Episode 72D – Dust in the Wind – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 72D Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, things are just going to keep getting bloodier and uglier for poor Odysseus and his men. You’ll discover the value of a good night’s sleep, the risk of an empty village, and the terror of being cursed by the gods. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s a sexy gay love quadrangle that ends badly because it’s a Greek tragedy so of course it does. 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 72D, “Dust in the Wind”. 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. From there, they had landed on an uncharted island and decided to steal some sheep and cheese from an empty cave only to be caught and trapped by the cave’s owner, Polyphemus the Cyclops. Polyphemus then eats several of Odysseus’ men, vowing to eat Odysseus himself (who he believes is named Nobody) last of all. They get their monstrous host blind drunk on concentrated wine and blind him with a stake hardened and smoldering in the monster’s dinner fire. The other Cyclopes don’t help him since he says Nobody did this to him, falling prey to Odysseus’ clever trick. Polyphemus blocks the entrance with his body, leading to a tense standoff, but is forced to let his sheep out to graze in the morning, allowing the survivors to slip out by clinging to the underside of the sheep. Odysseus can’t help but gloat using his real name, allowing Polyphemus to call for help from his father Poseidon in punishing the Greeks.
Having escaped from a doom that they brought on themselves by trying to steal food from the Cyclops (who was a cannibalistic asshole, true, but they didn’t know that at the time), Odysseus and his men sailed off into the uncharted sea more than a little disquieted by the blind monster’s final curse. It was already clear that some god up above had it out for them (Zeus, as we’ve discussed before), and now they probably had two. Poseidon already had no reason to love them after they burned his favorite city and murdered or enslaved everyone there, so the odds were good that he’d do what he could to avenge his demigod son’s blinding. If Odysseus had just been able to keep his big mouth shut, they might have avoided that particular fate. Oh well – too late now.
They had long since left behind the charted waters near Greek shores, and after being ravaged by so many terrible storms, they had only a vague idea of where they were in relation to Ithaca. Still, their rations were limited so they had no choice but to sail out with nothing but dead reckoning to guide them and hope for the best.
Their semi-blind wandering soon brought them to an impossible sight: a great island floating above the surface of the sea (a mystical place that might have been inspired by the very real phenomenon of the Fata Morgana). The floating island was ringed in bronze ramparts built into the sheer rock cliff around the perimeter. Odysseus knew exactly where they had ended up, even though few men had ever actually made it here – this was Aeolia, home to King Aeolus, the Keeper of the Winds (which modern scholars have placed as one of the Lipara islands near Sicily).
There are a number of characters in Greek mythology named ‘Aeolus’, and they all seem to be related to each other, although the exact relationship is unclear as it sometimes changes from writer to writer). Some versions have Aeolus as a son of Poseidon, while others (including Homer) name him a son of Hippotes, himself a grandson of an earlier Aeolus. While later writers often describe Aeolus as a god himself, Homer is pretty clear that he’s a mortal. Either way, he was entrusted by the gods to be the keeper of the winds, restraining them on his isolated island until they were needed by the gods at various locations on earth.
Odysseus knew of Aeolus, and all of the stories depicted him as a friendly, honorable man, which sounded amazing after their last two disastrous landings. Here was a man that could point them the way home and maybe even help speed them on their journey. With a relieved smile, Odysseus directed his ships to land (how is never made clear, but I presume that the island must have had some kind of floating dock connected to the island above).
Aeolus gladly welcomed the Ithacan soldiers to his hall and offered to let them stay for a time to lick their wounds and recover for the next leg of their journey. The gods provided for Aeolus, both because he was a just, honorable ruler and (mostly) because they had entrusted him with an important job. Aeolus had a large family of six sons and six daughters. According to Diodorus, his sons were children of Cyane (a nymph who was supposedly the handmaiden of Persephone and, after failing to prevent her abduction by Dis in the Roman version of the story, literally dissolved into tears and was lost in her pool); according to the scholia on the Odyssey (explanatory and critical comments written into the margins of early copies of the text by ancient scholars), the daughters were children of Telepora or Telepatra, daughter of Laestrygon, a son of Poseidon. Homer says that the six sons were wed to the six daughters (who were all half-siblings, which is gross but totally on-brand for both monarchs and deities, so it checks out). The sons were all said to have gone on to become kings, just and pious rulers (though Diodorus doesn’t mention the daughters at all).
