Episode 72H – Bring Me to Life – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 72H Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re going back into the sunless abyss to meet our heroes. You’ll discover that Heracles can be in two places at once, that you don’t have to stop holding a grudge just ‘cause you’re dead, and that human paradise can be animal hell. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll meet a giant who’s mostly famous for being the villain in someone else’s story. 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 72H, “Bring Me to Life”. 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. They’d stopped at another island to get their bearing and Odysseus had again run into deadly trouble, getting most of his men eaten by cannibal giants known as the Laestrygonians, leaving only the men on his lone ship alive to journey on. They’d reached what seemed like another deserted island, only to encounter the demigoddess witch Circe, who turned half of the Ithacans into pigs. Odysseus defeated her magic with the help of his magical penis and the god Hermes, earning her help. Odysseus then spent a year having a wild, drunken fling with Circe before finally moving on to next steps (which involve a trip into the Underworld for some advice from a dead seer). There, he met a lot of dead people, got a lot of guilt, and received some helpful if cryptic warnings about the future. He then held a nice little receiving line for the dead shades, which doesn’t do much for the plot but offers a lot of tantalizing bits and pieces of other stories for historians.
At last, all of the notable and important dead ladies had made it through Odysseus’ receiving line, giving him a momentary hope that this endless formality was done, but he almost immediately spied a line of dead men forming up. He sighed but, being a king with a kingly sense of duty, rolled his shoulders and prepared to meet them as well.
Odysseus thought he was prepared for anything after all he had seen so far, but the first shades to march forth and drink deeply on the fresh blood (from Odysseus’ sacrifice last episode) broke his heart and shocked his mind. The dead shade facing him, mouth dripping with gore, was none other than Agamemnon, late king of Mycenae, brother of Menelaus of Sparta and one of the great generals of the Trojan War. When Odysseus had left Troy the second time (see Episode 72A), Agamemnon had been alive and well and headed for home with his own fleet of ships. This meeting, here in Hades, is the first that Odysseus knew that a man he loved like a brother was dead (and you can see Episode 26O if you want the story). Even harder, the ghost was flanked on both sides by comrades from the Trojan War who had fallen in battle over ten years of bloodshed.
Once the fallen king had drunk of the blood, his eyes found Odysseus and he rushed towards his old friend, tears in his eyes, to try and embrace the man. Alas, he was but a ghost and his limbs had no substance anymore. Odysseus also wept at the sight of his friend, here in the land of the dead, and his heart went out to him. “Brave Agamemnon, lord of men! What fatal blow has struck you down? Did Poseidon smash your ship against the rocks with a terrible storm? Or did you die plowing through ranks of enemies as you raided their town, stole their herds, conquered their homes, and took their women?”
“Cunning Odysseus, mastermind of war! Alas no, I was not wrecked on the deck of my ship screaming defiance into the teeth of Poseidon, nor did I charge into a withering hail of fire to die in a blaze of glory. Aegisthus hatched my accursed doom and it was he who killed me; he with my own damned wife!” Homer’s Odyssey is one of the two main sources that we know the story of Agamemnon’s death from but since we already covered it in detail using both the Odyssey and Aeschylus’ Orestia, I’m not going to get into it again here.
When Agamemnon had finished laying out his tragic tale of weal and woe, Odysseus cried with his dead friend and fellow king. “How terrible! From the very beginning, Zeus of the thunderbolt has hated the house of Atreus with a terrible vengeance and his most deadly weapon has always been the wiles of women (which is a pretty uneven view of everything that’s happened as the men in the various situations carried a heavy share of the blame in every case). Your armies died for the sake of your brother’s wife Helen and then you met your end to the schemes of Clytemnestra, who plotted your demise while your labored worlds away!”
