Episode 72E – This Little Piggy – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 72E Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’ll link back up with Odysseus and his single surviving ship for the next leg of the Odyssey. You’ll see that it’s a bad idea to split the party, that pigs make bad soldiers, and that sometimes you have to fight poison with poison. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet a deadly viper that survived an encounter with Helen of Troy. 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 72E, “This Little Piggy”. 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. Things had gone bad almost immediately, and wise Odysseus had led his men into disaster after disaster: getting bloodied after raiding a random city for shits and giggles, getting his men stoned on premium lotus, getting men killed in the home of Polyphemus the Cyclops and then getting cursed by said Cyclops because Odysseus was too prideful not to reveal his real name, and almost getting home after some help from the King of the Winds only to get blown off course again because his men can’t stop being greedy while Odysseus naps. Aeolus declares that they are cursed by the gods and refuses to help them again, so they sail off without a magical MacGuffin and immediately get into trouble. Finding a protected harbor, 11 of the 12 ships sail inside for protection while Odysseus’ ship stays outside to watch for trouble. He sends three men to see who lives on this island, which turns out to be cannibal giants known as the Laestrygonians who greet their guests by murdering and eating one of them as a hello. The other two men flee, warning the ships of the coming danger, but they can’t escape the harbor in time and all 11 ships are sunk and the men slaughtered and eaten by the giants, leaving only the men on Odysseus’ ship alive to sail away.
The Ithacans were once more lost at sea and sick at heart. They knew more or less which way home was, but this whole area was uncharted territory to the Greeks. Most of their landfalls thus far had been utter disasters, resulting in the violent, bloody deaths of most of their companions. Unfortunately, their rations wouldn’t last forever (or even for very long), so they had no choice but to keep sailing blindly and hoping that their next port of call would be safer than the land of the Laestrygonians had been.
The men had rowed desperately away from the doom that waited for them on the cliffs until their arms burned with exhaustion and land lay far behind. Hoisting sail, they took the ship to sea once more, soon coming to a new, deserted-looking island. This island had a fairly secure natural harbor, so Odysseus had sailed the ship in and landed on the beach. For two days, the men lay there, mourning their many, many dead friends. As Dawn caressed the island’s shores on the third day however, Odysseus decided that it was time to head out into the wilds and see what this island had in store for them. He set out on his own, sword and spear sharpened the night before in readiness, and climbed to the highest point he could see from the ship. Eyes peeled and ears cocked, Odysseus surveyed the landscape for any sign of human habitation or any sound that didn’t belong to typical harmless nature.
At the top of a rocky crag overlooking the bay, Odysseus was high enough to see most of the island and, in the distance, a faint curl of smoke drifting up from beyond the woods that lay just beyond the beach. Having had a few bad encounters already, Odysseus sets out alone into the trackless wilds after the smoke. Moving as soundlessly as he knew how, brave Odysseus followed the smoke until he spied its source: a magnificent and mostly deserted hall. The place looked elegant and empty, but the smoke rising from a fire pit spoke of habitation. Someone must be home.
There didn’t appear to be any immediate threat, but that didn’t mean that something dangerous wasn’t lurking somewhere in this abandoned hall. Hell, the town of the Laestrygonians had looked mostly abandoned too, right up until the man-eating giants poured out to skewer and slaughter his men in an orgy of carnage. Figuring that discretion was probably the better part of valor, Odysseus decided that he should return back to the ship, get everyone fed and geared up, then send a scouting party back here to check things out more thoroughly.
Odysseus crept back through the woods, still vigilant, which is why heard the quiet snap of a twig from somewhere in the underbrush not far away. He was not alone in the woods. Shit. He dropped into a low crouch, spear held ready in his hand, and stalked carefully towards the small sound. He stepped with agonizing care to avoid snapping his own twig and giving away his presence to whatever lurked in the woods with him. The sound came again from just ahead and a little to the right. He crept up to the edge of a small clearing and peered through the underbrush. There, standing in a shaft of sunlight peeking through the trees, was a magnificent stag with a truly massive rack of antlers branching and twisting out from his skull. The morning heat had driven the animal down to the banks of a small stream to drink. Odysseus grinned. It seemed that the gods had not wholly deserted him after all. This beast would make a fine breakfast for the men.
