Episode 26K – Dark Knight of the Soul – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 26K Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, Achilles is finally going to do some soul searching (and maybe a little maturing). You’ll learn that Mr. Ed used to belong to Achilles, that god magic gets used on weird things, and that Achilles could really use a Snickers. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll see how being a bad person and a worse husband can lead to monsters. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 26K, “Dark Knight of the Soul”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
A quick word before we start: I want to say thanks to A Thousand Way to Die in the Trojan War for pointing out that the version of the Iliad I’ve been using had a typo, and sometimes used the Roman name Diomed instead of Diomedes, leading to some confusion. To clarify, Diomed and Diomedes are the same guy, and I’ll be using Diomedes from here on in. When we left the story last time, Paris former herdsmen and lost prince of Troy, had kidnapped Helen of Sparta, wife of King Menelaus, because a god promised her to him as a bribe. The Spartan king had summoned everyone he could to go get her back, over 1000 ships worth of soldiers, and set sail for Troy. They spent eight years of misadventures trying to get to the distant city before finally killing the right people to appease the right gods to find their way. There, they have spent another nine years besieging the city of Troy, with neither side really getting any decisive victories. After more inconclusive fighting, Agamemnon pisses off one of his most important allies by being petty, and Achilles goes to his tent to sulk, refusing to fight anymore. The Trojans had fought back fiercely, resulting in Menelaus of Sparta being willing to accept a challenge to single combat with Prince Paris of Troy to decide the whole damned war. After a lot of build up, Paris gets his ass kicked and is saved from certain death by the timely intervention of Aphrodite, who carries him away from the fight, leaving the battle to drag on. The battle become incredibly intense after Zeus orders all immortals off the field, and ends with the Greeks huddled behind a new wall around their ships, besieged by the Trojan army in one hell of a reversal. After a night full of cloaks and daggers, the Trojan spy lay dead and the Greek spies successfully raided and murdered the king and 12 soldiers of a Trojan ally in the darkness. The Greeks tried to buy off Achilles and get him back in the fight, but he preferred to be petulant and leave them to their fate. The Thracian dead were discovered in the morning, and the Trojans attacked anew, finally breaking through the wooden walls of the Greeks. With the help of a sneaky Hera fucking her husband into a magical coma, Poseidon supports the Greeks to prevent a total loss. The Trojans manage to push all the way to the Greek ships and start trying to burn them, prompting Achilles to allow his friend/lover Patroclus to dress as Achilles and go out to the fight to rally the troops. He promises to come back as soon as the threat to the ships is defeated, but in the thrill of his own victories, he forgets and chases the Trojans back passed the walls. Apollo slaps him around, making him easy game for the Trojans, and Hector finally slaughters the man and mocks his corpse. A grisly game of tug of war breaks out with Patroclus’ bloody body as the rope. The Ajaxes finally manage to hold off the Trojans long enough for their allies to rescue their friend’s body, but Hector makes off with Achilles’ armor. A messenger tells Achilles that his friend is dead, and he vows revenge, but first, he asks his mom for some sweet new armor.
Promising her son that she will give him what he wants, even though she fears it will kill him, she dives beneath the waves to go see Hephaestus. Meanwhile, the Greeks were running scared from Hector. Menelaus and Meriones had been carrying the body of Patroclus away to safety, but they weren’t able to get it out of the reach of the Trojan weapons being rained down upon it. Three times, Hector grabs hold of the corpse’s feet, but each time the two Ajaxes would rally and drive him away from the corpse and its bearers. He refused to give up his prize, though.
Iris flies from Olympus with a message for Achilles. A secret message. Behind Zeus’ back (and everyone else’s for that matter), Hera told Achilles to arm himself. “Up, son of Peleus, mightiest of all heroes! Rescue Patroclus, who is at the center of the awful fighting raging on the battlefield right now. The Greeks are trying to defend your dead friend’s body, and the Trojans are trying to steal it away. Hector is determined to decapitate the body and mount your friend’s head on the spike of the wall. Shame on you if you allow this, after everything he did for you.”
