Episode 72T – Good Omens – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 72T Show Notes

Source: Greek Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’ll have tests and omens and portents, oh my. You’ll discover that you can read the future in a bird’s dinner, that Odysseus likes to test the people helping him, and that pirates are a real problem. Then, in Gods and Monsters, be vewy vewy quiet – we’we hunting…evewything. 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 72T, “Good Omens”. 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. Odysseus spent nearly ten years sailing around the mythical world getting into shenanigans and getting every last one of his men killed along the way. He’d dallied with the witch Circe for a year and with the nymph Calypso for 7 years before finally washing up on the island of the Phaeacians and meeting the princess Nausicaa. Her father had helped Odysseus out with a ride on one of their magical ships, depositing him back on the shores of Ithaca once more at long last. Of course, as we’ve seen, things have gone to shit while the king has been away, and Odysseus’ son Telemachus has been on his own mini odyssey in search of news of his father. Athena has helped him come up with a lot of great stories but not much in the way of concrete information, so he decides to head back home. Unbeknownst to him, the suitors who have invaded the palace to try and marry Odysseus’ wife Penelope and take his throne have laid an ambush for the young prince, intent on murdering him and removing one of the last remaining obstacles. Odysseus finally made it home and Athena revealed herself before using god magic to disguise the returning hero as an old beggar, allowing him to speak with his old swineherd and learn about the current state of affairs in Ithaca without revealing his identity.
While Odysseus was slumming it a little with the lowest of the low on the Ithacan hierarchy, Athena zipped back to check in on Telemachus. He and Nestor’s son Pisistratus were still in Sparta, sleeping on Menelaus’ porch after the wedding feast back in Episode 72M. Well, Pisistratus was sleeping, but Telemachus had found slumber elusive. He spent that long night tossing and turning anxiously in the darkness, plagued by thoughts of his long-missing father. In that quiet hour of the early, early morning where everything seems possible and nothing seems real, Athena appeared to the young prince.
“You really shouldn’t wander so far from home and leave your lands alone and unprotected (even though I pushed you to take this trip in the first place). The suitors still squat in your home, and if you don’t stop them, they’ll carve up all your wealth and devour every ounce of it while you’re gone – this whole journey will have been for nothing. You need to hurry. Press Menelaus to help speed you on your way home if you want to have any hope of still finding your mother living there. Now, very now, her father and brothers urge Penelope to marry Eurymachus, who they consider the best of the lot (mostly because he gives the best gifts and drives up her bride price, which will work out well for them and very poorly for you). You need to put a stop to it, to make sure that nothing disappears without your knowledge. Go home, take everything valuable, and entrust it to the serving-woman (read slave) that you trust above all others to keep your wealth hidden until you marry your own bride and need it.
“Things sound bad, I know, but have courage. A group of the suitors lurk in ambush, waiting for you to wander through the straits between Ithaca and the rocky coast of Same to kill you before you can make it home. They hope to dump your body in the wide ocean and let your disappearance be a mystery that none can lay at their feet, but I think you can beat them. I say that the earth will sooner open up and swallow some of those young assholes who’ve been leeching on your estate. All you have to do is avoid that channel on your way home; I vow that the winds will blow fresh and strong behind you the whole way. When you first make landfall on Ithaca’s outer banks, send your ship and your crew around to the city-side of the island, but you go and visit the swineherds out in the fields first. Sleep there the first night and send that man to tell your mother that you’ve returned safely from Pylos.”
Having succeeded in her midnight mission, Athena winged her way back to the heights of Olympus leaving Telemachus to ponder her words. Before the first rays of the sun had even touched the sky, the young prince woke his companion from sleep with a sharp poke in the ribs. “Wake up, lazybones! Hitch up the horses to the chariot and let’s head back to your father’s house at once!”
Pisistratus groaned in complaint. “Be reasonable, Telemachus. No matter how much you might be itching to get back, it’s not like we can drive a team safely in the middle of the night. Morning’s not far off; let’s just wait until then, when Menelaus will load up our chariot with all kinds of cool gifts and shit. We can get a proper princely send-off when we go. The king is a proper host like that.” Even as Pisistratus spoke, Dawn spread her golden robes across the horizon, waking Menelaus as was his habit from a long life of soldiering.