Aeolus and his incestuous children feasted each day in the halls of the wind on roasted meats and relax to the music of pipes. He was fairly isolated out here on his flying kingdom, so Aeolus was hungry for news of the wider world. He hosted Odysseus and his men for a month, pressing them each night for news of Troy, distant Greece, and the journey so far of Odysseus and his men. Odysseus loved the sound of his own voice, so he was only too happy to recount the tales in excruciating detail (which is probably why it took him a month, although to be fair, it takes a long time to discuss the events of ten long years of war). After a month of eating well and resting, the Ithacans were itching to get moving again. Odysseus told their host how wonderful staying on Aeolia had been, but they needed to be on their way home. He also asked for directions and maybe a little bit of help from the Keeper of the Winds maybe?
Aeolus found Odysseus incredibly charming (as most people who meet him anywhere other than a battlefield often do), and he was grateful for such wonderful storytelling to break up the monotony of hanging out on an empty island all by their lonesome, so he agreed to help. He gifted Odysseus an ox-hide bag, made from the entire skin of a full-grown ox, and bound the winds inside. Zeus had given him total control over the winds, able to rouse or soothe them as he saw fit (unless a god had need of them, I guess), so he was able to bind them in the bag, tied with an intricate knot by a silver cord. The knot was so intricate because it had to make sure that not a single puff of air could pass through. The only wind not bound in the bag was the gentle West Wind, which would safely and gently blow them home. All he had to do was keep the bag closed until they got home to make sure that they weren’t assailed by any of the more violent winds bound in the bag. Easy, right?
Taking their leave of the benevolent king, Odysseus and his men set sail for home once more. They sailed west for nine days without incident (you’ll notice the number nine showing up a lot in this story as it had a mystical significance to the ancient Greeks). By the end of the tenth, they could spy land on the horizon. Odysseus was a solid sailor, and he knew home when he saw it. They were close enough that he could make out men tending fires on the shoreline. A little further only and they would be home.
Odysseus, who had been spending as much time as he possibly could on deck for the last nine days to make sure everything went smoothly, was exhausted. Towards the end, Odysseus had insisted on working the ropes for the mainsail himself to ensure that they stayed on course and safe. With home in sight, he finally relinquished control to someone fresher than himself. They were practically home, right? Surely nothing could go wrong now. Confident and sleep deprived, Odysseus left an officer in charge on deck and went below to his small captain’s room to sleep. His men were given strict orders to leave the bag of winds alone and to wake Odysseus if anything happened that needed his attention.
No sooner was he sound asleep than his men began to mutter amongst themselves. Odysseus had a reputation as an honorable man who shared the spoils of war equitably amongst his crew. The plunder from Troy had been divided up already, but so far, they had captured almost nothing on their adventures home. At each port of call, various calamities had prevented them from taking any wealth on board (some of which was their own fault, not that they remembered that fact by now). The only treasure worth anything currently on board was the bag from Aeolus. None of them had seen inside it on Odysseus’ orders, but all had seen the lavish palace on his magical island. Surely this bag from a magical land must contain the greatest treasures they’d ever seen. What’s more, selfish Odysseus didn’t want to share it with his crew and so was trying to hide it from them to keep them in the dark. He thought they were all too blind to see his little scheme, but they were smart, perceptive soldiers right? It was only fair that they get a share! They soon agreed that they were close to home and could afford to disobey their captain. They decided to break open the bag and divy up the treasure inside while Odysseus slept.
The sack was brought up to the top deck so that everyone could crowd around as it was opened. It was the only way they could all be sure that everyone got their fair share. The complicated knot was undone and, as they all held their collective breath, the bag was opened. Raw force exploded out from the bag, knocking down every last crewman, rank after rank. The clear skies suddenly darkened to an ugly black and purple color, and raging winds whipped the calm sea into sudden fury. From the bag erupted a sudden squall, catching the ships broadside and driving them out to sea and away from the home that had been just out of reach.
