Episode 26M – The Final Showdown – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 26M Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, it’s time to cue up The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly because we’re gonna have an old-fashioned showdown. You’ll learn that Hector should have taken a page out of Forrest Gump’s book, that not even death can keep your friends from busting your balls, and that steel testicles are only the second-worst vehicle ornament. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s a beautiful, eyeless snake witch who might just drag you to hell. 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 26M, “The Final Showdown”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
Before we start, I just wanted to take a moment to remind everyone that I’m going to be at the Atlanta Comic Con this weekend. I’ll be hosting a panel on Mythology in Popular Culture on Sunday at 10am. Details can be found on the Comic Con app or in the news section of our website, myths your teacher hated dot com. We also have some sweet new merch available on Redbubble.com (including the rad shirt I’ll be wearing for the panel). If you show up on Sunday, I’ll have some stickers to give out. Hope to see you all there!
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 we 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. Pretty much single-handedly, Achilles begins to rout and devastate the Trojan army. Aeneas, powered by Apollo, is the only Trojan willing to stand against his unrelenting assault. They fight before the gates of Troy and Aeneas gets his ass whooped, but is saved by the surprising intervention of Poseidon. Hector taunts Achilles and nearly gets killed for it, but Apollo saves him yet again. Denied his preferred target, Achilles drives through the army and traps half of it on the wrong side of the river, then rampages through the terrified soldiers, filling the water with corpses. The river god gets pissed and fights Achilles himself, who has to outrun a magical tidal wave chasing him across the field. Hephaestus enters the fray and uses the fires of his forge to beat back the river and spare Achilles. The gods themselves then begin to fight one another, and Athena proves she’s a better fighter than the god of war and leaves her brother writhing and weeping on the ground. Achilles chases the remains of the army towards the city gates and is only prevented from getting inside by a disguised Apollo, who leads him on a merry chase. He races back towards the city like an apocalyptic comet set to fall on doomed Troy. King Priam sees him coming and calls out a warning, but is ignored.
Hector either didn’t hear or chose to ignore his father’s pleas for him to come inside the city gates before Achilles could arrive. He was tired of running. Priam tried again. “Hector, my son, do not face this man alone and unaided or he will surely kill you! You know he’s more dangerous than you, there’s no shame in that! I wish the gods hated that monster as much as I do. If they did, he’d be dead already and so many of my sons wouldn’t have fallen to his accursed spears. If you won’t do it for you, do it for me! I am old, and can’t bear to bury more of my children.” He tore his hair in anguish as he spoke, but Hector was unmoved. His weeping mother tried to reach him as well. “Hector, my dear son, please do not spurn us. If I have ever given you comfort as a child, come inside and protect us from this monster from atop the walls. If this dog kills you, your wife and I will weep over your bier for the rest of our lives!”
Hector didn’t even twitch. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the growing form of Achilles racing towards him. “If I go inside the gates,” he said to himself, “Polydamas will be the first to yell at me since he warned me to lead the Trojans back to the city last night. I wouldn’t listen, but I was clearly wrong. My arrogance got my men killed and I can’t dare to go inside and look these men and women in the eyes and have them whisper ‘Hector has lost his will to fight.’ If I can fight and kill Achilles, this boogeyman who haunts our nightmares, then I can return with my head held high. On the other hand, what if I went to talk to Achilles, and offer to return Helen and all the treasure that Paris brought with him from Sparta, and to let the Greeks divide up half of all of our treasure for themselves?” He sighed and shook his head. “This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t argue with myself like this. If I try to approach Achilles to talk, he’ll strike me down where I stand. He doesn’t know the meaning of mercy. No, it’s better to start out trying to kill him, because he’ll surely try to kill me.”
He readied himself for the charge. Achilles raced towards him, and now he could see him burning in the sun like a vision of Ares himself, massive spear poised on one shoulder. Hector was afraid. He had meant to stand and fight, but his bowels turned to water. It was too late to get inside the city now, so he turned and fled his enemy. He raced along the wall, and Achilles pursued passed the sentry post and passed a grove of fig trees until they came to two springs. One was a hot spring, with steam rising from it like smoke from a burning fire; the other was ice cold, no matter the season. Hector leapt over these, literally running for his life, and Achilles followed.