“That’s awful harsh, Iris. Which god sent you?” “Hera, of course. Zeus has no idea I’m here, nor do any of the other gods.” “Okay, fine. How exactly would you like me to ride out into battle? I lent Patroclus my armor, and even I can’t go out there naked and survive. My mom told me to stay here until she could come back with some sweet new armor from Hephaestus. The only guy who’s close enough to my size for me to wear his armor would be Ajax, and I’m guessing he kind of needs it himself right now. From everything I’ve heard, he’s the main reason Hector hasn’t made off with Patroclus’ body yet.” “Tough titties, Achilles. Go without your armor. Go to the trench surrounding the broken wall and let the Trojans see that you are returning to the fight. Your appearance on the field of battle will put the taste of death on their lips, and they will run the fuck away for a little while. It’ll buy your friends some time to rest, and your mother some time to get you new armor.”
Achilles was less than sure of the plan, but he decided to trust the word of the gods here. He got up and headed towards the crash of weapons unarmed and unarmored. Athena, tipped off by Hera, went to him as he walked and draped his shoulders in her tasseled aegis and crowned his head with a shining golden halo. Careful not to get too close to the fighting yet, he walked through the ruined walls to the trench surrounding the Greek ships. There, he stopped, and shouted his battle cry, joined subtly by Athena herself, amplifying his voice and putting terror in the hearts of the Trojans. His shout rang out like the brazen cry of a trumpet, signalling for reinforcements, and everyone who heard the clarion cry was dismayed. They turned to look, and saw Achilles there, unarmored but ringed in a mystical fire. Oh shit. Achilles was back with a vengeance, and this time, it was personal.
Three times Achilles shouted his pain and rage, and three times, his mystically amplified voice threw the Trojan army into confusion. In the panic, twelve Trojan champions fell out of their chariots and were trampled underneath or else stabbed to death by their own falling spears. No one was willing to stand up to a clearly god-backed Achilles, and so the Greeks at last were able to safely retrieve Patroclus’ much abused body. Achilles wept bitterly when he saw his friend’s corpse. They would pay for this. The sun set on the chaos and turmoil, giving the Greek army a respite from what had been, overall, a shitty day. Achilles return was the only good news to come out of it.
The Trojans gathered in their camp, far from the stout wall of Ilus, unyoked their horses, and stood for assembly before eating. None were willing to sit down. They were too afraid of the horrifying image of Achilles, ringed in fire, flinging defiance into the teeth of the army that had come to hope he would never return. After a long, brittle silence, Polydamas was the first to speak. He was a friend of Hector, and they shared a birthday (although I’m not sure why that’s at all relevant).
“We should go back to the city rather than waiting here by the ships for morning. We’ll want their defense when the sun rises. Things weren’t so bad as long as Achilles was madder at them than us, and if that were still true, I would happily have camped here tonight in the hopes of overwhelming them at daybreak. Now, though…things have changed. Achilles is a fast motherfucker, and daring to boot. I wouldn’t put it passed him to get behind us while we’re trying to take the Greek ships and sacking the city out from under us. We need to get back to the city. Tonight. We’re going to die if we stay here. If we defend from the walls, we have a fighting chance.”
Hector wasn’t happy. “Polydamas, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. Have you not had enough of being cooped up behind the walls? Of being trapped in the city with way too many smelly soldiers? This used to be a rich city, but nine years of war have drained our resources. We’ve had to sell our treasure and much of our goods to try and keep this army alive. Zeus has promised me glory here, and that I will hem the Greeks in at their ships. Stop talking like a little bitch. No one is going to the city. Everyone is going to eat supper and then go to bed with a careful watch kept all night. At dawn, we will take the ships. If Achilles wants to fight, I’ll fight him. Personally. I swear to you that one of us will be dead before I leave that fight.”
