Episode 72C – Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen

Episode 72C Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re going to follow Odysseus as he gets into more trouble. You’ll see that you can’t trust Nobody, that sheep rustling is a bad idea, and that taunting cannibals is a worse idea. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll see why you should be careful what you wish for. 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 72C, “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
When we left the story last time, we’d picked up just after the end of the Trojan War. Brothers Menelaus and Agamemnon had disagreed about whether to leave right away or after some extra sacrifices. Soldiers had gotten drunk, tempers had gotten frayed, and the army split into two camps, with Menelaus leading the group who sailed immediately for home (with Nestor, Diomedes, and Odysseus setting out with him). Things had gone bad almost immediately, and wise Odysseus had decided to head back to Agamemnon at Troy just as a massive storm hit. Diomedes had gotten his ass killed by the one-two punch of hubris and an angry god, but Nestor had made it home in one piece. Menelaus meanwhile had fucked off to Egypt and gotten stranded, forcing him to wrestle the shape-shifting god Proteus for information on how to get home safely with the infamous Helen of Sparta (formerly Helen of Troy) in tow. We’d then met back up with Odysseus and his men as they sacked a random town for shits and giggles, only to get their own asses handed to them the next day because they didn’t listen to Odysseus and get while the getting was good. They’d then been cast adrift thanks to Zeus pummeling them with storms and had come ashore on a strange island of friendly stoners known as the Lotus Eaters. Odysseus had been forced to physically drag his men away from a life wasted getting high, eating snacks, and watching reruns.
The crew was probably finally coming down from the awesome high of the lotus as they made their treacherous way through the empty night on the open sea. They sailed through a night as black as pitch, with the moon hidden behind thick clouds and the world shrouded in a dense fog. The lookout stared uselessly into the mist, trying to spy any dangers before they could wreck the ship, but it was no use. The horizon looked as empty as ever as sand suddenly crunched under the ships’ hulls and they beached themselves on a deserted island. There was no way to know for sure if the unexpected landing had done any damage, and the crews were exhausted, so they made the decision to haul in the sails and sleep there on the beach until morning.
The men began to rouse themselves as the rosy fingers of Dawn began to creep over the world. The lands that they could see were wild and untamed, with no cities or fields breaking up the natural splendor. It seemed uninhabited, so the men decided to explore. Maybe they could find some food to help stretch their rations and some clean wells to top off their water tanks.
Some local nymphs, daughters of Zeus himself, flushed some wild goats from hiding near the Ithacans, who quickly drew their curved bows and long spears to go and hunt their breakfast. They killed enough for each boat to get nine goats (with Odysseus getting an extra goat for his ship), so they had a feast of roast goat and red wine taken from the land of the Cicones last episode. Across a narrow bay, the men could see the mainland. Smoke drifted up in the distance, and the occasional incoherent shout of a voice could be heard now and again, so they knew that, unlike this island, the mainland was definitely inhabited.
Odysseus and his men spent the entire day sheltering in the safety of the island to recover from the ordeals of the last few weeks. The next morning, Odysseus took the crew of his ship to probe the mainland, instructing the rest of the soldiers to hang tight until he came back. They boarded Odysseus’ ship and sailed for the nearby shore.
It was a short trip to the coast. They could see a huge cavern yawning above the waves, overgrown with laurel and bracken. Inside, the men could see huge flocks of sheeps and goats milling around. A grassy yard stood at the mouth of the cave, walled off by huge boulders sunk deep into the earth strung with entire pine and oak trees. It took a moment to adjust to the perspective, but Odysseus quickly realized what he was looking at: a sheep pen, like the ones he’d used back home, but built on an enormous scale. The goats had been tasty, but they’d only provided enough meat for one meal. Here was enough to feed the men for days.
Odysseus beached the ship and told most of his men to stay behind to guard it with their lives. He picked a dozen of his best fighters to go with him to explore this cave and see what could be snatched and brought back to the ship. Odysseus took a skin of wine he’d gotten as a gift from Maron, priest of Apollo and lord of Ismarus for saving him and his family once (in total, he’d been given seven bars of gold, a solid silver mixing bowl, and the wine as a reward, which is pretty generous). In ancient times, wine was often stored in a concentrated form then mixed with water for daily consumption, but the wine from Maron was undiluted and fine enough to be suitable for a god – it was usually mixed as twenty parts water to one part wine, so the skin that Odysseus had was quite potent. He also brought provisions in a leather sack. They were entering into potentially deadly territory, and Odysseus wanted to be ready for any danger.
