of the island and pondered on what to do
Daedalus and Icarus next. The trees and bushes surrounding the
On the island of Crete there lived a Minotaur,
a ferocious creature that was half man and
half bull. The people of the island of Crete
were terrifi ed of the Minotaur; it loved
nothing more than to feast on human fl esh.
They begged their ruler, King Minos, to order
that the creature be killed, but the King
decided against this. Instead, he
constructed a plan to imprison the
Minotaur.To die at the hands of
the Minotaur would be one of the most
terrible deaths imaginable, and King Minos
believed that his enemies deserved to meet
such a fate. He enlisted the help of Daedalus,
a talented architect, inventor and craftsman,
and asked him to build a labyrinth – a maze of
passages that would be so complex that it
would be virtually impossible for anyone (or
anything) to ever fi nd a way out. Daedalus
did as King Minos requested and then,
following the King’s instructions, he enticed
the Minotaur into the labyrinth by leaving a
huge pile of fresh meat in its centre. Once
the Minotaur was in the labyrinth the
creature was unable to escape. King Minos
was delighted. Anyone who was sent to the
labyrinth would be trapped and eventually
they would be found by the Minotaur who
would eat them alive. Now he had the perfect
punishment for his enemies! Deciding he had
no further use for Daedalus, the King threw
him into the labyrinth along with his son
Icarus. The King expected that the inventor
and his son would be found by the Minotaur
and eaten. Instead, unknown to the king, they
escaped. After all, Daedalus had built the
labyrinth and knew his way around!
Once out of the labyrinth Deadulus and
Icarus carefully made their way to the shore
beach would provide an ideal sanctuary for
the time being. They could possibly survive
for months or years without being seen. But
who would want to live like that – hiding away
hoping they would not be captured? They
needed to find a way to leave the island, but
how? They could not swim, the nearest land
was too far away, and they would never make
it. They could not leave by ship; all vessels
were controlled by King Minos. Daedalus
stared up at the sky and the seagulls that
circled overhead. If only he was as free as a
bird. If only he and his son could just fl y
away … and then he had an idea which was
both brilliant and ambitious. He would build a
pair of wings! It would take some time, days,
weeks even, but he would build a pair of wings
for his son and himself exactly the same as
the wings of a seagull but on a much larger
scale. Scattered around the beach were
seagull feathers. Daedalus instructed his son
to collect as many as he could fi nd. He
worked carefully to build the wings, studying
the exact angle and shape of the seagulls and
examining how the birds fl ew. At last, six
weeks after they had escaped from the
labyrinth, the wings were ready. ‘With these
wings you will fl y like a bird,’ Daedalus told
his son, ‘but be careful. Make sure you do not
fly too close to the Sun. If you do, the wax
that holds the feathers together will melt.’
Icarus nodded quickly. In truth he was barely
listening. Hiding on the shore of the island of
Crete had been boring. He had spent weeks
doing nothing more exciting with his days
than collecting feathers and catching fi sh
for his father and himself to eat. And now at
last they had the chance to escape. He shuffl
ed impatiently as his father attached the
wings to his arms, then helped his father to
position his own wings. We are ready,’ his
father told him, ‘follow me!’below, his heart fl
uttered with excitement. It was as though
his body was weightless. The wind whistled
against his ears. He felt like a bird! Higher
and higher, faster and faster he flew!
Suddenly, Icarus realized he could hardly see
his father. He had flown so high his father
resembled a small dot below him. At the same
time he noticed a feather drift past and fl
oat downwards towards the sea. And then
another … and then another. Too late Icarus
realized his wings were melting. He had fl
own too close to the Sun. With every
desperate swoop of his arms, more feathers
fell and soon his arms were almost bare.
Down and down and down went Icarus...
‘Father!’ he shouted before falling with a
heavy splash into the sea. His few remaining
feathers floated on the surface of the water
as he sank. Daedalus could only watch
helplessly and his heart felt as heavy as a
stone as he flew onwards, leaving his son
behind.
The Gorgon’ s Head
Acrisius, King of Argos received a dreadful
oracle from Delphi. According to the
priestess of Delphi, he will not have a son but
a grandson from whose hands he will be killed.
Frightened, King Acrisius hid his only
daughter Danae from the sight of all men.
