Episode 26L – Reap the Whirlwind – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 26L Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re finally going to see what all the fuss has been about. You’ll discover that rivers can be petulant, that Achilles is pretty good with a one-liner, and that you should never bring a bow to a spear fight. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s a three for one sale on witches. 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 26L, “Reap the Whirlwind”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Before we get started, I want to say thanks to Rhett Hall of Cardinal Branding and Design. You might have noticed that we’ve got a rad new logo. I’m really stoked about it, and I’m working on putting together some options for stickers and tee shirts in the near future. Once we get things rolling, there’ll be details on the website (and of course, I’ll update you here as well). All of this has been to get ready for something big that I can finally officially announce. Myths Your Teacher Hated is going to Atlanta Comic Con! I’m going to be hosting a panel on Mythology in Popular Culture on Sunday, July 15th at 1pm. If you’re going to be at the convention, you should drop by and check us out. If not, it’s looking like we might be attending another big Atlanta convention over Labor Day weekend (you know the one). I can’t officially announce any details there yet, so sorry for the vague-podding. Okay, enough ego stroking – on with the show!
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 becomes 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 Menelaus and his 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. Iris tells Achilles of the fight for his friend’s body in secret, and he goes to do what he can without the armor. With a bit of god magic on his side, Achilles is able to shout the Trojans away long enough to get Patroclus away to safety. Achilles then spends the rest of the night standing vigil over his dead friend, who he refuses to bury until he has been avenged. Thetis arrives with some sick new armor, courtesy of Hephaestus, and Achilles gears up for the fight. He refuses to eat until the fighting is done, but Athena slips him some god-food without his knowledge anyway. His magical talking horses warn him that he may be riding to his death today, but he rides out anyway.
While both sides were arming themselves and preparing for the day’s slaughter (which everyone knew was going to be bad with Achilles back in the fight), Zeus asked Thetis to summon the gods for a council meeting. When I say ‘summon the gods’ I mean all of them, not just the Olympians. The story says that everyone except for Oceanus showed up. Everyone was interested in this epic conflict by now, and they were curious about how it was going to turn out. Once everyone was gathered in the mighty home of the god king, Poseidon asked the question on everyone’s mind: “So why are we all here? Are you planning to make some big decision about the war?”
“Brother, you already know the answer to that, don’t you? I intend to stay up here where it’s comfy to watch the day’s bloodshed, but I’m lifting any restriction I had before on you getting involved. Everyone is free to go down to the mortal world and interfere on whichever side you like. Go nuts, people. We all know that if the Trojans fight Achilles without divine interference, they don’t stand a chance. They’re all shaking in their sandals at the mere mention of his name already. If he doesn’t meet some resistance, he might manage to override fate, and we can’t have that.”
Pretty much as soon as Zeus finished speaking, the major gods were already gone to the fight. They’d been waiting for the chance to finally let loose and end this war. Hera, Athena, Poseidon, Hermes, and Hephaestus all went to join the Greeks, while Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Leto, and Xanthus all joined with the Trojans. By the time they arrived, however, the battle had already been joined, and things were completely in the Greek favor. Everyone was terrified of Achilles, and trying desperately to keep away from him, which made them shitty fighters. Achilles for his part was rampaging wherever he pleased, looking for all the world like a second incarnation of Ares himself in his rage and divine armor.
Into the melee charged the gods, screaming their inhuman screams into the chaos. Both sides lent strength and courage to the armies, and the earth and the heavens shook with their fury. Zeus sent peal after peal of rolling thunder across the skies, and Poseidon shook the earth with the fury of his charge. So powerful was the earthquake that accompanied the gods into battle that Hades, aloof in his hall of the dead, screamed a warning at Poseidon to ease up lest he crack the earth all the way to hell and reveal the land of the dead to mortal sight. Unleashed at last, the gods didn’t stop at helping out the mortals. They took up arms to fight each other directly. Apollo stood, bow drawn, facing Poseidon; Athena, goddess of warriors faced her brother Ares, god of war; Apollo’s sister Artemis, goddess of the hunt, faced off with Hera, queen of the gods; Hermes, god of luck and trickery faced down Leto, a titan about whom little has survived to the modern day; and Scamander Xanthos (a river god of no particular importance), faced lame Hephaestus, god of the forge.
Achilles, meanwhile, was laser focused on finding and killing Hector. Nothing but the lifeblood of the arrogant prince of Troy would fill the gaping wound in his heart. Apollo had other ideas. Standing with his bow drawn, but not yet fighting, he sent a message to Aeneas to warn him of the coming of the Greek warrior as well as the courage to face him. In the form of Lycaon, son of King Priam, he said “Aeneas, what happened to the boasts you made over your wine that you would gladly fight Achilles in single combat if he ever stopped being a little bitch and joined the fight? He’s back.” “Why are you trying to goad me into a fight when I’m not really feeling it? I’ve faced him before, you know. I was there when he sacked Lyrnessus and Pedasus, and if Zeus had not given me the strength to flee, I’d be dead now. Athena was there with him, protecting him, and some god is always there, watching his back. Even if he didn’t have a godly guardian angel, he’s an incredibly deadly fighter, and he never fails to strike true with that awful spear of his. If I could face him in a fair fight, without any gods or magical help, he wouldn’t find me so easy to kill, I promise you that.” Basically, he was scared of Achilles now that there was actually a chance of having to fulfill his boasts, even with the courage of Apollo in him.