The thirteen men made their way quickly inside the cave, but found no one there but the sheep and goats. What they did find was racks and racks of drying cheese, buckets full of fresh whey, and more animals than they’d realized penned apart from each other by age. The men stared goggle-eyed at this rich bounty and begged Odysseus to let them make off with the cheese first, then come back and drive the flocks out to the ships to carry them away. Odysseus refused to be a cowardly bandit, however. It was one thing to murder the inhabitants of a foreign city in a surprise raid – there, they at least had some chance of fighting back. Odysseus demanded that they meet the owner of this cave and take his measure.
Thus decided, they built a fire in the cave and settled down to wait. Some of the cheese was offered to the gods, and the rest was eaten in no time. The sun passed its peak and was beginning to head towards the horizon before the cave’s owner came back from where he had been: herding the flocks that had been out to pasture all day home for the night and gathering huge logs to fuel his fire that night. Now, our heroes at last got their first glimpse of the cave’s owner – a Cyclops.
There are three distinct kinds of Cyclopes in Greek mythology – the three brothers from Hesiod who forged the thunderbolts for Zeus; the massive builders of the walls of Mycenae and Tiryns; and the wild, brutish shepherds of Homer. Odysseus describes them as lawless savages who do not plant or plow because they have no need – the earth where they live teems with wheat, barley, and grape vines with no need of a farmer’s hand. They have no laws and no councils, with each family acting as an independent unit, utterly unconcerned with their neighbors. They build no ships and do not sail to distant ports to trade with foreign cities. He honestly thought it something of a paradise, with incredible bounty, perfect weather, and ideal natural ports. They were also, as the size of the fence indicated, much larger than humans.
The Cyclops dropped his load of full-grown trees with a thunderous crash, prompting the humans to scuttle into the darkest recesses of the cave. Odysseus realized that he’d made a mistake. They should never have waited here to confront the massive, savage Cyclops in his lair and now they were trapped inside. The cave entrance was the only way in or out, and the gigantic form was between the men and safety. They waited in terrified silence as the Cyclops drove the females from his flock into the cave to milk for more cheese, leaving the rams and billy goats outside. Then, he blocked the entrance with a massive slab of solid stone, described as being so large that even 22 wagons could not have budged that boulder from the ground once the massive monster dropped it there. Now, they were well and truly trapped. Fuck.
There were a few openings in the top of the cave to let light in and smoke out, but they were utterly inaccessible from the cave floor. Still, it let the 13 men watch the Cyclops as he milked his goats, setting half aside to press into cheese and half to wash down his dinner. The setting sun cast deep shadows inside the cave, making it easier for the humans to hide. At least, it did until the Cyclops finished his chores and built a fire from the logs he’d brought inside. Once the blaze was going, it banished the darkness, revealing the hiding humans to the single surprised eye of the monster.
The Cyclops leapt to his feet. “Strangers! Who the fuck are you? Where did you sail here from? Are you daring traders or filthy raiders, pirates roving the waves like sea-wolves to plunder the lives of other men?” Odysseys knew that they had no chance of passing themselves off as traders, what with having a bunch of weapons but no goods to sell, so he decided to be honest. “We are men of Achea, homeward bound from Troy. We were driven far off course by terrible winds, beyond the places shown on our maps as part of the plotting of King Zeus. We came to you by accident after leaving proud Agamemnon Atrides, whose fame is the greatest of any on the earth right now after sacking proud Troy and killing their men. We greet you as our host in hopes of a warm welcome, maybe even a guest-gift in the ancient tradition. We are supplicants, at your mercy. As you know, Zeus guards supplicants and guests and will avenge them if the ancient ways are violated.”
It’s a pretty bold gamble. As I’ve mentioned before, the traditions of the guest-right were a Big Deal in the ancient world, and they guaranteed the safety of all guests while under the roof of their host. If they could convince the Cyclops to consider them as such, they’d be safe for the night and able to leave unharmed in the morning. Of course, guest-right is a paper shield, only as good as the host’s willingness to abide by it and/or fear the repercussions for violating them. “Fuck Zeus and fuck you too. Stranger, you must be a fool to waltz into my home and lecture me about fearing the wrath of the puny gods. I’m a motherfucking Cyclops, and we don’t blink our terrible eyes at Zeus or his stupid lightning bolts (that we made in the first place). If you think you can hide your ass behind Zeus, you’re sadly mistaken. If I feel like killing you, I’ll kill you. Now, I asked you a question – where did you come from and where did you moor your ship? I’m curious.”