Danae was locked up inside a house of bronze
sunk underground. Zeus entered into the
underground chamber in the form of the
shower of gold through the roof partly
opened. He appeared in front of Danae and in
an instant Danae conceived a baby. Later,
Danae had given birth to a boy named Perseus.
She kept her baby a secret from her own
father. But days have come and King Acrisius
learned about her secret. The King ordered
his people to have a chest built for Danae and
child Perseus. Danae and her child were put
inside the chest and sent adrift the sea. It
bobbed in the waves until it reached the
Island of Seraphos where a fisherman named
Dictys noticed the chest and took it. When
he opened, he saw Danae and Perseus. The
kind Dictys let them in their house to live
together with his wife. Dictys’ brother, King
Polydectes was captivated with Danae’s
beauty and married her. Polydectes felt
jealous over the love that Danae was giving to
Perseus. To get rid of Perseus, Polydectes
sent him to a dangerous adventure that put
his life in peril. The mission was to kill
Medusa, one of the three Gorgons. She has
snaky hair and metal-scaled skin. Looking
straight in Medusa’s eye can turn mortals
into stone. Despite the danger, Perseus
agreed to embark on the adventure in order
to get his own name a glory. Hermes gave him
a sword. He was also given a shield by Athena.
Hermes added that Perseus needed also the
winged sandals, the helmet of invisibility, and
the magic wallet. Those three essential
things were all in the possession of the
Nymphs of the North. Getting there was not
easy. In order to get to the Nymphs of the
North, Perseus has to go first to the Gray
Women who only could tell the direction.
Perseus went to the Gray women, he
snatched the eye of the women and
threatened not to return it unless they give
him the direction pointing to the Nymphs of
the North. As soon as the direction was given,
Perseus headed to the Island of Gorgons. He
was instructed by Athena, telling him that
Medusa was the one lying closest to the
seashore. With one swift of his sword and
with the help of his shield as mirror, Medusa
was beheaded and her head was put inside
the magic wallet. While Perseus was making
his way back home, he noticed a beautiful
lady chained on the cliff. He asked her name
and why she was hanged. No reply was given
by the lady. Perseus insisted the lady to
respond. She said her name was Andromeda,
daughter of Ethiopian King Cepheus and
Queen Cassiopeia. Andromeda told Perseus
that her mother boasted that she was the
most beautiful than 50 lovely daughters of
Nereus. As a revenge to her mother
Cassiopeia, Andromeda suffered the
punishment. At any moment, then, the
serpent was on its way to devour Andromeda.
Perseus told Andromeda’s parents that he
would save their daughter on a condition that
they will allow him to marry her. The king and
queen agreed at once and Andromeda was
saved from death. He took Andromeda to his
homeland. At that time, a discus-throw
competition was going on at Larissa. Perseus
joined in and when it was his turn to throw
the discus, he threw it mightily and
accidentally hit an old man in the audience. It
was learned that his grandfather, King
Acrisius, was the one hit by the discus.
Orpheus
“When stern Hades heard Orpheus’s song, he
began to weep.” There were nine goddesses
called Muses. Born of Zeus and a Titan named
Mnemosyne, each muse presided over a
different art or science. Calliope, one of
these sisters, was the inspiration of poets
and musicians. She was the mother of
Orpheus (a mortal because his father was
one) and gave to her son a remarkable talent
for music. Orpheus [played his lyre so
sweetly that he charmed all things on earth.
Men and women forgot their cares when they
gathered around him to listen. Wild beasts
lay down as if they were tame, entranced by
his soothing notes. Even rocks and trees
followed him, and the rivers changed their
directions to hear him play. Orpheus loved a
young woman named Eurydice, and when they
were married, they looked forward to many
years of happiness together. But soon after,
Eurydice stepped on a poisonous snake
and died. Orpheus roamed the earth, singing
sad melodies to try to overcome his grief.
But it was no use. He longed for Eurydice so
deeply that he decided to follow her to the
underworld. He said to himself, “No mortal
has ever been there before, but I must try
to bring back my beloved Eurydice. I will
charm Persephone and Hades with my music
and win Eurydice’s release. He climbed into a
cave and through a dark passage that led to
the underworld. When he reached the river
Styx, he plucked his lyre and Charon, the
ferryman, was so charmed that he rowed him.
across. Then he struck his lyre again, and
Cereberus, the fierce three0headed dog who
guarded the gates, heard the sweet music
and lay still to let him pass. Orpheus
continued to play his lyre tenderly as he
made his way through the gloomy underworld.
