Then, as they looked on the chiefs who strove together in the games, the shouting of the crowd told at the end of each that Perseus was the conqueror. At last they stood forth to see which should have most strength of arm in hurling the quoit; and, when Perseus aimed at the mark, the quoit swerved aside and smote Akrisios on the head, and the warning of Phbus Apollo was accomplished.

Great was the sorrow of Teutamidas and his people as the chieftain of Argos lay dead before them; but deeper still and more bitter was the grief of Perseus for the deed which he had unwittingly done, and he said, "O Zeus, I have striven to keep my hands clean and to deal truly, and a hard recompense hast thou given me."

So they went back mourning to Argos, but although he strove heartily to rule his people well, the grief of Perseus could not be lessened while he remained in the house of Akrisios. So he sent a messenger to his kinsman, Megapenthes, who ruled at Tiryns, and said, "Come thou and rule in Argos, and I will go and dwell among thy people." So Perseus dwelt at Tiryns, and the men of the city rejoiced that he had come to rule over them. Thus the months and years went quickly by, as Perseus strove with all his might to make his people happy and to guard them against their enemies. At his bidding, the Cyclopes came from the far-off Lykian land, and built the mighty walls which gird the city round about; and they helped him to build yet another city, which grew in after-times to be even greater and mightier than Tiryns.

So rose the walls of Mykenae, and there, too, the people loved and honored Perseus for his just dealing more than for all the deeds which he had done with the sword of Hermes. At last the time came when the hero must rest from his long toil, but as they looked on his face, bright and beautiful even in death, the minstrels said, "We shall hear his voice no more, but the name of Perseus shall never die."

KEPHALOS AND PROKRIS.

Of all the maidens in the land of Attica none was so beautiful as Prokris, the daughter of King Erechtheus. She was the delight of her father's heart, not so much for her beauty as for her goodness and her gentleness. The sight of her fair face and the sound of her happy voice brought gladness to all who saw and heard her. Every one stopped to listen to the songs which she sang as she sat working busily at the loom, and the maidens who dwelt with her were glad when the hour came to go with Prokris and wash their clothes or draw water from the fountain. Then, when all her tasks were ended, she would roam over hill and valley, into every nook and dell. There was no spot in all the land where Prokris had not been. She lay down to rest in the top of the highest hills, or by the side of the stream where it murmured among the rocks far down in the woody glen. So pa.s.sed her days away; and while all loved her and rejoiced to see her face, only Prokris knew not of her own beauty, and thought not of her own goodness. But they amongst whom she lived, the old and the young, the sorrowful and happy, all said that Prokris, the child of Herse, was always as fair and bright as the dew of early morning.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THALIA (_Muse of Comedy_).]

Once in her many wanderings she had climbed the heights of Mount Hymettos, almost before the first streak of dawn was seen in the sky.

Far away, as she looked over the blue sea, her eyes rested on the glittering cliffs of Euba, and she looked and saw that a ship was sailing towards the sh.o.r.e beneath the hill of Hymettos. Presently it reached the sh.o.r.e, and she could see that a man stepped out of the ship, and began to climb the hill, while the rest remained on the beach. As he came nearer to her, Prokris knew that his face was very fair, and she thought that she had never seen such beauty in mortal man before. She had heard that sometimes the G.o.ds come down from their home on Olympos to mingle among the children of men, and that sometimes the bright heroes were seen in the places where they had lived on the earth before they were taken to dwell in the halls of Zeus. As the stranger came near to her the sun rose brightly and without a cloud from the dark sea, and its light fell on his face, and made it gleam with more than mortal beauty. Gently he came towards her, and said, "Lady, I am come from the far-off eastern land, and as I drew near to this sh.o.r.e I saw that some one was resting here upon the hill. So I hastened to leave the ship that I might learn the name of the country which I have reached. My name is Kephalos, and my father, Helios, lives in a beautiful home beyond the sea, but I am traveling over the earth, till I shall have gone over every land and seen all the cities which men have built. Tell me now thy name, and the name of this fair land." Then she said, "Stranger, my name is Prokris, and I am the daughter of King Erechtheus, who dwells at Athens yonder, where thou seest the bright line of Kephisos flowing gently into the sea." So Prokris guided the stranger to her father's house, and Erechtheus received him kindly, and spread a banquet before him. But as they feasted and drank the dark red wine, he thought almost that Kephalos must be one of the bright heroes come back to his own land, so fair and beautiful was he to look upon, and that none save only his own child, Prokris, might be compared to him for beauty.

