Episode 72M – Sacrificial Bull – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 72M Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, Telemachus is finally going to catch up on some of what you already know. You’ll see that bulls can agree to be sacrificed, that Helen has a stash of happy drugs, and that everyone likes Odysseus as long as they don’t have to be around him. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s Europe’s origin 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 72M, “Sacrificial Bull”. 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, almost getting home before getting blown off course again, getting most of the crew eaten by cannibal giants, cavorting with a sorceress for a year, traveling to the Underworld for some advice that they’re all going to ignore, surviving the sirens but losing more men to Scylla and Charybdis, and then getting everyone but Odysseus himself killed after eating the sun god’s cattle (despite having been warned not to in the Underworld). Floating aimlessly on the shattered remains of his ship, Odysseus floated to the island of the nymph Calypso where he became her boy toy for seven long years until Athena finally convinced the other gods to cut the guy a break. We then headed to Ithaca, where Odysseus’ son Telemachus (with some prompting from a disguised Athena) failed to talk the suitors sniffing after his mother and his inheritance into leaving. After some dire warnings, Telemachus hopped on a ship and sailed off in search of news of his father.
Per Athena’s guidance (disguised as old family friend Mentor), Telemachus headed first for Pylos, home to King Nestor (who has shown up quite a few times both in this story and in the Iliad). As the black Ithacan ship pulled into harbor at Nestor’s citadel, a great festival was happening on shore. The Pylian people were gathered there in 9 divisions of 500 each. As Telemachus and “Mentor” watched, each division on the beach sacrificed 9 bulls to Poseidon, god of the sea. The fat-covered thigh bones were burned to the god and the meat itself was roasted for a feast.
Once they were docked, Athena was the first one off the boat, urging haste to Telemachus who dragged his feet until he was the very last one off. “Come on, Telemachus – time to put on your big boy panties and get something done! Fuck shyness! March over there to Nestor, breaker of horses, and ask him what happened to Odysseus, straight up. He’s a wise old man, so he’ll be a straight shooter.”
“And what exactly do I say to him, Mentor? How exactly do I even approach a king? I’m not exactly a smooth talker, and it’s not exactly weird for someone as young as me to feel nervous about demanding answers from someone as old and wise and revered as Nestor of Pylos.” Athena rolled her eyes as his hesitation. “Come on. Look, you grew up in court so you already know some of the right words and I guarantee that the gods will give you whatever inspiration you need for the rest. Now move it, mister! Heel toe!”
Urged on by Mentor, a bemused Telemachus let himself be herded over to where Nestor, his sons, and his friends were roasting meat and getting into the feasting. Nestor saw the strangers approaching and waved them over to him in proper Greek host fashion. The newcomers were given comfy seats, a plate of barbecue, and a glass of wine to toast first Athena and then Poseidon. Nestor’s son Pisistratus considered the two men and wisely decided to give the first plate to Mentor as the apparent elder of the two, earning the disguised Athena’s approval. With a certainty that few mortals ever possess, Athena offered up a prayer to her Uncle Poseidon asking for glory and wealth for Nestor and his people and then for safe passage for Telemachus’ ship knowing that Poseidon wasn’t about to deny her such a small ask.
Once the formalities were out of the way, Nestor inquired as to just who exactly these strangers on his doorstep were and why they had come. Telemachus had been preparing for this moment for a while (and it didn’t hurt that Athena was sending some divine mojo his way), so he was ready for this question. He spins a long-winded introduction, working his way up to asking for news of the missing King Odysseus. Now that he’s clued in to the young man’s parentage, Nestor can see the resemblance to his old buddy Odysseus and is more than happy to tell what he knows. He spins a tale for Telemachus, touching on the end of the Trojan war and the events of Episode 72A. He also tells a version of the death of Agamemenon at the hands of Aegisthus (covered in Episode 26O). Since we already covered Nestor’s story about the argument between Menelaus and Agamemnon at Troy, we’re gonna fast forward to the end here.
After hearing the cliff notes version of the Agamemnon tale, Telemachus wishes aloud that the gods would grant him the kind of power they gave Orestes to avenge his blood. Nestor muses on this a moment. “Now that you mention it, my boy, I do vaguely remember hearing about a mob of suitors hounding your mother. Tell me: is it possible that you’re letting them abuse you, or do you suspect some god of rousing their hatred against you? What a story it would be if he would come blazing in with an army at his back to scatter them like rats. It’s too bad that bright-eyed Athena doesn’t seem to love you the way she always did Odysseus. I’ve never seen a god have such a clear favorite mortal before. If she had your back, those suitors would have other things than marriage on their minds.”
