Episode 72R – Take Me Home Country Roads

Episode 72R Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, Odysseus will finally catch a real break in his attempts to get home. You’ll see that random prophecies are never actually random, that magic sleep is the best sleep, and that Poseidon hates public transit. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll learn that it’s wrong to throw a baby off a mountain. 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 72R, “Take Me Home Country Roads”. 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 suitors are squatting in Odysseus’ palace to try and make his wife Penelope marry one of them and make them king instead of the prince Telemachus. A trip to find news of his father resulted in stories, but no concrete information. Penelope found out that her son had snuck out to go galavanting and had a bit of a breakdown, especially after learning that the suitors were planning to murder Telemachus. Odysseus met Nausicaa, princess of the Phaeacians, and secured promises of a ride home from her father.
When Dawn spread her rosy fingers over the island sky, King Alcinous rose from his bed. In his makeshift bed of rich purple sheets, Odysseus also rose with first light, so he was awake and ready when the king arrived to lead him to the assembly of the Phaeacian lords that he had called the night before to hear Odysseus’ story and request for aid. Given their utter isolation from the rest of the world, the islanders weren’t terribly friendly towards strangers in typical circumstances. Things in this tale are never typical with the possible exception that Athena will typically go the extra mile or dozen to help out her boy Odysseus – in that respect, things are exactly typical. To drum up support for the roving wanderer, the gray-eyed goddess journeyed around the city in disguise as the king’s herald. Each time she came to a citizen, she stopped to invite them to the council meeting to meet the stranger and hear his wild tale of adventure and see his handsome physique.
The goddess of wisdom knew exactly how to stoke a crowd and, soon enough, the seats were filled with people thronging to gaze on this clever man of war. As she had done a few times now, Athena leant him a little extra splendor, making him taller, broader, and sexier. It had an effect on everyone in the crowd – everyone, and I mean everyone, wanted both to be him and to fuck him. It must be nice, it must be nice to have Athena on your side.
Once everyone had gotten an eyeful, King Alcinous stood to speak. “Hear me, lords and captains and people of Phaeacia! This man here is our guest, but he is also a stranger to these lands. I don’t actually know, well, anything about him – whether he comes from the lands of the rising sun or of the falling twilight, but he has come tempest tossed to my palance and has asked for our help to get him home. I know that it has been many years since anyone has found their way here, but I think we should revive our old practice of escorting guests home. No one who comes to my house will languish here pining for home. I say let us haul out a black ship rigged for her maiden voyage, gather a crew of 52 young sailors and take this man home. Afterwards, everyone can come to my place for a celebratory banquet. Everyone else can join me for a feast in our guest’s honor.”
Everyone scattered to follow the king’s commands. Sailors were chosen and hustled off to make ready a ship while everyone else prepared to party. Once the crowd had changed locations, the herald (the real one this time) came in with the bard most beloved by the Muses, a man named Demodocus. He had been gifted with a voice capable of stirring true emotion in anyone listening, but this gift had not come without strings. His silver tongue had cost him his sight.
In yet another moment of literal divine intervention, the Muses inspired this gifted bard to lead off the night with a favorite epic song of the time – the Fight between Odysseus and Achilles, a tale from the end of the Trojan War (but not one explicitly from the Iliad). It was a savage battle of words, but Agamemnon rejoiced at this clash because Apollo had prophesied that this would be the sign that victory was at hand, though it would also take a heavy toll on the forces of the Achaeans.
Odysseus hasn’t been anywhere vaguely close to civilization since the war ended, so he had no idea that this song existed, let alone that it was a hit. Hearing the epic story of his own adventure was honestly embarrassing. He hid his face in the folds of his sea-blue cape he wore to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes at the stories of his long-lost companions (and remember, he still doesn’t know if most of the few who survived the fields of Troy ever made it home or not, so this hit home particularly hard). Whenever the bard paused, Odysseus would wipe his eyes and pour out one for the gods. No one noticed the strange behavior of their guest, enthralled as they were by the magical song of the bard except for wise King Alcinous (who was sitting right next to the guest of honor).