All of the gods watched this deadly race, and Zeus felt unhappy about it. “Alas, my eyes behold a human that I care for being chased around the walls of Troy. I pity the poor man, who has always offered good sacrifices to me. What say all of you? Discuss amongst yourselves and tell me: should we save Hector from Achilles?” Athena spoke up immediately. “Father, are you fucking serious? Are you going to try and stop fate? This fight has long been meant to happen. You can stop it if you want, but the rest of us will not back you.” “Athena, honey, I wasn’t being completely serious. I know that fate cannot be turned aside. Do as you will.”
Athena immediately raced down from Olympus to the fight. Hector was still fleeing, but Achilles, tired as he was from all of his fighting and running, was slowly gaining. Every time that Hector tried to make for a gate, to a place where his people could rain down weapons from the walls and help him, Achilles would head him off, keeping between Hector and the city and forcing him back to the plain. Hector could possibly have outrun the Greek hero if Apollo hadn’t abandoned him and stopped feeding him the strength he needed to stay in front of Achilles. As he slowed, Achilles waved off the Greek army. He didn’t want anyone else claiming the prince’s life; Hector was his.
As they were nearing the fountains for the fourth time, Apollo left him to his fate and Athena took his place. She whispered in Achilles’ ear “Apollo is being forced to stop helping Hector. Now’s your chance. Stay here and catch your breath, and I will go talk to Hector and convince him to stop running and fight.” Achilles was all too happy to slow down. He’d been going full-throttle for a while now and was exhausted. He gratefully stopped and leaned against his ashen spear.
Athena went on to see Hector in the guise of Deiphobus, Hector’s brother. “Heya bro! You’re having kind of a rough time with Achilles I see. He’s been chasing your full tilt around our father’s city. Maybe we should stand here and fight him instead.” “Little Deiphobus, you’ve always been my favorite brother and you’re somehow becoming even more my favorite now. You’re the only one brave enough to wander out of the city to see me. Everyone else is cowering inside the walls.”
“Well, broseph, mom and dad begged me on their knees to stay inside, as did all of our comrades in arms; they’re all terrified of the dread soldier Achilles lurking outside the walls. I was in such agony watching you run, though, that I just couldn’t. I’m here, my brother. I say we stand together, you and I, and make a fight of it. How about it?” It was a cheap move, since Hector wouldn’t actually have his brother’s support, but Athena is wise and cunning, not nice. Nice doesn’t win the war.
Hector turned around and started walking back towards Achilles. Achilles continued to slouch against his spear, waiting. Hector spoke first. “I will run no longer, son of Peleus. We’ve raced around the city walls three times now, and I haven’t dared to stand and fight, but no more. This is Thunderdome, bitch! Two men enter, one man leaves. Let’s swear by the gods that the winner won’t defile the loser’s body. He can strip the body of its armor, but return it whole and unmutilated to his family. Agreed?”
“Fuck your deal. The wolf doesn’t make deals with the lamb. There is only hate. I promise you nothing, except that before this is over, one of us will fall and give our life’s blood as a sacrifice to Ares.” He drew his spear out of the ground, and made a speech straight out of an overblown anime (looking at you, Dragonball Z). “Fight with all your strength. If you want to live, you must prove yourself to be a true warrior. Not that you have a chance against me. Athena guides my spear, and you will soon pay for all the grief you have caused me and mine. You will pay for Patroclus.”
If this really were an anime, they’d both grunt at each other for several more episodes, but this is a Greek epic, so Achilles hurled his spear at Hector as soon as he finished speaking. Hector, having seen this trick more than once, ducked as soon as Achilles moved. The spear flew over his head, ruffling his hair with its passing. It stuck quivering in the ground, and Athena snatched it up and gave it back to Achilles without being seen by Hector, so as far as the Trojan prince was concerned, it just magically returned to his hand. Still, he wasn’t dismayed. There was a peace in finally facing his greatest foe. “You missed, dick. You were a lying son of a bitch when you boasted that I would turn tail and run from you like a chicken. You won’t have the pleasure of spearing me in the back as I run away. No, you’ll have to avoid my spear aiming for your black heart. Without you, my people will easily win this war. Die, motherfucker.”