Apollo gave him a withering look. “Don’t be a coward, man. People say you’re the son of Aphrodite, who is Zeus’ daughter, and Achilles is the son of Thetis, who is only the daughter of that old man of the sea. You’ve got a better class of gods on your side, so you shouldn’t be afraid to face him like a man.” Apollo poured more courage into him, and Aeneas found he longed to go out to the front ranks and face the vaunted Achilles mano y mano. Hera watched this all unfold, then went to see Poseidon and Athena. “Check it. Apollo is pouring his power into Aeneas and sending him in full armor to battle our boy Achilles. Do we abandon him now, or is one of us going to stand beside him and give him our own power to match that of Apollo? Are we the real power in Olympus or not? We should take the fight to them. Personally.”
Poseidon shook his head. “Cool your jets a little, Hera. I don’t think it’s the best idea to make the other gods actually face us in battle. It wouldn’t be fair, since we’ve got such a huge advantage in numbers and power. Let’s stay nearby, on a hill where we can watch, and let the mortals slug it out. If we see Apollo trying to take a direct hand, we can force the issue then.” Without waiting for an answer, Poseidon went to the earthen barrow that Athena and the Trojans had built for Hercules back when he was being chased by a sea monster. The three gods took up station there, wrapped in a deep cloud of obscuring darkness.
Thus, the gods were arrayed against each other, opponents picked out, but no one was willing to cast the first spear. They stood motionless as the two mortal armies rushed together, the sound of their feet shaking the earth in a deep rumble. At the front of the two armies rode Achilles and Aeneas. As they closed, Aeneas was the first to break ranks and march out to meet in single combat. Achilles saw his boldness, helmet flashing defiance in the sun, and he smiled. He burned to spring upon someone important to Hector, and Aeneas would do just fine. He marched out to meet his challenger.
When they were close, Achilles taunted Aeneas. “Hey buddy, why are you out in front of your army to face me like this? Are you hoping to take over Troy as king? Come on, even if you miraculously manage to kill me, Priam’s not going to hand over his throne to you. He’s got his own kids to inherit the place. Maybe the Trojans offered you a nice piece of farmland if you kill me? That’s a bad deal for you, because I’m definitely going to kill you. Surely you haven’t forgotten the last time we met, when you ran like a scared little baby down the slopes of Mount Ida! You didn’t even stop to look behind you. Then you tried to hide out in Lyrnessus, but by the grace of Athena and Zeus, I sacked that city too and enslaved its women. You only escaped because other gods intervened to rescue you. You’re maybe hoping they’ll save you again, but they won’t. Get back into the army and hide from me, or I will kill you where you stand.”
Aeneas sneered. “You really think you can scare me with some tough talk, asshole? I’m not a frightened little kid, I’m a seasoned warrior. I can make outlandish boasts and sound arrogant as shit too, if I want, but it’s petty and unbecoming. I know who your parents are, and you know who mine are. One pair is going to be mourning the loss of a son today. Even though I said I don’t like to brag before a fight, I’m now going to go into a loooong aside about my lineage.” We’re going to skip that part, because it’s pretty meaningless to the story. “Anyway, that’s my whole lineage, but valor and honor are given by Zeus, not bloodlines. Now that I’ve talked your ear off, enough talk! We could throw enough taunts at each other to fill a huge ship, but it wouldn’t decide anything. You’re not going to scare me away from fighting, so draw your weapon!”
Before he finished speaking, Aeneas drove his spear at Achilles’ shield, which looked thin and light. Achilles was worried that Aeneas’ strike, which was powerful, would drive clean through the shield and kill him in that first exchange. He shouldn’t have doubted the work of the god of the forge, however. Thin and light though it was, it stopped the speartip cold. No mortal weapon would have an easy time piercing this divine work. The weapon sank into the shield and stuck there.
Without pausing to wonder at the incredible gift his mother had obtained for him, Achilles hurled his own massive spear at Aeneas. He caught the shield right at the edge, where the bronze is thinnest, and the ash weapon went clean through, ringing the shield like a gong as it struck. Aeneas was afraid of the ferocity of the blow and crouched down low behind the shield. It saved him, as the weapon drove all the way through and flew past him over his shoulder to stand quivering in the sand. He frozen like a rabbit that has seen the shadow of a hawk, terrified of this awful warrior he had bet his life against. Achilles took the opportunity to leap at Aeneas, sword drawn, his voice laced with death as he screamed his fury to the heavens. The scream shook Aeneas out of his torpor, and he seized a rock large enough that two normal men would be required to lift it.