The king decided that a change of entertainment was in order. A feast in honor of a guest shouldn’t be depressing said guest – it wasn’t polite. He called a halt to the music and invited everyone to participate in a series of games instead – boxing, wrestling, jumping, races, etc. The story names a bunch of the champions who were to compete, all with colorful names like Topsail and Riptide (sounding more like gang members from a cheesy 80s action flick than ancient Greek warriors) who all lined up for the first event – a footrace.
I’m not going to get into the details of the various events as they don’t really matter; just know that wrestling was next, then the long jump, followed by the discus throw and boxing. Once everyone was feeling good about the sports, the king’s son Laodamas decided to ask their mystery guest if he had any skill at any of the day’s games. Given his powerful physique and godlike visage, surely he was a real athlete. Sure, he was a little gray at the temples but he wasn’t yet past his prime, just a little beaten down by life. And actual blows from weapons. The wrestling champ Broadsea poked the prince in the ribs a little rougher than strictly necessary. “Why not challenge him yourself then, if you’re so impressed by this asshole?”
Having been effectively triple dog dared in front of everybody, Laodamas didn’t have much choice except to walk over to his father’s mysterious, godlike guest and challenge him to a contest. Being polite and well-mannered however, he did so in a friendly fashion. “Hello there, my fine stranger sir. Won’t you come join us in our contest? Are there any you are especially good at? There’s no greater glory than that won by racing feet and striving hands. You’ll be heading home soon, so why not blow off some steam in the meantime? It’ll be good for what ails you.”
Odysseus wasn’t in the mood to rise to the albeit gentlemanly challenge from this excitable puppy. It had been a rough two decades and winning glory was the last thing he gave a shit about right now. “Beat it, kid. Why are you trying to taunt me into a challenge? I’ve had a real rough go of it lately. The pains weighing on my soul matter more to me than some silly games. You have no idea what I’ve been through, what I’ve suffered through, and still I sit here, far from home, begging your king to let me ride on a ship.”
Broadsea heard Odysseus beg off the challenge and he smiled as he thought he scented weakness. The guy was a bully through and through. He’d sent Laodamas to challenge the stranger because it was a win-win: either the stranger got his ass whooped and proved that outsiders were inferior or the prince got his ass whooped and that would be hilarious. If the stranger didn’t want to play, then that meant that Broadsea could safely hurl whatever insults he wanted without worrying about having to back them up. “I knew you were chickneshit, outsider. I could tell just by looking at you that you didn’t have the stones to be any good in the kinds of games that real men play. So what are you then? A mewling merchant, roving the high seas in some puny boat, clutching his gold and hoping his wares don’t sink? You’re clearly no athlete. I can see that.”
Broadsea’s insults definitely carry some classist overtones since he basically just accused Odysseus of working for a living rather than being rich enough to work on his muscles, which tells you a lot about the kind of dipshit that he was. Odysseus had been hoping to sit in peace and brood in a manly fashion, but he wasn’t about to take an insult like that. “Big talk from a little man. You’re an arrogant, reckless fool. I can see that. Everyone knows that the gods don’t give every gift to every person. One guy might be nothing much to look at but can hold a crowd rapt with nothing but his words. Another may look like a living god walking the earth and sound like a total buffoon. In case you didn’t follow my clever insult, that’s you. You’re pretty and not good for much else. I used to be pretty good at games actually, but I gave up childish things for the din of battle and the struggle of the surging waves a long time ago. I’ve cleaved through an ocean of blood to stand here today but sure, I’ll give your silly games a whirl. Let’s go.”
He didn’t bother waiting for the surprised bully to respond but leapt up (still wearing his heavy cloak that would absolutely impede his movements) and grabbed up a discus. Not just any discus though – Odysseus deliberately picked the heaviest training disc, the one that was heavier than anything actually used in competition. In a smooth motion, he whirled around and loosed the stone so hard and fast that the onlookers ducked back out of the way. It sailed through the air and skidded across the grass to land far, far beyond the markers for the other throwers (who had all used the lighter standard disc).