He hurled his own spear at Achilles with his final words. His spear flew straight at Achilles heart, but he got his shield in the way easily. The bronze tip didn’t even pierce the first layer of the shield, but bounced off instead. It was embarrassing. Seeing that his throw had been worthless, he held out his hand for a second spear, confident that his brother Deiphobus would hand him another. His hand remained empty. He turned to look, and no one was standing where his brother should be. “Where did you go, my brother? We agreed to make this stand together and you…you were a disguised god weren’t you? Gods dammit! You lured me into this fight with a cheap fucking trick, Athena! You know what? Fuck you gods, all of you! I’ve got fight yet left in me! They’ll tell stories about this day for centuries after!”
With no spear left to throw, he drew his long, keen sword and sprang at Achilles in a mighty, two-handed leaping slash. Achilles, completely lost in rage and bloodlust, doesn’t dodge. Instead, he rushes towards the strike, shield lifted with one hand, spear readied in the other. Time seemed to slow as Hector leapt, and Achilles scoured his airborne form looking for a weak point to stab his foe. Unfortunately, Hector was wearing the incredible armor he had looted from Patroclus, borrowed from Achilles himself, and while it wasn’t as nice as the set he had now, it was still incredibly well made. He was covered head to toe in protection, leaving no opening for…wait. There. A small gap at the top of the breastplate, where the collar bone joins the throat, where the helmet and the armor didn’t seat exactly right on Hector. Still protected by his shield, he rammed his spear at the tiny opening he saw.
As we have seen, Achilles more than earned his reputation as the deadliest fighter in the Trojan war. He earned it again here, driving the tip of his spear into the tiny gap on a moving target and ramming it home. The spear ripped through Hector’s neck, severing his jugular vein in a spray of arterial blood, but left his vocal chords intact. Hector’s eyes widened, and all strength left his body. He hit the ground bonelessly, flopping facedown in mud made from his own blood. He scrambled weakly, trying to turn over, to stem the blood, as Achilles stalked towards him.
Achilles smirked at his fallen enemy. “So, mighty Hector, you thought you could murder my friend and steal my armor with no consequences since I wasn’t there with Patroclus when you killed him. You were a fool. Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you? That I wouldn’t avenge him? His body has been waiting in state at my ships, and now that he is avenged, I will have his body burned with all rights and honors due him. You, however, will be food for dogs and vultures. Your corpse will rot in the sun, and your family will never have the comfort of burning you. You are an honorless dog, and you’ll die like one.”
The world was growing dim for Hector. He knew he was headed for Hades this day. He flipped himself over onto his back, gasping weakly. “I beg you, Achilles, by your life and by the love of your parents, don’t feed me to the dogs. My mother and father will offer you a rich ransom for my body. Please, fellow warrior, please let my wife and my friends give my body to the fire when I die.” Achilles spat in the mud. “Don’t waste your breath, dog. I wish I could cut you up into tiny, raw, bloody pieces and eat you myself. You have wounded me and insulted me in a way that I cannot forgive (as we’ve already seen, I can really hold a grudge). I don’t care how much gold they bring. I don’t care if they offer twenty times what you’re worth! Your mother will never wash your wounds. Your father will never close your eyes. Your wife will never weep over your body. You will be food for the dogs.”
Hector closed his eyes, too weary to go on. This was it. With his last breath, he cursed his killer. “I know what you are. Only a prick would abandon his people like you did, and only a bastard would do all that you have done. I didn’t really expect to convince you to be a decent human being, but I had to try. So be it, asshole. Take care that I don’t bring down the wrath of heaven on you. Apollo! Help my brother Paris to slay this fucker at the Scaean gates! May he never enter Troy!” With a final, rattling gasp, Hector, prince of Troy, died.
Achilles looked down on the corpse, now beginning to cool since Hector’s shade had gone down to the underworld. “Die. For my part, I will accept whatever fate I have to for the joy I now have of seeing you lying here, dead by my hand.” He pulled his spear out of the corpse and set it to one side, then stripped the bloodstained armor off the corpse. The Greek army came running up to cheer this incredible feat of strength and skill. Hector had been the backbone of the Trojan army; without him, The Trojans were doomed. As they celebrated, everyone kicked or stabbed the corpse to mock his death. “He’s a lot easier to handle than he was when he nearly set fire to our ships, isn’t he!”