The ghosts cried when they heard his sad
music. Sisyphus, who had been condemned to
roll a rock uphill forever, stopped his
fruitless work to listen. Tantalus, who had
been sentenced to stand in a pool of receding
water, stopped trying to quench his thirst.
And even the wheel to which Ixion was tied
as punishment stopped turning for one
moment. At last Orpheus came to the palace
of Hades and Persephone, king and queen of
the underworld. Before they could order him
to leave, he began his gentle song, pleading
for Eurydice. When stern Hades heard
Orpheus’s song, he began to weep. Cold
Persephone was so moved that, for the first
time in all her months in the underworld, her
heart melted. “Oh please, my husband,” she
said to Hades, “let Eurydice been reunited
with Orpheus.” And Hades replied, “I, too,
feel the sadness of Orpheus. I cannot refuse
him. They summoned Eurydice, and the two
lovers clasped each other and turned to leave.
“Wait!” said Hades to Orpheus. “Eurydice is
yours to take back to earth on one condition.”
“What is that?” asked Orpheus. She must
follow you, and you must not look back at her
until you are on earth again.” “I understand,”
said Orpheus. “And I am forever grateful.”
Orpheus and Eurydice left the underworld
and made their way through the dark passage
that led to the upper world. At last they
reached the cave through which Orpheus had
descended. “I can see daylight ahead,” called
Orpheus to Eurydice. “We are almost there.”
But Eurydice had not heard him, and so she
did not answer. Orpheus turned to make sure
that she was still following him. He caught
one last glimpse of her with her arms
stretched out to him. And then she
disappeared, swallowed up by darkness.
“Farewell,” he heard her cry as she was
carried back to the underworld. Orpheus
tried to follow her, but this time the gods
would not allow it. And so he wandered the
earth alone. He sang his sad songs to the
rocks and the trees and longed for the time
when he, too, would die and be reunited with
his beloved Eurydice in the underworld.
Arachne
Arachne was a maiden who became famous
throughout Greece, though she was
neither wellborn nor beautiful and came from
no great city. She lived in an obscure little
village, and her father was a humble dyer of
wool. In this he was very skillful, producing
many varied shades, while above all he was
famous for the clear, bright scarlet which is
made from shellfish, and which was the most
glorious of all the colors used in ancient
Greece. Even more skillful than her father
was Arachne. It was her task to spin the
fleecy wool into a fine, soft thread and to
weave it into cloth on the high-standing loom1
within the cottage. Arachne was small and
pale from much working. Her eyes were light
and her hair was a dusty brown, yet she was
quick and graceful, and her fingers,
roughened as they were, went so fast that it
was hard to follow their flickering
movements. So soft and even was her thread,
so fine her cloth, so gorgeous her embroidery,
that soon her products were known allover
Greece. No one had ever seen the like of
them before. At last Arachne's fame became
so great that people used to come from far
and wide to watch her working. Even the
graceful nymphs would steal in from stream
or forest and peep shyly through the dark
doorway, watching in wonder the white arms
of Arachne as she stood at the loom and
threw the shuttle from hand to hand
between the hanging threads, or drew out
the long wool, fine as a hair, from the
distaff3 as she sat spinning. "Surely Athena
herself must have taught her," people would
murmur to one another. "Whoelse could know
the secret of such marvelous skill?"
Arachne was used to being wondered at, and
she was immensely proud ofthe skill that had
brought so many to look on her. Praise was all
she lived for, and it displeased her greatly
that people should think anyone, even a
goddess, could teach her anything.
Therefore when she heard them murmur, she
would stop her work and turn round to say,
"With my own ten fingers I gained this skill,
and by hard practice from earlymorning till
night. I never had time to stand looking as
you people do while another maiden worked.