One ear twitched as the animal sensed that it was not alone. In one explosive motion, it bounded away, desperate to escape, but Odysseus was ready. He anticipated the motion and drove his spear clean through the stag’s spine, dropping the poor animal to the ground to gasp out its last blood-frothed breaths. Wrenching his weapon from the carcass’ flank, Odysseus crafted a crude rope from twigs and creepers to lash the beast’s legs together in a sling so that he could carry it back to the ship. Odysseus staggered a little under the weight of this tremendous beast, but he managed to cart it all the way back and fling it down next to the sleeping men. “Morning fellows. Breakfast is served. Sort of. Somebody come clean and cook this thing.”
Everyone began to rouse, stretching and wiping the sleep from their eyes. Odysseus figured they could use some spirit lifting, so he went around with a little ‘it ain’t over til it’s over’ pick me up speech. “Listen to me, my comrades, my brothers in suffering – one day, we will make that final journey down to the dark shores of the Styx in the Land of the Dead, but not yet! Not today! We’ve got a ship full of good soldiers with strong sword-arms, rations and wine still in our stores, and now a truly massive hunk of fresh stag meat! Things are looking up at last, and the gods are starting to smile on us, my friends! For now, let’s eat; let tomorrow wait until tomorrow.”
His speech is slightly prophetic, but he won’t find out why until next time, so neither will we. Food has a magic all its own and so, after a hearty meal in front of some cheerful fires, the surviving Ithacans were feeling much better about their situation. Sure, most of their companions had met a gruesome, agonizing end, but on the bright side, all of the men sitting here had survived! The men set to feasting with a vengeance, celebrating the fact that they were still alive goddammit all day long. They lay down that night feeling much better than they had just a day before and resolved to set out with Odysseus in the morning to explore this new island, to seek this new adventure that awaited them.
When Dawn began to spread her rosy cheer across the island once more, the men roused and mustered. Now that the wine was no longer singing in their veins, the men were a lot more apprehensive about setting out into the unknown than when they had been boasting about it the day before. Odysseus figured that, with his last speech being such a hit, he’d try for round two. “Listen to me, my comrades, my brothers in suffering – you know as well as I do that we’re lost and adrift out here. We can’t tell east from west, dawn from dusk. What we need is some clever plan, some cunning stroke! Unfortunately, I’m fresh out of ideas guys. I did climb that high crag over there and surveyed the island. I didn’t see land anywhere on the horizon as far as I could see, just an endless wasteland of water. I did however see smoke coming from a great hall near the heart of the island, drifting up through the thick brush and woods.”
This speech had the opposite of its intended effect. Rather than rallying the men to bravery, his words brought to mind the horrors that had awaited them the last two times they had investigated signs of unknown habitation. First, they had lost several men to the violent hunger of the savage Cyclops; then, they had lost nearly everyone to the gruesome work of the bloodthirsty, cannibalistic Laestrygonians. Sure, their stop at the Isle of the Winds had gone fine, but they’d known it was a safe place before they’d entered. Every time they’d marched boldly into the unknown, they’d been torn to bloody shreds by unimaginable horrors. The men broke under the terror, shuddering and weeping with grief and fear. Odysseus understood, but he was hardly sympathetic. He figured that grief got them nothing, and they’d already spent four days wallowing in it. Their supplies wouldn’t last forever, and the longer they waited, the more desperate things would be when they finally did decide to set out. He made the executive decision that, crying or no, the Greeks were gonna scout this fucking island today.
Odysseus divided the men into two squads of 22 men each, with himself and his trusted second Eurylochus set to lead them. They drew lots from a bronze helmet to decide which squad had to go see where the smoke came from. Eurylochus’ marker was pulled first and so, weeping all the heavier, he and his squad set out into the forest.
It was simple enough for the battle-seasoned soldiers to find their way through the sparse woods to the hall that Odysseus had located before. As they approached the clearing, they could see that the structure was built on a natural rise in the land that had obviously been cleared with intention. The surprisingly orante building was constructed from large dressed stone blocks into what could only be described as a small palace. Someone powerful clearly lived here, but there were no signs of a large population on this island. It was very strange.
They ventured hesitantly from the woods and into the clearing, but all seemed still and silent. The squad paused to listen, and heard the unnerving sound of rustling coming from all around them. Great shaggy forms stepped out of patches of shadow that had seemed empty before, revealing the wicked claws and jagged jaws of countless deadly beasts – the lean, deadly grace of tawny mountain lions and the silent, stealthy menace of wolves. Strangely, the beasts didn’t move with any apparent malice, moving with all the nonchalance of a friendly dog greeting a family friend. Stranger still, a clear, lilting, haunting voice could be heard drifting out from the palace to wind its enchanting way through the crowd of beasts and men.
