GREAT WOMEN OF GREEK MYTHOLOGY
…Γυνὴ γὰρ τἄλλα μὲν φόβου πλέα
κακή τ᾽ ἐς ἀλκὴν καὶ σίδηρον εἰσορᾶν· ὅταν δ᾽ ἐς εὐνὴν ἠδικημένη κυρῇ, οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλη φρὴν μιαιφονωτέρα.
A woman’s weak and timid in most matters. The noise of war, the look of steel, makes her a coward. But touch her right in marriage, And there’s no bloodier spirit. Medea, Euripides, 265. Translated by Philip Vellacott
Where tenderness meets rage and sweet peace meets hideous war: this is where the women of Greek mythology find themselves, some proud, others deeply wounded.
The ancient Greek woman is mother, daughter and sister. She is loving and monstrous, reckless and ingenious; she lurks in the shadows of night and shines with the bright joy of the Sun. She stands at the side of the warrior men, but is also trailblazing and – when necessary –leads from behind. Along with the spirit of matriarchy of the Aegean, she gave birth to amazing characters that stand tall to this day in Greek literature and theatre, and feels more relevant now than ever.
Made by soil and sea, the mythological women of Greece are Earth itself.
Through Great Women of Greek Mythology , we present the most iconic women of our ancient history: Medea, Electra, Circe, Antigone, Helen, Ariadne and Medusa. And there’s more to come! With simple, comprehensible texts compiled and edited by a great team of writers, editors and scientists, we invite you to meet the famous daughters of mythology and their universe.
Elena SpandoniCopyright: Read Panda Editing OÜ
Brainfood Digital Media and Publishing M.E.P.E
GREAT WOMEN OF GREEK MYTHOLOGY Circe of Aeaea
WRITTEN AND EDITED BY Mike French and Vittorio Mattioli, Read Panda Editing OÜ
COVER DESIGN Little Miss Grumpy
SERIES DIRECTOR Nikos Chatzopoulos
SERIES EDITOR Elena Spandoni
ΥΠΕΥΘΥΝΟΣ ΕΚΔΟΣΗΣ
Νίκος Χατζόπουλος
Brainfood Digital Media and Publishing M.E.P.E. 28 Empedokleous Str., 12131 Peristeri, Athens, GREECE
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March 2024
ISBN: 978-618-5427-38-2
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GREAT WOMEN OF GREEK MYTHOLOGY
Circe of Aeaea
INTRODUCTION
GREAT WOMEN OF GREEK MYTHOLOGY is a series of short books for young and old introducing readers to the ancient world through its heroines. Whether simplified adaptations of classic tragedies by Euripides, Aeschylus and Sophocles or original works based on the surviving sources, these books aim to bring readers on a journey filled with excitement, drama, death and love, all while focussing on the women that have played such an important role in our history yet are still remembered as mere bystanders.
The series starts with six books: the tales of Helen, Electra, Ariadne, Antigone, Medea and Circe. While each book can be read separately, and in any order, there is an underlying thread that ultimately connects all these characters
and provides a wider view of what it was to be a woman in the ancient Greek world.
The story of Helen begins with her birth from a swan’s egg, the result of Zeus’ liaison with her mother, Leda. Helen’s supernatural beauty is immediately obvious and affects her childhood in the palace of Sparta. The book then focusses on how men, such as Paris and Theseus, steal her away for her beauty and on seeing how much can be put down to her own choices.
In Mycenae, Helen’s niece, Electra, is married to a destitute farmer and lives a life of misery. While her husband is honourable, she has only one pair of clothes, and she still cuts her hair short in a sign of mourning for the killing of her father, Agamemnon, after his triumphant return from Troy. The only reason Electra has not killed herself is because she is waiting for her brother Orestes to come and help her take revenge against Aegisthus, the usurper, and Clytemnestra, his lover and their mother, who betrayed Agamemnon and killed him.
In her book, it is Ariadne herself who shares her memories from childhood and into adulthood. Helen’s abductor, Theseus, appears here too, and we are taken from Minoan palaces on Crete, with the great labyrinth built by Daedalus for Ariadne’s brother, the monstrous Minotaur, to the deserted island of Naxos, where Ariadne is abandoned by the traitorous Theseus on his way back to Athens. We see how on the brink of death, she is saved by the god Dionysus, who takes a keen interest in her, and how they end up as a couple. We are told of her sister Phaedra and her fate at the court of Athens.