Nor if I had, would I give Athena credit
because the girl was more skillful than
I. Ask for Athena's weaving, how could there
be finer cloth or more beautiful embroidery
than mine? If Athena herself were to come
down and compete with me, she could do no
better than I." One day when Arachne
turned round with such words, an old woman
answered her, a gray old woman, bent and
very poor, who stood leaning on a staff and
peering at Arachne amid the crowd of
onlookers. "Reckless girl,"she said, "how dare
you claim to be equal to the immortal gods
themselves? I am an old woman and have seen
much. Take my advice and ask pardon
ofAthena foryour words. Rest content with
your fame ofbeing the best spinner
and weaver that mortal eyes have ever
beheld." "Stupid old woman," said Arachne
indignantly, "who gave you a right to speak in
this way to me? It is easy to see that you
were never good for anything in your day, or
you would not come here in poverty and rags
to gaze at my skill. IfAthena resents my
words, let her answer them herself. I have
challenged her to a contest, but she, of
course, will not come. It is easy for the gods
to avoid matching their skill with that of
men." Atthese words the old woman threw
down her staff and stood erect. The
wondering onlookers saw her grow tall and
fair and stand clad in long robes of dazzling
white. They were terribly afraid as they
realized that they stood in the presence of
Athena. Arachne herself flushed red for a
moment, for she had never really believed
that the goddess would hear her. Before the
group that was gathered there she would not
give in; so pressing her pale lips together in
obstinacy and pride, she led the goddess to
one of the great looms and set
herself before the other. Without a word
both began to thread the long woolen strands
that hang from the rollers, and between
which the shuttle moves back and forth.
Many skeins6 lay heaped beside them to use,
bleached white, and gold, and scarlet, and
other shades, varied as the rainbow. Arachne
had never thought of giving credit for her
success to her father's skill in dyeing,
though in actual truth the colors were as
remarkable as the cloth itself. Soon there
was no sound in the room but the breathing
of the onlookers, the whirring of the shuttles,
and the creaking of the wooden frames as
each pressed the thread up into place or
tightened the pegs by which the whole was
held straight. The excited crowd in the
doorway began to see that the skill of both in
truth was very nearly equal, but that,
however the cloth might turn out, the
goddess was the quicker of the two. A
pattern of many pictures was growing on her
loom. There was a border of twined branches
of the olive,Athena's favorite tree, while in
the middle, figures began to appear. Asthey
looked at the glowing colors, the spectators
realized that Athena was weaving into her
pattern a last warning to Arachne. The
central figure was the goddess herself
competing with Poseidon for possession of
the city of Athens; but in the four corners
were mortals who had tried to strive with
gods and pictures of the awful fate that
had overtaken them. The goddess ended a
little before Arachne and stood back from
her marvelous work to see what the maiden
was doing. Never before had Arachne been
matched against anyone whose skill was equal,
or even nearly equal to her own. As she stole
glances from time to time at Athena and saw
the goddess working sWiftly, calmly, and
always a little faster than herself, she
became angry instead of frightened, and an
evilthought came into her head. Thus as
Athena stepped back a pace to watch
Arachne finishing her work, she saw that the
maiden had taken for her design a pattern of
scenes which showed evil or unworthy actions
ofthe gods, how they had deceived fair
maidens, resorted to trickery, and appeared
on earth from time to time in the form of
poor and humble people. When the goddess
saw this insult glowing in bright. colors on
Arachne's loom, she did not wait while the
cloth was judged, but stepped forward, her
gray eyes blazing with anger, and tore
Arachne's work across. Then she struck
Arachne across the face. Arachne stood
there a moment, struggling with anger, fear,
and pride. "I will not live under this insult,"
she cried, and seizing a rope from the wall,
she made a noose and would have hanged
herself. The goddess touched the rope and
touched the maiden. "Live on, wicked girl,"
she said. "Liveon and spin, both you and your
descendants. When men look at you they may
remember that it is not wise to strive with
Athena." Atthat the body ofArachne
shriveled up; and her legs grew tiny, spindly,
and distorted. There before the eyes of the
spectators hung a little dusty brown spider
on a slender thread. All spiders descend from
Arachne, and as the Greeks watched them
spinning their thread wonderfully fine, they
remembered the contest with Athena and
thought that it was not right for even the
best of men to claim equality with the gods.