It’s a trick; that’s a trick. Nobody believes that the Cyclops is “just curious”, and clever Odysseus least of all. Odysseus thought quick. “My ship? Poseidon, god of earthquakes and the sea, smashed it against the rocks at the island’s cape. My men and I barely managed to escape being crushed against the cliffs along with it.” The Cyclops sat for a second, processing this information, then lunged towards the soldiers in a sudden movement. The Ithacans were unprepared for this sudden violence, and had nowhere to go anyway, so he snatched a man in each massive fist. The two terrified men screamed as they were lifted off the ground, then fell silent with a sickening crunch as the Cyclops smashed their skulls against the cave wall, shattering bone and smearing brain matter over the wall to gush onto the floor in great gouts of blood. Once he was sure they were dead, the Cyclops ripped their limbs from their bodies in a savage jerk then ate them, bones and all.
The surviving 11 soldiers froze in horror at this sudden red death. The spell broke, and they wailed their despair to Zeus above. They couldn’t pull their eyes from his grisly work. Each worried that they would be the next devoured, but the Cyclops was satisfied with his meal of human flesh and goat’s milk. He burped, put out the fire, then lay down to sleep, stretched out in the midst of his flock. He was soon snoring soundly.
When they were sure that the Cyclops was well and truly out, Odysseus groped in the darkness for his sword. He was certain that he could creep over to the gigantic form and plunge his sword into the monster’s vitals in one swift motion, killing him. He paused before drawing steel though, thinking through the rest of the situation. Odysseus was widely considered a clever man, and he saw the fatal flaw in his plan: if they killed the sleeping Cyclops, they would seal their own doom. The rock at the mouth of the cave was far too large for the humans to have any hope of moving. They would be trapped here, to die a slow, lingering death. As much as they hated it, the men would have to wait for dawn and hope for an opening once the Cyclops opened the cave himself.
The men slept only fitfully, waiting for the light of dawn to creep into their prison. When it did, the giant woke, rekindled his fire, and milked his goats. With a yawn and a scratch, the Cyclops seized another two men, dashed their brains in, and devoured them for breakfast. Satiated, he drove his flock from the cave, holding the stone door as they left and putting it back without giving the remaining 9 humans a chance to escape. They were again trapped with no hope. They heard him leave, whistling as he went to lead his flock.
Fear and hate stewed in Odysseus’ heart as they listened to him go. He burned with a desire for revenge and begged Athena to give him the cunning to avenge his fallen soldiers. The survivors explored the cave, looking for a way out, but found none. Failing that, Odysseus began to scheme. The giant’s massive club lay propped against the cave wall by the pens: olive wood, still green and full of sap. It was clearly being laid out to dry for use in the future. It was large enough to serve as a ship’s mast, and was much, much too large for them to use as a weapon. That didn’t mean they couldn’t make use of it though.
Odysseus hacked off a fathom’s length, or about six feet, and had his men take turns sharpening one end into a point. Once it was ready, Odysseus plunged the raw wood into the remnants of the Cyclops’ fire to char the edge and harden it. When he judged it ready, they cooled it off and hid the entire thing under a pile of sheep and goat shit (which littered the cave since the Cyclops was a filthy fucker). It would take five men to be sure of lifting the massive stake and plunging it into the monster’s single enormous eye once he was asleep that night. Odysseus would lead the assault as their captain, and the other eight men drew lots to see who would take the deadly risk to join him. As luck would have it, the four he would have picked were chosen. The gods were with him.
All of this had taken most of the day, so they didn’t have long to wait until the sun began to set again. Not long after, they could hear the Cyclops returning. This time, he drove the entire flock, rams and all, into the cave and again replaced the stone slab, trapping them all inside. The men scattered, but they didn’t have anywhere to go, and the Cyclops again seized two men, crushed their skulls against the jagged rocks, and ate them whole. This time, before he could chug his usual milk, Odysseus approached the savage creature. He held one of the giant’s huge bowls full of the extremely potent wine.