We move on to a relation of Dionysus, Antigone, the daughter and granddaughter of Oedipus. After the discovery of Oedipus’ crimes, her family falls apart. With both her parents dead, her two brothers fight for rule of the Greek city of Thebes. The story takes place in the aftermath of that civil war. Antigone’s brother Polynices has been killed outside the walls of Thebes. When she shows his body the proper rites, thus defying a decree issued by
the city’s ruler, Creon, she is arrested and condemned to death. The central tension of the book lies between her respect for the unwritten laws of the gods and Creon’s for those of the city.
Medea is a princess in faraway Colchis. She is married to Jason of the Argonauts, but now that he has no more need for her, Jason wishes to be rid of her in favour of a wife from a more civilised land. Most of Medea’s story takes place in a single day in the palace at Corinth where she, Jason and their children are staying. This is the 24 hours during which Jason is meant to marry the Corinthian princess Glauce. Despite all the help Medea has provided Jason, he has decided to discard her, something Medea will not take lying down.
Medea and Ariadne’s aunt, Circe, is the daughter of the Sun god, Helios. She lives alone on the island of Aeaea. Odysseus’ ship lands there on his journey home. When 23 of his men seek her out, she promptly turns them into pigs and locks them up in a sty. An immortal goddess herself, Circe is not to be trifled with: her
concoctions and witchcraft are second to none. Made famous by her appearance in the Odyssey, Circe’s story looks at the time spent by Odysseus and his men on Aeaea but from her own perspective.
The main part of each book is the novel itself. In writing these books, we researched the surviving ancient sources. Where a full-length play by one of the ancient Greek masters – such as Aeschylus, Sophocles or Euripides – survived, we have adapted that into a more modern novel, following its plot. This is the case with Electra, Medea and Antigone. Circe, Ariadne and Helen, on the other hand, are more original pieces in which we used information gained from surviving sources to create an engaging narrative and coherent whole. At the end of each book there is a small, more academic – but simply written – section that analyses the characters, the sources and the historical background. Vittorio Mattioli, Mike French
Chapter I
The galley, oars beating at the calm waters of the bay, dragged itself to shore. As the prow dug a long rut into the sand, the oars were lifted up and brought inside the ship, so that it looked nothing more than some sad beached sea creature. An eerie silence fell. The barked orders, the grunts of rowers, the crash of oars in harsh seas – even the drawn-out growl of the ship grinding along the sand – all stopped. On deck, a dozen men began to busy themselves with the sails, but this was all done in silence, with no command given. Their actions were disciplined but tired; the men marched from task to task with practised efficiency but shoulders that slumped and feet that dragged.
Suddenly, the silence was broken. A sailor slipped and yelled out. A man near him, an air of command sitting on him like a well-worn tunic, barked an order, then another, then three more. Whenever his words fell upon a man’s ears, they
picked up their pace and their shoulders and head lifted, if only for a minute.
Eventually every job seemed to be done. But still the men remained aboard, a desperate hush falling over the bay once more. Some sailors sunned themselves on the deck, others sat around in groups of three or four sharing some few words, spiritual fatigue weighing on every sound and movement. This went on for two days and two nights.
And all the while, from the treeline, animal eyes watched every move unblinking.
On the morning of the third day, the man who appeared to be in command leapt down from the ship and began to make his way up the beach towards the trees. In his hand he carried a spear and at his hip sat a sword. His deep tan spoke of a life outdoors. His dark hair and beard were weather-beaten and messy, although he could surely have been described as handsome once. Everything about him was hard and solid, a rock in human form.
He made his way towards the trees, but movement among them drew him to a halt. Within moments a huge boar had walked out onto the sand. The man leapt back with a yell, raising his spear, but the animal seemed entirely unconcerned, its manner unnaturally calm. It ran a glassy eye over the human and with a snuffle continued past him. The man was obviously perturbed but with the acceptance of one who has had his worldly assumptions dashed more times than he could count, he lowered his spear and simply gazed at the beast. Some of the creature’s fellows stumbled their way from the trees at their leader’s back and the bizarre group ambled its ways down the beach, pinned by the bewildered gaze of the men still on the boat.
Some hours later the man reappeared from the trees. He walked leaning on his spear because on his back he carried a great stag he had killed, its antlers digging slim ruts along the sand behind him. His progress was followed by the dull gaze of animals and humans alike.
When he reached the ship, he tossed the carcass down on the sand and called out in a voice that carried like a thrown stone, ‘We are not going to die yet after all: we have something to eat.’
A ragged cheer went up and soon the smell of fire, then cooked meat, wafted across the beach. Their spirits lifted, that night the group made camp on the sand.
As dawn’s fingers of light crawled their way from the sea, a group gathered around the ashes of the night’s fire. The leader gazed steadily at his comrades for a moment.