“You speak truly, old friend. Take my life as a lesson and never indulge your wife too far or ever tell her the whole truth, whatever you may know. Only ever tell her a part of it and hide the rest,” which is truly terrible relationship advice, so it’s not hard to see why his marriage crumbled. “Not that you will be murdered by your Penelope, my friend. She’s too steady and her love runs too deep for that. I remember her on your wedding day, a young blushing bride in all her beauty. We left to ride to war, and she held your infant son against her breast. He must be a man by now. He may still see his father come sailing home to him one day, and embrace him at home once more, which is only right and fitting. But my accursed wife – she never even let me soothe my soul with a look at my own son. No, she murdered me first! Trust no woman, Odysseus! If you ever make it back to Ithaca, heed my advice and sail into port in secret. The time for trusting women is gone forever!” Yeah, dead Agamemnon’s pretty problematic even for the ancient Greek heroes. But hey – at least he’s dead.
“Odysseus, have you heard news of my son?” Since Odysseus has been stuck wandering the wilder places of the world since leaving Troy, he knew exactly nothing. Agamemnon and Odysseus stood there weeping and swapping war stories as other great heroes came and went. Deadly Achilles and his beloved Patroclus, Antilochus, and the Great Ajax in particular.
The peerless warrior Achilles also knew Odysseus at once and greeted him as the old friend he was. “Odysseus, man of tactics, what great feat of daring has brought you to the house of Death? Only the senseless, burnt-out wraiths of mortals dead and gone make their home here.” “Achilles, greatest of the Achaeans, I needed to speak with Tiresias since he’s apparently the only man in existence, living or dead, who can tell me how to get home again. Since your death, I have not been home and my life has been a string of endless troubles. But you – we worshipped you as a god when you were alive and it seems you lord it over the dead here as well, so I don’t think you need to grieve your death.”
“Are you seriously trying to out misery-dick me here, Odysseus? I died. Don’t try to sweet talk me into thinking you have it worse. By the gods, I’d rather be a slave on earth to the lowest man, some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to barely keep me alive than rule over the breathless, forgotten dead. But enough of that – what news of my son? Did he become a champion? And what of my father Peleus? Does he hold pride of place among my beloved Myrmidons, or do they despise him because old age has sapped the strength from his limbs?” He sighed. “I miss the daylight, Odysseus. Gods, what I wouldn’t give to visit my father’s house one last time – I would drench my deadly hands in the blood of those who abuse him and wrest away his honor!”
This passage is incredibly interesting, coming as it does on the heels of the Iliad. There, Achilles had screamed defiance into the teeth of fate and embraced a short life full of glory over a long but boring life. Here, only once it is too late, Achilles wonders if he made the right choice. The greatest heroes get a life of ease and bliss in the Elysian Fields (and immortality, according to some early accounts), especially those who found special favor from the gods (and the best of the best made it to the Isle of the Blessed, which could only be reached by making it to the Elysian Fields, choosing to be reincarnated, being found worthy of the fields again, choosing to roll the dice a third time, and then once again gaining entrance to the Elysian Fields). However, the shade of Achilles makes it clear that even the blessed dead miss being alive, no matter how nice the afterlife. It’s a nice little balance to the bloodthirsty ode to war that is the Iliad.
Like with Agamemnon, Odysseus had to explain to Achilles that, having been everywhere but home since Troy, he had no news of Peleus. He did however have knowledge of Achilles’ son Neoptolemus, much to the dead father’s delight. “He sailed with me out of Scyros to join the Argives under arms and dug in around Troy, as you know. Of all of the soldiers in my crew, only myself and godlike Nestor were better than he. He slaughtered scores of deadly warriors on the bloody fields of Troy, including the deadly Eurypylus, son of Telephus, one of the best soldiers I ever fought. After your death, he was one of my hand-picked men to climb into the wooden horse with me in a bid to end the war. All of those brave men were shivering in fear that day as we crouched inside the trap that could easily have become our coffin – but not your son. Not once did I see him go pale or flick a tear from his cheek. No, he kept his sword gripped in his fist, begging me to let him burst forth in a storm of bronze. Once we sacked King Priam’s craggy city, he took his fair share and princely prize, boarded his own ship without a scratch on him, and sailed for home. I don’t know anything after that, I’m afraid.” It was enough for Achilles. He raced off in long, loping strides across the fields of asphodel triumphant in the glories of his gallant son.