The soldiers all knew just how deadly a single mountain lion could be. They knew how the slavering jaws of a hungry wolf could snap the very bone of a man’s leg. They had no chance at all against dozens and dozens of the deadly creatures, and they cowered in terror of becoming the next Ithacans to meet a red fate, but the animals only snuffled and nuzzled at them. They gently herded the men towards the palace and its spellbinding song and the men, terrified though they were, found themselves captivated by the unearthly beauty of that ephemeral melody. Polites, one of Odysseus’ captains, had led from the front of the squad and so was the first to see the slim form of the voice’s owner inside the shadowed halls of stone. He watched her sway gently to the rhythm of her song as she wove her threaded web on the loom, a rich tapestry as incredible as her song. “Friends! I see someone inside through the window, a beautiful woman! I think she’s singing to herself as she weaves on her loom, filling the house with her lovely voice! I know not if she be human or goddess, but I think we should chance it and call out to her.”
The soldiers hesitated, but the man’s urging and the subtle pull of the music convinced them to heed his suggestion. They called out to the woman in the palace, who left her loom to throw open the heavy doors of her edifice to these strangers. She smiled sweetly and invited them into her home. Happy to trade deadly beasts for a lovely lass, the men headed joyfully inside. Perhaps they trusted the ancient traditions of guest-right, although that hadn’t worked out so well for them when they had met Polyphemus. Of the squad of hardy Greek soldiers, only Eurylochus refused to be drawn into this strange situation, as beguiling as it all was. Some instinct whispered in his ear that this was too good to be true, that there was a poison needle buried somewhere in this proffered gift. He alone remained outside to watch through the open doors.
She bade the men to sit in the high-backed chairs around her table while she prepared the wine for them to rinse the dust from their throats and tasty finger foods to soothe grumbling bellies. The men all sat, grateful to be able to take a load off and get a proper meal from a proper host. The lovely woman, long hair bound in intricate braids, mixed for them cheese, barley, and sweet honey with mulled Pramnian wine (a famed wine from the island of Lesbos). The men drained the bowls, smiling contentedly, but then their smiles slackened and their eyes glazed over. All thoughts of home drained from their minds, along with any desire or ability to move from where they sat. From his place outside, Eurylochus watched as the beguiling woman packed away the drugs she had mixed into the wine to ensnare their senses and pulled out a long, strange wand. One by one, she struck the drugged Ithacans with the wand and, to Eurylochus’ shock, each man began to change.
To his growing horror, the skin of each of the Ithacans who had downed the strange woman’s drugged wine was writhing on their bodies in a most unnatural way. It began to warp and shrink, changing color and texture until in the place of each soldier stood a large, squealing pig. With practiced motions, the woman drove the frightened pigs into pigsties in the yard, and they went grunting and screaming at the sudden change. They grew quieter and more contented when she tossed handfuls of acorns, nuts, and berries for the pigs to munch on. All were soon happily crunching fodder and wallowing in the cool mud of the pigsty.
Eurylochus didn’t wait for the dread witch to count her pigs and realize that she missed one. While she was distracted by caring for her new farm animals, he raced back to the last black ship from Troy. The terrified man sprinted as fast as he could manage through the woods, bursting out of the trees to the surprise of Odysseus and the second squad. “You’re back already? Where’s everyone else? Oh shit, did something happen? Speak, man!” Eurylochus tried to answer the questions assailing him from all sides, but now that he didn’t have panicked exercise to keep him occupied, the trauma of what he had just witnessed crushed down on him. He wept uncontrollably, shoulders shaking with raw emotion and driving his companions into a frenzy of anxiety and curiosity.
He finally managed to collect himself enough to recount what had happened to his men. He wasn’t entirely sure just what exactly he had seen, but he knew that the men had walked into a trap despite his protests, had vanished from his view, and hadn’t come back. He knew that the witch was dangerous and that the men were in trouble.