Disguised as one of the Phaeacian men, Athena stepped out to the disc and staked it, driving home just how far beyond the best efforts of their best men Odysseus had thrown. “It’s not even close – the stranger is so far out in front that you could close your eyes and find it by touch alone. There’s no chance that anyone else here today is even going to be a challenge for this throw, let alone better it.” Odysseus laughed out loud at this, both because of how good it felt to wipe the grin of that smug asshole Broadsea’s face and at having found an unexpected ally in the crowd to cheer his efforts on (not knowing that it was his personal patron god Athena yet again). Feeling much better now, he decided to challenge everyone. “Come on, you young pups! Match that, I dare you and, even if you manage it, I’ll throw you another even farther. Or, if you don’t fancy your chances, try me at anything else. Anyone with the spine or the stones for a real challenge can try and best me at anything – boxing, racing, wrestling, whatever you like.” He turned to the young, polite prince and nodded his head. “Not you of course, young Laodamas, as you are my respected host and who would fight his friend? Anyone else is fair game. I’ll challenge any of you, all of you.
“Maybe you’d rather try to out shoot me with a bow? You can try. Only Philoctetes was able to outshoot me before the walls of Troy, but he’s not here and I’m pretty sure there’s not another man alive who can match me. I wouldn’t fancy my chances against the dead heroes, against Heracles or his teacher Eurytus of Oechalia, but then Eurytus was slain by Apollo himself for challenging the god of archers. Or perhaps you fancy your hand at spear throwing? I can fling a spear as far as any of you lot can fire an arrow. You might be able to beat me in a sprint, what with having spent weeks drifting on the open ocean clinging to rocks in a desperate fight for survival against Poseidon; I fear that battering has taken some of the spring out of my step.”
Odysseus fell silent, turning slowly to face all of the assembled athletes in turn, but none found words to meet this audacious but very confident challenge. From anyone else, it would seem like a boast, but they’d all seen how far he’d thrown that discus. He was legit. Only King Alcinous was able to respond to his guest. “My friend, you have every right to rebuke these kids. It’s completely reasonable that you want to show off a little after that youngster marched up to you and hurled insults about your prowess that no one with an ounce of insight or dignity would ever have considered. I think that everyone here is convinced that you would prove the victor in whatever challenge we tried, so maybe it would be more entertaining for you (and less humiliating for them) if you told the story of how you came here. We may not be champion boxers or world-class wrestlers, but we are some of the most skilled sailors in the world and love to hear tales of other wanderers. Come everyone! Show our friend our skill in the art of dance so that, when he returns home, he can tell everyone of our prowess!”
The herald went and fetched the bard to strike up a tune for the dance, and everyone leapt to join, happy to have an excuse not to be thrashed by this almost inhumanly strong and skilled champion from the outside world. True to the king’s word, Odysseus found himself gazing in wonder at the nimble flashing feet of the Phaeacians as they flew across the grass to the melody of the lute. The bard chose the tale of the secret tryst of Ares and Aphrodite behind the back of her husband Hephaestus. When the song concluded, the king asked Halius and Laodamas to dance since, even as good as everyone else was, there was no one who could match this pair.
They took up a smooth ball of ocean-blue and proceed to leap and twirl while hurling the ball between them or high into the air, catching it each time in the arc of some great acrobatic trick. Then they began to toss it back and forth in a blur of hands as their feet danced intricate steps across the earth in time with the rhythmic stomping of the assembled guests. When they finished, Odysseus raised his hands in approval. “You said that your people were the best dancers to be found and, having traveled through quite a bit of it by now, I have to agree. You have proven your point, and I am truly amazed at the sight!”
King Alcinous then coaxed the 12 lords of the island (and himself as the 13th) to give their new friend a parting gift in remembrance of his time here and while they went to gather up that, he suggested that maybe Broadsea wanted to apologize for being such a massive jerk. Broadsea knew that he had gambled and lost today, so he promised Odysseus a bronze sword studded with silver and sheathed in carved ivory as recompense. Odysseus tactfully accepted the gift and the apology like the civilized man he was. Everyone else followed suit, giving their lordly gifts to the man whose name they still didn’t actually know (though at least the king had to suspect).