Long time Kephalos abode in the house of Erechtheus, and, each day, he loved more and more the bright and happy Prokris; and Prokris became brighter and happier, as the eye of Kephalos rested gently and lovingly upon her. At last Kephalos told her of his love, and Erechtheus gave him his child to be his wife, and there were none in all the land who dwelt together in a love so deep and pure as that of Kephalos and Prokris.

But among the maidens of that land there was one who was named Eos.

She, too, was fair and beautiful, but she had not the gentle spirit and the guileless heart of Prokris. Whenever Kephalos wandered forth with his young wife, then Eos would seek to follow them stealthily, or, if she met them by chance, she would suffer her eyes to rest long on the fair face of Kephalos, till she began to envy the happiness of Prokris. And so one day, when there was a feast of the people of the land, and the maidens danced on the soft gra.s.s around the fountain, Kephalos and Eos talked together, and Eos suffered herself to be carried away by her evil love. From that day she sought more and more to talk with Kephalos, till at last she bowed her head before him and told him softly of her love. But Kephalos said to her, gently, "Maiden, thou art fair to look upon, and there are others who may love thee well, and thou deservest the love of any. But I may not leave Prokris, whom Erechtheus has given to me to be my wife. Forgive me, maiden, if Prokris appear to me even fairer than thou art; but I prize her gentleness more than her beauty, and Prokris, with her pure love and guileless heart, shall be always dearer to me than any other in all the wide earth." Then Eos answered him craftily, "O Kephalos, thou hast suffered thyself to be deceived. Prokris loves thee not as I do; prove her love and thou shalt see that I have spoken truly."

Thus Eos spoke to him for many days, and the great happiness of his life was marred, for the words of Eos would come back to his mind, as he looked on the happy and guileless Prokris. He had begun to doubt whether she were in very deed so pure and good as she seemed to be, and at last he said to Eos that he would prove her love. Then Eos told him how to do so, and said that if he came before his wife as a stranger and brought to her rich gifts, as from a distant land, she would forget her love for Kephalos.

With a heavy heart he went away, for he foreboded evil days from the subtle words of Eos, and he departed and dwelt in another land. So the time pa.s.sed on, until many weeks and months had gone by, and Prokris mourned and wept in the house of Erechtheus, until the brightness of her eye was dimmed and her voice had lost its gladness. Day after day she sought throughout all the land for Kephalos, day after day she went up the hill of Hymettos, and as she looked towards the sea, she said, "Surely he will come back again; ah, Kephalos, thou knowest not the love which thou hast forsaken." Thus she pined away in her sorrow, although to all who were around her she was as gentle and as loving as ever. Her father was now old and weak, and he knew that he must soon die, but it grieved him most of all that he must leave his child in a grief more bitter than if Kephalos had remained to comfort her. So Erechtheus died, and the people honored him as one of the heroes of the land, but Prokris remained in his house desolate, and all who saw her pitied her for her true love and her deep sorrow. At last she felt that Kephalos would return no more, and that she could no more be happy until she went to her father in the bright home of the heroes and the G.o.ds.

Then a look of peace and loving patience came over her fair face, and she roamed with a strange gladness through every place where Kephalos had wandered with her; and so it came to pa.s.s that one day Prokris sat resting in the early morning on the eastern slopes of Mount Hymettos, when suddenly she beheld a man coming near to her. The dress was strange, but she half thought she knew his tall form and the light step as he came up the hill. Presently he came close to her, and she felt as if she were in a strange dream. The sight of his face and the glance of his eye carried her back to the days that were past, and she started up and ran towards him, saying, "O Kephalos, thou art come back at last; how couldst thou forsake me so long?" But the stranger answered, in a low and gentle voice (for he saw that she was in great sorrow), "Lady, thou art deceived. I am a stranger come from a far country, and I seek to know the name of this land." Then Prokris sat down again on the gra.s.s, and clasped her hands, and said, slowly, "It is changed and I can not tell how; yet surely it is the voice of Kephalos." Then she turned to the stranger, and said, "O stranger, I am mourning for Kephalos, whom I have loved and lost; he, too, came from a far land across the sea. Dost thou know him, and canst thou tell me where I may find him?" And the stranger answered, "I know him, lady; he is again in his own home, far away, whither thou canst not go; yet think not of him, for he has forgotten his love." Then the stranger spoke to her in gentle and soothing words, until her grief became less bitter. Long time he abode in the land, and it pleased Prokris to hear his voice while his eye rested kindly on her, until she almost fancied that she was with Kephalos once more. And she thought to herself, "What must that land be, from which there can come two who are beautiful as the bright heroes?"