“Here, you terrible Cyclops, try this! I have no idea if red wine goes with human flesh or not, but it’s good shit so you’ll probably like it either way. We had some great stuff on our ship before we crashed, and I had hoped to use this to buy your goodwill, maybe convince you to let me go free, but your rage is awful to behold. You barbarian – how can any man on earth come visit you after the outrages you’ve committed against us? We were your guests, you savage!”
The Cyclops sneered at the petty insults of this petty morsel, snatched the bowl of wine, and downed it in one loud chug. He wiped his mouth with one meaty fist, then grinned. “Hey, you’re right – this is good shit. More! Fill the bowl all the way up this time. And while you’re at it, why not tell me your name, so I can hand my guest a gift to warm his heart. We make good wine here on our island, but this wine blows the Cyclops’ vintage right out of the water. This is nectar, ambrosia, the drink of the gods themselves!”
He dashed his second helping of potent wine and held out the bowl for a third. The giant was no lightweight, but this was very strong wine and completely undiluted. It didn’t take long for the Cyclops to start feeling its effects and begin to get trashed. “You wish to know my name, Cyclops? I’ll tell you, but you must give me a guest-gift like you promised.” The Cyclops nodded impatiently. “My name is Nobody. My mother and father named me Nobody, and that’s what all my friends call me. I’m Nobody!”
The Cyclops laughed jeeringly. “Nice to meet you, Nobody! Here’s my gift to you – I’ll eat you last of all and let you watch all of your friends be devoured first. Isn’t that generous of me?” He laughed again, hiccuped, and then passed the fuck out flat on his back. His head flopped limply to one side, a line of drool already creeping down his chin, and he began to snore hugely. He snorted, then retched, then vomited up a puddle of wine and raw human flesh that just a little while ago had been their comrades.
This was their chance. The humans grabbed the stake from its hiding place in a pile of wet shit and thrust the end back into the embers to give it another coat of char and harden it farther. The smell was awful, but nobody complained. The stake began to glow and, just as it was on the verge of catching fire (even as green as it was), they pulled it out again. Odysseus took the first position, and four men lifted the stake behind him. They all took one breath to steady themselves and gather their courage, crept quietly over to the drunk-assed Cyclops, and plunged the smoldering point into his single massive eye.
They all put their full strength and weight behind it, driving it as deep as they possibly could. To get it still deeper, they bored the wood like a massive boatwright’s drill. Blood bubbled around the wood as it bored down deeper and deeper, and then the heat and pressure caused the eye to burst in a splash of boiling fluids. The wine was powerful stuff, but not nearly powerful enough to let the Cyclops sleep through this blinding agony. He roared in pain, the walls vibrating with its fury, and the humans stumbled back away from the massive form of the Cyclops in fear. He seized the chunk of wood jutting out of his face with both hands and wrenched it out of his flesh in a red geyser of blood. Screaming with hate and pain and terror, the Cyclops groped around blindly for the awful men who had done this to him, but the humans kept nimbly out of his reach.
Realizing that he was in real danger, the Cyclops called out for help from his neighbors, begging someone, anyone, to come to his aid. His massive voice carried easily to a number of nearby caves, bringing out a number of other Cyclopes. “What’s wrong, Polyphemus? It’s the middle of the fucking night asshole, so you better have a good Zeus-damned reason to make a racket like that. Surely no one’s stealing away your flocks from your cave; surely no one’s trying to kill you.” Polyphemus bellowed back from his cave: “Nobody, my friends! Nobody is trying to kill me!”
That irritated the others. “If you’re alone, and nobody is trying to overpower you, then you must be fine. Or, at worst, you’re suffering from some plague sent by mighty Zeus, and there’s nothing any of us can do about that. You better pray to your father, Lord Poseidon, for help. He can probably talk to Zeus for you.” They all lumbered off, ignoring the further pleadings from Polyphemus to come and save him from Nobody.
Even in the midst of what was still very real mortal danger, Odysseus couldn’t help but laugh at how well his cunning trick had worked. A Cyclops is hell on wheels for raw violence, but they aren’t so much with the thinky think. Polyphemus was in too much pain to explain better, and his friends were easily tricked into thinking all was fine, which still left the seven remaining Acheans trapped in a cave with an angry, blind Cyclops.
Polyphemus was able to deduce that the humans must be trying to escape, so he went over to the cave entrance and removed the stone slab, then plopped himself down in its place, arms spread wide to try and catch anyone trying to sneak past him. He had to still be in agony, but he had stopped roaring, instead listening intently for the sound of furtive feet across the stone. Odysseus knew that most of them would die if they tried to take the obvious way out, so he began to consider the situation from every angle, looking for a more clever option.