Aeneas would have thrown his stone, hitting Achilles in the helmet or the shield, and Achilles would have shrugged off the blow to close with him and slice him open with his sword had not Poseidon said to his fellow gods “Sucks for Aeneas. He’s about to wake up in Hades. He was a fool to listen to Apollo, who’s not about to save him from his destruction now. It seems unfair that he has to die for someone else’s quarrel. You know what, I think we should save him from death (even though I’m on Achilles’ side of the war). It will make Zeus happy. I’m sure I can pretend it was his fate to be spared or something after. Maybe he can be king if Priam dies.” Hera gave him a look. “Do what you want, brother. As for me and Athena, we’ve sworn several times to never help the Trojans in this fight, not even if all of Troy is burning at the hand of the Greeks.”
Poseidon didn’t need any more permission than that. He immediately waded out into the thunder of battle and came to the clearing around Achilles and Aeneas. He threw a magical darkness over the eyes of Achilles so that he could pull the spear out of the sand in peace. He laid it at Achilles’ feet, lifted Aeneas overhead in the palm of one hand, and hurried away in the blink of an eye. He carried him that way over the heads of countless bands of warriors locked in life and death struggles to finally set him down at the very edge of the armies, where the Cauconians were arming for the fight. “Aeneas, what asshole of a god talked you into this stupidity? Achilles is a better fighter than you are, and better loved on Olympus to boot. If you meet him again, back off and let him go or you’ll find yourself waiting for Charon to ferry you across the Styx. If someone slays Achilles, then you can range about on the front of battle since no one else on the Greek side is good enough to kill you easily.”
With this admonishment, Poseidon left him and removed the darkness from Achilles’ eyes. He was…understandably upset. “What the actual fuck! My spear is lying on the ground in front of me, but I don’t see Aeneas’ corpse lying on the ground where it should be. Shit, he must be under the protection of heaven to have escaped me like that. I thought he was just trying to intimidate me, but apparently, he was serious. Fuck him. He’s not going to want to face me again, not after I came this close to murdering his ass. There are plenty of other Trojans to slaughter instead.”
He raced along the lines, encouraging his men. “Get in close, you bastards, and fight them man to man! As awesome as I am, I can’t be everywhere at once, so I need you all to be there for me. The fighting is so fierce, even Ares and Athena, immortal as they are, would think twice before jumping into it, but not me. I will break them, and woe betide any unfortunate son of a bitch who comes within range of my spear!” Hector, meanwhile, had called together his own men. “Don’t be afraid to face Achilles, men. I could fight the gods themselves if I only had to fight with words, but if it actually came to spears, I’d be fucked. So it is with Achilles: he talks a big game, but he can’t possibly back it up on the battlefield. He’ll bleed just fine once I stick a spear in him!”
With a cheer, his men charged into battle. Hector planned to be right behind them, but Apollo stopped him. “Hector, under no circumstances are you to fight Achilles in single combat. Keep an eye out from him and, if you see him coming, run the fuck away before he can drive his spear into your heart.” Hector was afraid at the god’s words, and stayed back behind the shield of his men. It didn’t help when he saw Achilles leap into the fray with inhuman grace to drop onto Iphition. With a powerful overhand blow, he drove his sword into the man’s skull, splitting his head in two and spilling his brains over those around him. His body flopped bonelessly to the ground and was crushed and ripped up by the wheels of the Greek chariots. “Your death has come, Iphition.” After that single moment of gloating, he leapt again to fall on Demoleon, son of Antenor. His spear point met the metal of his helmet and passed through with hardly any hesitation, driving deep into his temple and exploding out the other side in a fountain of gore. Pulling his spear back out, he spun in a single motion and sliced Hippodamas across the stomach as he was leaping down from his chariot, eviscerating him. He screamed in fear and pain as he watched his life spill to the ground in wet, grey ropes.
Even as Hippodamas was still screaming his final breath, Achilles found Priam’s youngest son Polydorus, who had been forbidden to fight as the baby of the family (and his father’s favorite son). He was working as a runner and had been on the front lines to show off his speed. As he tried to race passed, Achilles planted his spear in the boy’s back, right at the joint between two pieces of his armor, and he looked down in shock to see a spear tip jutting out of his belly, red with his own blood. He dropped to his knees, hands scrambling desperately, uselessly to try and keep his intestines inside him.
Hector saw his brother holding his own entrails in his hands, crying in fear and pain, begging his brother to help him, to save him. It was already too late. Something snapped in Hector. He couldn’t stay behind the front lines to save his own skin any more. Achilles had murdered his brother. That bastard needed to die. Red anger clouding his eyes, he plunged into the lines and emerging in front of the Greek hero. “ACHILLES! You murdered my beloved brother, you dick. I’m gonna kill you!” Achilles smiled, looking like an avatar of Ares. “Draw near so that you may meet your doom all the sooner!”