Once the armor was off, and everyone had taken a turn at mutilating the body, Achilles turned to address the Greek army. “My friends and fellow soldiers: now that Olympus has stopped protecting the prince of Troy, he is dead. Their greatest champion is dead! With that in mind, shouldn’t we attack the city? With the loss of their prince and greatest fighter, maybe they’ll just abandon the city if we attack, and this whole damned war can be over! Either way, I’m tired of hearing myself talk. Patroclus still lies at the ships, unburned and unmourned. It is said that men forget their friends when they go to Hades, but even there, I will not forget my dear Patroclus. For now, let us raise a song of victory and head back to the ships with the bloody corpse of our fallen foe. We have achieved a mighty victory here (and by we, I mean me) and have slain noble Hector, who the Trojans used to pray to lie a god.”
Now, Achilles wasn’t content to just throw Hector’s body in a cart like a piece of luggage. No, he really wanted to drive home the humiliation of defeat. He had centered all his rage at himself for abandoning the Greeks and getting Patroclus killed on Hector (who deserved some of it for actually killing and taunting Patroclus, to be fair). Achilles slit open Hector’s feet from heel to ankle and threaded leather thongs through the holes. He tied the other ends to the back of his chariot so he would drag upside down in the dust and the shit from his horses. Achilles whipped the horses and rode out in front of the city so that everyone could see what had become of their hero.
Up on the walls, the city was watching. The King and Queen wept uncontrollably as their son’s body was dishonored this way. Old though he was, King Priam had to be restrained to keep him from charging out of the city gates to go retrieve his son. “Let me go! Let me go! If none of you are willing to come with me, I’ll go alone to the Greek ships and beg this cold, cruel man to have some pity on my old age. His father, Peleus, is more or less my age. Maybe the resemblance will strike some sympathy in him. He has slain so many of my sons in the flower of youth, but I grieve for Hector more than for all the others. My sorrow might literally kill me.”
He collapsed into the arms of the Trojans holding him back and wept. Hecuba raised a wailing cry. “My son, what do I have left to live for now that you are dead? You were our greatest glory, our shining star! You were a tower of strength for the whole city, and the people hailed you as a god. Now our pride is as ash in our mouths.”
There’s one person we haven’t mentioned yet, and that’s because she didn’t yet know that her husband was dead. No one had told her that he was the only one who hadn’t made it back inside the city gates, so she was at home thinking her husband was a safe as he could be in the middle of a war. She was at her loom, weaving a purple blanket embroidered with flowers for her loving husband. She’d had her maids prepare a tripod to boil water over the fire so that she could wash her husbands aches and pains away (and maybe get a little sexy fun time going).
Her hands froze at the loom as she heard a heartrending wailing rise from the walls. The shuttle fell from her nerveless fingers. An icy stone settled into her stomach, along with a sickening certainty. “Two of you, come with me. I need to know what just happened. I think that was my mother-in-law’s voice I heard wailing, and my heart is pounding out of my chest. My limbs feel numb with fear for what has happened. I hope I’m wrong, but I fear that Achilles has cut off my dear Hector’s retreat and forced him out onto the plain. My husband has always been courageous and reckless, unwilling to stay with his men. He was always dashing to the front to win the lion’s share of glory.”
As she spoke, her lethargy suddenly vanished. She ran out of the house like a madwoman, her maids chasing desperately in her wake. She raced up the battlements to look out over the plain and saw to her horror that Hector was being dragged behind Achilles’ chariot to the cheering of the Greek army. She felt faint and lightheaded, and nearly collapsed. In rage, she pulled the veil, given to her by Aphrodite herself on the day she agreed to marry Hector, and flung it away from her. She collapsed bonelessly into the mass of Trojans behind her, her in-laws crowding around her to grieve with and support her. She wailed her grief to the heavens.
“Woe is me, my love! Woe that we were ever born! You are going now to the secret places of the earth and leaving me here, a widow in your home. Your son is still an infant, and now he won’t have a father. Even if he survives this war, his will be a life of toil and sorrow. Others will seize his lands and steal his inheritance. He will be shunned, raised by a grieving widow. Some may pity him, but none will love him the way you would have. You were the only thing keeping those hated men from our gates, and now the worms will writhe through you, and the dogs will rip your flesh from your bones. You will lie naked, even though you have a closet full of clothes. I’ll burn them. Achilles has denied me the honor of burning your body, so your clothes will have to do.” The city joined her in her lamentation.
