Io, meanwhile, charged on along the northern shore of the Aegean Sea, swimming over at the place where Europe becomes Asia, the spot we still call in her honour the cow-crossing, or in Greek, the Bosporus.fn6 On and on she careered, thrashing, tossing and squealing in her agony until she reached the Caucasus. There the gadfly seemed to relent for a while, enough for her to see the figure of Prometheus, racked in pain upon the mountainside.
‘Sit down and catch your breath awhile, Io,’ said the Titan. ‘Be of good cheer. Things will get better.’
‘They could hardly be worse,’ wailed Io. ‘I’m a cow. I’m being attacked by the largest and most spiteful gadfly the world has ever seen. And Hera will destroy me. It’s only a question of whether I am stung to death or go mad and drown myself in the sea.’
‘I know it seems dark for you now,’ said Prometheus, ‘but I see into the future sometimes and I do know this. You will return to human shape. You will found a great dynasty in the land where Nilus crawls. And from your line will spring the greatest of all the heroes.fn7 So chin up and be cheerful, eh?’
It was hard for Io, in all her tribulation, to ignore these words from one who – even as she looked on in horror – was being ripped open and gorged upon by a pair of evil-looking vultures. What were her minor inconveniences when set against his perpetual agony?
As things turned out, Io did return to human shape. She met up with Zeus in Egypt and bore him a son EPAPHUS, who will play an important party of the story of Phaeton, which is just coming up. Supposedly Zeus impregnated Io just by gently laying a hand on her – Epaphus means ‘touch’. Io also had a daughter by Zeus, called KEROESSA, whose son BYZAS went on to found the great city of Byzantium. Whether Keroessa was conceived by touch or the more traditional method of generation we do not know.
Io may have been a cow, but she was a very influential and important one.
The Semen-Soaked Scarf
A rather touching story tells of how Athena, without sacrificing her chastity, had a role in the conception and birth of one of the founders of the city state of Athens.
Lame Hephaestus, ever since splitting Zeus’s head and thereby helping bring Athena into the world, had developed a strong passion for the goddess. One day, unable to control his lust, he tracked her down to some corner of high Olympus and tried to force himself on her. Alas, in his excitement he succeeded only in spilling his seed on her thigh. Athena, in silent disgust, removed her headband and used it to wipe up the mess before throwing it down the mountain.
The sodden fillet landed on the ground far below. Hephaestus’s divine semen seeped into the earth and Gaia was made pregnant. From her was born a boy, ERECHTHEUS. Looking down from heaven Athena saw this and determined that this child should be immortal. She descended from Olympus, put the baby in a wicker basket, closed it up and placed it in the care of three mortal sisters, HERSE, AGLAUROS and PANDROSOS. On no account, Athena told them, must the basket ever be opened. But Aglauros and Herse could not resist peeping inside. They saw a wriggling baby boy bound up in the coils of a writhing snake. All snakes were sacred to Athena and this one was a part of the enchantment which the goddess was using to endow the infant Erechtheus with immortality. The shocking sight sent the two women instantly insane and they threw themselves off the topmost point of the hill now called the Acropolis, or ‘high citadel’. Erechtheus grew up to be (or to father, the stories disagree) ERECHTHONIUS, the legendary founder of Athens.fn8
If you visit the Acropolis in Athens today you can still see, just to the north of the Parthenon, the beautiful temple called the Erechtheum. Its famous porch of caryatid columns in the form of draped maidens is one of the great architectural treasures of the world. Shrines were erected not far away to poor Aglauros and Herse too, which is only fitting.fn9
Phaeton
The Son of the Sun
Erechtheus had Athena as a proxy parent, Gaia as a mother and Hephaestus as a father. Three immortal parents could be regarded as overdoing it (and as boastfulness about their founder on the part of Athenians), but it was not uncommon for mortals to claim one such progenitor. The story of the brave but foolhardy PHAETON,fn1 like the myth of Persephone, explains how certain changes to the geography of the world came about, as well as offering a very literal example of a favourite finger-wagging lesson of Greek myth – how pride comes before a fall.
Phaeton had divine parentage, but was brought up by his stepfather MEROPS, a disappointingly mortal man. Whenever Merops was away Phaeton’s mother CLYMENE, who may or may not have been immortal,fn2 would delight the boy with stories of his divine father, the glorious sun god Phoebus Apollo.fn3
When Phaeton was old enough he went to school alongside other mortal boys, some of whom were fully human and others of whom, like him, could claim divine ancestry on one side or another. One such was Epaphus, the son of Zeus and Io. With such illustrious parents Epaphus felt entitled to lord it over his schoolmates. Phaeton, who was a proud and passionate youth, hated being bossed around by Epaphus and was constantly irritated by the other’s arrogance and air of superiority.
Epaphus was always so maddeningly blasé about his pedigree. He would say things like: ‘Yes, next weekend dad – Zeus, don’t you know – is inviting me up to Olympus for supper. He said he might let me sit on his throne, maybe take a sip or two of nectar. Had it before, of course. There’ll just be a few of us. Uncle Ares, my half-sister Athena, a few nymphs perhaps to round up the numbers. Should be a laugh.’
Phaeton would always return home in a fury after enduring this oh-so-casual name-dropping. ‘How come,’ he would complain to his mother, ‘Epaphus gets to see his father every weekend when I have never even met mine?’
Clymene would hug her son tightly and try to explain. ‘Apollo is so busy, darling. Every day he has to drive his chariot of the sun across the sky. And when that duty is done he has shrines at Delos and Delphi and goodness knows where else to attend. Prophecies, music, archery … he is quite the busiest of all the gods. But I’m sure he’ll come and visit us soon. When you were born he left this for you – I was going to wait to give it to you when you were a little older, but you might as well have it now …’
Clymene went to a cupboard and took out an exquisite golden flute which she handed to him. The boy at once brought it to his mouth and blew, producing a breathy and far from musical hiss.
‘What is it supposed to do?’
‘Do? What do you mean, darling?’
‘Zeus gave Epaphus a magic leather whip which makes dogs obey his every command. What does this do?’
‘It’s a flute, my love. It makes music. Beautiful, charming music.’
‘How?’
‘Well, you learn how to shape the notes and then you … well, you play it.’
‘Where’s the magic in that?’
‘Have you never heard flute music? It’s the most magical sound there is. It does take rather a lot of practice though.’
Phaeton threw the instrument down in disgust and stormed off to his bedroom, where he sulked for the rest of the day and night.
A week or so later, on the last day of term before the long summer holidays, he found himself being approached by the exasperatingly condescending Epaphus.
‘Hi there, Phaeton,’ he drawled. ‘Wondered if you wanted to join me at the family villa on the North African coast next week? Small enough house party. Just dad, maybe Hermes, Demeter and a few fauns. We sail tomorrow. Could be a laugh. What do you say?’