How Odin Lost His Eye
Once when the world was still very young,
Odin sat on his throne in the most beautiful
palace in Asgard. His throne was so high that
he could see over all three parts of the world
from where he sat. On his head he wore a
helmet shaped like an eagle. On his shoulders
perched two black ravens called Memory and
Thought. And at his feet crouched two
snarling wolves. The great king gazed
thoughtfully down on the earth below him. He
had made the green land that stretched out
before his eyes. With the help of the other
gods he had made men and women who lived
on that earth. And he felt truly like the
All-father he was called. The fair elves had
promised they would help his children of the
earth. The elves were the tiny people who
lived between heaven and earth. They were
so small that they could flit about doing their
work unseen. Odin knew that they were the
artists who painted the flowers and made the
beds for the streams. They took care of all
the bees and the butterflies. And it was the
elves who brought the gentle rain and
sunshine to the earth. Even the ugly dwarfs,
who lived in the heart of the mountains,
agreed to help. They forged iron and metals,
made tools and weapons. They dug gold and
silver and beautiful jewels out of the earth.
Sometimes they even cut the grain and
ground the flour for the farmers on the
earth. All seemed to be going well. Odin
found it hard to think of evil times. But he
knew that the frost giants were only waiting
for a chance to bring trouble to his children.
They were the ones who brought cold and ice
to the world and shook the earth in anger.
They hated Odin and all the work of the gods.
And from high on his throne Odin looked
down beyond the earth deep into the gloomy
land of his enemies. He saw dark figures of
huge men moving about. They looked like evil
shadows. He, the king of the gods, must have
more wisdom. It was not enough just to see
his enemies. He must know more about them.
So Odin wrapped his tall figure in a blue cloak.
Down from his throne he climbed. Down the
broad rainbow bridge he strode and across
the green earth till Ile came to one of the
roots of the great evergreen tree. There,
close by the tree, was a well full of clear
water. Its surface was so still it was like a
mirror. In it one could see pictures of things
that had happened and things that were
going to happen. But beside the well sat an
old man. His face was lined with the troubles
of the world. His name was Mimir, which
means "memory." No one, not even the great
Odin, could see the pictures in the well unless
he first drank some of its water. Only Mimir
could give the magic drink. "Aged Mimir,"
Odin said to the old man, "you who hold the
knowledge of the past and future in your
magic waters, let me have but one sip. Then I
can know enough to protect the men and
women of the earth from the hate of the
giants."Mimir looked kindly at Odin, but he
did not smile. Although he spoke softly, his
voice was so deep it reminded Odin of the
distant roar of the ocean. "The price of one
drink from this well is not cheap," Mimir said.
"And once you have drunk and gazed into the
mirror of life, you may wish you had not. For
sorrow and death as well as joy are pictured
there. Think again before you ask to drink."
But once the king of the gods had made up his
mind, nothing could change it. He was not
afraid to look upon sorrow and death. "What
is your price, aged Mimir?" Odin asked. "You
are great and good, Odin," answered Mimir.
"You have worked hard to make the world.
Only those who know hard work may drink
from my well. However, that is not enough.
What have you given up that is very dear to
you? What have you sacrificed? The price of
a drink must be a great sacrifice. Are you
still willing to pay the price?" What could the
king of the gods sacrifice? What was most
dear to him? Odin thought of his handsome
son, Balder, whom he loved most in the world.
To give up his son would be like giving up life
and all that was wonderful around him. Odin
stood silent before Mimir. Indeed that would
be a high price! Then Mimir spoke again. He
had read Odin's thoughts. "No, I am not
asking for your dear son. The Fates1 say his
life must be short, but he has time yet to live
and bring happiness to the gods and the
world. I ask for one of your eyes." Odin put
his hands up to his bright blue eyes. Those
two eyes had gazed across the world from his
high throne in the shining city of the gods.
His eyes had taught him what was good and
beautiful, what was evil and ugly. But those
eyes had also seen his children, the men and
women of the earth, struggling against the
hate of the giants. One eye was a small
sacrifice to win knowledge of how to help
them. And without another thought, Odin
plucked out one of his blue eyes and handed
it to Mimir. Then Mimir smiled and gave Odin
a horn full of the waters of his well. "Drink
deeply, brave king, so you may see all that you
wish in the mirror of life." Odin lifted the
horn to his lips and drank. Then he knelt by
the edge of the well and watched the
pictures passing across its still and silent
surface. When he stood up again, he sighed,
for it was as Mimir had said. He had seen
sorrow and death as well as joy. It was only
the glorious promise at the end that gave him
courage to go on. So Odin, the great king of
the gods, became one-eyed. If you can find
Mimir's well, you will see Odin's blue eye
resting on the bottom. It is there to remind
men and women of the great sacrifice he
made for them.