Water was heated up for Odysseus to bathe before the feast while his many gifts were loaded into a chest by the queen. She left the lid to be fastened by Odysseus himself so that he could be confident that it was securely fastened against accident or theft on his voyage home. Odysseus obliged, binding it with an intricate knot taught to him by Circe during his year on her island. According to the tale, he hadn’t had a proper bath since leaving Circe’s island (apparently Calypso didn’t need baths, being a goddess, and so didn’t have a tub, forcing Odysseus to scrub himself in cold spring water.
He dressed and headed to join the nobles at their wine, running across Nausicaa who was shocked at the transformation of the naked wild man into this stunning godlike figure before her now. If she’d been intrigued by his rugged manliness before, it was now a full-blown crush. A little tongue-tied by the encounter, she blurted out “goodbye, my friend! When you find yourself safe at home again, remember me from time to time. I did save your life after all.” Odysseus grinned, very aware of the effect he had on people. “Nausicaa, daughter of the generous King Alcinous, from your lips to Zeus’ ears. May Hera’s husband grant me safe passage home to see dawn rise over my own kingdom once again. If I do make it, I’ll pray to you as one of the deathless gods in thanks for saving my life.”
Leaving the flustered young girl behind, Odysseus went to join the feast, seated beside the king himself once more. Demodocus the bard was led to the center of the room and seated next to a column where everyone could see and hear him. Odysseus called over the herald and, carving a choice cut of meat himself from a white-tusked boar, he had it sent over as a gift for the bard in appreciation of his talents. While the blind musician was munching away happily, Odysseus stood to speak.
“Surely you must have learned your craft from one of the Muses or maybe from Apollo himself, great Demodocus, for you have a true gift for bringing events to life. What’s more, you captured the truth of the suffering of the Achaeans at Troy as if you were there yourself. I have a request – sing instead of the great wooden horse that Epeus built with help from Athena and the cunning trap laid by Odysseus that finally laid proud Troy to waste. Sing that tale for me, oh bard, and I will sing your praises throughout the world.”
Stirred both by Odysseus’ words and by inspiration from the Muses, the bard did so, singing the tale that we heard back in Episode 26O (and this is actually one of the early sources for the story of the Trojan Horse). When the bard came to the part about Odysseus and Menelaus marching through Troy to end the siege once and for all, Odysseus himself dissolved into tears. He could almost see the broken bodies of his dying comrades again, hear the mingled screams and clashing bronze and roaring flames, smell the mud and the blood and the fear. As before, only wise King Alcinous noticed the telltale behavior of their guest and marked it.
He stood as the final chords rang through the hall. “Thank you, Demodocus. Take a break and rest your nimble fingers. My lords and captains of Phaeacia, since our esteemed bard began his song, our honored guest has languished in sorrow. This feast is his send-off, so let us turn to food and happier conversation so that he can have a proper goodbye. And you, my guest, I think the time for craftiness is behind you. Speak plainly, and tell us your name (for no man is nameless). Our ships need no guiding from their crews but know the destinations from their very minds and travel safely across the waves on wings of wind, shrouded in mist and cloud. You need have no fear of foundering on the open sea or sinking to the murky depths.
“My father Nausithous used to tell a story that Poseidon was pissed that our ships never met any trouble on the high seas. He vowed that one day, as one of our ships sailed for home, the god would crush it, piling a very mountain on our port, but there’s no real sense in worrying about that. So come, tell us your story, friend. Where have you been, what sights have you seen, why do you weep so heavily at the stories of the fall of Troy? Did you lose someone, a kinsman maybe? A friend?”
Odysseus knew that his host was right, and so he stood to tell his story. He launched into the account that we’ve already spent so many episodes on. Indeed, much of the Odyssey is recounted by Odysseus himself in his speech to the Phaeacians here. When his main tale begins, much of the outcome is already known to the listener. You know that Odysseus survives but is on Phaeacia alone. You know that it has taken him almost ten years to reach this point. Much of the dramatic tension is gone from this telling, which is one of the main reasons that I have told the story in chronological order rather than in narrative order for this podcast (plus, I think it makes the story easier to follow in this extended audio format). We’re now going to skip over his entire recounting of his journey to the assembled lords and jump to the back end of the tale, where narrative and chronological order finally meet.