The Trojans were cheered by Hector’s courage and brave words, and they shouted their agreement with his plan. They did as Hector bid, and across no man’s land, Achilles laid poor Patroclus to rest. “Goddammit, Patroclus, I promised your family I would bring you back to them alive and rich with the spoils from sacking Troy. You weren’t supposed to die, my friend, and I fear that the soil that runs red with your life’s blood will drink my own before this whole thing is over. I don’t think I’ll ever see my home again. Even so, Patroclus, I won’t bury you until I have brought you the head and armor of that son of a bitch that killed you. I promise you, friend, I will avenge you and kill Hector. Twelve noble sons of Troy will I slaughter and behead here at your tomb to avenge you. Until then, you will lay here, and the women we have taken as slaves will weep over your body day and night.”
He had his servants set up a tripod and boil water to wash the corpse. He was covered in mud, blood, organs, and various viscera from everyone who had died trying to claim his body, and Achilles was determined to do right by his true friend. They washed the body, anointed it with sweet-smelling oil, and closed its wounds as best they could with an ointment. Thus prepared, the body was dressed in a white robe and laid on a bier. Achilles and his troops gathered around all night to stand vigil over the corpse.
Zeus watched bemused from on high. “So, wife, you managed to get your way after all. Achilles is back in the thick of things. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the Greeks were your own children, the way you fret over them.” “That’s rich, coming from you. Even a mortal, with less knowledge and power than us, will do what he can for others. It just makes sense that I, foremost among the goddesses by right and by marriage, do everything I can to punish the Trojans since I am angry at them.”
While they were bickering, Thetis went to see Hephaestus at his home. It was a beautiful, sparkling mansion made of bronze and starlight, forged by the god himself. She found him working hard at the forge, pumping the bellows to heat up metal for 20 tripods with wheels of gold capable of going where they were needed of their own accord. Basically, the dude was making robots. His wife, Charis (who was one of the Graces, or goddesses of charm, beauty, human creativity, and fertility) saw Thetis enter. “Thetis, hey! What are you doing here? You don’t visit very often, but you’re always welcome. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?” Ever the graceful host (pun intended), she seats Thetis on a comfy chair, complete with a footstool, and summons her husband. “Honey, Thetis is looking for you!”
Hephaestus immediately called back. “It’s good to see you again. Since you and Eurynome were the only ones willing to care for me after my mother threw me off of Olympus for having the audacity to be born lame, you are always welcome here. I had to stay with your for nine years while I recovered, and the beautiful brooches, bracelets, cups, necklaces, and statues I made for you don’t even begin to repay you for caring for me and keeping me hidden so I could recover in safety. Charis, honey, talk to her please while I put my tools away.”
He put everything up and rinsed off, with help from the golden golems he had made in the forms of beautiful women (the dude could make pretty much anything). Once everything was tidy, he limped as fast as he could to see Thetis. “You’re a busy goddess, Thetis, and you don’t have time to visit very often, so this must be important. What do you need? If I can help you, I will.” Something broke inside Thetis, and all of her pain and fear about her son came pouring out as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Has Zeus ever been this big of a dick to another goddess? Of all the marine goddesses, I’m the only one he forced to marry a mortal and, entirely against my will, I submitted to the embrace of a mortal man (and all of this was because Zeus couldn’t make himself just not rape her, so he forced her to submit to marital rape by someone else instead). So little time has gone by, but he is already stooped and worn with age. As if that wasn’t enough, I was granted a son, a hero among heroes, and I had to watch him sail off to Ilus knowing that if he wasn’t very, very careful, I would never be able to welcome him home. I’ve been to see him, but I cannot help him. He wastes away with sorrow for the slave girl Agamemnon stole from him, and he weeps for the loss of his friend Patroclus, who was wearing my son’s armor when he died. If Apollo hadn’t cheated, Patroclus would have lived, and probably taken the city, and my son wouldn’t be in danger now. I beg you, my old friend, to make the most magnificent armor you can for my son. Help me to help him!”