He considered and discarded a number of possibilities before settling on the one he thought most likely to succeed. The sheep – that was the answer. Their shaggy wool coats were full, not having been shorn in a while, and just might do the trick. Moving quietly, he gathered the rams, which were stronger and had thicker wool, into groups of three and bound them together with the willow twigs that the Cyclops had used as a crude bed. Each man would cling to the belly of the middle sheep, leaving one on either side to act as a buffer. Unfortunately, that left only one sheep for the last man, which Odysseus decided would be himself. He chose the largest, shaggiest ram for his own, since he would just have the one.
As dawn approached, all of the men quietly got into place and held on for dear life as quietly as they possibly could. The rams began to jostle each other and the massive form of the Cyclops, ready from years of habit to go back outside and eat breakfast. Meanwhile, the goats began to bleat their urgent need to be milked. Their udders were swollen fit to bursting, leaving them extremely uncomfortable. Polyphemus realized his predicament – the rams needed to go outside, which meant he had to move, and the goats needed to be milked, which meant he had to leave the door. He refused to let the men sneak out in the midst of his flock however, so as the rams passed through the door, he felt on and around each of them to make sure no one was hiding behind or between them. As Odysseus had predicted however, he did not think to check underneath the sheep, and so all seven surviving men were carried out of the caves, clinging to the bellies of the rams.
Last of all came the great ram that carried Odysseus himself. As he trundled past, Polyphemus stroked the beast’s back, murmuring to it. “Are you getting slow, old man? In times past, you would never have been the last one out of the cave. Hell, you were usually raring to be the first one into the pasture, your right as leader of the flock. Or maybe you feel bad for me, hm? You saw that coward gouge out my eye after he drugged me with wine, the bastard. That Nobody will pay for this, I swear it. Gods, I wish you could speak to me and tell me where that asshole Nobody is hiding. I’d smash him into the ground and break every last bone in his body, then spill his brains out on the stones. Maybe that would make me feel a little better.” With a sigh, Polyphemus let the ram follow the flock out into the pasture, carrying Odysseus to safety.
As soon as he was outside, Odysseus dropped from the wooly belly and hurried to help his men out of their hiding places of woven twigs under the sheep. With a glance back at the Cyclops, they drove the rams towards their beached ship. The sailors on board the ship cheered when the survivors were spotted. They’d had no word since Odysseus and his small party had set out, and they’d feared the worst. Odysseus cut it short, afraid Polyphemus would hear it and figure out what it meant.
With whispers and hand signals, he ordered his men to drive the sheep on board and set out to sea. Every one set to their oars and began to row away from the beach. Odysseus was brave and clever, but he was also extremely proud. This had been an incredibly daring escape, and he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving without letting Polyphemus know that he had been bested (though it probably would have been crueler to let him sit in his cave alone, unsure if the men were still there with him or not).
“Hey, Cyclops! Listen up, asshole – it was no band of weak cowards you trapped in your cave with you to devour in your filthy cave. You brought this pain down on your own head for being a fucking cannibal and trying to eat your guests; so Zeus and the other gods have paid you back!” I mean, it’s highly questionable whether Odysseus and his men really qualified for guest right, given their intentions, but Polyphemus didn’t know that, and would have acted exactly the same if they had been legal guests, so maybe it doesn’t matter that much.
Odysseus had waited until they were as far away as they could while still close enough to be heard, and Polyphemus was listening for any sound of escaping humans, so he heard this taunt clearly. This final insult made his rage boil over, and he stomped out of the cave. With a surge of bulging muscles, he tore the peak off of a towering crag at the seaside cliffs and hurled it towards Odysseus’ voice. His aim was pretty good for a blind monster, and his strength was more than Odysseus had reckoned with – the massive stone crashed into the waves just beyond the ship’s prow, driving the ship back towards the island on its surge.
Odysseus seized a pole and just barely managed to keep the ship from crashing into the cliff and smashing, giving the men time to get the oars moving again and carry the ship out beyond the breakers. He waited until they were twice as far away, then Odysseus began to taunt Polyphemus again, because he’s kind of a dick. His men tried to get him to shut the fuck up, but he ignored them. “Come on, Odysseus – why piss the asshole off again? Didn’t you see that rock he nearly killed us with back there? If he’d realized how close we were to the cliffs, he’d have smashed us with one huge fist before we could get away!”