Once Odysseus caught up to the present with washing up on the island of Phaeacia, he wrapped up his story. Everyone here already knew most of what had happened since then as they’d more or less been present for it (and so have all of us). The assembled lords and captains were hushed into an awed silence at this thrilling tale just recounted to them as well as at the revealed identity of their living legend of a guest. Alcinous encouraged everyone to add additional treasure to the guest gift they had already given in honor of everything this wandering hero had endured and survived as well as at the spellbinding way he had told his adventures. Everyone agreed and then went home to sleep.
As Dawn once more spread her rosy fingers over the island, preparations began for Odysseus’ journey to Ithaca. While the ship was made ready (and Odysseus’ chest of gifts was loaded on board) the notables gathered for another feast. Sacrifices were made to the gods and the bard entertained everyone again. The Phaeacians had a grand time, but Odysseus couldn’t help but check the position of the sun over and over again. He was anxious for it to dip towards the horizon, marking the time for him to finally head home. As soon as the sun could realistically be said to have set, Odysseus began pushing King Alcinous to send him on his way. He was aching for Ithaca.
He gave a little farewell speech, wishing good fortune on the island and all its inhabitants, earning applause from the assembled guests. Alcinous called his herald Pontonous to mix the wine for a final sacrifice before they could set out. Odysseus toasted the gods, the king, and the queen, and then set out for the ship. Once he was settled and everything was made fast, Odysseus lay down in the hold. The crew set their oars in the oarlocks and began to pull, raising ocean spray as they pulled away from the island. As they did, a deep, irresistible, magical sleep fell over Odysseus, a total oblivion only just removed from death itself, but in a good, peaceful way. No dreams of death, no fears of further heartache disturbed his slumber.
As he slept, the ship raced across the waves faster than a bird on the wing. By the time that the dawn star rose out of the ocean, the incredible ship had reached Ithaca’s shores. Odysseus was home. After 20 years away, after countless hardships and seemingly endless troubles, he was home. The ship made landfall in a harbor on the coast named for the old god of the deeps, Phorcys. At the jutting headland of this harbor stands a branching olive tree with a welcoming, comfortable cave nearby that was sacred to the nymphs of the springs known as the Naiads. Inside are bowls and jars of carved stone as well as stone looms where the nymphs weave sea-blue wool beside a flowing spring. The cave has two entrances: the mortal path facing the North Wind and the path of the gods to the South. This latter way is forbidden to humans, for it is the path of all the deathless powers.
The Phaeacian crew were pretty much experts at all places where land met sea and so they had known about this cove and cave already and figured it was a good place to drop off Odysseus. They beached the ship, carried his still comatose body down to the sandy shore, and then laid out his chest and assorted treasures beside him beneath the spreading branches of the olive tree. They put his gifts in a pile beside his soundly sleeping form a little ways off from the road so that a traveler wouldn’t notice and steal his shit before he woke up. Once they were satisfied that he would be safe until he woke up, they piled back onto their ship and headed out for open water again.
From his throne on Olympus, Poseidon watched all of this unfold while gritting his teeth. He hadn’t forgiven Odysseus for his insult to Polyphemus all those years ago and he wasn’t ready for the mortal’s torment to be over. This whole journey from Phaeacia to Ithaca had been too easy for his taste, so he did the only thing he could do – he whined to Zeus about how unfair it all was.
“Come on, Zeus! I’m going to lose all honor among my fellow gods here. Hell, there are fucking mortals now who don’t respect me anymore. Those ungrateful Phaeacians were born from my loins and look how they treat me! I vowed that this dipshit Odysseus would suffer terrible agonies for years and years before he finally reached his home again, but I never meant to keep him from ever making it home. Well, at least not after you made it clear that you wouldn’t support that. But come on, this is absurd! He’s made the final leg with no effort at all and now he’s home with even more treasure than he would have if his fair share of the treasure from Troy hadn’t been sunk to the bottom of the sea.”