“Fuck you, Achilles. Your brave words don’t scare me. I can boast too, but I don’t see the point. You’re a much better fighter than I; we both know this, but it doesn’t matter. This fight is in the hands of fate, and my cause is worthy. I’ll see you breathe your last and beg for mercy.” He hurled his spear with his final taunt, but Athena blew on it. The spear missed Achilles entirely and, impossibly, circled back to land at Hector’s feet. “That…that can’t be a good sign.” Achilles ignored Hector and leapt at the Trojan prince, screaming his bloodlust and his fury, but Apollo grabbed Hector and pulled him aside. Three times, Achilles leapt with murder in his eyes, and three times Apollo blinded him and pulled Hector to safety. As he readied for a fourth charge, he screamed “Dog, you keep barely escaping your death, but you felt the brush of its wings as it passed, didn’t you! You must spend a lot of time on your knees in front of Apollo before battle for him to keep saving you like this, but I too have friends amongst the gods, and Apollo won’t always be here to save you. Your life is mine, Hector. Remember that as I slaughter your people.”
He turned from Hector and drove his spear through the neck of Dryops, ripped it back out and, before his blood had even hit the sand, shattered the knee of Demouchus, a giant of a man. The man stumbled as his knee simply gave out, unable to support his weight anymore, and then Achilles’ sword ripped him open from his belly button to his chest. Shock lingered on the huge man’s face as he died, but Achilles had already sprung on the brothers Laogonus and Dardanus, throwing one from their chariot with a thrown spear and the other with a savage strike of his sword. Seeing this unstoppable killing machine whirling through the army, Tros crawled to Achilles on his knees and grabbed Achilles’ legs in a desperate plea for mercy. Achilles drove his sword down the man’s throat as he begged, blasting his liver out of his side and soaking his chest in dark blood.
Achilles ripped his sword back out and turned on Mulius. Trading sword for spear, he stabbed the man in the ear, through his brain, and out the other ear. Leaving the spear there for the moment, he drew his sword and sliced Echeclus across the eyes, blinding him and covering his face in a mask of blood and gore. He seized his spear from the corpse he’d left it in and twisted it back out only to drive it through the forearm of Deucalion snapping the sinews. His arm flopped uselessly beside him and he watched his own death come for him in slow motion as Achilles took his head off with a single blow, flinging the head, still seated in its helmet, out into the crowd dripping marrow from his severed spine. The severed head hadn’t yet rolled to a stop before Achilles was chasing Rhigmus of Thrace, transfixing him with a spear through the belly as he rode passed. The man toppled from his chariot, spooking the horses. As the charioteer tried to get them under control to flee, Achilles dragged him from the chariot and drove his spear deep into the boy. His death spasms drove the horses mad with fear.
The Greek hero is a living death, terrible to behold. He drives the Trojan army in a sea of blood to the ford of the river Scamander Xanthos (the home to the minor river god of the same name I mentioned earlier). He drove half the army over the plains towards Ilus, the panicked soldiers fleeing along the same route the Greeks had used the day before when running headlong from a seemingly unstoppable Hector. Hera sent a thick fog to confuse them and keep them isolated from the other half of the army, who were trapped against the banks of the swift-flowing river. More afraid of Achilles than the water, they dove into the river and struggled to swim through the swift current in their heavy armor. They ran from Achilles’ fury like locust before a blazing wildfire.
Seeing this, the hero left his spear leaning against a bush on the bank and waded out into the water with only his sword. As the panicked men tried to flee, he cut them down one after another. His blows rained down on the unprotected bodies of the fleeing men, and their blood turned the river red with their deaths. Achilles sword arm grew weary with killing blow after killing blow after killing blow, so he drew twelve youths out of the water alive. Dragging them onto the bank, he bound their hands with strips of their own shirts and gave them to his men to take back to the ships to sacrifice in revenge for the death of Patroclus. Several soldiers led the line of dazed, weeping boys to be slaughtered like sheep, and Achilles leapt back into the bloody water.
He came first upon Lycaon, a son of Priam, as he was escaping out of the water. He had once taken the young man prisoner while he was in his father’s vineyard cutting shoots from a wild fig tree to make the wicker sides of a chariot. He had sold the man as a slave and shipped him by sea to Lemnos, where he had been bought for a huge sum. He had been sent to Arisbe, but escaped and returned home to his father’s house. For eleven days after arriving in Lemnos, he lived happily, but on the twelfth, he found himself unarmed in front of Achilles yet again. He had thrown down his weapons and armor in his desperation to flee the battle. “What do we have here, hm? If you can come back from Lemnos after being sold there, maybe I’m going to have dead soldiers escaping from Hades to come and plague me again. I guess the only way to be sure is to let him taste my spear and see if the bosom of the earth can indeed hold him.”
While he was pondering, Lycaon came up to him dazed and trying to grab him by his knees to beg for his life. Achilles tried to stab him, but the spear passed over his back as he clung to Achilles’ legs. “Achilles, have mercy! You sold me for one hundred oxen, and I paid three times that to buy my freedom. I’ve only been back for twelve days, man! Zeus must hate me to deliver me into your hands a second time. You slew both of my brothers already. I beg you to spare me. I’m just a bastard, so Hector and I don’t have the same mother! Don’t punish me for his sins, I beg you!”