Telemachus, who has gone full emo by this point, sighed dramatically. “Why hope for the impossible? Come on, that’s never going to happen. No matter how hard I wish for it, that day will never dawn – not even if the gods decide to back me up all of the sudden.” Telemachus seems to have forgotten that he suspects a god of having come to his house in disguise to push him on this little jaunt. Athena, still disguised as Mentor, is standing right the fuck behind him as he straight up disses the Olympains, which is never a smart move. Fortunately, all she does is chastise him. “How dare you let such bullshit slip past your teeth, Telemachus! If a god decides to save a mortal, even from a half a world away, they won’t even have to break a sweat to do it! I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather spend years having epic adventures that kept me away for years than rush home to be fucking murdered by my own wife before I even unpack like Agamemnon did.”
Telemachus doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on here, but he’s smart enough to sense the mood in the room and change topics. “Yeah, it’s a real bummer but enough about him. Agamemnon is dead, and my father had his own black doom sealed by the undying gods long ago. I’ve got a different question for you, oh wise Nestor. They say you’ve ruled sagely over three generations, making you almost seem like one of the gods themselves to my young, inexperienced eyes, so I figure I can’t ask for better counsel than yours. What did Agamemnon do to lead him to an ignoble death like that? Where was Menelaus? Why didn’t he do something about this?”
Nestor then launches into the story of Menelaus and Proteus (again from Episode 72A), before cautioning Telemachus to learn from their example and not spend too long wandering the world while the suitors carve up his wealth and home. Despite that warning, Nestor also advices young Telemachus to make the journey to Lacedaemon to visit Menelaus himself since he would have seen Odysseus more recently than Nestor had and might have fresher news. He offers up a chariot and an escort of his sons to the palace of Menelaus and Helen. He also tells Telemachus to press Menelaus for the whole tale in almost exactly the same words that Athena-as-Mentor used about Nestor, saying he’s too wise to lie.
Athena thanks Nestor for his well-told tale and then says that it’s not wise to linger at a feast for the gods. It’s time to cut the tongues out of the mouths of the bulls and burn then, mix the sacrificial wine, and make the final offerings to Poseidon and the rest of the gods before heading out on the next leg of their journey. After the ceremony was finished, the two from Ithaca started to head back to the ship, but Nestor insisted that they stay in his house overnight and sleep in a real bed. There’s no way that he’s letting the son of the great Odysseus sleep in a ship’s hammock when he’s got plenty of comfortable beds in his home. It wouldn’t be proper. They’re his guests, after all.
Athena approves of Nestor’s offer. She encourages Telemachus to take him up on it, saying that she’ll head back to the ship tonight to let the men know what’s going on and prepare for heading out at dawn. Mentor is the only veteran of any kind of actual war on board as the rest of the crew is made up of young men of an age with Telemachus, mostly people he sailed with growing up. Mentor vows to head for the Cauconians next, saying they owe him a steep debt that’s long overdue, but insists that Telemachus continue on to Lacedaemon to see Menelaus. This is utter bullshit, of course. Athena just needs an excuse to duck out of the party early and go do god stuff without anyone wondering where the hell Mentor disappeared to. She then makes all of that lying utterly worthless by transforming into a goddamned eagle right there in front of fucking everybody, making it abundantly clear that she was a god in disguise.
Nestor, Telemachus, and the rest of the assembled Greeks are duly awed by the revelation that a god has been among them this entire time. Nestor has already played back their entire interaction today and has sussed out that this has to have been Athena herself. He calls a promise to the vanishing goddess to sacrifice a strong young heifer to her, its horns sheathed in gold because why not. Athena heard him (and maybe did a little wing waggle to show her appreciation of his good hospitality). Smiling, Nestor led his guest into his home for a proper feast and then a comfortable bed.
Nestor rose with the dawn and went to take his official seat for the morning’s counsel. His sons soon rose from their own chambers and shuffled out to join him, Telemachus among them as an honored guest. Nestor again raised a glass to Athena (he knows how to properly kiss divine ass, which is a definite survival skill in the old stories) and orders the sacrifice he promised the night before to be picked out before getting down to business. He ordered a messenger be sent to Telemachus’ black ship with orders to bring everyone here to the palace for another feast (leaving two men behind to mind the ship, of course).