So at last, when with soft and gentle words he had soothed her sorrow, the stranger spoke to her of his love, and Prokris felt that she, too, could love him, for had not Kephalos despised her love and forsaken her long ago? So he said, "Canst thou love me, Prokris, instead of Kephalos?" and when she gently answered "Yes," then a change came over the face of the stranger, and she saw that it was Kephalos himself who clasped her in his arms. With a wild cry she broke from him, and as bitter tears ran down her cheek, she said, "O Kephalos, Kephalos, why hast thou done thus? all my love was thine, and _thou_ hast drawn me into evil deeds." Then, without tarrying for his answer, with all her strength she fled away, and she hastened to the sea sh.o.r.e and bade them make ready a ship to take her from her father's land. Sorrowfully they did as she besought them, and they took her to the Island of Crete, far away in the eastern sea.

When Prokris was gone, the maiden Eos came and stood before Kephalos, and she said to him, "My words are true, and now must thou keep the vow by which thou didst swear to love me, if Prokris should yield herself to a stranger." So Kephalos dwelt with Eos, but for all her fond words he could not love her as still he loved Prokris.

Meanwhile Prokris wandered, in deep and bitter sorrow, among the hills and valleys of Crete. She cared not to look on the fair morning as it broke on the pale path of night; she cared not to watch the bright sun as he rose from the dark sea, or when he sank to rest behind the western waters. For the earth had lost all its gladness, and she felt that she could die. But one day as she sat on a hill-side and looked on the broad plains which lay stretched beneath, suddenly a woman stood before her, brighter and more glorious than the daughters of men, and Prokris knew, from the spear which she held in her hand and the hound which crouched before her, that it was Artemis, the mighty child of Zeus and Leto. Then Prokris fell at her feet, and said, "O lady Artemis, pity me in my great sorrow;" and Artemis answered, "Fear not, Prokris, I know thy grief. Kephalos hath done thee a great wrong, but he shall fall by the same device wherewith he requited thy pure and trusting love." Then she gave to Prokris her hound and her spear, and said, "Hasten now to thine own land, and go stand before Kephalos, and I will put a spell upon him that he may not know thee. Follow him in the chase, and at whatsoever thou mayest cast this spear, it shall fall, and from this hound no prey which thou mayest seek for shall ever escape."

So Prokris sailed back to the land of Erechtheus with the gifts of Artemis. And when Kephalos went to the chase, Prokris followed him, and all the glory of the hunt fell to her portion, for the hound struck down whatever it seized, and her spear never missed its aim.

And Kephalos marveled greatly, and said to the maiden, "Give me thy hound and thy spear," and he besought the stranger many times for the gift, till at last Prokris said, "I will not give them but for thy love, thou must forsake Eos and come to dwell with me." Then Kephalos said, "I care not for Eos; so only I have thy gifts, thou shalt have my love." But even as he spoke these words, a change came over the face of the stranger, and he saw that it was Prokris herself who stood before him. And Prokris said, "Ah, Kephalos, once more thou hast promised to love me, and now may I keep thy love, and remain with thee always. Almost I may say that I never loved any one but thee, but thou art changed, Kephalos, although still the same, else wouldst thou not have promised to love me for the gift of a hound and a spear." Then Kephalos besought Prokris to forgive him, and he said, "I am caught in the trap which I laid for thee, but I have fallen deeper. When thou gavest thy love to me as to a stranger, it pleased thee yet to think that I was like Kephalos, and my vow to thee has been given for the mere gifts which I coveted." But Prokris only said, "My joy is come back to me again, and now I will leave thee no more."