“Idiot. I don’t want to hear about ransoms. Before my dear Patroclus was brutally murdered, I preferred to give you assholes quarter, taking many of you alive and selling you as slaves. Never again. Anyone unlucky enough to stand before my blade shall fall before it, and that goes double for the sons of Priam, bastard or otherwise. Therefore, my friend, you too must die. Why snivel and whine about it? I know that my own death is waiting out there somewhere, on the point of a spear or the tip of an arrow, but why cry about it. Face your death like a man!” Lycaon’s bowels turned to water with fear and he collapsed face down in the dirt. Achilles, true to his bloody word, took his sword in both hands and drove it through the groveling man’s neck and into the dirt, pinning him to the earth as he spasmed and burbled his life into the muck.
Achilles grabbed the dying man by the ankle and threw him into the river to drown for extra suffering. “Lie there now, and sleep with the little fishes, who will lick the blood from your wounds. Your mother will not have your body to burn and mourn. Your body will float to the sea, and the fish will eat the rotting meat from your bones. You and all your friends will pay in full for snuffing out Patroclus and for the havoc you wrought amongst my friends while I was sulking and nursing my anger.”
The river god, sticky with the blood clogging his beloved river, grew angrier and angrier. He wondered how he could end Achilles and save the Trojans from disaster. As he thought, Achilles sprang upon Asteropaeus, the grandson of the river god Axius. He was one of the few Trojans to stand and face Achilles with weapons in his hands, and Xanthus filled him with courage in vengeance for the corpses clogging his water. “Who dares to face me? I feel sorry for your parents. They’re about to lose a son.” “It’s weird that you want to know my lineage, but what the hell. I’m the grandson of the river Axius, fairest of all the rivers that run, and I’ve only been here for eleven days. Enough chit chat. Let’s fight, Achilles.”
Achilles shrugged and raised his spear. Asteropaeus was ambidextrous, so he threw a spear with either hand. One embedded itself in the magical shield of Hephaestus, but the other grazed Achilles’ elbow, drawing blood. Achilles, his bloodlust up, hurled his own spear but overshot. The weapon flew passed and embedded itself in the riverbank halfway up its length. The Trojan soldier tried to draw Achilles’ spear out of the earth, but it was embedded too deeply. Achilles didn’t bother. He drew his sword and struck him down as the man tugged uselessly at the only weapon available. His sword ripped through the man’s back and sliced open his bowels, which piled around the spear that had eluded him. As he lay there gasping, Achilles took off his armor as spoils. “Lie there, you poor deluded demigodling. You never had a chance facing an actual son of a real god. You come from a trickle of water, I come from the line of the storm god.”
Leaving the dead bastard prince on the sand, Achilles drew his spear easily out of the riverbank. Hefting the ash rod in his hands, he turned and stalked back into the river after the dead man’s troops. In rapid succession, he slaughters seven relatively unimportant characters and was still thirsting for more blood. Before he could hunt down another, the river swelled up in front of him until a human form made from flowing water stood on the surface of the river, near the center where the water was deepest. “You’re as big a bastard as you are deadly a fighter, Achilles, and yet the gods still seem to protect you. If Zeus is hellbent on letting you slay every last Trojan, at least drive them out of my waters and do your foul deeds on dry land. My waters are choked with corpses, dammed up with the damned, and still you go on slaying one after another, merciless. I beg you, dread captain, trouble my shores no longer.”
“Fine, Scamander Xanthus. I won’t kill them in your river anymore, but I’m still going to kill them. I won’t stop until I have driven them back into their city and faced Hector one on one, no gods.” He turned without another word and went back to slaughtering the Trojans. The river god meanwhile went to see Apollo. “It sure doesn’t look like you’re obeying Zeus’ command to stand by the Trojans and defend them until twilight fades and night falls over the earth.” Achilles sprang from the bank towards midstream, but the river raised a huge wave directly in his path. It crashed into him, beating him like a club. The rushing water turned to a torrent and drove the bodies of the dead downstream, then cast them onto the earth with a roar. The living were protected in eddies and whirlpools while the massive, living wave continued to batter at Achilles’ shield so that he couldn’t keep his feet.
He was swept away in the raging water, but caught hold of a great elm tree. The angry god tore the tree up by the roots in an effort to dislodge and destroy him. Unfortunately, the great tree turned in the water and, being massive, caught on both banks. The dying tree provided a temporary dam across the river, giving Achilles a respite and allowing him to find his feet again and struggle out of the stream. He was nobody’s fool, so he ran the fuck away from the sentient river. He was afraid of no man, but he couldn’t do shit to hurt a river god. He was done with that awful river.