Once Achilles, still held in great esteem by his dead comrades, had gotten his news and gone on his way, the other shades crowded around Odysseus, each asking after the thing that worried or grieved them the most from the land of the living which was shrouded from their dead eyes. Only the ghost of Ajax the Great, son of Telamon, kept his distance from the living captain, blazing still with anger that Odysseus had beaten him and taken the armor of Achilles as his prize (back in Episode 26O), which takes place after the end of the Iliad and is only vaguely alluded to here. The whole story comes from other sources, including the play Ajax by Sophocles. Odysseus, having won the armor in a speech contest, had given it to Achilles’ son, figuring it was the right thing to do, but Ajax never forgave Odysseus for, as he saw it, stealing his prize from him. “Ajax, are you still determined to hold your bitter rage close to your soul in death? The gods set up that terrible prize to plague the Achaeans and it cost us you, the great tower of strength. We grieved your death as deeply as we did Achilles, deep and true, with none to blame but Zeus who sealed your doom. Please, old friend, quench your rage and talk to me!”
Ajax spoke not a word. With one dark, hateful look at Odysseus, he stalked off towards Erebus to join the hordes of the departed dead. He didn’t look back. Odysseus briefly considered going after him, but then he remembered that assholes never apologize ever for any reason and he stayed quiet in a stoic, manly way and convinced himself that he’d much rather greet the procession of dead people than have a last chance at a slightly vulnerable conversation with one of his oldest friends.
And so he went a different path down into the depths of the Underworld where he saw Minos, king of Crete and son of Zeus, sitting on his throne and holding his golden scepter of office as Judge of the Dead. Traditionally, he was one of three men who held that esteemed office, along with Aeacus (who judged the souls of dead Europeans according to Plato) and Rhadamanthus (brother to Minos and in charge of judging the souls of easterners per Plato again), though it was Minos who would have the deciding vote if the other two should disagree. Around the feet of the Judge clustered those souls who had not yet been sent to their final resting place, pleading their cases with desperation in the hopes of getting a better afterlife.
On Odysseus traveled, past the gates of Death, until he came to the Asphodel Meadows where most dead souls end up. The depictions of this part of Hades vary wildly from source to source, with many of the post-Homeric poets describing it as a paradise where happy souls dwelt in ease; however the passages from Homer (the earliest extended depiction of the underworld surviving to the modern day) show it as a dark, gloomy, dreary place. It is set in sharp juxtaposition to the Elysian Plain and the Isle of the Blessed as a mirthless place where souls drifted aimlessly, weeping and wailing. Some depictions have it as a place of utter neutrality (basically a Medium Place for all you fans of The Good Place), while others held that souls sent here would drink of the River Lethe and lose all memories of their lives on earth and with them, their identities. This was a fairly gloomy if not outright torturous outcome that awaited most souls, especially those who lived ordinary lives rather than taking up arms and living forever in story and song, as a way to encourage militarism.
There in the Meadows, Odysseus saw Orion the mighty hunter chasing after the wild beasts he had slain in life, bronze-studded club in hand. Beyond, in the harsher depths of Tartarus (which is not typically considered to be a part of Hades so much as adjacent to it), he saw the giant Tityos (who we’ll see again in Gods and Monsters) sprawling across 9 acres of Tartarus and being eaten alive by a pair of vultures for all of eternity.