Hephaestus nodded. “You know that I cannot stop fate from taking him down to Hades if it is his time, but I will make him the most splendid armor that man ever beheld. If I can save him by my craft, I will.” Wasting no time, he went immediately back to the forge and began to work. First, he forged a shield five layers thick with a gleaming silver baldric. The face of the shield was worked into an incredibly intricate and detailed design that the story goes into a lot of detail describing, but honestly doesn’t matter. Just know that it was a bitchin’ shield. Afterwards, he made a breastplate that shone brighter than the fires of the forge. He made a helmet, carefully fitted to Achilles’ head, richly worked with a golden plume. He finished with metal greaves, then took everything to Thetis, who darted away with her prize. She didn’t know if it would save her son, but it was his best chance.
As dawn broke on the next morning, Thetis returned to the Greek ships bearing the armor. Unsurprisingly, she found her son still standing vigil over Patroclus and weeping bitterly. Many of his fellow soldiers stood with him, for they too had been comrades with the fallen soldier. “My son, I know you still mourn your friend, but you have to leave him now. His death is the will of the gods, but I have here with me armor from Hephaestus that no man has ever worn. It is yours.” She set the armor before Achilles, letting it ring out on the stone. The Myrmidon looked at it in awe, then averted their eyes for it was clearly a thing of power and awful beauty. Achilles, on the other hand, couldn’t look away from it. His eyes burned with a fierce, angry light. He took a savage joy in this gift from the gods. “Thanks, mom. This is an incredible gift, fit for a god. No mere mortal could have made something this beautiful and this powerful. It’s time to arm myself and go avenge my friend, but I fear that the flies will soon start to land on his body, and worms will breed in his open wounds as his flesh begins to rot.”
“I’m not an immortal for nothing, son. I’ll keep the flies and the worms away from him. He could lie here for a whole year without changing at all. There’s no need for you to stay here any longer, Achilles. Gather the Greek army, and let go of your anger at Agamemnon. Get back to the fight.” She lent her son her own strength and courage, then dropped ambrosia and red nectar, foods of the gods, into Patroclus’ open wounds so that his body would suffer no change. With a last sorrowful look, Achilles went to the seashore to rally the troops.
Hearing the cry of the long-idle Achilles, everyone came out, even the Greeks who were not part of the fighting (the ship pilots, helmsmen, and stewards). Everyone wanted to see if hope had returned. Odysseus and Ajax limped into camp, still suffering from wounds taken in battle over the last few days. Last of all came Agamemnon, also wounded. He’d taken a spear from Coon, son of Antenor. When everyone was assembled, Achilles rose and went to the center. “Agamemnon, it would have been better for both of us if Artemis had slain Briseis on the day I enslaved her after sacking her home of Lyrnessus. Fewer Greeks would have bitten the dust (which is the actual phrase my translation uses here, which is awesome) in the days of my anger. It’s worked out for Hector and the Trojans, and I know that everyone here will long remember our feud. Now, however, I call for an end to it. We have been angry, but necessity has forced us to put that aside. There’s some shit going down, and we both have bigger fish to fry. I can’t afford to nurse this anger forever, so I let it go. Call everyone to arms. I’m headed out to whoop some Trojan ass.”
Cheers erupted at this pronouncement. Achilles was back in the fight. Things were finally looking up. Agamemnon rose. “Greek heroes! Servants of Ares! My friends, it is hard to be heard in an uproar like this. Even an awesome speaker will be distracted by trying to speak through a shouting crowd. Most of you have given me shit for pissing off our staunch ally Achilles, but it wasn’t my fault. Zeus, the Fates, and the Furies struck me mad when I stole his piece of ass from him. What could I do? Zeus’ eldest daughter Folly closed my eyes to our destruction. She once fooled Zeus on Hera’s behalf. When Hercules was about to be born, Hera and Folly tricked Zeus into swearing that the next baby born will be the ruler of the Greeks. Zeus was excited about his bastard son Hercules, and happily swore. Then, Hera snuck down and made Hercules’ mom not go into labor and made Eurystheus’ mom go into labor a month early. Zeus was pissed at having his son denied the rulership of Greece, so he grabbed Folly by the hair and swore that she would never again be able to enter the heavens. Then he twirled her by her hair and threw her down to the fields of mortal men. He was always upset about it, especially when Eurystheus later made Hercules do a bunch of stupid but awesome labors.