He and Helen, hair unbound and loose from the night, walked out to greet their guests. Telemachus saw them coming and hurriedly dressed and rose to meet them. “Hail, King Menelaus, and well met! I ask that you let me go back to my own country at once; my heart longs for home.” The great warcaptain hurried to assure his guests. “Of course, Telemachus. I’d never detain you here when your heart is set on home. I’d be just as poor a host if I kept you too long as if I turned you away in the first place – balance in all things is key. Welcome their coming and speed them on their way when the time is right. But you should at least give me time to load you up with the proper gifts before you go and have a proper farewell meal. Dine in style in my hall first and then, if you’re keen to see the wonders of all Hellas, I’ll be your personal tour guide myself.”
“That’s a very generous offer, Menelaus, captain of armies, but I fear I must decline. I feel a need to be home as soon as I can. I left in a rush, a bit impulsively now that I look back on it, and I left no one behind to guard my possessions while I sailed off. Gods forbid that I lose everything while searching for news of my long-lost father!” Menelaus hadn’t expected that Telemachus had left his rear flank so unguarded, and he jumped to help speed the young prince on his way. He ordered a feast laid and chose a kingly gift, as did Helen and Menelaus’ son Megapenthes. They presented their treasures to Telemachus with a flourish and then sat down to eat.
Once the food had been eaten and the libations had been poured, Menelaus bid his guests farewell and asked them to give his warm greetings to his old friend and comrade Nestor. Telemachus promised to do so and wished aloud that they could find cunning old Odysseus and tell him to come visit his old pal Menelaus and get a taste of his kindness and generosity. As he said these words, a bird flew past them on their right in a burst of feathers – an eagle clutching a huge white goose in its bloodied talons, snatched from someone’s yard. As the people yelled and chased the raptor, it swooped by the princely assembly again, once more on their right, swooping first towards the chariot and then on past the horses. Everyone there could sense that there was some omen behind this strange event but, as Pisistratus commented, it wasn’t clear whether the omen was meant for Menelaus or the two young princes.
Menelaus stared into the middle distance, contemplating the strange sign but it was Helen who interpreted it. “Hear me and I will tell you true, for the gods have shown me what will come to pass through this strange omen. Just as the eagle swooped down from the high, rocky cliffs where it was born and bred to seize the fatted goose from the house’s yard, so too will mighty Odysseus return after many long trials and deadly tribulations descend on his house and take revenge on those who have wronged him and his. That is, unless he’s returned already and lurks in the shadows plotting his vengeance with that clever tactician’s brain of his.”
Hope burst in Telemachus’ chest at this unexpected promise from the gods and he swore that, if Helen’s prophecy came true, he would worship her as one of the gods forever after. Leaping into his chariot, he cracked the whip and raced off for his ship in distant Pylos, careening across the dusty road. They reached Phera as the sun was starting to set and called a halt for the night to rest the horses, staying in the hall of Diodes, son of Ortilochus and grandson of the Alpheus River.
As soon as Dawn’s rosy light tinged the sky again, the two young men were off once more for Pylos. As they approached the city, Telemachus began to think feverishly. Protocol dictated that he should return to Nestor’s hall to greet the old man again and hang out for another feast. Any other time, he would have leapt at the chance, but Helen’s prophecy was burning in his breast and he yearned for home. “Pisistratus, we’ve become almost like brothers on this wild trip together, and I know that we will be friends forever and in the name of that friendship and in that of our fathers’ friendship, I ask you this favor: please, take me straight to my ship and speed me on my way. Your father loves being the magnanimous host, an admirable trait, and I fear he’ll insist on keeping me for another feast and I simply cannot lose another day of travel. You heard Helen – I must get home at once!”
Nestor’s son considered. Telemachus was right about his father and, being of an age with Telemachus, he understood his new bestie’s haste. His father might not agree, but then he wasn’t here was he? Nodding, Pisistratus swerved the chariot towards the harbor instead of his home and drove straight to the ship. They tied off the horses, loaded all of Menelaus’ gifts from the chariot onto the boat, and then embraced in friendship. He bid Telemachus farewell, urging him to hurry and cast off before Nestor found out and prevented him from leaving immediately. They both knew that the old man would be furious when he found out, but so be it. As the ship cast off, Pisistratus drove the chariot into the city to confront his father’s wrath.