Zeus raised one incredulous eyebrow at this bellyaching. “You’re the god of earthquakes for me sake. No one disrespects you. You’re the eldest of us, so you’ve got honor to spare, and no one here would dare fling abuse at you. The mortals? If some asshole is foolish enough to mouth off to you, get revenge. You have plenty of power to do whatever you want to them. Knock yourself out, bro.”
Poseidon considered this. It sounded an awful lot like Zeus was giving him carte blanche to really cut lose and fuck shit up, but he wanted to be absolutely sure. Poseidon might be the eldest of the three Olympian brothers, but Zeus was far and away the most powerful. “That…sounds nice actually. I’ve wanted to avenge myself on these puny mortals who have stained my honor, like you say, but I was always afraid that you would take umbrage with me if I did. Since you’re cool with it though…I’m going to smash that ugly Phaeacian ship already on its way home. I’ll teach them at long last that they shouldn’t flaunt my will like they do and ferry every asshat who asks for a ride. I’ll drop a godsdamned mountain on their port!”
Zeus was starting to vibe with this whole vengeance kick now. He’s a fickle sky god (but then, I repeat myself). “I’ve got a better idea, bro. Wait until the ship is almost home and everyone has gathered around to watch it dock, then transform it into a rock that looks like a racing boat, just offshore. That’ll really confuse them – they’ll tell the tale for years and years! While they’re all busy being flabbergasted, then you drop your mountain on their port. It’s a real one-two punch.” Poseidon grinned, both at the creative cruelty that Zeus was known for and the explicit endorsement of his violent vengeance on mostly innocent people. He sped off to Scheria, island home of the Phaeacians, to wait for their return.
The magical ship was faster than anything but a god, so he didn’t have to wait long. As it hove into view and raced for home, Poseidon waggled his fingers and turned the wooden ship into solid stone. It was absolutely not designed to sail like that and it immediately sank to the bottom of the ocean like, well, a rock carrying everyone on board to their doom. The watching Phaeacians were confused and horrified at this disaster, but only wise King Alcinous put the pieces together. “Oh gods – my father’s prophecy (which I mentioned earlier for no real reason except to set up this moment) is coming true, just as the old king foretold! Listen up, friends! Poseidon is super pissed at us for carrying travelers around the world on his oceans, so that shit stops now. No more carrying castaways who stumble on our island fucking anywhere. We also need to get on the god of earthquake’s good side, and we all know he loves a good bull sacrifice, so lets pick twelve of the best to give him at once. Maybe he’ll take pity and not carry out the part where he piles a mountain on our heads.” The Phaeacian people raced to do their king’s bidding.
Meanwhile, back on Ithaca, Odysseus woke from the best sleep of his life and looked around. The Phaeacians had promised him that he would be home again, so hope rose in his chest at the thought of looking on his native land again for the first time in 20 years (not counting the brief glimpse he’d gotten way back in Episode 72D). Only, nothing was familiar. None of it. He was shrouded in a thick obscuring mist, but the world beyond looked strange to his eyes. “Oh man of misery, what new hell have you gotten yourself into this time?” And that’s where we’re going to leave Odysseus for now, lost and confused and afraid yet again, 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 god is Hephaestus.
We’ve discussed the great god of the flame and the forge before (especially during the Iliad), but I thought it was time to finally give Hephaestus his due. He was one of the 12 great Olympians, serving as the patron god of artisans and craftsmen (especially blacksmiths, metalworkers, and sculptors) as well as the lord of fire and volcanoes. He is credited with making all of the great weapons of Olympus (and much of the cool shit littering mythology, though not all of it by any means) and is even said to have made an ancient army of robots to act as assistants and servants around his forge. The silver and gold dogs guarding the entrance to the palace of King Alcinous (which were capable of springing to life and biting invaders) were his creations. He had kind of a rough go of it in the ancient stories, and by many accounts, his troubles plagued him right from the start.