The story goes very into serious depth into the proper method of ritual sacrifice of a heifer, and I find it kind of fascinating, so I’ll get into it briefly here. The cow is chosen and, as promised, it’s horns are sheathed in gold foil by the local goldsmith. Athena drops by (invisible this time) to watch this special offering in her honor. Two of Nestor’s sons, Stratus and Echepheron, held the beast by it’s now-golden horns to keep it still. Aretus, another son, brought out the flower-braided bowl of holy water and a basket of barley for the rite. Still another son, Thrasymedes (a great warrior), took up the wickedly sharp axe to cut the heifer down while yet another son, Perseus (not that Perseus) held the bowl to catch her sacrificial blood.
Nestor took the lead, as was only proper as the local king and head of the household. He poured the water over the heifer’s head, which was ritually a way of asking her whether she (or rather, the gods) consented to the sacrifice. If the animal nodded it’s head (which it pretty much always would because that’s its natural response to having water suddenly poured on its head), then the sacrifice could continue with the beast’s presumed blessing. Barley was scattered over the heifer’s head and then tufts of fur, mixed with the holy water and tossed grain, was pulled from the animal and thrown onto the fire to begin the sacrifice with more prayers.
Thrasymedes was a tad impatient and strode up suddenly with the axe, bringing the blade down on the heifer’s neck. The axe bit deep into her spine, slicing through skin and meat and tendons, stunning the sacrificial cow and dropping her to the earth. Nestor’s wife Eurydice (also not that Eurydice), along with their daughters and daughters-in-law, helped to raise the victim’s head from the muddy earth as the final son Pisistratus slit the heifer’s throat to end her life. Rich, hot, dark blood gushed forth from the deep wound in her throat to be caught in the bowl. Even as the light faded from her eyes, she was butchered on the spot. Her thighbones were cut out and wrapped in thick, glistening fat bound in strips of raw skin, and the entire packet was burned to the gods as wine was poured over the fire to add to the sacred smoke wafting up. Once they’d burned the bones and tasted the organs, the rest of the meat was roasted and eaten so as to not go to waste.
While all of this was going on, Telemachus was being bathed by Nestor’s youngest daughter, Polycaste. She cleaned him of the dust and salt of his journey, rubbed him in sweet-smelling oils, and then dressed him in a fine shirt and a dramatic cape to billow in the wind. The final effect was quite stunning, making Telemachus fairly glow like some kind of minor god. He went out to join the feast with his host. Once they had eaten, Nestor summoned a chariot for his young guest for the trip to see Menelaus. He commanded his youngest, Pisistratus, to accompany Telemachus and they set out at once, Pylos soon disappearing over the horizon behind them.
The two young men spent the entire day riding the roads, coming to Phera, home of Diodes, at dusk. He welcomed the two princes into his hall and feasted them, giving them a place to spend the night in comfort. They set out again at daybreak, pushing the horses to the great fields of wheat that marked the end of their journey. As the sun was setting on their second day of travel, they arrived in Sparta, in the ravines of Lacedaemon. They headed straight for the palace of Menelaus and Helen and found him at home, celebrating a double wedding for his son and his daughter. His daughter (who is not given a name) was headed off to marry the son of the dead hero Achilles (as he had long ago pledged before the walls of Troy). His son Megapenthes (who’s mother is not Helen but one of Menelaus’ slaves, so ew) is to marry the daughter of Alector (who is also not given a name). Helen had not borne any children since her daughter Hermione, a woman said to be a stunning beauty in the mold of golden Aphrodite herself.
In honor of the upcoming nuptials, Menelaus was hosting the entire extended clan and family for a great feast. The palace was lively, with musicians and tumblers and dancers to entertain the crowd. Telemachus and Pisistratus drew their chariot to a halt in a cloud of dust just outside of the palace court. Menelaus’ aide, a lord named Eteoneus, happened to be passing by the gates as they arrived and went to see who had shown up late to the gala. He told the two newcomers to wait there and hurried to take a message to the king. “There are strangers at the gate, your highness. Two men have come in a chariot, Menelaus, young and strong like the sons of Zeus himself. Should I invite them in or send someone from town to host them for the night?”