As they were making final preparations and sacrifices, a wandering prophet from a distant land approached. He was a descendant of the old seer Melampus (from back in Episode 72G) who, as you might remember, had originally come from Pylos before being forced to flee the bloody wrath of Neleus who had stolen his estate for a year. He had returned and married Neleus’ daughter (after avenging himself on her father first, so surely a happy marriage) and had set out again to live in distant Argos. Several generations later, Apollo made Melampus’ descendant Polyphides the greatest seer on earth, but he was forced to flee home after a feud with his father and set out to wander the wide world. His son, Theoclymenus, was also a seer from a long line of mystics and it was he who approached the young prince of Ithaca now. He was a fugitive himself, having killed a man and fled.
“Young friend! I see that you are burning offerings to the gods, indicating that you are about to leave these shores. Please, before you go, tell me who you are and where you are from. Who are your parents?” Given the time period and society, this wasn’t that strange of a request, and so the prince saw no reason not to answer honestly. “I am from Ithaca, and my father is Odysseus (at least, that’s what everyone tells me; sometimes it doesn’t even feel like he’s a real person, just a story). I’m sure he must be a bloated, rotting corpse by now, but I’ve sailed out anyway in the hopes of finding some news of him.”
Theoclymenus smiled. “Like you, I too am far from my home. In my case, it’s because I killed a man from my own people and his many, many brothers are out for my blood. They search for me even now that they may rip my beating heart from my chest, so I beg you to let me sail with you to Ithaca. Please, don’t let them kill me!” Telemachus was moved to pity by the plight of this man (who, bear in mind, offered absolutely no explanation or justification for his crime and might just be a stone-cold killer) and agreed to pick up the hitchhiker that he definitely knew was a murderer. You know, like you do. They helped the man and his spear onto the ship, because why not arm the deadly killer? Once he was safely aboard, they cast off and sailed for Ithaca. As the winds rose, Telemachus couldn’t help but look out to where the suitors lurked in ambush, hoping to murder him. He wondered if he would make it home or be lost at sea like his father.
Speaking of Odysseus, let’s zip back over to Ithaca where another night is approaching at the hut of the swineherd. Still in disguise as an old beggar, he was eating with the poor fieldhands as night fell. The elder servant had passed Odysseus’ tests so far, but the wily king wasn’t ready to trust the man just yet. He’d been gone a long time, and a lot could change. Besides, he’s trying to learn from the doom of King Agamemnon, who had been slaughtered by his own family because he’d been too trusting of those he’d left behind.
“Hey, Eumaeus – at dawn, I’m planning to head into town to do some honest begging. I don’t want to be a drain on you and your men. Could you give me advice on the best place to go, maybe even a guide? After that, I’ll be on my own to roam the mean streets of this city since I don’t have any other options to speak of. I’d like to go to the house of King Odysseus and give the queen my news of her missing husband. Do you think those suitors you mentioned would spare a plateful for a needy beggar? I’d gladly work for it; I’d do whatever they want for a crust of bread, any menial task for those noble masters.”
“Ye gods, my new friend!” broke in Eumaeus. “That is a truly terrible plan. Just awful. If you try to mingle with that monstrous mob of suitors, you must be hell-bent on your own destruction. Those assholes are a toxic mix of violence and arrogance with nothing to redeem them at all; you’re not like that, I can tell. They won’t let you work for them, old and ugly and dirty as you are. They only use servants and slaves who are young and hot and strong, dressed in clean, fine robes and shining with sweet oils. Besides, you don’t need to go into that nest of vipers. No one here finds you a burden, so why not just stay here a bit longer, comrade? At least until the prince gets back. He’ll treat you well if you speak to him, unlike those awful suitors. You’ll get a nice set of clothes and a full belly from him and maybe even a ride to wherever you want to go.”
The exiled king smiled at this. “I wish that Zeus loved you as much as I do right now, Eumaeus! I mean, you’ve single-handedly managed to end my suffering and my wandering, and given me some small hope for the future. Roving alone across the world, an abandoned exile, is the worst misery a man can face. Of course, we only put up with misery because we have to eat somehow, right? I’ll wait for the prince as you say. Can you tell me a little about him, and about his mother the queen who sits in the distant palace? What about the king’s aged father – does he still live, or has he died during Odysseus’ long absence?” The first two questions are pretty reasonable for a wandering beggar, especially since the swineherd already brought up Telemachus, but the incredibly specific inquiry about Odysseus’ father should have been super sus. Thanks to the magical disguise of Athena and the trusting nature of the pig herder, it wasn’t.