So once more in the land of Erechtheus Prokris and Kephalos dwelt together in a true and deep love. Once more they wandered over hill and dale as in the times that were past, and looked out from the heights of Hymettos to the white sh.o.r.e of Euba, as it glistened in the light of early day. But whenever he went to the chase with the hound and the spear of Artemis, Prokris saw that Eos still watched if haply she might talk with Kephalos alone, and win him again for herself. Once more she was happy, but her happiness was not what it had been when Kephalos first gave her his love, while her father, Erechtheus, was yet alive. She knew that Eos still envied her, and she sought to guard Kephalos from the danger of her treacherous look and her enticing words. She kept ever near him in the chase, although he saw her not, and thus it came to pa.s.s that one day, as Prokris watched him from a thicket, the folds of her dress rustled against the branches, so that Kephalos thought it was some beast moving from his den, and hurled at her the spear of Artemis that never missed its mark. Then he heard the cry as of one who has received a deadly blow, and when he hastened into the thicket, Prokris lay smitten down to the earth before him. The coldness of death was on her face, and her bright eye was dim, but her voice was as loving as ever, while she said, "O Kephalos, it grieves me not that thy arm hath struck me down.

I have thy love, and having it, I go to the land of the bright heroes, where my father, Erechtheus, is waiting for his child, and where thou, too, shalt one day meet me, to dwell with me forever." One loving look she gave to Kephalos, and the smile of parting vanished in the stillness of death.

[Ill.u.s.tration: NUMA POMPILIUS VISITING THE NYMPH EGERIA.]

Then over the body of Prokris Kephalos wept tears of bitter sorrow, and he said, "Ah, Eos, Eos, well hast thou rewarded me for doubting once a love such as thou couldst never feel." Many days and many weeks he mourned for his lost love, and daily he sat on the slopes of Hymettos, and thought with a calm and almost happy grief how Prokris there had rested by his side. All this time the spear of Artemis was idle, and the hound went not forth to the chase, until chieftains came from other lands to ask his aid against savage beasts or men. Among them came Amphitryon, the lord of Thebes, to ask for help, and Kephalos said, "I will do as thou wouldst have me. It is time that I should begin to journey to the bright land where Prokris dwells, beyond the western sea."

So he went with Amphitryon into the Theban land, and hunted out the savage beasts which wasted his harvests, and then he journeyed on till he came to the home of Phbus Apollo, at Delphi. There the G.o.d bade him hasten to the western sea, where he should once again find Prokris. Onward he went, across the heights and vales of aetolia, until he stood on the Leukadian cape and looked out on the blue water. The sun was sinking low down in the sky, and the golden clouds of evening were gathered round him as he hastened to his rest. And Kephalos said, "Here must I rest, also, for my journey is done, and Prokris is waiting for me in the brighter land." There on the white cliff he stood, and just as the sun touched the waters, the strength of Kephalos failed him, and he sank gently into the sea.

So again, in the homes of the bright heroes, Kephalos found the wife whom he had loved and slain.

SKYLLA.

From the turret of her father's house, Skylla, the daughter of Nisos, watched the ships of King Minos, as they drew near from the Island of Crete. Their white sails and the spears of the Cretan warriors sparkled in the sunshine, as the crested waves rose and fell, carrying the long billows to the sh.o.r.e. As she watched the goodly sight, Skylla thought sadly of the days that were gone, when her father had sojourned as a guest in the halls of King Minos, and she had looked on his face as on the face of a friend. But now there was strife between the chieftains of Crete and Megara, for Androgeos, the son of Minos, had been slain by evil men as he journeyed from Megara to Athens, and Minos was come hither with his warriors to demand the price of his blood. But when the herald came with the message of Minos, the face of Nisos, the King, flushed with anger, as he said, "Go thy way to him that sent thee, and tell him that he who is guarded by the undying G.o.ds cares not for the wrath of men whose spears shall be snapped like bulrushes." Then said the herald, "I can not read thy riddle, chieftain of Megara, but the blood of the G.o.ds runs in the veins of Minos, and it can not be that the son of Europa shall fall under the hands of thee or of thy people."

The sun went down in a flood of golden glory behind the purple heights of Geraneia, and as the mists of evening fell upon the land, the warriors of Minos made ready for the onset on the morrow. But when the light of Eos flushed the eastern sky, and the men of Crete went forth to the battle, their strength and their brave deeds availed them nothing, for the arms of the mightiest became weak as the hands of a little child, because the secret spell, in which lay the strength of the undying G.o.ds, guarded the city of Nisos. And so it came to pa.s.s that, as day by day they fought in vain against the walls of Megara, the spirit of the men of Crete waxed feeble, and many said that they came not thither to fight against the deathless G.o.ds.