The sound followed the Greek army all the way back to their ships, where every man went back to his own to celebrate. All, that is, except for the Myrmidons. Achilles wanted a word. “My trusted friends and companions, brave horsemen of Myrmidon, don’t unyoke your chariots just yet. Instead, come with me to mourn Patroclus with all the honor he deserved. Once he has been properly sent to the next life, we can unyoke and go eat.”
No one dissented, so they all went to where Patroclus’ body was lying in state. Achilles led them in manly wailing, and thrice they drove their chariots in a wheel around the body, watering the sand with their tears. At the center, Achilles placed his bloodstained hand on Patroclus’ chest. “Goodbye, my dearest friend. Even in the house of Hades, hear me. I will do everything I promised you I would. I will drag Hector behind my chariot and let the dogs devour him raw. Twelve sons of Troy have I taken as prisoners, and they will be sacrificed at your pyre to avenge you.” He laid the battered, mistreated body of Hector next to the bier while everyone went to change and eat.
The Greeks feasted that night in celebration. A great victory had been won, and they knew that the end of the war was within their grasp. Many sacrifices were offered to the gods in thanks, especially to Hephaestus, who had taken such an active role. Once the party was winding down, the princes brought Achilles to see Agamemnon. It was a struggle though, since Achilles was still wrought with grief over his friend and so not much in the mood to make nice nice. They tried to get the servants to heat up water so that Achilles could wash the gore from his body, but he refused this. “No comfort will I take until Patroclus is burned in honor, I have built him a barrow as monument, and I have shaved my head in grief. Nothing in life will ever be as sad for me as the loss of Patroclus. Let the men celebrate tonight, Agamemnon, but in the morning, bring me wood and all that is needed for his death ritual so that he can be at peace.”
Everyone dispersed. Most went to eat and drink a little more, then collapse into an exhausted but much-deserved rest. Achilles went to the shore to watch the waves and grieve for his lost friend (and maybe more than friend since he certainly implies that losing his wife wouldn’t be nearly as upsetting to him). At last, the drone of the waves crashing on the shore lulled him into a deep sleep. As he slumbered, the shade of Patroclus drew near. He stared at the man, exhausted from chasing Hector round and round the city. “You sleep, Achilles, and have forgotten me. You loved me while I was alive, but now that I am dead, you don’t even think about me anymore. Bury me with all haste so that I can pass the gates of Hades. The other ghosts, shadows of men, drive me away and refuse to let me cross the river Styx. I cannot go and join those who have already passed beyond. Give me you hand, dear friend, for once I have entered the house of Hades, I will never return. Never again will we sit together and talk as living men. I’ll see you when you come to join me, Achilles.
“I have one request for you: lay my bones with yours once you have died. We have been together our whole lives, ever since I was brought to your home for accidentally killing the son of Amphidamas in a childish fight over a dice game. Your father took me in and treated me kindly, and I was made your squire. Let us lay together in the golden vase given to you by your mother.” Achilles, still asleep, replied. “Why, true heart, are you asking me for this? I was going to do that anyway, even without you asking. I want to have my bones mingled with yours for all eternity. Come here, Patroclus, and let us embrace one last time. Let us find some small comfort in the sharing of our sorrows.”
Achilles opened his arms and would have embraced Patroclus, but there was nothing there. The spirit was gone, vanished like mist, gibbering and whining into the earth. Achilles awoke and sprang to his feet and beat his own chest in sorrow. “Even in hell, there are ghosts and shades with no life to them. All night long, the spirit of Patroclus has stood with me and told me what I have to do for him.”
He stayed there, weeping over the cold body of his friend until Agamemnon’s mules arrived bearing wood felled from around the city in the night. They laid out the wood per Achilles instructions while he and his soldiers got into their armor. All of them had shaved their heads in mourning, and they came bearing the body of Patroclus aloft and covered in the hair they had shaved off. Behind them all came Achilles, head bowed with sorrow. They laid the body at the place that had been prepared, but something occurred to Achilles. He still had one long, golden lock of hair that he had been growing for the river Spercheius. He stared out over the cold sea and sighed. “Dear river, in vain did my father Peleus vow to you that when I returned home again to my native land, I would cut off this lock and offer to is a sacrifice along with 50 goats, there at your spring. I don’t think I will ever go home, so instead, I offer this lock to the hero Patroclus.”
