise that she would restore his men, and as many others as he should choose, to their proper human shape.

Then he went with her to the sties, and she sprinkled the twenty-two crowding, squealing swine with the juice of a certain plant, and there stood the companions of Ulysses, looking very much as they had done before they entered the palace of Circe.

They were beside themselves with happiness at being able to stand before the world like men again. Their strange experience made them see to what their selfish ways had been leading them, and from that day, when anything occurred which compelled them to choose between their own ease or pleasure and the good of others, they chose more wisely than they had ever done before.

The little purple woodpecker soon came fluttering around the head of Ulysses, who caused Circe to sprinkle the bird with the juice of the magic plant. Then once more the handsome King Picus, in his purple robes, stood before them. After this, the former guards of King Picus were restored to their human shape, with such other of the beasts about Circe's palace as deserved that kindness. But some of the cruel tigers and wolves were left as they were, to snarl and howl in the shape which best befitted their savage natures.

A
RION
was a wonderful poet, who sang his own poems to the accompaniment of the lyre. His home was on the island of Lesbos, off the coast of Asia Minor. He was seldom to be found at home, however, for he wandered about, from one country to another, singing at the courts of kings.

At that time there were many other poets who sang their own songs, but not one could compare with Arion.

When he sang at the court of Corinth, the king's hunting dogs used to come bounding in to listen to the music, as much pleased as the courtiers. If he sang in the evening, with the doors open for coolness, fierce wolves used to come down from the hills in the darkness and gather around the palace, eager to hear the bewitching sound of the lyre. One could see their eyes shine just outside the doors, but the moment the music ceased they were gone. Overhead, great owls came flapping into the dark trees, and there were other listeners, too, of which the people of the court knew nothing.

One day the news reached Corinth that a musical contest was to be held in Sicily, at which a bag of gold was to be the prize. All the poets of Greece meant to go—not so much for the gold as for the glory that they hoped to gain there.

Arion did not care greatly either for the gold or the glory, but he loved singing better than anything else in the world, and he liked to see new countries. Therefore he said he would go, too, but promised to return to Corinth when the contest was over.

The king of Sicily and the judges were very much surprised when they heard Arion's extraordinary playing, and they awarded him the prize without any question. They would have been glad to keep him in Sicily, but Arion, remembering his promise to the king of Corinth, engaged a Corinthian ship to take him back to that city.

The sun never seemed brighter, nor the sea bluer, than it did on the day when Arion started out to return to Corinth with his prize. Soon Sicily was out of sight, all but her mountains, which still showed faintly against the horizon. Arion was watching the disappearance of the last peak, when suddenly he found himself surrounded by the sailors, all armed. He understood at once that they had conspired against him, in order to obtain possession of the gold. The captain stepped up to him with an unsheathed sword in his hand, and said, "Give me that bag of gold you carry, and prepare to die!"

"But if I give you the gold, will you not let me live?" said Arion.

"No, you must die!" answered the hard-hearted captain, for he was afraid that if he let Arion live, the king of Corinth might find out what had happened.

"I am not afraid to die," said Arion, "but give me leave to sing one last song to my harp."

"That you may do," said the captain; "but when the song is finished, you must throw yourself into the sea."

Then the captain and the sailors retired to the middle of the vessel, not unwilling to hear so famous a singer, while Arion, in his court dress, stood up on the stern, looking sadly toward the beautiful island of Sicily, and sang one last song.

The singer's voice floated out over the water, and a school of dolphins, swimming by just then, heard it, and came leaping after the ship.

When the song was over, Arion, with the lyre still in his hands, leaped straight down into the sea. Then the sailors sprang to the oars, and rowed as fast as they could, making all possible haste to leave the spot where they had done such a wicked deed.

But a wise old dolphin, who had come up to listen to the music, saw Arion leap from the stern of the ship, and caught the musician on his back. Then he set out to swim to Corinth with him.

As Arion rode on the wise dolphin's back, with the other dolphins leaping along behind, he played on his lyre, and the little waves were so charmed that they grew still, to listen. So the procession reached Corinth in safety.

The king was greatly astonished, and could not believe what Arion told him. As soon as the wicked sailors arrived, he sent for them and asked them what had become of Arion.

"He is well and happy," said they, "but has made up his mind that he will remain in Italy."

The king then sent for Arion, who came in wearing the same court dress in which he had leaped into the sea. The sailors were so taken by surprise that they confessed everything, and the king banished them from the country. But Arion was the greatest hero in all Greece.