But each day as Minos led his men against the city, the daughter of Nisos had looked forth from her turret, and she saw his face, beautiful as in the days when she had sojourned in his house at Gnossos, and flushed with the pride and eagerness of the war. Then the heart of Skylla was filled with a strange love, and she spake musingly within herself, "To what end is this strife of armed men? Love is beyond all treasures, and brighter for me than the love of others would be one kindly look from the bright son of Europa. I know the spell which keeps the city of the Megarians, and where is the evil of the deed, if I take the purple lock of hair which the G.o.ds have given to my father as a pledge that so long as it remains untouched, no harm shall befall his people? If I give it to Minos the struggle is ended, and it may be that I shall win his love."

So when the darkness of night fell again upon the earth, and all the sons of men were buried in a deep sleep, Skylla entered stealthily into her father's chamber, and sh.o.r.e off the purple lock in which lay his strength and the strength of his people. Then, as the tints of early morning stole across the dark heavens, the watchmen of the Cretans beheld the form of a woman as she drew nigh to them and bade them lead her to the tent of King Minos. When she was brought before him, with downcast face she bowed herself to the earth, and said, "I have sojourned in thy halls in the days that are gone, when there was peace between thee and the house of my father, Nisos. O Minos, peace is better than war, and of all treasures the most precious is love.

Look on me, then, gently as in former days, for at a great price do I seek thy kindness. In this purple lock is the strength of my father and his people." Then a strange smile pa.s.sed over the face of Minos, as he said, "The gifts of fair maidens must not be lightly cast aside; the requital shall be made when the turmoil of strife is ended."

With a mighty shout the Cretan warriors went forth to the onset as the fiery horses of Helios rose up with his chariot into the kindled heaven. Straightway the walls of Megara fell, and the men of Crete burst into the house of Nisos. So the city was taken, and Minos made ready to go against the men of Athens, for on them also he sought to take vengeance for the death of his son, Androgeos. But even as he hastened to his ship, Skylla stood before him on the sea-sh.o.r.e. "Thy victory is from me," she said, "where is the requital of my gift?"

Then Minos answered, "She who cares not for the father that has cherished her has her own reward, and the gift which thou didst bring me is beyond human recompense." The light southern breeze swelled the outspread sail, and the ship of Minos danced gaily over the rippling waters. For a moment the daughter of Nisos stood musing on the sh.o.r.e.

Then she stretched forth her arms, as with a low cry of bitter anguish she said, "O Love, thy sting is cruel, and my life dies poisoned by the smile of Aphrodite!" So the waters closed over the daughter of Nisos, as she plunged in the blue depths; but the strife which vexes the sons of men follows her still, when the eagle swoops down from the clouds for his prey in the salt sea.

PHRIXOS AND h.e.l.lE.

Many, many years ago, there was a man called Athamas, and he had a wife whose name was Nephele. They had two children--a boy and a girl.

The name of the boy was Phrixos, and his sister was called h.e.l.le. They were good and happy children, and played about merrily in the fields, and their mother, Nephele, loved them dearly. But by and by their mother was taken away from them, and their father, Athamas, forgot all about her, for he had not loved her as he ought to do. And very soon he married another wife whose name was Ino, but she was harsh and unkind to Phrixos and h.e.l.le, and they began to be very unhappy. Their cheeks were no more rosy, and their faces no longer looked bright and cheerful, as they used to do when they could go home to their mother, Nephele, and so they played less and less, until none would have thought that they were the same children who were so happy before Nephele was taken away. But Ino hated these poor children, for she was a cruel woman, and she longed to get rid of Phrixos and h.e.l.le, and she thought how she might do so. So she said that Phrixos spoiled all the corn, and prevented it from growing, and that they would not be able to make any bread till he was killed. At last she persuaded Athamas that he ought to kill Phrixos. But although Athamas cared nothing about Phrixos and h.e.l.le, still their mother, Nephele, saw what was going on, although they could not see her, because there was a cloud between them; and Nephele was determined that Athamas should not hurt Phrixos. So she sent a ram which had a golden fleece to carry her children away, and one day, when they were sitting down on the gra.s.s (for they were too sad and unhappy to play), they saw a beautiful ram come into the field. And Phrixos said to h.e.l.le, "Sister, look at this sheep that is coming to us; see, he shines all over like gold--his horns are made of gold, and all the hair on his body is golden, too."