“Basically, I’m saying I’m not going to own up to my mistake here, but I will atone for it. I promised Achilles many gifts if he put aside his anger, and I’m going to deliver. If you want, we can wait until my servants can go get it all from the ships, but it looks like you’d rather get right out to the fighting.” “Agamemnon, you can give me the gifts or not, I don’t much care at this point. For now, let’s go fight. I’ll be on the front ranks fucking shit up, so take strength from that while you fight.”
Odysseus stood up before everyone could leave. “Achilles, I don’t think it’s wise to send everyone out to fight on an empty stomach. Today’s going to be a long day, I think. We should probably get some food and wine for breakfast, and that will give Agamemnon time to bring over the gifts. Everyone can see him publicly atoning to help cement that you’re really back. He’ll also swear publicly that he never got around to raping the sex slave you kidnapped, and you can make a show of accepting his apology and let him feed you at his tent. It’s a good thing if a king can admit when he was wrong (even if he only sort of admitted that, but close enough).”
Agamemnon thought this was a good idea, but Achilles is still a little shit. “Worry about this PR bullshit some other time when I’m not still pissed the hell off. Do you really think it’s appropriate to have a leisurely meal while the bodies of the good men slain by Hector lie mangled on the battlefield? I say we don’t eat another bite until we have avenged our fallen brothers. When the sun sets on the dead Trojan army, they can eat their fill. Patroclus lies dead in my tent, and I can’t think of anything but blood and slaughter and the last rattling breath in the throat of the dying!” Methinks he might be feeling a little guilty about abandoning his friends.
Odysseus gave Achilles an ‘are your fucking kidding me’ look. “Achilles, you’re the better fighter, but I’m the better strategist. I’m older and smarter. It’s good to mourn our dead, but then we must bury them out of sight and out of mind. There’s no guarantee that the sun will set on their dead instead of ours. While we yet live, we should eat and drink so that we can fight more fiercely. When the battle starts, no man will hold back or wait for an invitation. We will all leap out into the enemy and loose the dogs of war on those assholes!”
Without waiting for an answer, Odysseus took many of the Greek heroes and went to Agamemnon’s tent. Agamemnon took the hint and had his servants grab the gifts to present to Achilles. Then he had Talthybius, who had a voice like a god, bring him a boar. He cut the bristles off the boar and held it up in prayer. “I call on Zeus, first and mightiest of the gods, to witness me. I call on Gaia, Phoebus, and the Furies who dwell in hell and take vengeance on those who swear falsely to hear me. I swear that I never laid a single hand on Briseis, or any other part of my body. She has been safe in my tents. If I’m lying, may heaven strike me dead!” He slit the boar’s throat and Talthybius whirled it over his head and threw it into the sea to feed the fishes.
Achilles stood and answered. “Father Zeus, you blind men’s eyes and make them suffer. That’s the only explanation for why I was so angry and stubborn, or why Agamemnon was so hellbent on taking Briseis from me. It’s not because we’re whiny little man-babies, but because the gods wanted to kill some Greeks (although there’s no reason it can’t be both). Go now and eat. When we’re done, we fight!”
Achilles’ servants took the gifts to his ships, and Achilles came back to his tent to find Briseis, as beautiful as Aphrodite herself, crying over the corpse of Patroclus. He’d always been kind to her, and she’d genuinely liked him as a person. “Patroclus, my friend, I can’t believe you’re dead. You were a picture of health when I left. I remember watching my fiance cut down defending our city, along with all three of my brothers, by Achilles. But you, dear man, told me not to weep because you would make Achilles marry me instead of just raping and degrading me. You promised I would go back to Phthia as a queen. It…didn’t help as much as you thought it would, but I appreciated the effort. You were always kind to me.”