The ginger king gave his aide an incredulous look. “Seriously dude? Don’t be a jackass. How many different people showed us hospitality on our long journey home from the bloody fields of Troy? Even beyond the whole ‘it’s the right thing to do’, we owe a debt to the world and I don’t want the gods taking it personally if we don’t treat these two like old friends. Go back out there, tend to their horses, and bring them in to join the feast.”
Eteoneus hurried off to do as his offended king commanded and ushered the two young men inside. They followed the aide into the halls of Menelaus and, even though they were princes in their own right, they were amazed at the magnificence of the high-roofed halls of Zeus’ favorite warlord. They cast wide-eyed stares at everything like the tourists they were as they were ushered into big copper tubs to wash the road off themselves. Or rather, to have slave women do it for them. Once they were clean and freshly dressed, they were seated in places of honor next to the king of the line of Atrides himself, Menelaus.
“Come, eat with me! We’ll save the questions for after, but I have plenty to ask. I can tell by looking at you that you both have royal blood in your veins. Poor people don’t look that good.” They were wined and dined with fantastic food and drink, as was only proper, and Telemachus couldn’t help but whisper with Pisistratus at how bright and shiny and incredible it all was. “Dude, Zeus’ court on Olympus must be just like this. I mean, my dad’s a king and all but I’ve never seen such opulent wealth before. You?”
Telemachus underestimated how keen the deadly warrior king’s hearing was and didn’t whisper nearly quietly enough. “Come now, no mere mortal could ever rival Zeus’ everlasting palace or marvelous wonders. So please don’t hit me with a thunderbolt for someone else’s hubris, Zeus! But as far as men go, I probably am one of the richest SOBs alive. It was a real shitty job hauling all of this back with me from Troy, I tell you what. Eight goddamned years wandering to Cyprus, Phoenicia, Ethiopia, Sidonia, even distant Egypt. Hell, I even made it to Libya, where lambs grow horns almost as soon as they’re born. With three batches of lambs every year, not even the poorest shepherd there wants for milk, cheese, or mutton. I picked up more riches in each and every one of those exotic places, and now I can finally show it off
“Of course, while I was off doing that and not able to come the fuck home, my brother was murdered by a stranger at the behest of his murderous bitch of a wife! So yeah, I’m rich as fuck, and I can’t even enjoy it. I don’t particularly want to get into it and I’m sure you’ve already heard the story from whomever your royal fathers are. I mean, shit. I wish I’d just let that asshole leave here with my wife and two thirds of my wealth. It would have been a fine trade to have all of the valiant men who died at Troy still here, alive. My men and my brother most of all, except maybe for Odysseus. There was a fucking hero. I never saw anyone work as hard or accomplish so much crazy shit as that brilliant dude, and it fucking hurts that I don’t even get to know if he’s alive or dead. Of course, as much as the absence of my old friend hurts me, it must absolutely kill Laertes and Penelope. And his son, the boy he left in his mothers arms all those years ago. What was his name – Telemachus?”
At this unexpected reminder of his own pain, tears began to stream down Telemachus’ face. His hands gripped the fine purple robe of their own accord, and he buried his face in it, openly weeping with abject grief. That was kind of a give away, and Menelaus figured out who one of these mysterious young men must be. The only question now was whether to ask him outright about his father or to bring it up gently, step by step.
While he was debating the best course of action, and Telemachus was weeping in the middle of a party, Helen breezed into the room. She was still every bit the woman who’s beauty had launched a thousand ships to a decade of war, and she outshined every one of the women following in her wake, even as beautiful and powerful as each was in her own right. Each came bearing grand gifts for their hosts Menelaus and Helen, which I’m not going to go into detail on. Helen immediately noticed the two strange faces next to her husband, especially since one of them was sobbing into his robes for no apparent reason.
“Who are your guests, my husband? Have they told you who they claim to be yet? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but one of them looks exactly like the great tactician Odysseus did at that age, which means he can only be his son Telemachus, right? He’d be about the right age too, since he was still a babe in arms when Odysseus sailed out with you to fight for me.” In the translation I’ve been using, Helen calls herself a shameless whore here, but I really don’t like that. It doesn’t feel legit and, as I discussed at length during the Iliad, it’s a lot more complicated and quite likely not really her fault. Helen just had the misfortune to end up in the crosshairs of dueling deities.