Beyond the bloody giant, Odysseus could see Tantalus (from whom we get the word ‘tantalize’) being eternally tortured in Zeus’ signature creative way. The old man stood in a pool up to his chin under the dangling branch of a magical fruit tree bearing pears, pomegranates, apples, figs, and even olives all on the same heavy limb above his head. He was obviously dehydrated as shit, but each and every time he bent down to try and drink, the water would drain away, leaving only black earth caked at his feet. He was just as obviously emaciated and starving, but every time he stretched out his hand to grab something to eat, the wind would blow it just beyond the reach of his fingertips. Zeus can be a real bastard sometimes but in this case, Tantalus might even deserve it.
Traveling onward, Odysseus met that old dickwad Sisyphus that we met back in Episode 26G. He was heaving that famous boulder up the steep hill to the very tippy top only to have it roll down the other side and force Sisyphus to start the whole process over again. It’s a terrible torture for eternity, but I bet it’s a pretty killer workout.
Leaving the tortured asshole district behind, Odysseus next met one of the all-time greats – Heracles himself (better known today by his Roman name, Hercules). The story clarifies that it’s not the living hero, but the ghost of the dead demigod here in Hades (which is necessary since, as we’ll see when we cover the Labors of Heracles, he’s one of the very few heroes to make it in and out of Hades alive; Odysseus will be in very rare company if he manages to return to the land of the living again at the end of this). It is even more necessary to clarify that this is the ghost of Heracles since Heracles became a full god upon his death, shedding his mortality, which Odysseus is now meeting with. Indeed, he comments as an aside that the divine Heracles is enjoying feasts with the deathless gods on tall Olympus along with his fourth and final wife Hebe, cupbearer to the gods (whom he married after his ascension to godhood).
The dead mortality of the once-mighty hero is a terror to the dead souls around him. In one fist, he clutched his bow with an arrow nocked and drawn. As you’ll discover when we cover his story, the bow of Heracles was of particular terror as he had dipped his arrows in the venom of the hydra, making them unbelievably lethal as well as agonizing. Across his chest was slung his sword belt, complete with golden baldric emblazoned with savage bears, boars, and lions with wild, fiery eyes around a melange of battles and wars and massacres – tokens of many of the mighty deeds of Heracles.
Heracles set eyes on Odysseus and immediately recognized him as a fellow legendary hero beset by ill fortune from the gods. “Famed Odysseus, man of great exploits, luckless fellow – you too? Shit man, sorry to hear that you have to brave a fate as harsh as the one I bore when I yet walked in the light of the sun. Son of Zeus I may have been, but all that meant was that I had a shit lot from the beginning and my torments never ended until the day I died. I was forced to slave away for this little asshole who wasn’t half the man I was. That dipshit saddled me with the most heartbreaking labors; hell, he once forced me to make the journey you’re now making and retrieve Cerberus from the gates of Hades thinking that surely I’d never make it back. You should have seen the look of terror on his face when I dragged that three-headed hound to his fucking door!” And with that declaration, Heracles turned back to the House of Death.
Odysseus waited where Heracles had left him, hoping that other shades of storied heroes might come by, or even the ghosts of ages long dead who had already passed into legend by the time of Odysseus – men like Theseus and Prithous, whose deeds had shaped the world. What he got instead was a swarming mob of the dead. They surged around him, their unearthly cries filling his ears. They were everywhere, all of them calling out, begging for news of the families they had left behind when their hearts stopped beating, of the world beyond darkness and shadow. They raged like a tidal wave, and Odysseus feared he might be swept under and carried away into the depths, lost forever in dusky death.
Terror gripped his heart at that awful thought and he beat a hasty retreat back up the path towards his ship. He worried that, given the commotion his presence was now causing, dread Persephone might send up some terrible monster from the endless embrace of death, perhaps even the fearsome gorgons to turn him to stone (and he without a mirror shield would be fucked). Breaking free from the mob, he ran back to the beach, climbed onto his black ship, and ordered his crew to set sail right fucking now. The men, who hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place, were only too happy to get the hell out of Dodge and complied with haste. They rushed to their places and plied their oars, and the ship was soon carried into the swift currents of the Oceanus River, back towards the mortal world and relative safety. Before much longer, a stiff breeze caught the sails and bore them away.