“Of course I’ll tell you about them, my friend! Laertes is still alive and kicking, but he spends his days praying to Zeus for an end to his misery. Between losing his son to the war and losing his beloved wife to old age, he’s got very little left to live for. Losing her was the hardest blow the old man ever suffered, and she died of a broken heart for her long lost son. We all watched as her grief wore her down, eroded her soul, until there was nothing left and she just…gave up. I pray that no one I love ever has to die such a slow, lingering, agonizing death as that. I always liked the old lady and, when she was still alive, I’d talk to her often to swap news. She helped raise me herself you know, right alongside her youngest daughter Ctimene. We grew up like siblings until the day came that she was given in marriage to a Samian man. The bride-gifts they got were incredible, and that generous soul shared them with me. That’s how I got this farm. Penelope’s not like that at all. I never get so much as a kind word out of her prissy mouth, not since that plague of locusts in human skin swarmed over her house. She used to love gossiping with the servants, and they loved it right back. The whole place is miserable now.”
“Really? Tell me, Eumaeus, how did you end up here on Ithaca being raised by a stranger? Where were your parents? Was your city raided and sacked, or were you maybe kidnapped by pirates and sold off as a slave?” “Wow, you sure ask a lot of questions but, lucky for you, I love to talk, especially about myself. It’s kind of late, but fuck it, you can sleep when you’re dead, right? Anybody who’s tired can feel free to get to bed, but I feel like chewing the fat a bit. So sit back, sip your wine, and listen up. It’s story time.
“There’s an island named Syrie off the coast of Ortygia that doesn’t have nearly so many people as Ithaca, but it’s still a nice place. No one ever seemed to go hungry, and plague never ravaged the people the way it so often stalks the poor. Instead, everyone grows to a grand old age and, when the time is right, down come Apollo and Artemis with their silver bows and they put one quick, painless arrow through the heart. It’s a nice, peaceful way to go. There are two cities on the island, and each rules over half the land there. My father Ormenus ruled over both cities at once like a living god. It was a good life.
“One day, a band of Phoenicians landed on our shores. You know how they are – sea dogs and rogues, but fierce bargainers with holds full of the best shiny stuff. My father kept a Phoencian woman in his house as a slave. She was lovely, tall, willowy, and simply incredible with a loom and, as soon as her countrymen laid eyes on her, they lusted after her. She was out washing clothes one day when one of them snuck up and grabbed her.” The story claims he waylaid her with a deep embrace that can break a woman’s will, but it sounds a lot more like assault than seduction to me. Anyway. “The man asked her who she was, where she was from and she waved towards my father’s house. She told him she had originally come from Sidon, the daughter of the wealthy man Arybas. She had been kidnapped from the fields by Taphian pirates and sold to my father for a good price (a point of pride).
“The wicked sailor urged her to sail off with the Phoenicians and head back to her home where her family, so he said, still lived in great wealth. She was tempted by this offer, but made them promise to land her safely at home without so much as a scratch on her. They agreed to her terms and they began to scheme. The other sailors were sworn to secrecy, and vowed not to address her or in any way give a hint that she was planning to flee for fear that someone would notice and warn the king. If my father found out, he would surely clap her in cruel iron chains and have the entire filthy lot of them executed. In exchange for their help, the woman promised to steal as much gold as she could carry to pay her passage and offered a little something extra to sweeten the pot – me. I was just a toddler then, and I adored this woman as little kids often do. She thought it would be delightfully ironic to sell her slaver’s son into bondage himself as the price of her freedom and besides – I’d fetch quite the price!
“The Phoenicians stayed on our island for a full year, bartering, buying goods, selling the wares in their hold and buying new goods to fill the empty spaces. Once they had made all the money they could, they sent a messenger to alert the woman that it was time to get the fuck out of town. This crafty fucker came to my house with a gold chain lined with amber beads – a masterful piece of work that kept my mother and all of the other maids busy fawning over it and making bids on it. The slave woman led my ignorant ass through the house and out the back, grabbing all of the riches she could lay hands on along the way. I trusted her and so, when she told me to run with her to the bay, I laughed and did so. The two of us were loaded up on board and the sailors cast off with their stolen bounty.