Helen had solved Menelaus’ dilemma by speaking up. “Yeah, now that you mention it he really is the spitting image of Odysseus, isn’t he. I was actually just talking about the man himself before you came in, recounting how noble and dedicated he was (which I’m pretty sure is why he started weeping into his robe like that).” Pisistratus stepped up to help his new friend out and let him recover his composure a little. “You are absolutely right, King Melenaus, son of Atreus and captain of armies. My companion is the son of that great hero, just as you surmised. We would have told you sooner, but he’s far too modest to make a show of himself, especially at your party. My father Nestor sent me along to escort Telemachus to your noble house. Nestor hoped that you could give Telemachus some advice, what with his father missing and all. I’m sure you’ve heard what’s happened on Ithaca with Odysseus out of the picture for so long.”
Menelaus was thrilled to have this little snafu behind them, and he also genuinely liked Odysseus and was happy to have an opportunity to provide a little hospitality for his old friend’s son. “It’s good to have you here in my house, my boy. Your father performed at least a hundred incredible feats in my service on the battlefields of Troy. I swore that I would give him the hero’s welcome he so richly deserves, him above anyone else that survived that bloody conflict. Hell, if Zeus had let him make it across the sea, I’d have given him a city, built him a palace, and had all of his people and wealth shipped over from that speck of rock he called home so that he could rule over a better place than Ithaca. I was sorry to hear that he was robbed of what he was owed.”
At that, Helen dissolved into tears (remember, she had actually run into Odysseus during the war when he’d led the raid into Troy for the magical MacGuffin), causing Telemachus to begin weeping all over again, which set off a chain reaction including bold Menelaus and even Pisistratus (who’d never known Odysseus except from stories). Nestor’s son quickly gets over all of the sobbing for a man he’s never met and very politely asks if they can all move on as it’s no fun mourning the dead (and it’s not that he doesn’t understand, because one of his own brothers is among the dead at Troy). Menelaus takes the hint and offers up praise of his old buddy Nestor as well, then agrees to save the hard conversations for tomorrow morning. That way, everyone can enjoy dinner without salting their food with their tears.
Helen figures talk is one thing, but decides to spike the wine to really help loosen everyone up a little. She slipped a drug, basically an ancient magical antidepressant, into the wine to help everyone cheer up a little and let go of any residual pain and anger. It was a potent compound – anyone who drank deeply of the dosed wine wouldn’t shed a tear even if they watched their worst enemy slit the throats of their mother, father, brother, and son one after the other right in front of their eyes. That’s some strong shit, and maybe not altogether healthy. She had apparently gotten it in Egypt (which was as ancient and mystical to the Greeks as it remains in modern popular culture), who of course had secret drugs to do the impossible.
Once she was sure that everyone was good and drugged up, she offered her own toast and greeting to the assembled guests. She tells the story I alluded to a moment ago, of Odysseus sneaking into Troy dressed as a beggar (back in Episode 26O), and how she had helped him take down the city and end the long siege. We covered this during the Iliad, but as I mentioned then, the story isn’t told there, but here in the Odyssey. It’s also one of the only places where Helen gets a chance to defend herself and shit all over dead Paris, claiming that Aphrodite had ensorcelled her mind and forced her to go against her own wishes. Given the whole promise that Aphrodite made to Paris before this all got going (in Episode 26A), I’m inclined to believe her.
Menelaus compliments his wife on the skill with which she told her story, nimbly sidestepping any discussion on whether or not he believes her. Instead, he again pivots to Odysseus and tells a short version of the story of the Trojan Horse (which is also not actually part of the Iliad). As much as Telemachus is enjoying listening to the incredible exploits of the father who abandoned him for his entire life to go and have these crazy adventures, he’s still super bitter that, you know, he’s been abandoned by a man who’s probably dead now. He grumbles that none of the cleverness he showed kept his ass alive and got him home, and announces that he’s tired and heads to bed.
He and Menelaus will talk more in the morning, when everything isn’t quite so raw and fresh (Helen’s magical happy drug notwithstanding). Telemachus could really use a good night’s sleep, which means it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s victim is Europa.