Unfortunately, the river wasn’t yet done with him. Enraged that Achilles had told him he’d cut it out and then almost immediately killed more men in the river, the god raised another monstrous wave and drove it across the plains to the fleeing Achilles. Achilles race away from the impossible wave, but even his inhuman speed wasn’t enough to outrace the water. The roar of the water was right on his heels, and any time he tried to stop and stand his ground, maybe ask for help from another god against this particularly vengeful deity, the wave would batter at him and force him to flee once more. He couldn’t run forever, though. He was tiring, and the greedy water kept getting ahead of him and turning the soil to a thick mud, which sucked at his every step.
“Father Zeus, is there no god who will take pity on me and save me from this terrible river? I don’t even care anymore what happens to me after this. I don’t blame any of you for this, I blame my mother! She tricked me, made me think my biggest worry was to die beneath the rain of arrows from the walls of tall Troy. I would much rather have died at Hector’s hand, the best of the Trojans, in honorable combat to die a hero. Instead, it looks like I’m going to meet a wretched, ignominious end drowned in a flood like some stupid shepherd trying to cross the river in a storm!”
Immediately, Poseidon and Athena came to him in the form of two men who took him by the hands. Poseidon spoke first. “Achilles, be not afraid. We two are gods, come with Zeus’ blessing to aid you. It is not your fate to perish in the river. You are far from his source of power, and his strength will soon abate. In addition, we strongly advise you to keep fighting and not cease until you have trapped the Trojan host behind their great walls. Those you don’t manage to kill, anyway. Fight and kill Hector. We’ll make sure you get a clean fight.” They vanished with a whisper and went back to the other gods.
His heart lightened by this meeting, he continued towards the plain. Everything was covered in a waist-high layer of water, strewn with the bodies and armor of those Achilles had slain. The current tried to drive him back towards the river, and the angry god, but Achilles forced his way against it easily (empowered by Athena). Scamander Xanthus wasn’t ready to give up yet, though. He called out to his brother Simois “Hey bro! Help me stop this asshole before he sacks the city! Fill your streams with your powerful waters, raise up your waves, drag up rocks and sticks and bring them thundering down on Achilles’ head. He acts like one of the fucking gods! We’ll steal the breath from his body and bury his body beneath the waves, wrapped in the sandy banks to be lost forever and never found by the Greek army.”
They raised up a new flood against him, seething and frothing with foam, blood, and dead bodies. The waters surged into a dark wave, trembling and ready to crash down on Achilles, but Hera, afraid that Achilles would be swept away in the dark fury of the surging water, called out “Lame-foot! My son, I need your help. Kindle a fire, and I will bring up the west and south winds into a mighty hurricane. The winds will whip up the flames and create a flaming whirlwind to boil the upstart river gods (and any Trojans in the way to boot). Don’t let up with your flames until I give the word.”
Hephaestus stoked his flames into a fierce fire and unleashed it on the plain. The dead littering the earth were scorched to ash, and steam rose from the soil as the river’s floodwater was flash boiled. The scene of Achilles’ massacre and subsequent banishment by the river god was burned and swept away, leaving the earth clean and dry. Well, clean-ish. Then, Hephaestus turned his holy flamethrower on the river itself. The reeds and the willows along the riverbank withered and burned. The fish and eels in the water fled the heat. Xanthus quickly surrendered, his liquid body boiling and steaming. “Hephaestus, you win. I can’t hold my own against your deadly flames. I didn’t even really care about this stupid war anyway. I just wanted Achilles to stop fighting in my beautiful river.”
Hephaestus refused to relent. The fires poured down hotter than ever, and Xanthus stopped flowing. He cowered at the bottom of the riverbank with as much of his water as he could keep around him to try and protect himself. He prayed to Hera instead. “Queen of the gods, why have you sent your son to destroy me? I’ve barely participated in this war. Hell, I was just protecting myself. I’ll happily promise to never help the Trojans against the Greeks again if you just stop this.” Hera heard his plea. “My son, you can stop now. We should probably not try to murder each other in front of the mortals.” Hephaestus let the fire dwindle, and Xanthus went back to his riverbank to lick his wounds.
The rest of the gods didn’t exactly share Hera’s sentiment. Ares threw the first punch. Shocker, right? Drawing his sword, he leapt at Athena, who he considered his only worthy opponent. “Well, bitch, have you again turned on your fellow gods? Even though I’m the one attacking you, I’m going to blame you for my actions because I’m the original manbaby. Have your forgotten how you sent Diomedes after me and gave him the strength to try and hurt me? Or how you stabbed me with a fucking spear? Let’s not dwell on what I was doing at the time that might have made me a legitimate military target, because that’s how gaslighting works. I’ll kill you for embarrassing me, you whore!”
He screamed all this as he charged, and brought his sword down in a double-handed strike. She caught the blow on her terrible tasseled shield, so powerful that not even Zeus’ thunderbolts could pierce it. Shrugging it off, she grabbed a great black boulder from the plain that had been used as a field boundary and smashed it into Ares’ neck. Gasping, he dropped to the ground. Hard. His armor rattled around him, stained with dust. Athena laughed at her brother. “You idiot. Haven’t you figured out that I’m way stronger than you yet? You can’t beat me, you dick. Girls fucking rule! You mother is pissed at you for deserting her and the Greeks for these piece of shit Trojans.”