She joined the other women who were mourning Patroclus, and Achilles sat quietly to brood. The elder Greeks tried to get him to eat, but he refused. “Leave me alone, guys. I’m too depressed to eat anything. Until I spill Trojan blood, I won’t be able to eat anything.” He sent everyone away, but Odysseus, Menelaus, Agamemnon, Nestor, Idomeneus, and Phoenix stayed behind to try and comfort him (and probably make sure he didn’t do something stupid before the rest of the army was ready). “Guys, this sucks. I can’t imagine being any sadder than I am right now, even if you told me that my dad was dead or that my only son had been killed. Hell, for all I know, he is dead since I’ve been here for so long trying to get that bitch Helen back for some reason. Promise me that if I die here, you’ll show my son all my awesome stuff that will be his since my dad is super old and will probably be dead soon.”
Zeus watched him and felt bad for all he’d put the man through. He turned to his daughter Athena. “Child, you have completely abandoned your favorite hero (and not at all because I expressly ordered you to and threatened you with eternal torture). How could you have forgotten so completely about him? He sits there by his ships mourning for his dead friend and even though everyone else is eating, he starves himself for grief. You should go drop some ambrosia and nectar in him so that he can fight well without being hungry.” It didn’t take much to convince Athena, who was already wanting to help the Greeks, so she let Zeus’ gaslighting go by without comment.
While the rest of the Greeks were finishing their meals and armoring up (and while Athena was secretly feeding him in the guise of a falcon), Achilles got into his sweet new armor. The story spends a lot of time describing him putting everything on, and it kind of comes off like any of those scenes in the Marvel movies where Iron Man puts on a new suit for the first time. Once he had everything on and he was sure that it fit properly, letting him move, he took up his spear. Given to him by the good centaur Chiron, it was so long and heavy that no one but himself could wield it. It’s wood had been bathed in the blood of countless heroes over the years.
Dressed and ready to go, he got up in his chariot. Like many people, he spoke to his horses. Unlike most horses, they could understand him. “Xanthus and Balius, when the fighting is over today, how about we bring back the driver alive, hmm? Maybe try not to abandon him dead on the plain like you did with my bestest friend ever Patroclus?” A horse is a horse, of course of course, and no one can talk to a horse of course. That is of course unless the horse is the famous Xanthus, blessed by Hera herself. “Dread Achilles, we’ll do our best, but we smell death in the air and yours may be coming. The blame on that day will not be ours, because mere horses cannot stop fate. Also, by the by, it wasn’t us being lazy that got Patroclus killed and stripped of his armor. Apollo himself killed your friend and gave the victory to Hector. We can run really fucking fast, but we can’t stop a god.” Achilles looked at his horse. “Why do you foretell my death also? I’ve gotten enough of that from mom and dad. I think I can pull this off, but even if I can’t, I’m not going to wuss out. I’m going to avenge my friend.” So saying, he snapped the reins, and the Greek hero rode out to join the Greek army. Today, there would be a reckoning.
Achilles has made it through his dark night of the soul moment, and is driving out into the third act of this epic tale. There are only four books out of twenty-four left in the Iliad, so we’ll be finishing this story soon, but for now, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s demigod is Ixion, king of the ancient Thessaly kingdom Lapiths. His parentage is different in different versions of the story, but he was likely a son of Ares or maybe the notorious evil doer Phlegyas. He’s mentioned briefly in the Iliad by his son Peirithoos, one of the Greek heroes, but not an overly important one.
In accordance with custom at the time, when Ixion married his wife Dia, he promised her father Deioneus a valuable bride-gift, but he never delivered. Deioneus wasn’t going to take this sitting down, but he also wasn’t going to raise a stink and upset his beloved daughter so he decided on Option C – steal some of his son-in-laws horses. Ixion pretty quickly realizes whodunnit, but he doesn’t admit it to anyone, including his new wife. Feigning ignorance, he invited his father-in-law over for a feast at Larissa, capital of Thessaly.