Odysseus didn’t give a shit what his men wanted – he needed to preen a little and show that stupid Cyclops just what a big swinging dick he had. “Hey, Cyclops! What a pitiful throw that was. You really are pathetic, aren’t you? Oh, and if anyone asks who blinded you and shamed you so, tell them it was Odysseus, raider of cities, son of Laertes and King of Ithaca!”
Polyphemus roared back his hate at this news. “You? You’re Odysseus! Son of a bitch! There was a prophecy from Telemus, a Cyclops master at reading omens, who warned me that I’d be blinded by a warrior named Odysseus, but I figured he meant some other powerful Cyclops in armored plates, not some tiny, mewling weakling like you! You didn’t best me in a fight like a man, you had to use wine to weaken me, you coward! I never got to give you your guest gift, so let me give you another one instead. My father is Poseidon, god of earthquakes and the sea, and he can heal me if he so chooses; I ask that he speed you on your way home and away from me forever!”
Odysseus roared with laughter at this. “Heal you? Would to the gods that I could have driven that stake just a little farther and let you ride your last breath down into the house of Death, but know that no one will ever heal your eye you piece of shit, not even your earthquake god himself!” If you’ve been paying attention at all to the earlier stories, you know that Odysseus just made a huge mistake. Polyphemus roared again, then thrust his arms into the sky, turning his blind eye towards the heavens. “Hear me Poseidon: if you truly are my father, then grant me this boon. I beg that you never let Odysseus, raider of cities, son of Laertes and King of Ithaca, reach his home. Or if he has been fated to see its shores again, let him come home late; let him come home a broken man! Let him watch all of his men die because of his arrogance, and let him find a world of pain at home!”
With another burst of enraged strength, Polyphemus seized another boulder, larger than the first, and hurled it towards Odysseus’ ship. Again, Odysseus had misjudged the strength of the Cyclops, and the boulder crashed down just short of the ship’s stern, driving the ship away from the beach and towards the deserted island where the rest of his men lay hidden. They beached their ship near the rest of the ships and drove the sheep out onto the island to divide amongst everyone so that everyone could have a fair share of the spoils. His sailors insisted that, as the man with the plan, the huge ram that he had ridden to safety be his. Odysseus slaughtered it himself and sacrificed its thighs to Zeus in thanks for their daring escape.
Zeus, however, didn’t give a shit. He was still set on his plan to destroy as many Achean heroes as he could, and besides – now his brother Poseidon had a bone to pick with this asshole. They weren’t about to let Odysseus and his men have smooth sailing home. Once all of the mutton was eaten, the men all boarded their ships and began to row to the open sea, ready to sail for home. They were grateful for having escaped, but they were also keenly aware of the men who had died back in that awful cave and mourned the loss of their brave comrades.
Things are only going to get worse with two of the major Olympians set against them, but for now, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s hero (question mark) is King Midas.
Midas is one of those names that you’ve probably heard before, at least in passing. He’s a famous mythological story, which means that there are a lot of different, and often conflicting versions. There are three major sections of the traditional story, and we’ll touch on them all here. The first major event comes from Greek historian Arrian of Nicomedia (which directly conflicts with accounts by Herodotus and others, but I like it so we’re going with it). Midas was born to a poor peasant named Gordios and a mother of oracular heritage. He grew into a handsome and valiant man and, seeing no options at home, decided to move with his mother and father to the city of Pessinus in Phrygia (in modern Turkey).
Unbeknownst to him, the Phrygians were in the middle of a messy period of civil discord with no one agreeing on who should rule. At wit’s end, they went to the oracle and were told that their king would come to them on a wagon and put an end to the troubles. While everyone was arguing about what the hell that was supposed to mean, Midas pulled into town on his wagon, along with everything he owned (which wasn’t much). Everyone agreed that this pretty well lined up with the prophecy, and so Midas was crowned king. In thanks, Midas dedicated his wagon to Zeus and had it tied up in the city’s citadel, saying that whosoever came after him and untied the knot fixed to the tree was destined to rule Asia. Other versions said that it was instead Midas’ father, Gordios, who was made king and tied the knot, and thus it became known as the Gordian knot, which was famously removed by Alexander the Great (who cut it off with his sword rather than bothering to try and untie it).