They landed under the blanket of night back at Aeaea, home to Circe the sorceress. They waited for the first light of Dawn, and then Odysseus sent a contingent to fetch Elpinor’s corpse to carry out his last wishes from last episode. They built a pyre on a jutting headland overlooking the sea and performed his funerary rites, weeping openly. They burned his body and built his grave mound, balancing his oar atop it as he had wished.
Circe was aware that the Achaeans had returned to her corner of the world, but she had the courtesy to wait until after they had mourned to come and see Odysseus and his men, decked out in rich clothing and followed by her handmaids bearing trays of breads and meats and ruddy wine. I suspect that she’s showing off a little to let Odysseus know exactly what he was giving up by pursuing his quest to get home (and by that, I mean a literal magic-wielding goddess who wanted a piece of that D). “Welcome back to the land of the living, my reckless friends! You have done the impossible, and returned from the realm of the dead! You are among the lucky few who will die twice over – most only taste of death the once! Here, eat, drink, and rest from your ordeal. On the morrow, we can talk. I will help you set your next course and try to warn you of the dangers in your path so that no nasty traps will slit your throats when you aren’t looking.”
Nothing can wash away a long day like a hot meal and strong booze. The men gratefully spent the rest of the day feasting and drinking and generally not thinking about the dangerous path that still lay before them. For a brief fleeting moment, the Greeks are happy and so that’s where we’ll leave them for now and move on to 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 Tityos the giant.
We met this giant very briefly in the main story, so now it’s time to circle back and find out just what terrible things he’s being punished for. He’s one of those mythological figures who captured the classical imagination, appearing in paintings, Dante’s Inferno, and even the modern day game Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, which I am currently playing and thoroughly enjoying.
Tityos, also known as Tityus, was the son of Zeus and either Gaea (the Titan of the earth as well as the physical incarnation of it) or the mortal princess Elara (the daughter of King Orchomenus) or possibly both at once. How? Glad you asked. See, Zeus did what Zeus does and fell head over dick in lust with the poor mortal woman Elara. And, of course, Zeus’ dick did what Zeus’ dick does and got her immediately pregnant. Zeus soon became aware that he had knocked up yet another mortal woman on another one of his divine rape scenes and he began to fear that Hera would do what Hera does. To protect her (and spare himself a tongue lashing), Zeus hid Elara deep inside Gaia, who was also the physical Earth.
As is almost always the case when Zeus whips out his dick around a mortal woman, it did not end well for the mortal woman though, unusually, it’s not because of Hera’s jealousy. Demigods always ended up with some sort of supernatural abilities, but some of them also inherit more. Tityos, as the child would come to be named, had inherited the incredible, gigantic size of the Titanic forebears of the Olympians. Before he was born, he grew and grew and grew until it became impossible for Elara to bear. In some versions, she dies in childbirth trying to pass a Buick through a doggie door. In most others, he literally rips his poor mother apart before he’s even born, and is saved from his own death by Mother Gaia, which is why there’s confusion as to who exactly his mother is. Some tales say that he grew as large as he did because he gestated in the bowels of the earth, awakening his gigantic heritage. Eventually, Tityos emerges fully formed from Gaia’s womb, usually at a cave in Euboea that became known as Elarion after his dead mortal mother.
Other than being a giant, Tityos lived a pretty mundane, unremarkable life after that with one notable exception, which is why he ended up in stories and, relevant to our episode, why he is punished in Tartarus. Most accounts say that the original idea was Hera’s. Given his parentage and given Hera’s propensity for taking out her pain and anger on the innocent victims of Zeus’ lust, it’s possible that this story only happened because she was carrying out her long-delayed revenge. Of course, given that the target she pointed him at was another of Zeus’ lusty victims, this may have been a two birds one stone situation.