Leaving the broken god of war to gasp and writhe in pain, she turned her eyes to her next target. While she was distracted, Aphrodite snuck in to save Ares. She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him away, moaning the whole time. Hera saw the sex goddess struggling to drag a mostly stunned Ares off the battlefield. “Athena, look. That vixen Aphrodite is trying to rescue Ares. I think you should teach her a lesson about interfering in matters of war and death.” Athena dropped back to earth and landed on a surprised Aphrodite with one hell of a flying palm strike. She wasn’t much of a fighter, and she too went down after a single blow and collapsed next to the god she’d been trying to save. Athena laughed. “If all of the Trojan defenders were as weak and breakable as these two glass-jawed idiots, we’d have won the war years ago.”
On another part of the plain, Poseidon taunted Apollo. “Hey golden boy, why are you staying so far away from me? Others have already begun fighting, and you’re still circling me like a frightened kitten. It would be embarrassing if we went back to Olympus without even fighting each other. You’re the younger of the two of us, so you should get the first shot. I’m wiser and deadlier. It wouldn’t be fair. I mean, you seem to have completely forgotten how we labored together for a solid year to build the walls of Troy for Laomedon. Or how, when it came time for him to pay up, he berated and abused us and sent us away empty handed. He tried to cut off our ears! Us! We’re fucking gods, man! He even threatened to tie our asses up and sell us as slaves. Why are you protecting his people?”
“Lord of the earthquake, you wouldn’t respect me if I were to start a fight with you over some measly mortals, who come out like leaves in the summer, eat the fruit of the fields, and then drop dead. We should let them settle it themselves.” He turned away, unwilling to attack his uncle. His sister Artemis wasn’t so understanding. “You cowardly shithead! You would run away from Poseidon and let him win a cheap victory? He’s in your head, man. Are you a baby or a god? You’ve got a bow. Use it! Or else I don’t ever want to hear you brag about how you could totally kick Poseidon’s ass (as you have so often done for some reason).” Apollo ignored her and continued walking. Hera heard this exchange and came to Apollo’s defense. “Shut up, you hussy! You would dare to cross me this way? Apollo is making a smart move. You would do well to follow suit. You’re good with a bow, sure, but I’ll kick your ass all the way home just the same. Zeus may have let you go as a lion among women, killing whenever you feel like it, but you’re used to hunting stupid animals. If you try to fight your fellow gods, you’ll find out just how overmatched you are!”
Artemis took one angry step towards Hera, but Hera was much, much faster. With her left hand, she grabbed both of Artemis’ wrists. With her right, she snatched her bow from her shoulders and used it as a club to beat her about the head and shoulders. Hera laughed as Artemis screamed and struggled in her iron grip, unable to escape or defend herself. Her quiver was knocked off her hip, and her arrows spilled on the ground. Finally, bruised and battered, Hera let her go. With a final derisive swat on the ass, Hera sent Artemis off into her forests, weeping and humiliated. She left her weapons lying there, scattered on the ground.
Hermes put his hands up carefully. “Leto, I don’t think I’m going to fight you. I don’t think Zeus would appreciate me beating on one of his wives (in this version, Zeus has multiple wives, just roll with it). If you want to tell everyone you kicked my ass, fine. This shit ain’t worth it.” He walked away, and Leto gathered up Artemis’ forgotten weapons, then chased after her daughter, who had already reached Zeus’ manson in Olympus. Leto walked in to find her daughter collapsed on the floor and weeping on her father’s knees. Zeus, ever one to read a room, laughed pleasantly. “Which heavenly being has been a meany-head, my daughter?” “It was your wife, Hera. She beat the shit out of me, daddy! You should have known that. Any time someone has been meddling with the mortals and causing mischief, it’s always her.”
While this weird domestic scene was playing out, Apollo made his way to the city of Troy. He was worried about the walls holding in the face of this renewed assault. The rest of the gods, their fights ended for the day, went back to Olympus while Achilles was still dancing death amongst the Trojan army. Old King Priam stood on a high tower to watch his soldiers fleeing in terror from Achilles, who ranged wherever he liked. No one could seem to stand up to him. Depressed and despairing, he left the tower to give orders to the city guards. “Keep the gates open until our men return to the city. Achilles is slaughtering us, and they are in full retreat. We’re in deep shit. As soon as everyone is inside, shut those goddamned gates. If Achilles gets in here, we’re doomed.”