He placed the lock of his hair in the hands of his dead friend. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. No one moved. They could have stood there, silently mourning, until nightfall if Achilles hadn’t spoken to Agamemnon. “Son of Atreus, it’s time for us to go. There’s a time to mourn and a time to move on. Tell everyone to leave the pyre and get their meals. You and the other princes, though, can stay here with me. You need to be the one to say it, though.” Agamemnon agreed to this, and dismissed his people. As they dispersed, the wood was laid out for the pyre, and Patroclus was laid gently on top of it. Many sheep and oxen were slaughtered and flayed, and the fat was used to coat the body. The carcasses were heaped around it as offerings. Against the bier, he layed two-handed jars of honey. Then he killed four proud horses and placed them on the bier as well. Two of Patroclus’s dogs were also killed (nooooo!) and placed with his body as well. After that, he slew the twelve prisoners of war he had taken at the river and placed their bodies unceremoniously on the bier as well. “Fare thee well, dear Patroclus! Hear me, even in the house of Hades; I am now doing all that I have promised you I would. Twelve brave sons of Troy will burn with you and dogs, not fire shall consume Hector’s dishonored body.
In spite of Achilles’ exhortations, the dogs refused to touch Hector. Aphrodite, hidden beneath a veil, anointed his body with ambrosial oil to prevent his flesh from being torn and mangled while being dragged behind Achilles’ chariot and kept the dogs from getting near it. At the same time, Apollo sent a dark cloud to shade the place where Hector lay so that his body would not dry out and shrivel.
To add insult to injury, the pyre wouldn’t light. Achilles knelt and prayed to the winds Boreas and Zephyrus, offering them many drink-offerings from the golden cup if they would come and help kindle the fire and consume the bodies. Iris heard his prayers and raced off to fetch the winds. They were holding a feast in the house of boisterous Zephyrus when she found them. As soon as they saw her, they gathered round. “I cannot stay, my airy friends. They are offering to the gods in the land of the Ethiopians, and I want my share, but I have message. Achilles is asking for Boreas and Zephyrus to come to him and offers magnificent gifts. He wants you to blow upon the pyre of Patroclus, so the Greeks can mourn properly.”
She went on her way, and the two winds rose and blew to Troy. The waves rose high with the speed of their passing, but the reached the pyre and blew on the tiny flames until they were roaring and leaping twenty feet high. All night long, they fanned the flames, and all night long, Achilles grasped his golden cup, mixing wine and pouring it on the ground as he called the name of Patroclus until the earth was soaked.
At long last, the dawn star rose to herald the coming morning and the flames finally began to die. The exhausted winds went back home beyond the sea, which roared and boiled as they left. Achilles turned away from what remained of the pyre and lay down, overcome with exhaustion, and passed right the fuck out. He didn’t wake up until he heard the massed footsteps of the soldiers waking for the day and moving around. He sat up to see Agamemnon approaching. “Agamemnon, Greek princes, pour red wine everywhere that still burns and quench the flames. Then, let us gather the bones of Patroclus from the center of the pyre. Make sure to leave the bones of the horses, dogs, and human sacrifices alone, which should be easy. They were in a heap on the outer edge. We’ll lay the bones in a golden urn, lined with golden fat, and set it aside for the day that I die too. As for the barrow, let’s make a small one for now. After the war is won, we can pile it higher and make it a worthy monument.”
All was done as Achilles asked. When they were done, everyone prepared to leave, but Achilles asked them to stay. From his ships, he brought prizes. First, he wanted a chariot race, and offered a female slave who was quote “skilled in all useful arts” whatever that means and a large cauldron for first place, a six-year old mare pregnant with a foal for second, a new, small cauldron for third, two talents of gold for fourth, and a new urn for fifth. “My fellow Greeks, these are the prizes for the winners of the chariot races. Normally, I would take home first place, since as you all know, I have magical immortal horses, but I won’t participate this time. I’ve lost my brave driver, and even my horses mourn him.” I’m not sure how this is appropriate at a time when the army had seized the momentum and should really capitalize on it, but the Greeks often seemed to treat the Trojan war as a game so I guess it isn’t a huge surprise.