The storm’s unexpected fury roused Odysseus from his exhausted slumber. A dread premonition gripped his heart as he raced up to the top deck. There, he found his men clinging to every available surface to avoid being swept overboard, weeping in terror and hopelessness at having home snatched away from them. Odysseus felt his heart drop into his stomach. He thought he’d done it, thought he’d beaten prophecy and Polyphemus’ curse. He hadn’t. Odysseus stared out at the towering whitecaps and considered diving overboard and ending his suffering here and now. It would be easily, certainly. That wouldn’t be him though, and so Odysseus too grabbed hold and rode out the storm.
No shred of sunlight could be seen through the glowering stormclouds as they were driven aimlessly across the surface of the sea. They had no hope of controlling their path in this mad storm – they could only hope to survive. Some time later, the seas finally calmed down again and the Ithacans got a clear view of where they had ended up. Ahead, they could see the familiar towering cliffs and bronze ramparts of Aeolia. Shit, the storm had driven them all the way back to the Island of the Wind (which made sense – the bound winds must have been trying to get home). They were all the way back where they’d started.
The Greeks once again drew anchor at the floating island, drew fresh water, and ate a quick meal to calm ravenous stomachs. Once everyone had eaten and settled down to rest, Odysseus took a trusted lieutenant and a herald to go and seek the hall of King Aeolus. As they had expected, they found him in his grand hall feasting with his wife and many children. Odysseus was announced by the herald and entered the hall of the bewildered king.
“What the…Odysseus? You’re back? Why? Were you attacked by some angry god? I thought we’d set you up to get home without incident, or anywhere else you might want to go. Why have you returned?” In all likelihood, their questions were from genuine concern and bafflement, but proud Odysseus heard a taunt hidden in their words and hung his head in shame and despair. “My mutinous crew ruined everything, and all because I couldn’t keep my damned fool eyes open for just a little longer. We were almost home – I could see Ithaca! But those traitors on my ships opened the bag, and the winds dragged us back here. Please, my friend – you can set this right! You have the power to help me get home!”
That pronouncement prompted hushed discussions amongst Aeolus and his children. There was much whispering and many covert glances. Finally, Aeolus stood. “I cannot help you. Leave my halls and set sail from my island. Now! Begone from this place! You are clearly the most cursed man alive, under the cruel scrutiny of angry gods and I will not set myself against them. Only a fool would host a man or help him on his way when the gods have made it so very clear that they want him to suffer, and I am no fool. You said it yourself: you were home, but now you’ve come all the way back here swifter than you left. I believe that the gods mean you to wander on your own, and I will not try to help you again. The gods themselves hate you, and I will not have you in my home the next time that they strike at you. Begone!”
Ashamed and afraid, Odysseus abandoned the halls of Aeolus and went back to his ships. The men could read their doom in his haggard face, and they moved to the oars with heavy hearts. The wind was not in their favor, but they dared not overstay their welcome here, now that the king had ordered them gone. Spirits broken by their own folly, the men rowed away from the floating Island of the Wind.
For six days and six nights, the Ithacans rowed, hoping for a change in the winds but with no luck. On the seventh, they came to a new, strange land. Craggy cliffs surrounded a large natural harbor. High above, overlooking everything, set a squat stone fort. As far as the eye could see rolled green fields teeming with grazing cattle and penned sheep. Odysseus thought to himself that a man who never needed to sleep could become rich herding cattle by day and sheep by night in this abundant land. 11 Ithacan ships sailed through the narrow mouth of the harbor, ringed by towering natural cliffs, and moored close together for safety. The walls provided protection from the wild sea, allowing not even a breath of wind to stir the calm waters of the harbor. Only Odysseus’ ship stayed out on the open ocean. He wanted to climb one of the cliffs himself and get an eye on what lay around. They’d been surprised too many times already, and Odysseus wanted to be prepared.
The cliff face was ragged, offering plenty of handholds and an easy climb. Up top, Odysseus surveyed the lands. Strangely, everything he could see was empty. Nowhere did he spy man or beast out working or walking. Everything was still and silent. It was eerie. The only thing out of the ordinary to be seen was a plume of smoke winding up to the sky on the horizon. Odysseus didn’t like it. He stayed in his high vantage point and ordered three of his men, two soldiers and a runner, to go into the empty village where the smoke wafted.