The most famous story of Midas comes from Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Dionysus (who just keeps popping up) was wandering the countryside with his followers, including the satyrs and the Maenads, but one important figure was missing – his old schoolmaster and foster father Silenus the satyr. Given his association with the god of wine, it should come as no surprise that Silenus had gotten drunk on wine and stumbled away from the group and gotten lost. He was found in a drunken stupor by a group of Phrygian peasants, who brought him to King Midas (another version has him passing out in Midas’ rose garden instead).
The king had recognized Silenus and invited him to stay as an honored friend and guest. For ten days, Midas entertained Silenus and gave him food and shelter; in return, Silenus entertained the court with songs and stories. On the eleventh, Silenus asked to return to Dionysus, so Midas escorted him back to his pupil. Dionysus was grateful for Silenus’ kind treatment and safe return, and offered Midas whatever he wanted in thanks.
Neither Midas nor his kingdom was excessively wealthy, and Midas saw a chance to fix that. “I know exactly what to ask for – make it so that whatever I touch turns to gold.” Dionysus smiled sadly, but granted Midas his wish. Ecstatic, Midas reached out to break off a twig from an oak tree. As it snapped off in his fingers, it turned to gold in his hand. Giddy, he grabbed a nearby stone, and it too turned to gold. He then changes a chunk of earth, dry corn husks, an apple, a door, and even flowing water. The story doesn’t explain why his clothes don’t change, but maybe they became woven gold cloth. He went home and touched every rose in his garden, turning each to gold in turn.
Everything was going swimmingly right up until dinner time. His servants set out a fine feast, and Midas sat down to munch happily. Only, as he lifted a hunk of bread to his lips, his teeth clanged down on metal – it had turned to gold. He tried tearing bits off with his hands and with his teeth, but it was no use. He even tried drinking wine mixed with water, but his servants could see molten gold pouring out from his lips. No matter what he tried, Midas couldn’t get a single bite of food down his throat without it turning to gold. Oh shit. Midas feared he would starve to death.
With a cry of dismay, Midas swiped the useless food from his plate and cast his hands into the sky. “Great Dionysus, forgive me! I was foolish and made a foolish wish. Have pity on me, I beg of you, and save me from my own mistake!” Dionysus appeared to him, his smile kindly. “Better late than never. If you do not wish to remain coated in gold, go to the river by Sardis and plunge your head and body into the foaming headwaters where it gushes forth from the earth.”
Midas did as he was bid and leapt into the water. The water swirled around him, carrying a golden hue away from his flesh and leaving him purified. From that day on, gold still runs in the water of that river, leaving it rich in gold and electrum. Other versions have Midas’ daughter coming to him, upset that her beloved roses had all grown cold and hard. He reached out to comfort her, and accidentally turned her to gold as well, which is what causes him to beg Dionysus for help.
Now sick to death of wealth and splendor, Midas moved to the country to worship the wild god Pan, lord of satyrs and the fields. Pan was something of a musician, inventing the pan pipes favored by shepherds and decides to challenge Apollo, god of music, to a rock off. The minor mountain god Tmolus was chosen as judge for the contest. Pan played on his pipes and Apollo strummed his lyre. Pan was good, but Apollo was better (what with being the god of music and all). Everyone there agreed that Apollo was the victor; all that is except for Midas, who wondered aloud if the wrong god had won. Apollo declared that Midas must have the ears of an ass to think he had lost, and lo and behold, Midas’ ears grew into those of a donkey.
Midas was mortified at this change, and hid his bestial ears under a kingly purple turban. No one knew except for Midas himself and his barber, who was sworn to secrecy. The secret ate at this poor man, but he was unwilling to betray his king. Still, he needed to tell someone or else he might burst, so he went out into an empty field, dug a hole, and whispered into the earth itself “King midas has an ass’ ears!” He then buried the secret and went back home, much relieved. Unfortunately for him, the mischief wasn’t quite so easily rid, and a bed of reeds soon grew from that very spot. Whenever the winds would blow through them, they would whisper the secret to the world, which is how we all know the story today. So the next time you have a secret that’s burning a hole in your heart, don’t trust the ground to keep it – that asshole will make it famous.
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 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, Odysseus will finally get some good news. Well, sort of. You’ll see that you should never trust your friends with your magic bag, that you don’t want to be the guest of honor at some feasts, and that sometimes you just have to go back to the beginning. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll discover why sex and sports can be a dangerous mix. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.