“For six days, we sailed nonstop to get away before the alarm could be raised. On the seventh, Artemis descended suddenly from the heavens and put an arrow through the breast of the fleeing slave woman, killing her dead. I thought that surely the sailors would be next, that the goddess was here to rescue me, but I was sorely mistaken. She had only come to kill the slave woman, and I was left to the cruel hands of the sailors who had kidnapped me.” Which might be the most fucked up part of this whole story. “The Phoenicians pushed their dead kinswoman over the side of the boat, a feast for the fish, and they sailed off with their stolen riches and no obligations. Soon enough, they came to Laertes on Ithaca, who bought me and set me up here.”
Odysseus clapped his new friend on the shoulder. “That is truly a tale of misery and woe, sir. But hey, look on the bright side – you’ve got a pretty good life out of the deal. I mean, it’s no being raised in luxury as a king but you get to serve a pretty good one who gives you all the food and drink you need.” That’s…a very lopsided view of it, but it doesn’t surprise me coming from Odysseus. I doubt he’d trade places with the poor man who herds pigs for a living in a hut, however much he talks it up. “You’ve definitely had a better life than me, drifting from city to city, forever wandering.” By the time the two bosom buddies finished drinking and talking, it was the wee hours of the morning. They both retired to bed, though neither would have long to sleep before dawn.
That very hour, Telemachus and his crew reached the coasts of Ithaca. They struck sail, lowered mast, and began to row as they ate the morning meal. As Athena had advised, Telemachus asked his shipmates to drop him off well outside the city near his farms. He told them to head for the city and he would meet them the next morning to pay them and give them a hearty thank you feast for their hard work. The seer Theoclymenus piped up at this unexpected development. “Where should I go, my boy? Is there a particular lord’s house I should visit, or should I go straight to your mother’s house?”
Telemachus opened his mouth to respond, then paused to think. “In better times, I would of course invite you home. It’s the proper, hospitable thing to do but I fear you’d have a shitty time of it. I’m not going to be there right away, and my mother rarely sees anybody these days, hiding away in her rooms and weaving at her loom to avoid the suitors plaguing the main halls. You know who you can see though? Eurymachus, the wise, upstanding son of Polybus. He’s the main man around these parts, prince of the suitors and the hottest to wed my mother and seize my father’s power as his own. Me, I’m still hopeful that Zeus is going to give me my day of bloody vengeance on them before the wedding bells ever toll.”
As these words rang out on the air, a hawk (the sacred bird of Apollo) soared by clutching a dove in its talons, ripping feathers from the still struggling body as it passed. White plumage stained in crimson drifted down on the wind between the young prince and his ship. The prophet pulled Telemachus aside so that none but he would hear the interpretation of this omen. “Young prince, that was a sign or I’m no seer! I tell you this: no usurper will overthrow your royal line. You and yours will reign over Ithaca now and forever more!” Telemachus considered this strange hitchhiker. “If all you say is true, then you will have my thanks repaid to you so many times over that any who meets you will call you lucky.”
Telemachus had been talking right out of his ass before when he suggested that Theoclymenus stay with that asshat Eurymachus. He turned to a trusted friend of his, Piraeus, and asked him to take in their guest instead since the prince’s own house wasn’t currently fit for visitors. Piraeus graciously agreed, telling his prince and friend to stay here in the hinterlands as long as he needed to. Their seer friend would never lack a bed or a table. So decided, the sailors and the seer boarded the black ship and set out for the main city while Telemachus turned inland and began to walk towards the nearby farm where his pigs were kept. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together, but we’ll have to wait until next week to see what the young prince finds in that humble place because 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 hunter is Orion.
Orion is mostly famous nowadays for being the constellation with a belt made of three very visible stars, but as usual, there’s a whole story to go along with the figure in the sky. Or rather, there are many fragments of a lot of different stories, none of which come from the same source and many of which directly contradict each other. As usual.
The earliest surviving versions of the story (including references to a lost work by Hesiod) have Orion as a son of Poseidon and Euryale, daughter of King Minos of Crete but the version told by Pseudo-Hyginus in Fabulae is more…colorful. Zeus, Hermes, and Poseidon got together one day and decided to walk the earth (likely in disguise as they frequently did). On this particular trip, they decided to visit the court of King Hyrieus in Boeotia. Hyrieus was the son of Poseidon by the nymph Alcyone and was one of the wealthiest men in Greece, so the gods figured it would be one hell of a feast.