They rowed ashore and headed up a beaten trail, rutted by the wheels of the wagons that hauled timber from the mountains, heading for the walled town. Just outside the walls, the three Ithacans met a young woman who was drawing water from a well. The three men approached cautiously, asking her where they were and who ruled this land. The strapping young woman told them that her father, Antiphates, was the king of the Laestrygonians. She gestured to the high-roofed halls inside the wall and said that her father lived there. Thanking her, they headed inside the walls. Something about her seemed off, but none of them could put a finger on what.
The town was empty, and no one stopped them as they went into the king’s hall. Inside, they found Antiphates’ wife, and it suddenly clicked what had been wrong. This woman was massive, towering over them like a mountain crag, and they could now recognize that the woman they had met outside had looked like a young child except for her large size. The queen summoned her husband from royal council while the three Greeks froze, unsure what to do.
The king of the Laestrygonians entered, and he was even huger and more monstrous than his wife. He grinned a toothy smile at the cowering humans and, before they could react, snatched one of them in his huge hand. Smashing the poor man’s head against the wall, he began to rip him into bloody, screaming shreds for dinner. That was enough to decide the other two men that the proper course of action was to run the fuck away! They raced out of the hall while the cannibalistic giant was busy butchering their partner and raced for the ships. Odysseus saw them coming and tried to signal the 11 ships in the harbor to get the fuck out of there. From Antinphates’ halls came a terrible, haunting cry. It echoed over the empty town, which didn’t stay empty for long. Out of the doors swarmed hundreds of giants, all as massive and cruel as their king, and they rushed for the cliffs.
The Ithacan ships saw the desperate signal to flee and began to head out of the harbor, but being tightly clustered together and with no wind to speed them on their way, it took time to try and get lined up to go through the narrow entrance. Time was something they didn’t have. The giants swarmed on the cliffs overhead and began to fling rocks the size of horses down at the floundering ships. The decks exploded in a hail of deadly splinters as the rocks shattered their hulls one after the other, forcing the terrified soldiers to leap into the water and try to swim for safety. It was no use. The cruel giants grabbed massive spears and skewered the men as they tried to flee, turning the harbor water red with their death. None of the men from the 11 ships in the harbor made it out of that charnel house alive.
While this was happening, Odysseus had already scrambled back down the cliff face and hacked at the rope tying them to the rocks with his sword. He ordered his men to their oars, screaming at them to row or die. He meant it, and they knew it. The lone black ship backed water away from the deadly land of the man-eating giants and rowed out to the safety of the open water. Once they were sure they were out of range of thrown rocks, they stopped to wait for any survivors to reach them. None did. Out of the 12 ships that had almost reached home, only one still sailed. With heavy hearts, Odysseus ordered his last ship to head out to uncharted waters once more.
The body count has grown in a torrent of blood this episode, so we’ll leave Odysseus and his few survivors to mourn their many dead and head 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 is Hyacinth.
Hyacinth, also known as Hyacinthus, was a particularly beautiful Spartan prince. He was said to be so beautiful, in fact, that he attracted the attention of one of the all-time great musicians of ancient Greece: Thamyris. You may not recognize his name, but he was one of only three people ever accepted as students of the legendary musician Linus, and you definitely know the other two names: Orpheus and Heracles (also known as Hercules), so that should give you an idea of how impressive this guy was. According to Apollodorus, the younger Hyacinth was such a beautiful specimen of masculinity that Thamyris fell passionately in love with him, becoming the first ever gay couple in the Greek world.
It was a passionate affair, but the rare beauty possessed by Hyacinth was exactly the sort of thing to attract the attention of the gods, and that’s exactly what happened. Enter Apollo. As good as Thamyris was, Apollo was the literal god of music. They began a torrid affair of their own, though it seems that they did so behind Thamyris’ back, at least according to some sources. Whenever the mortal singer was busy, Apollo and Hyacinth would travel the world in Apollo’s chariot pulled by swans, and Apollo would teach the mortal man to play the lyre, to use the bow, and to hunt.
Now, while Hyacinth and Apollo were jet setting around the world before it was cool, another god took notice of the gorgeous Spartan prince. Zephyrus (sometimes known as Zephyr), the god of the gentle west wind (and the only wind not kept in Odysseus’ magic bag) also had an eye for beauty. We met him briefly back in Episode 7, where he was working for Eros, though most sources have him living in a cave in Thrace (which made it almost inevitable that he would see Hyacinth and Apollo dallying and fucking in splendid meadows all over the place.