The Greeks might have taken the gates then and there if Apollo hadn’t spurred on Agenor, son of Antenor. He gave him strength and courage, and then he covered him in a magical darkness to protect him. He saw Achilles coming and nearly wet himself. “If I run away from Achilles, he’ll probably still catch me and kill me while I run away like a coward. Maybe I can let him drive our army passed me and then slip away behind him. I could run to the roots of Mount Ida and hide in the forest there. Why am I talking to myself, though? (That’s an actual quote). He’d probably see me when I tried to sneak away and kill me. Honestly, going out and fighting him in front of the city gates is probably my best bet. He’s still mortal, so I might get lucky. If nothing else, I can at least let everyone see me go down like a hero.”
He decided (with prompting from Apollo, even if he didn’t know it) to stay there and fight Achilles when he approached the wall to give the army time to get inside. “Achilles, you think that this is the day that you sack our city, but you won’t get in as long as people like me can stand here and defend it. Here, you will meet your doom.”
Achilles was racing towards the city gates, completely ignoring Agenor (who he couldn’t see thanks to Apollo’s meddling). He aimed carefully, then hurled his spear. It flew from his hand and caught Achilles in the leg, right in the new greaves Hephaestus had made. The god of the forge knew his work, and the spear bounced harmlessly off. Achilles, naturally, turned smoothly and leapt for Agenor, but Apollo meddled again. He snatched up Agenor and sent him away from the battle in a golden mist. Then he shapeshifted into Agenor’s form and drew Achilles away from the Trojan host. Achilles didn’t know he was chasing a god instead of the mortal man who had attacked him, so he kept thinking he was seconds away from overtaking Agenor who, naturally, managed to stay just out of reach. It was almost like magic.
While he was distracted, the rabble of routed Trojans were able to stream into the city gates without being murdered by Achilles. Everyone who could still run raced into the city. The gasped in exhaustion and gulped water desperately. Outside, the Greek army gathered around the city walls. They should have closed the gates and prepared for a siege, but Hector wasn’t ready to give up yet. He stood before the gates of the city as it’s lone defender. Apollo figured this was the perfect time to taunt Achilles. “Why are you chasing a god, mortal? What would you do if you caught me? Or didn’t you realize it was me you were chasing? You idiot, you could have been harassing the Trojans and keeping them trapped outside the walls, but by now, they’re all safely inside and out of the reach of your spear. You’ve got no one left you can kill. I’m immortal, asshole.”
Achilles was enraged. “You tricked me, you malicious son of a bitch! You robbed me of my great glory and saved the Trojans at absolutely no risk to yourself. Does that make you feel like a big man? If it were at all possible to kill you, I would. Dick.” He turned, still fuming, and raced back towards the city. King Priam, back on his high tower, saw him coming. Achilles raced across the plains, shining in the sun like the star known as Orion’s Hound, which blazes in the fall more brilliantly than any other star but is a dread omen of fire and fever for mortals. Priam also saw his son and heir Hector standing before the city gates. Standing directly in Achilles’ path. Oh shit. He screamed a warning at his son, begging him to come inside, but Hector either didn’t hear him or ignored him. It was time. He would run no more. Achilles and Hector were about to throw down.
The royal rumble is about to begin, but right 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 monsters are the Graeae, the sisters of fate. The name Graeae translates roughly to “grey women” or maybe “grey witches”. They were also known as the Grey Sisters or the Phorcides, which means daughters of Phorcys, although their other sisters, the Gorgons, are far more famous. They were, no surprise, daughters of the sea deities Phorcys and Ceto, named Deino (the terrible), Enyo (the warlike), and Pemphredo (the destroyer). They were a matched set, by which I mean they all had the same eye and tooth. Yes, I meant for both of those to be singular, and yes, I meant shared in the literal sense.
The three sisters had been born as old women, grey-haired from birth, with a single detachable tooth and a single detachable eye between them, which they shared. On the one hand, it sucks to be old literally your entire life. On the other, they never aged, so they could live forever. Some stories describe them as beautiful (though still sharing a single eye), and others as half-swans, but most agree that they were ancient women who lived in a putrid swamp. They were goddesses of old age, and the wisdom that age can bring, which was all sunk into their shared eye. Whomever wore the eye could access incredible knowledge. They only appear in one myth, but it’s a good one. They are part of the story of Perseus, which we haven’t covered yet (but we will). I won’t get into the backstory, because we’ll have that another day, but suffice it to say that Perseus needed information that only they had in his quest to kill their sisters, the Gorgons.
They weren’t exactly excited to give up the dirt on their sisters, estranged though they were, so Perseus resorted to the Greeks’ favorite option: trickery. He managed to sneak up between them while they were passing the eye around and snatch it while all three were blind. He threatened to throw it into the swamp unless they told him what he needed to know. They caved, terrified of losing all sight and wisdom forever, and Perseus continued on to more adventures. The stories don’t say what happened to the Graeae after he left, but they definitely didn’t warn their sisters. There must have been some real sibling rivalry there.
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, it’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for (no, not the horse). Achilles and Hector are finally going to duke it out, one on one. You’ll see that you should always listen to your parents, that Athena is a tricksy bitch, and that even ghosts can be catty. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet the sexy, seductive woman of your nightmares (and of your kid’s nightmares). That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.