The King of Hyria gladly welcomed the three deities into his court and did indeed lay out a sumptuous banquet, roasting a whole bull in their honor. Satisfied with the welcome they had received, the three gods (probably) revealed themselves to their host and offered to grant him one boon, anything his heart desired. As you might remember from back in Episode 72C, this didn’t work out so well for King Midas, but King Hyrius’ desire was simpler. What he wished for above all else was a son.
That was easy for three major Olympians. The three gods took the hide of the bull that had been slaughtered for the feast, pissed all over it, and then buried it in the yard. No really, that’s what happened. The gods got drunk at a party and peed on the rug basically. Of course, being gods, things work differently. They instructed their host to dig up the skin at a later date and, when he did, he found a bouncing baby boy waiting for him – his son, who he named Orion. In this version, Orion has three godly daddies and Gaia, the earth herself, as his mother.
In either version, Orion was born with some super powers thanks to either the semen or the urine of Poseidon. He grew up to be a truly gigantic man, towering over everyone around him while still managing to be unbelievably handsome (the most handsome of all the earth-born men according to Homer). He also had the power to walk on water (which is where the much later Percy Jackson gets it from). Orion loved to hunt (by some accounts, he was the first hunter) and used his special powers to travel on foot from island to island in search of the best game.
According to another fragment of the lost Hesiod tales, he walked one day to Chios. The king there, Oenopion, naturally had a beautiful daughter because that’s always the way it goes in these stories. Her name was Merope (or Aero in some versions), daughter of the nymph Helice, and Orion became utterly infatuated with her on sight. In some versions, Merope is instead the king’s wife, but the rest of the story plays out more or less the same. To try and prove his worth as a husband and win Oenopion’s approval, he did the thing he did best – he killed shit. Orion rose early every day and went out across the island killing all of the beasts he could find. Each evening, he dragged the bloody carcasses, skins, and furs back to pile up at the palace. It is said that, by the time he was done, he had completely cleared the island of wild beasts, but Oenopion had still not agreed to let Orion marry Merope (possibly because she didn’t want to, possibly because Oenopion correctly thought the hunter a wild brute, and possibly because she was married to Oenopion himself).
At a feast one night (probably a not-so-subtle thanks for all the dead animals now please go away banquet), a dismayed Orion proceeded to get roaring drunk. The more he drank, the more bitter he became until, many sheets to the wind, he decided that this was all bullshit, that he had earned Merope by now. As the party wound down, Orion went not to his own bed, but to Merope’s room. He forced his way into the room, and then he raped her.
Merope went immediately to her father, who called upon Dionysus (his father-in-law) for help in punishing this man who had used wine as an excuse to do the inexcusable. Dionysus believed in consent, and he responded. The god sent wild satyrs to put Orion into a magical sleep, which gave the king an opportunity to get vengeance. Death would be too quick and besides, the thing a guy like Orion cared about most was his prowess at the hunt, so that’s what Oenopion took away by blinding the sleeping hunter. The king then had Orion ditched on a beach and exiled from the island.
Blinded, Orion wandered from place to place in search of a way to restore his sight and return to the only thing he truly loved. He came at last to an oracle, who told him that he would only regain his sight if he went to the farthest east and bathed his eyes in the first rays of the rising sun as they washed over the earth. He didn’t know how to get there, since he couldn’t exactly see where he was going, but his keen ears could distantly hear the crashing of a Cyclops’ hammer, so he followed that. The sound led him to distant Lemnos, where Hephaestus kept a forge. The disabled god took pity on the blind hunter (I don’t know if he realized that the asshole deserved his punishment or not) and offered up his servant/tutor Kedalion as a guide. Pseudo-Apollodorus says that Kedalion was in fact a child and that Orion seized him and forced him to be his guide. Hesiod says that the smaller guide rode the gigantic hunter’s shoulders as they traveled to point out the proper roads.