And that brings us to the story of Leto. Just like with Elara, Zeus got himself horned up and took it out on Leto and, as always, she got immediately pregnant – with twins this time. Fortunately for her, Leto was the daughter of Titans, specifically Coeus and Phoebe, so the pregnancy didn’t kill her outright. Unfortunately for her, Hera found out about the rape and decided to take revenge on Leto, even though it was absolutely not her fault. In classic Hera style, she got creative with her vengeance: she used her authority as queen of the gods to forbid Leto from giving birth on terra-firma, which equated to anywhere on the mainland of Greece, any island on the sea, or any place under the sun.
Set with a seemingly impossible problem, Leto set out in search of a place where she could safely give birth. She journeyed across the entire world until she at last came to the floating island of Delos. This barren island was not part of the mainland and was also not attached to the sea floor, floating instead on the ocean itself. A massive palm tree near the island’s center provided shade and protection, making the place beneath it technically not under the sun, Thus did Leto find a place to go into labor. There are a few accounts of this story, each with different origins for Delos. In some, Zeus calls forth the island specifically to be a refuge. In others, it already exists and is either uninhabited when she finds it or sparsely populated. In the last version, the people feared Hera’s wrath and didn’t want to let Leto hide out on their island but she offered them a pair of boons in return. First she would anchor the island to the sea floor, bringing it stability that it sorely needed. Second, she would promise that this island would become a sacred place, and people would flock here from all over to see it, spending their money in the process.
The day came, and Leto gave birth to her twins surrounded by swans to hide her from Hera. The first, a girl she named Artemis, was easy and painless. Unfortunately, Hera got wind of what was happening and kidnapped Eilethyia, the goddess of childbirth, leaving Leto in for a world of pain. For nine days, she struggled to bring forth the second child, a son. Fortunately, Artemis would grow up to be a goddess and the baby gods are super capable from the moment they’re born (Hermes is a great example of this), so she was able to assist her mother with labor. In some versions, Artemis was born on the island of Ortygia and she helped her mother cross over to Delos the next day. Finally, the boy was born and named Apollo.
But wait – how does Tityos figure into this? He hasn’t shown up at all! Well, Hera wasn’t done with thirsting for vengeance. She sent monsters born of the earth to harass Leto, Artemis, and Apollo for the crime of existing. The first monster she sent was our boy Tityos, born of the earth. He decided that it would be a fine idea to rape Leto and, thanks to Hera whispering in his ear, he knew where to find her. She was on the road, traveling near the town of Panopeus in Phocis on her way to Delphi. As she walked by, Tityos stepped out and assaulted Leto. Reasonably enough, she called out for help and it was her divine twins who answered the call (different versions claim it was one or the other or both, but I like the both version). They brought Tityos down in a rain of silver arrows, having already mastered the bow, and then Apollo drew his golden sword and finished the job, cutting Tityos’ throat.
Zeus was furious with Tityos for attempting to rape Leto (completely missing the irony of having raped her himself) and he decreed that the giant would suffer his own cruel, creative punishment (and pretty much all of the famous tortures of Tartarus are Zeus’ handiwork). This time, he borrowed from himself and used the same torture that he had meted out to Prometheus – Tityos would have his liver eaten every day by two vultures (instead of one eagle since he needs to up the stakes), which would grow back just in time for it to be eaten again. The choice of liver is not happenstance either. In ancient Greece, the liver was considered to be the home of the soul and of intelligence, so this torture was as much pyschic and metaphysical as purely physical. So if a mystery woman tries to talk you into assaulting a goddess, don’t do it, especially if you value your liver.
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 is going to have to pull out every trick in the book to survive a gauntlet of deadly threats. You’ll discover that the ancient Greeks had some killer music, that ignoring your captain is sometimes the right call, and that sometimes it’s dangerous to be stuck in the middle with you. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll learn the monstrous origins of a common phrase. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.