Little has survived of their tumultuous affair (run behind the backs of both Thamyris and Apollo), though at least one engraved cup showing Zephyros and Hyacinth in mid-fuck from between 490 and 480 BC has. Whatever the details, it’s clear that Hyacinth chose Apollo over the other two. Thamyris wasn’t one to go give up something he wanted without a fight, and he was vain and arrogant enough to try to win Hyacinth back as his own. Unfortunately, Apollo was just as arrogant and determined, only he also had the powers and connections of a god (and absolutely no concern about destroying his own grandson).
Claiming to be impressed by Thamyris’ skill and talent, Apollo threw a lavish banquet, filled with singing and dancing courtesy of the Muses themselves. The entertainment was incredible as only divine art can be, but then Apollo stuck the knife in. He mentioned, just in passing you understand, that he’d heard that Thamyris had been boasting that he was a better musician than the Muses, but surely he couldn’t be that full of himself, right? Thamyris had more pride than sense, so he doubled down on his earlier boast. Not only did he think he was the better musician, he was willing to bet on it.
Angrily, the Muses accepted his challenge, and they soon settled on terms. If Thamyris won, he would get the chance to fuck each of the Muses, one after the other. If the Muses won, they could do whatever they liked to Thamyris. Any student of mythology should know that you never make an open-ended promise like that, but Thamyris was confident of his victory. Both gave incredible performances, but by popular acclaim, the banquet guests chose the Muses as victors. With cruel smiles, the Muses proclaimed the forfeit: Thamyris would be stripped of his musical and poetical talent, have his eyes gouged out, and be beaten bloody with wooden rods. After that, Thamyris was no longer in the picture.
Apollo thought he had Hyacinth all to himself now, but he had forgotten (or never known) about Zephyrus. The west wind had not, however, forgotten about Apollo. He knew good and well that he wouldn’t be able to take Apollo in a stand-up fight, so he decided to be sneaky instead. Zephyrus waited and watched for the right moment.
It came while Apollo and Hyacinth were off playing in a field one day. And not sexy penis games this time, but actual sport games. Apollo was teaching Hyacinth to properly throw a discus and taking turns back and forth. They were laughing and having a good time, so they decided to make it a friendly competition. Apollo went first, hurling the discus with such gusto that it sailed off into the sky and split the clouds. Laughing, Hyacinth raced off after it, trying to catch it before it hit the ground. Zephyrus saw his chance. He harnessed his winds and nudged the discus just so. It slipped between Hyacinth’s fingers, hit a rock, and bounced with a sickening thud into his skull.
Apollo went deathly pale as he watched his beloved Hyacinth jerk, blood spewing from the gaping wound in his face, and drop bonelessly to the earth. He froze for only a moment, then rushed to his lover’s side. Apollo was skilled in medicine, and he plied every trick of the trade he knew to try and save poor Hyacinth, but to no avail. When that failed, he even tried pouring ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, down Hyacinth’s throat, but it was no use – Hyacinth was dying. Hyacinth’s thread had been cut by the Fates, and not even the gods could gainsay them.
Apollo did not know of Zephyrus’ mischief, so he blamed himself for his beloved prince’s death. He wept over the dying young man, wishing that he could become mortal and die alongside Hyacinth; that was impossible however, so he promised the dying mortal that he would never forget. What’s more, he vowed that the world would not forget either. From the blood that had poured out of the split skull, Apollo created a flower, the hyacinth. On the petals of this delicate flower, he inscribed letters, which either represented Hyacinth’s initials or the two Greek letters of ‘Ia’ or ‘alas’ to ensure that the Spartan prince would never be forgotten. According to some later tales, including Pausanias, Apollo was later able to resurrect Hyacinth and grant him immortality, bringing him up along with his sister Polyboea, to live in the heavens forever. So remember – it’s never a good idea to be in a love triangle with two jealous gods.
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, we’ll take a break from Odysseus and his travels for our annual Halloween special. You’ll see how carving pumpkins can save your life, how wild animals can ruin your life, and how eldest brothers can endanger your life. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll discover a tree straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.