There are two major accountings of his birth and early years. According to Hesiod’s Theogony (and echoed in the Iliad), Hera was super pissed off at Zeus for giving birth to his favorite daughter Athena without her (see Episode 72L for his bullshit treatment of Metis, Athena’s mother). To get back at him (since, as I’ve stated before, Zeus was far, far too powerful for any of the gods to disobey or confront directly), she decided to have a child of her own without him. Through a pure act of divine creation, she got herself pregnant without involving Zeus or his rapey dick, giving birth to her son Hephaestus.
As far as I can tell, this was Hera’s first foray into parthenogenesis (a type of asexual reproduction) and it didn’t go completely perfect on the first go-round. Hephaestus was real and alive, but he also had a malformed foot that marred the usually perfect form of the Olympians and made it difficult for him to walk. She was ashamed of his disability and so she decided to throw her newborn baby off the side of the fucking mountain to hopefully splatter on the rocks below and hide her shame. Hera is not a good person. He didn’t smash to bits when he landed, but he was gravely injured and would likely die without help. Fortunately for Hephaestus, he wasn’t completely abandoned by the immortals and he was rescued by Thetis, mother of Achilles, and the Oceanid Eurynome. Together, these minor sea deities raised the baby godling in secret, teaching him the art of smithing for nine years.
The other version of the story comes from a number of sources, including Plato’s Republic and Pseudo-Apollodorus’ Biblioteca. Here, Hephaestus was a child of Zeus and Hera in the typical fashion and was raised on Olympus with the gods. Things went fairly well for the first few years until Zeus caught Hera trying to destroy his demigod son Heracles against his wishes. She had put him to sleep to keep him from interfering, but it had worn off sooner than she’d expected and, being a vengeful sky god, he was furious. Zeus bound his wife in chains and hanged her from the vault of the heavens themselves so that all of Olympus might witness her shame, her failure, and her punishment. Zeus is also not a good person. Hephaestus didn’t take the public torture of his mother well (as one might expect) and he resolved to free her. He was clever with metalwork and figured that even if Zeus found out, he would have some compassion for his own son since this whole thing had started because he was protecting one of his sons, right? Wrong. Zeus discovered Hephaestus as he tried to free Hera from her bonds. He grabbed his son by the foot, swung him around by his leg to build up momentum, and then hurled him from the peak of Olympus to crash to earth on the island of Lemnos. Once again, he was rescued by Thetis and raised in secret as a smith.
When the time came for him to make his return, there are stories of Hephaestus being clever that have been mostly lost though we do have enough references to reconstruct what happened thank to descriptions from Pausanias and Pseudo-Hyginus (who was likely adapting a much earlier version). Hephaestus constructed a beautiful throne of intricately carved gold and had it sent up to Mount Olympus as a gift for Hera (this being the version where Hera was the one who had thrown him down to earth). In Pseudo-Hyginus’ version, Hephaestus had made thrones for all the gods. Suspecting nothing, Hera was delighted by the gift and promptly sat her ass down on it, springing the cunning trap that Hephaestus had hidden inside. As soon as Hera was on the throne, invisible chains sprang out from clever mechanical workings and bound her fast to the chair rendering her completely immobilized.
The other gods figured out where the throne had come from and came to beg Hephaestus to release his mother from her bindings. Ares, being Ares, tried to rip the chains off with brute strength but failed miserably. He refused saying that he had no mother (which I can’t really blame him for). Dionysus headed down to see Hephaestus personally. They shared an outsider status amongst the gods and so it was he alone that Hephaestus trusted. The god of the forge relented and agreed to free Hera from the chair of punishment and Dionysus celebrated with gallons of wine, getting Hephaestus well and truly shit-faced (or maybe he got his friend wasted first and then got him to agree to release Hera – different versions have the order both ways). Smiling, the god of wine loaded up his friend on a donkey and carried him up to Olympus to take his proper place.
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, Odysseus is finally going to have the coming home moment he’s waited 20 years for. You’ll discover that Odysseus is a master bullshitter, that he’s not so good at recognizing secret gods, and that magic makes the best disguise. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s a sexy revenge story with both dicks and cocks. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.