‘Listen, my friends, we are in trouble,’ he said. ‘We have been trying to find our bearings, but time and geography work differently here: we don’t know where the Sun sets or rises, so we cannot tell east from west. This means we cannot set off without possibly heading in the wrong direction. We are certainly on an island, though. I climbed as high as I could this morning and from there could see water in all directions. And
I don’t think we are alone. I also saw smoke rising from the dense trees that I’d say mark the centre of the island,’ he finished.
Rather than joy at hearing this news, his men cried out in dismay. One, as weather-beaten as his leader, gave voice to their fear.
‘Odysseus, every time we look for help, we find some new horror. We have lost so many comrades seeking safe harbour: think of Polyphemus the Cyclops who ate so many of us. And we only just escaped the Laestrygones, the man-eating giants – we are the last ship left. We can’t risk new dangers,’ he said.
Odysseus scowled at the man and seemed to need a moment to control his anger. ‘You think I don’t know that, Eurylochus?’ he asked. ‘All I want is to get home. But there’s no point in sitting here doing nothing, and we don’t know in which direction to sail, so we can’t just set off.’
He glared at the group of men around him as though daring them to contradict him. They looked down at their feet and ran their hands through the sand, avoiding his eye. Eurylochus
held his gaze a half-second longer than the rest, but he also nodded.
‘We shall split into two groups,’ Odysseus continued. ‘One will stay here, while the other will go to where this smoke was coming from. I’ll lead one. Eurylochus, you’ll take the other. We shall draw lots to see who stays with the boats and who leaves.’
Unhappy, but seeing no other options, the men complied. The animals wandering the beach watched on without any interest and the waves washed unceasingly at the shore.
Chapter II
After two hours, the steep slope Eurylochus and his 22 men had been struggling up began to flatten off. All journey, the strange large boars had wandered by without purpose, but they seemed not to care about the men, so much so that the group had stopped reaching for their weapons when they saw them, although they still kept their eyes on their unnaturally calm forms.
A little further in, smoke could be seen above the treetops. No sooner had a sailor pointed this out than a mountain lion sauntered towards the group. The men yelled out in fear and pointed their weapons at it, but it just regarded them from a few metres away, showing no intention of coming any closer. After a few moments, it huffed and turned on its tail, heading back the way it had come. The men let out a sigh of relief but looked at one another with fear: every encounter just served to underline that these animals were not normal.
The group continued forward, and soon the walls of a house could be seen rising from atop a slight rise within the forest. Here, the trees thinned a little and signs of habitation, such as tracks through the wood, began to appear. Down one of these, a handful of great wolves and lions came again towards the men, with the same tameness as the rest.
They walked right up to the leaders, while from behind another group of beasts did the same to the stragglers. The men let them come, since they didn’t seem to be threatening them, and such a bizarre mix of docile creatures could only be the work of sorcery. The wolf at the front approached Eurylochus, its tail wagging and tongue hanging from its mouth. It began to rub itself against his knees and shins, which nonetheless trembled with fear.
Still, no harm was done and soon the animals were acting as though they were the men’s friends: a lion rolled onto its back for its belly to be rubbed, a wolf jumped up at a man as though he would throw a stick or offer some scraps of
food. The men tentatively began to pet them, although they couldn’t quite throw off their concern at their size and their behaviour, friendly though it was.
Eurylochus, however, stood still, arms rigid at his side. He’d not reached out to touch the wolf and flinched back whenever one of the creatures made a sound, however playful or affectionate it was. He began to shake his head from side to side and whisper, ‘No, no, no, no.’
One of his companions walked up to him and gently touched his elbow, causing him to jump. ‘It’s ok, it’s me, Polites,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, this is different from what we’ve seen before. Nothing is harming us. Come, let’s go a bit further.’
With this, he led Eurylochus on, the animals rubbing themselves on their legs, right up to the house itself. It was built from cut stone that stood out against the wild surroundings. Although not a palace, it was not a hut either.
As they got closer, they began to hear a woman’s voice singing, accompanied by strange squeaking and cracking sounds. The men looked
at each other in wonder. Polites set out ahead, walking to the corner of the house and then disappearing from sight.
When he got back, he had a broad smile on his face. ‘There is someone inside working at a loom,’ he said. ‘You can hear her singing. Listen! I am going to call out to her. Given how strange this place is and how beautiful her voice, I wouldn’t be surprised if she were a goddess.’
Eurylochus continued to shake his head, but Polites called out nonetheless, ‘Hello! We are lost and hungry! Can you help us?’
The singing and creaking abruptly stopped, to be replaced with footsteps approaching. The men shrank back, none further than Eurylochus. The door creaked softly open, and a woman’s face appeared.