Odysseus was officially Over This Shit. Landing after landing, his men had been slaughtered, and he had been utterly impotent to help them in almost every case. A handful had survived the Cyclops with him, but that didn’t make up for the countless dead. Not this time. Odysseus buckled on his bronze blade chased in silver, took up his bow, and cracked his knuckles. “Take me there, Eurylochus. Take me back exactly the way you came.” Eurylochus, however, was a broken man. He flung himself to the dirt and clutched Odysseus’ knees, begging him not to do this. “Please, Odysseus, don’t make me go back there! My captain, my king – leave me here on this spot. If you go back to that terrible place, you will never return. You’re not going to be able to save any of those poor souls. They’re lost already, but we yet live! We can cut and run and escape our deaths this dark day!” Odysseus shook his head. It was equal parts pride and duty, but he was bound and determined to go into that dread palace and save his men. “Stay here then, if you must. Eat and drink in the safety of the ship. I’m going.”
Odysseus had already been to the witch’s palace once, so he didn’t really need a guide anyway. He easily made his way back to the magnificent hall in the woody clearing. The smoke was once more rising from the heart of the forest, but before he broke through the trees that screened the building from view, a handsome youth stepped out of the trees and into his path. The youth was in the prime of his life, sporting his first thin, wispy beard with pride. He had a beauty and a confidence that, to Odysseus’ keen eye, immediately marked him out as a god. His sudden appearance on an isolated, deserted island probably didn’t hurt. He was right – this was Hermes, messenger of the gods and trickster extraordinaire.
“Where are you headed, my unlucky friend? It hardly seems wise to wander these unfamiliar hills all by yourself. If you’re not careful, you’ll end up grunting and rolling in the muck with your men in the pigsties outside of Circe’s palace. Have you come to free them perhaps? Tsk tsk. I appreciate your zeal, but I warn you that, if you go in there, you won’t leave again. You’ll stay there, trapped with all the rest. Circe is a powerful sorceress, and frankly, you’re no match for her. Lucky for you, I like your spirit sir. You’ve a trickster’s soul, so I can help you. Here, take this. It’s a potent drug, a counter to Circe’s magic. Keep it with you, and it will shield you on that fatal day.
“You’ve had a real run of bad luck, so let me give you a little heads up on what you’re up against here. Circe is going to mix you some tasty wine laced with powerful drugs to immobilize you, but she’ll be powerless to ensorcel you if you chew on this herb that just so happens to grow nearby. Here’s what you do – when Circe goes to strike you with her magic wand, draw your sword from its sheath on your hip and charge her. Make her think you mean to impale her on its deadly edge, and she’ll cower from you and try to coax you into bed instead. If you want her to release your friends and treat you well, don’t refuse the sorceress’ bed, not then. You’ll need to get her to swear a binding oath to the blessed gods that she’ll never plot or scheme against you once you lie there naked beside her. You got all that?”
Odysseus, dazed at his good fortune but happy to have the edge for once, nodded. Hermes plucked an herb from the earth and showed Odysseus how to identify it. The tiny plant had a flower as white as milk and roots as black as night. Hermes named it moly, and warned that it was deadly dangerous for a mortal to try and pluck it from the earth, but was easy enough for a god. Handing over the now-safe protection, Hermes stepped into the air and dashed off for the distant heights of Olympus.
Somehow, knowing that the woman he was approaching was dangerous enough to warrant a visit from a god made him more nervous than he had been when marching boldly into the unknown, magic herb notwithstanding. He felt unseen storms brewing on the horizon with every step, and his heart pounded harder with each and every breath.
Odysseus broke from the cover of the trees and strode nervously up to the sorceress’ door and paused there. He decided it would be rude to burst in uninvited, so he called out to her from the doorstep. She heard his call and threw open her gleaming doors in response, inviting him in with a disingenuous smile. As she had with his men, she ushered him in and offered him an ornately carved, silver-studded chair to sit on with a stool to prop up his weary feet. As he lounged there, she mixed up more of her wine in a golden bowl, heavily laced with the potent drugs. With a silent prayer to Hermes that his magical MacGuffin worked, Odysseus downed the poison-laced wine.
He waited and…nothing happened. The wine was pretty tasty, though the drug did leave a faint aftertaste, but as promised, it had no effect on him. Circe was already grabbing her wand, confident in the potency of her alchemy, so she didn’t notice the lack of effect. Circe whirled on Odysseus and struck him with the wand. “Off to the sty with you, filthy swine! Go and wallow with your piggy friends!” Odysseus smiled, stood, and drew his sword with a slow, ominous motion. He relished her shock more than a little, then lunged at her with his blade as though to drive it straight through her heart.