They came in time to the utmost east and met Helios, the sun god and bathed his ruined eyeballs in the gods light, restoring them. Being the man that he was, Orion immediately set out for vengeance on King Oenopion, having learned not a damned thing. He hurried back to Chios to murder the king who’d had the audacity to punish him for raping the man’s daughter. Orion is a dick. Fortunately, Orion was not exactly subtle and stories of the giant preceded him, allowing the people of Chios to hide the king and Merope from further predation by the vicious hunter. Pseudo-Apollodorus claims that they hid in a house beneath the earth built by Hephaestus (who helped Orion regain his sight in the first place). Frustrated, Orion headed off for Crete instead.
There, he began to hang out with Artemis (who was apparently willing to forgive his rape because of his skill with a bow) and her mother Leto. It’s hard for me to think she didn’t know, what with Dionysus being directly involved. This association resulted in his eventual demise, though there are different versions of how that came to be.
Hesiod says that Orion became overly proud of his skills as a hunter and boasted to Artemis and Leto that he could kill anything, anything at all, that the Earth could spew forth. In some versions, he even threatens to prove it by slaughtering every last animal that walked, swam, or flew across the earth. Gaia, who might be his mother depending on the version, was deeply offended by his hubris. She decided to prove the mighty hunter wrong by sending forth a massive Scorpion to Crete. The thing was monstrous, large enough to actually rival Orion’s gigantic stature, and they fought to the death. Orion struggled, but the Scorpion drove its venomous stinger into the hunter, fatally wounding him. Artemis and Leto were so distraught at his death that they begged Zeus to place his body in the sky among the stars along with the Scorpion as a reminder of how he had died. According to Pseudo-Hyginus, Zeus put the Scorpion up in the heavens first, as a reminder to men not to be too prideful, prompting Artemis to ask for Orion to be placed there as well, which is why Scorpio rises as Orion sets.
Pseudo-Apollodorus gives the version referenced in the Odyssey. Eos, also known as Aurora, the incarnation of the rosy Dawn, had slept with Ares. As we recently learned, Aphrodite had a thing with the god of war and was extremely jealous. Rather than blaming her lover, who was the one who actually, you know, cheated on her, she blamed Eos and cursed her with constant passion and desire. So cursed, she fell in lust with Orion and ran off with him to the island of Delos (or possibly kidnapped him against his will) where he met Artemis and, being an arrogant prick, challenged her to a discus match. It’s unclear what exactly transpired since the details have been lost, but it ends with Artemis drawing her bow and putting an arrow right through Orion’s heart (possibly for simply having the audacity to challenge her in the first place). Alternatively, Artemis slew Orion for going back to his terrible, terrible ways and raping Oupis, a virign handmaiden of Artmeis.
According to Istrus (by way of Pseudo-Hyginus), Artemis fell in love with Orion for his skill with the bow and came near to marrying him, despite her usual vow to eschew marriage to men forever. Her brother Apollo did not take kindly to his sister cavorting with a mortal and decided to end things. He tried explaining to her why her feelings were wrong, but that went about as well as you’d expect (much to Apollo’s surprise because he’s an asshole) so he decided to try something different. He saw Orion’s head just poking above the waves as he was swimming (despite being able to walk on the water in most versions) so he found Artemis and wagered that she couldn’t possibly hit such a small target from so far away. Orion was far enough away from where Apollo came to speak to her that Artemis couldn’t see anything except a small black dot and so, thanks to intense sibling rivalry, she took his bet. Launching one supremely skillful arrow, she put it through his eye, killing him instantly. When his body eventually washed ashore, the grieving Artemis had his body placed among the stars.
In a few fragments from Pseudo-Hyginus, it is said that the constellation Canis Major, the Dog, is Orion’s dog and was put there thanks to his devotion to his owner and to their shared love of hunting. On the other end of the spectrum, the Pleiades also ended up in the sky thanks to Orion but in a much less pleasant way. As we’ve already seen, he’s a rapist and once decided to rape each of the Seven Pleiades, nymply daughters of the Titan Atlas, in turn as Zeus had once done before (being likewise a rapey dick). To escape his horrifying attentions, the seven sisters were transformed into stars though Orion is himself now a constellation too and forever chases after them. Not every story has a happy ending.
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, after many years and many episodes, it’s finally time for our two storylines to meet as Telemachus comes face to face with the father who abandoned him. You’ll learn that ambushes don’t beat divine intervention, that some messages shouldn’t be announced loudly in front of your enemies, and that magic can make all the difference. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s the statuesque man with abs of steel. Well, of bronze anyway. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.