The story spends an absurd amount of time detailing the race, and a lot of bragging, even though it is a complete side quest (and an annoying one at that). Long story short, Diomedes comes in first, and claims the slave girl and cauldron. Antilochus took second, who had managed to barely pass Menelaus through trickery. Meriones came in behind Menelaus and Eumelus brought up the rear, dragging his broken chariot and driving his horses in front of him.
Achilles felt bad for the walking man in last place and decided to give second prize, which pissed off Antilochus, who had actually taken second. “You’re seriously going to rob me of my prize, after we went through all this shit for Agamemnon doing that to you? I get that it sucks that he threw his chariot out trying to make the turn too fast, but if he’d been better (and maybe offered to the gods), he wouldn’t have broken up. If you’re sorry for him, fine, give him a gift out of your treasure, but don’t take away the prize I earned. I’ll fight that asshole before I give up my mare.”
Achilles smiled. “Fair enough. I’ll give him the bronze breastplate that I took from Asteropaeus. It’s worth a good bit of money.” That, however, pissed off Menelaus. “You son of a bitch! You balked my horses by cutting your own so close in front of mine, which was a cheap trick. If we’d run a fair race, I’d have outstripped you. I won’t make Achilles pick between us, since that will cause bad blood. Instead, I want you to come here, lay your hand on your steeds, and swear to Poseidon that you didn’t deliberately cheat.”
“Well, you see, what happened was…I’m still young and hot headed, so don’t be mad, bro. Tell you what. I’ll give up the mare I just threatened to fight over willingly, and anything else I happen to own that you might want for my little…indiscretion. We cool?” That was all Menelaus had wanted to begin with. “Yeah, buddy, we’re cool. Next time, just be a little less cheaty okay?” Once everyone had finished shuffling prizes, no one had taken fifth, so Achilles gave it to Nestor. “Take this in memory of Patroclus since you’re now too old to fight or wrestle or throw a javelin…actually, I’m not really sure why we brought you to a war? I guess you’re an advisor or something? Anyway, here take it.”
Nestor took it with a smile (which may or may not have been of the shit-eating variety). “You’re right that I am now withered and stooped with age. What I wouldn’t give to still be young and strong like I was during this long, unimportant story from my past I’ll relate, because like many old men, I love to talk about my glory days at the drop of a hat.” The impromptu festival continued, with Achilles giving out prizes for boxing, wrestling, running, combat to first blood, javelin throwing, and archery. The story spends a ridiculous amount of time detailing each contest, but it does nothing for the story except allow the various heroes to show off various things they’re good at, so we’re going to skip it.
After spending an entire day on stupid games instead of, you know, the war they were fighting, everyone went to bed except, of course, Achilles. He lay there in bed with thoughts of Patroclus running through his head. I’m going to give a direct quote here: “This way and that did he turn as he yearned after the might and manfulness of Patroclus; he thought of all they had done together both on the field of battle and on the waves of the weary sea.” Yeah, they were totally boning. Anyway, after tossing and turning for a while, Achilles gives it up as a lost cause and gets back up. He goes down to the shore and wanders along the beach, listening to the crash of the waves. As he saw the first blush of dawn, he yoked his horses and tied the body of Hector behind it, face-down, through the slits in his ankles. He rode around the burial mound of Patroclus three times and then went back to his tent, leaving Hector where he dropped. Apollo pitied the dead man, so he protected his corpse from the destruction that being dragged face-down should have caused.
Even the gods were offended at Achilles’ shameful treatment of his fallen enemy’s body, and calls began to grow for Hermes, god of thieves, to go down and steal the body. Hera, Poseidon, and Athena disagreed. Strenuously. It escalated into a shouting match that lasted twelve days, but we’re not going to find out who wins that argument until next episode, which means 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 monster is the tragic Lamia.
The Lamia is a difficult monster to pin down, because she has gone through some serious transformations from her original incarnation in Greek mythology to more recent appearances on the silver screen. As is so often the case, this story starts with the phrase “Unfortunately, Zeus was feeling horny.” It’s a meme for a reason. Lamia was a queen of Libya, west of the Nile, and was either a daughter or granddaughter of Poseidon. She was famed for her beauty and soon caught the eye (and later the dick) of the king of the gods. She was seduced by his advances (not that she would have had much chance either way) and had several children by him. Hera eventually catches on (as she pretty much always does) and as usual, Hera is enraged and thirsts for vengeance. Also as usual, she can’t do anything to Zeus (who could throw her into Tartarus without breaking a sweat), so she turns her anger on the mortal woman.