That’s right, folks – it’s time for another installment of ‘Zeus’ Wandering Dick,’ and one of the more famous ones at that. Europa is the woman that the continent of Europe is named after (as well as one of the moons of Jupiter, named for the Roman version of Zeus), so she’s got some name recognition. This particular story came originally from Crete and was likely an older story about a different sky god and the moon goddess Europa before it got rolled into the larger Olympian cosmology at a later date (as many of the stories of Zeus’ assaults and abductions are believed to be). The version I’ll be using comes from Edith Hamilton’s translation of the third-century poem by Moschus of Alexandria.
Europa was the daughter of King Sidon (other versions say he was Agenor, a Phoenecian king) and was beautiful enough to catch Zeus’ wandering eye from afar (rarely a good thing). She had awoken especially early that particular spring morning thanks to a disturbing dream. In it, Europa had been caught between two continents, each somehow also women, who both tried to possess the frightened mortal woman. The first, Asia, argued that since Europa had been born inside her borders, the mortal woman belonged to her. The other, who had no name, argued that birth was irrelevant and that Zeus would instead give Europa to her. She awoke, disturbed by the dream and especially by its timing since, in the Greek cosmology, the hours just before dawn were the most likely to bring true prophetic dream. The sun was just brushing the first rosy light of dawn across the world, and Europa found that she couldn’t go back to sleep so she decided to get an early start.
Being royalty, her decision to be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the wee hours of the morning meant that her companions were about to be as well. As was common in a lot of places, Europa had a cadre of young ladies about her age who were all of noble birth but still below her in the hierarchy. She roused them all and told them that they were going to spend the day gathering flowers in a beautiful meadow near the place where a river met the sea. This was a favorite spot of the young women, a place of stunning vistas and cool ocean breezes to keep them comfortable as they danced or talked or swam. There were probably a few grumbles, but not many – partly because, you know, Europa was a princess and partly because the kingdom had just entered the perfect part of spring to gather truly breathtaking flowers.
All of the women brought baskets, with Europa’s being a magnificent golden thing, chased with figures around the sides that told the story of Io (another of Zeus’ wandering dick stories that we haven’t covered yet). It was an exquisite piece of work, as you might expect considering that it was made by none other than the god of the forge himself Hephaestus. Before long, Europa and her friends were chatting happily and filling their baskets with gorgeous flowers: narcissus, hyacinths, yellow and purple crocuses, and the crowning glory of the fields – crimson wild roses.
Creepers gonna creep, and so naturally Zeus sat on high Olympus and watched these beautiful young mortals like the letch he was. All of them were beautiful women, but Europa was stunning even amongst this crowd and it was on her that Zeus became fixated. The story makes the excuse that Aphrodite and Eros snuck up on Zeus and shot him with some arrows of sexual desire to justify his behavior, but I’m pretty sure he already had his own permanent arrow of sexual desire, if you know what I mean. His penis. His penis is the arrow. Anyway.
Zeus cast a careful eye over Olympus and saw that Hera was out at the moment (the story doesn’t say where). With a smile, Zeus headed down to the mortal world. What, like he was supposed to not cheat on his wife just because he had the opportunity? Yeah right. He didn’t want to spook the young woman, and he needed a way to get her away from her friends to get all gropy in private, so he came up with a clever plan. And by clever plan, I mean he did what he always did and turned himself into an animal to go undetected.
One thing you need to understand about the Minoans is that they’ve got a thing about cows. The iconography of the bull is absolutely pervasive through ancient Minoan culture. It was often a chthonic animal (meaning a deity or spirit associated with the underworld), associated with fertility and vegetation and was often associated with rites of the dead. It’s no coincidence that the Minotaur (which we haven’t gotten to yet) is a half-bull creature who lives underground and murders young people. The point is that Zeus figured the best disguise for getting in good with a bunch of proto-Minoan women was that of a bull. And not just any bull, but a beautiful white one (though other versions say he was chestnut colored) with a silver circlet on his head and huge crescent horns.
Bull-Zeus came trotting over the hill looking just as gentle and non-threatening as could be, and the women melted. Imagine Tina from Bob’s Burgers getting an unexpected visit from Shadowfax, king of horses from Lord of the Rings and you’ll be in the right ballpark on this. They gathered around to coo over and pet the clearly tame bull, and he somehow smelled clean and sweet, better even than the flowers they were picking. They wove a garland of flowers for his neck and in response, he lowed with a moo that was more musical than the sweetest note a lyre ever made. He cuddled up with Europa (of course) nuzzling her and then lying down at her feet.