Deioneus arrived, thinking he’d gotten away with it clean, and they had dinner (which means that Ixion had invited the man in as his guest and fed him). Ixion asked Deioneus to come with him to get his opinion on something. The two of them walked up to a huge bed of glowing coals. “That’s, um, that’s a lot of coals. It’s cool, I guess. Get it? Cool? Hot coals? Dad jokes are already a thing. Um, Ixion? Why are you stalking towards me like that? Ixion? I’m your guest Ixion and your relative. No one has ever killed a relative, son-in-law. It’s not a thing! Ixion!” Silently, with the flaming coals burning in his eyes, Ixion shoved his father-in-law into the flames and burned him to death for stealing his horses.
Thus, Ixion became the first mortal kinslayer (take that, Cain). Defiled by his combined sins of murdering his father-in-law and violating guest right, Ixion went mad. The neighboring princes were so offended by his crimes, however, that they refused to perform the rites that would have cleansed Ixion of his guilt and provided a catharsis for him. Insane, Ixion fled from his home and became an outlaw, shunned by society. In a surprise twist, Zeus takes pity on him in spite of bringing the hammer down on other people for far less. Maybe he sympathized as a fellow kinslayer. Regardless, Zeus decides to rescue him from his shunning.
He cleanses Ixion of his madness and brings him to Olympus to eat at his own table with the gods and goddesses. Any rational person would be grateful for this act of salvation, but Ixion was a dick. In spite of already being married to a woman whose father he had murdered, and in spite of Zeus going out of his way to help him, Ixion decided what he wanted more than anything was to fuck Zeus’ wife Hera, a second violation of guest-right.
Being a raging dick, he began to make plans to corner and rape Hera. I don’t really know how he thought this would play out, but it went pretty much the way you already think it did. Zeus found out about his creepy, evil plan and decided to out-sneaky him. That night, Ixion snuck into Hera’s room to find her lying there. He jumped onto her sleeping form and raped her violently. Only after he finished his heinous act did Zeus reveal himself. “You little piece of shit. I saved you, and you repay me by trying to rape my wife? A literal fucking goddess?” “Try nothing, asshole. I DID rape your wife.” “You really want me to hurt you, don’t you? You tried to rape my wife, you little prick. That wasn’t Hera. That was a cloud I shaped into the form of Hera, that I named Nephele (from the Greek word for cloud, nephos).”
“So, wait, you made a sentient being for me to rape instead of just stopping me? That’s kind of fucked up.” “I’m kind of a fucked up guy, but that’s not the point. You’re not welcome here anymore, and if you know anything about how I kick people out of heaven, you should know what’s about to happen.” While they’d been talking, Zeus had taken up his thunderbolts and proceeded to hurl one at Ixion. He was blasted off the mountain of the gods to fall towards earth. Zeus sent Hermes to bind Ixion to a winged wheel of fire that would spin for all eternity. Initially, the fiery wheel is a star, or maybe a comet, but is later moved to Tartarus so that he could be found by Orpheus (which is another story that we will definitely cover one day).
Zeus doesn’t do things half-way when sex is involved, and the cloud doppelganger he had made was perfect down to her reproductive system. She gave birth to Centauros, a deformed child. Hunched and twisted, he could find no peace among humans, who were dicks to him for no real reason except his deformity. He wandered to try and find some solace, and eventually came to the mountain Pelion, inhabited only by Magnesian horses. Because this is Greek mythology, he of course decided to fuck the horses and somehow got the horses pregnant. They gave birth to half human, half horse beasts, wild and untamed, who would be named after their progenitor and be called centaurs. It’s a weird story, but since all centaurs were descended from the first kinslayer, it helps to explain why centaurs were almost all savage, bloodthirsty monsters (with the notable exception of Chiron, who we’ve mentioned several times). He’ll pop up again, and now you know where he came from.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you like what you’ve heard, I’d appreciate a review on iTunes. These reviews really help increase the show’s standing and let more people know it exists. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff, whom you can find on fiverr.com.
Next time, we’ll get a chance to see why everyone was so fucking terrified of Achilles. Spoiler alert, he completely deserves his reputation. You’ll see that no one can fight the river forever, that even lame gods can kick ass, and that Athena makes a great role model. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll see that triplets who share absolutely everything are way creepier than you can imagine. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.