The Greeks loved their poetic justice, and this story is no exception. Hera feels betrayed by this woman, and especially by the children she had with her husband, and so that’s where she focuses her vengeance. There are several versions, all equally horrible. In one, Hera drives Lamia mad and makes her eat her own children alive and screaming. Once their bloody corpses are scattered lifelessly around her, she comes back to her senses, her children’s pleas for mercy still ringing in her ears. Her anguish at what she had done drove her truly mad and caused her to transform into a literal monster. Her legs fused together and became a long, sinuous serpent’s tail, but she kept her human upper body (sometimes with a human face and sometimes with an elongated jaw full of razor sharp teeth like a shark). In another version, Hera steals away Lamia’s children, and the loss drives her mad and turns her into the serpent creature. In a third version, Hera just cuts out the middleman and turns her into a monster personally, but I find this version less compelling. One version removes Zeus and Hera entirely and makes Lamia an evil queen who orders her soldiers to snatch children from their mothers and slaughter them for no real reason, and her evil is what twists her into a monster.
In any event, Lamia becomes a serpent monster and, driven mad by the loss of her children, begins to seek out and devour other children. Sometimes, she seeks out pregnant women and tears open their bellies to devour the fetus. Hera didn’t think this was quite torment enough, so she also removes Lamia’s ability to sleep, which means she never has any escape from the the memories of butchering her children or of hunting other innocent children. Zeus, in a rare act of compassion (although not a lot of compassion) gives her the ability to remove her eyes and gain some form of rest (although in some versions, she claws her own eyes out to try to stop seeing visions of the mangled bodies of her babies). It may not have helped, though, because she supposedly also had the power of prophecy.
Given that she exclusively eats children, it shouldn’t be a surprise that she became an ancient boogeyman. Mothers and nannies would use her story to frighten children into good behavior, warning them that if they didn’t behave, the Lamia would come for them. Sometimes, she was conflated with the Empousa from way back in Episode 1B. In the version where Hera kidnapped her children rather than killing them, Lamia’s children became monsters themselves for some reason. Three are commonly named: Scylla, who pops up in the Odyssey, although she’s usually depicted as the daughter of Phorcys instead; Acheilus, who grew up to be one of the most beautiful mortal men, but he was arrogant, and so he challenged Aphrodite to a beauty contest, loses, and is transformed into a shark demon; and Herophile who, instead of becoming a monster, instead became one of the first Sibyls (or prophet women) of Delphi.
Given that she was a daughter of Poseidon, she was probably originally thought of as a sea monster (especially since her name is also the ancient Greek word for a large, dangerous shark that prowled alone along the Mediterranean), which helps explain why two of her children would become sea-monsters. Over time, the single Lamia morphed into an entire group of shape-shifting serpent monsters who, instead of preying on children, instead turned into beautiful women and seduced and devoured young men (hence her connection to the Empousa).
Unlike a lot of Greek mythological characters, Lamia didn’t fade with the fall of the Greeks to be rediscovered during the Renaissance, she only changed and continued straight through the Middle Ages. She became associated with demons and witchcraft, and was persecuted by the early church. She did become a thing in the Renaissance as well, and during the Romantic period with a famous poem being penned about her by John Keats. Some scholars speculate that vampires and succubi are offshoots of the Lamia legend, but there’s a lot of reason to suspect that to be bullshit.
The Lamia is still with us today, showing up in modern works of fiction such as Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, and Sam Raimi’s underrated film Drag Me to Hell (where she’s actually the main villain). So the next time your kids won’t eat their vegetables or some shit, just tell them that if they don’t, an ancient, evil snake witch will shapeshift and sneak into their bedroom with her eyes missing to devour them while they scream in agony. There’s no way that will result in nightmares or permanent psychological damage. Trust me.
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 see the gods finally make up their minds about what to do about Achilles being an asshole (again). You’ll see that Achilles can never seem to leave well enough alone, that sometimes even the god of thieves isn’t sneaky enough, and that even mythic heroes get homesick. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s a crime against nature with history’s worst superpower. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.