The bull was so sweet and this clear invitation was so inviting – Europa couldn’t resist. With all the caution of a privileged daughter of royalty, she climbed up onto the back of this massive, unearthly animal. Even in a world where shapeshifting gods are not a regular occurence, riding a strange animal bareback is probably not a good idea. The bull stood gently, and Europa laughed with delight, saying that he seemed less like a wild animal than a perfect gentleman, especially since he couldn’t speak to ruin it. Then, she called for her friends to climb up and ride with her. A few of them moved to obey, but Zeus had what he wanted and was ready to make a break for it. He leapt into a sudden gallop, leaving the other women in a state of shock and a cloud of dust.
Clinging to the bull in terror, Europa could only stare wide-eyed as the bull rushed directly towards the seashore and then out into the waves. Or rather, onto them. Some versions of the story have the bull swimming out away from the shore, but I like the version that has the sea becoming flat and solid under Zeus’ hooves, allowing him to ride out onto the very ocean. As they raced out away from the land, a strange procession rose up from the depths to watch them go – nereids riding on dolphins, tritons blowing blasts upon conch shell horns in greeting, and even Poseidon himself, lord of the sea, to toss a casual salute with his trident as his brother passed by. Poseidon was every bit as much of a letch as his brother, and game recognize game I guess.
Europa was understandably terrified by all of these developments, and being suddenly surrounded by creatures of myth wasn’t helping. She now knew that this was clearly no fucking bull, but a god in disguise. On the downside, that meant she was in very real trouble. On the upside, that meant that she could try to plead her case to someone who would understand her words.
Europa begged the secret god to please take her back to shore. She knew he was a god but she wouldn’t tell anybody, please just take her back. She was terrified that the god had mischief in mind and intended to strand her somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere (which has happened in more than a few stories, so she’s not wrong to be afraid of that outcome). The bull spoke to her then, admitting that he was indeed a god and promising that he Zeus, king of the gods, would keep her safe. She had nothing to fear. You know, except for Zeus himself and the abduction already in progress.
He told her that he was taking her to the island of Crete, the place where he himself had been raised in secret while being hidden from his father Cronus (way, way back in Episode 1A). There, he was going to fuck her and then she was going to get pregnant and bear him sons who would begin a line of kings that would hold sway over the civilized world. The story very carefully avoids any mention of how Europa felt about this pronouncement that she was about to have her worst nightmare come true. She was about to be raped and then abandoned to raise her attacker’s divine children all by herself on a desolate island far from her home and everyone she knew. As her dream had predicted, she had been taken away from her home in Asia and forcibly given to the unnamed continent by Zeus. As you now know, the continent went on to bear her name ever after as the mother of some very powerful and famous people, including King Minos (of the Minotaur story) and Rhadamanthus, both of whom went on to become two of the three Judges of the Dead. How many other sons she bore is a matter of dispute (and also raises the terrifying concept that Zeus must have returned to his captive multiple times over the course of years. Sky gods are assholes.
Europa never made it back to her home, though in some versions, her four brothers spend years searching. The elder, Cilix, ended up in Asia Minor where he became king of what later came to be known as Cicilia (in modern-day southern Turkey) after him. Thassus ended up on an island later named Thassos after him, where he too became king. Phoenix went to Africa and vanished. The youngest, Cadmus, tried to play it smart instead. He went to the Oracle at Delphi to ask what he should do. The priests told him that his sister was safe and to stop looking for her. Instead, he should go to Boeotia, north of Athens, and start a town there. He did so, founding Cadmia, which grew to great wealth and power, eventually being renamed Thebes.
When Europa finally died, Zeus took her body and transformed her into the bull form he had abducted her with, placing her in the sky as the constellation Taurus. Even in death, she couldn’t escape him. Oddly, Hera never shows up to victim blame and torture her, which is a rarity in these kinds of stories. Maybe even Hera didn’t want to make things worse for poor Europa than Zeus already had.
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, on Vurbl, 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.
Next time, shit is going to hit the fan when Penelope realizes that her son has snuck out of the house. You’ll learn that you should never monologue your evil plan, that Athena is really not very good at secret disguises, and that Menelaus is a font of useful information. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s time to learn why bathing goddesses and hunting dogs don’t mix. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.