Circe screamed in terror and dropped bonelessly to the floor, missing the sword (not that Odysseus was actually trying to kill her, but she didn’t know that). She flung herself at his feet, weeping. “How? Who are you, stranger? From whence do you come? It’s impossible! You drank my potion, and you endured my wand, but you’re still human and you’re still yourself! No man has ever withstood my magic before, never! Once it’s past his lips, he’s mine, body and soul.” Her eyes widened as her mind raced. “Oh my gods, it’s you. You’re Odysseus, the twisty, cunning man that Hermes told me would come for me one day! You are, aren’t you? Homeward bound from tall Troy in your black ship.” Odysseus nodded in confirmation, and Circe smiled sensuously at him. “Then come, Odysseus, sheathe your sword and unsheathe your dick! Let us go to bed together and learn to trust one another with naked flesh and passionate sex!”
Circe was impossibly beautiful, and the offer inflamed Odysseus’ mind and penis, but he kept his wits about him just the same. “Circe, Circe, how can you honestly expect me to trust you or to treat you with kindness? You turned my men into pigs in your own house after inviting them in as your guest and then you tried to do the same to me. Now you try to tempt me into your bed. How do I know that you’re not going to slide a dagger between my ribs the minute I turn my back? Nude up with you, mount your bed? Not fucking likely unless you swear a binding, holy oath on the gods to never plot some new intrigue against me or harm me.”
Circe, who may or may not have been planning exactly that, immediately swore exactly as Odysseus required. She vowed that she would never do him any harm. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Odysseus whipped his shirt off to reveal his chiseled pecs, turning this whole thing suddenly into a steamy romance scene (never mind that he’s got a wife waiting for him at home).
And that’s where we’re going to leave him for the moment. He’s in a much more comfortable and sensual position than he usually is at the end of one of these episodes (though his men aren’t quite so lucky), which makes this a good 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 cerastes.
The cerastes, or horned serpent, is one of many varieties of snake born from the blood of the infamous gorgon Medusa (who we will absolutely cover one day when we get to the tale of Perseus). It’s mentioned by a number of ancient and medieval scholars, including Pliny, Theophrastus, Lucan, and Leonardo da Vinci. According to the most common description (since the one described by Theophrastus and Pliny is clearly a fuzzy caterpillar), it is about three feet long. Its skin is the color of pale sand, marked with rusty red stripes at irregular intervals. What makes this beast unique and not just some snake are the horns on its head, which are either a pair of long, curled ram’s horns or four smaller straight horns. What’s more, the snake is said to be the most flexible snake in existence; so much so that some ancient scholars speculated that it had no bones at all.
Cerastes was a desert-dwelling monster, and its hunting method was unique and a little terrifying. The sinuous serpent would bury itself in the sand, leaving nothing exposed but its horns, which would twist and twitch, looking for all the world like worms. Animals, especially birds but also small mammals, would approach this apparent feast, only to have the serpent explode out of apparent thin air in a violent storm of sand and fangs, driving deadly venom deep into its victim’s body, killing it quickly. According to myth, the cerastes is so flexible and boneless because Helen of Troy stepped on it while making her escape from Sparta with Paris, shattering its spine. From then on, the serpent moved in a crooked fashion, scales rustling loosely on its body.
Interestingly, historians are actually pretty confident that a version of this creature existed and, what’s more, have a solid idea of what it was. There is a desert-dwelling viper native to the deserts of northern Africa and parts of the Middle East that does in fact have a pair of horns on its head. This serpent, commonly known as the Saharan horned viper, is officially known by its scientific name as Cerastes cerastes after its mythological progenitor. The horned viper is a sidewinder, which jives with the tales of crooked movement. It is an ambush predator, burying itself in the sand and exploding in a lightning-quick strike at birds and small mammals. When threatened, it even coils up and rubs its scales together, resulting in the strange, dry rustling noted in the ancient texts. Here, at long last, we have actually found a real, live mythical creature. It’s bite is quite dangerous, even lethal, to humans, so maybe steer clear of this mythological wonder.
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 spend some quality time with Circe and Odysseus. A lot of quality time. You’ll see that even safe places can be dangerous, that you have to at least try to get home, and that actually going home can be deadly. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll see that creepy “nice guys” can be found even in the ancient wilderness. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.