So the ram came nearer and nearer, and at last he lay down quite close to them, and looked so quiet that Phrixos and h.e.l.le were not at all afraid of him. Then they played with the sheep, and they took him by the horns, and stroked his golden fleece, and patted him on the head, and the ram looked so pleased that they thought they would like to have a ride on his back. So Phrixos got up first, and put his arms round the ram's neck, and little h.e.l.le got up behind her brother and put her arms round his waist, and then they called to the ram to stand up and carry them about. And the ram knew what they wanted, and began to walk first, and then to run. By and by it rose up from the ground and began to fly. And when it first left the earth, Phrixos and h.e.l.le became frightened, and they begged the ram to go down again and put them upon the ground, but the ram turned his head round, and looked so gently at them, that they were not afraid any more. So Phrixos told h.e.l.le to hold on tight round his waist, and he said, "Dear h.e.l.le, do not be afraid, for I do not think the ram means to do us any harm, and I almost fancy that he must have been sent by our dear mother, Nephele, and that he will carry us to some better country, where the people will be kind to us, as our mother used to be."

Now it so happened that, just as the ram began to fly away with the two children on its back, Ino and Athamas came into the field, thinking how they might kill Phrixos, but they could not see him anywhere; and when they looked up, then, high up in the air over their heads, they saw the ram flying away with the children on its back. So they cried out and made a great noise, and threw stones up into the air, thinking that the ram would get frightened and come down to the earth again; but the ram did not care how much noise they made or how many stones they threw up. On and on he flew, higher and higher, till at last he looked only like a little yellow speck in the blue sky; and then Ino and Athamas saw him no more.

So these wicked people sat down, very angry and unhappy. They were sorry because Phrixos and h.e.l.le had got away all safe, when they wanted to kill them. But they were much more sorry because they had gone away on the back of a ram whose fleece was made of gold. So Ino said to Athamas, "What a pity that we did not come into the field a little sooner, for then we might have caught this ram and killed him and stripped off his golden fleece, and we should have been rich for the rest of our days."

All this time the ram was flying on and on, higher and higher, with Phrixos and h.e.l.le on his back. And h.e.l.le began to be very tired, and she said to her brother that she could not hold on much longer, and Phrixos said, "Dear h.e.l.le, try and hold on as long as you possibly can; I dare say the ram will soon reach the place to which he wants to carry us, and then you shall lie down on the soft gra.s.s, and have such pleasant sleep that you will not feel tired any more." But h.e.l.le said, "Dearest Phrixos, I will indeed try and hold fast as long as I can, but my arms are becoming so weak that I am afraid that I shall not be able to hold on long." And by and by, when she grew weaker, she said, "Dear Phrixos, if I fall off, you will not see h.e.l.le any more, but you must not forget her, you must always love her as she loved you, and then some day or other we shall see each other again, and live with our dear mother, Nephele." Then Phrixos said, "Try and hold fast a little longer still, h.e.l.le. I can never love any one so much as I love you; but I want you to live with me on earth, and I can not bear to think of living without you."

But it was of no use that he talked so kindly and tried to encourage his sister, because he was not able to make her arms and her body stronger; so by and by poor h.e.l.le fell off, just as they were flying over a narrow part of the sea, and she fell into it and was drowned.

And the people called the part of the sea where she fell in, the h.e.l.lespont, which means the sea of little h.e.l.le.

So Phrixos was left alone on the ram's back; and the ram flew on and on a long way, till it came to the palace of Aietes, the King of Kolchis. And King Aietes was walking about in his garden, when he looked up into the sky, and saw something which looked very like a yellow sheep with a little boy on its back. And King Aietes was greatly amazed, for he had never seen so strange a thing before, and he called his wife and his children, and everyone else that was in his house, to come and see this wonderful sight. And they looked, and saw the ram coming nearer and nearer, and then they knew that it really was a boy on its back; and by and by the ram came down upon the earth near their feet, and Phrixos got off its back. Then King Aietes went up to him, and took him by the hand, and asked him who he was, and he said, "Tell me, little boy, how it is that you come here, riding in this strange way on the back of a ram." Then Phrixos told him the ram had come into the field where he and h.e.l.le were playing, and had carried them away from Ino and Athamas, who were very unkind to them, and how little h.e.l.le had grown tired, and fallen off his back, and had been drowned in the sea. Then King Aietes took Phrixos up in his arms, and said, "Do not be afraid; I will take care of you and give you all that you want, and no one shall hurt you here; and the ram which has carried you through the air shall stay in this beautiful place, where he will have as much gra.s.s to eat as he can possibly want, and a stream to drink out of and to bathe in whenever he likes."

So Phrixos was taken into the palace of King Aietes, and everybody loved him, because he was good and kind, and never hurt anyone. And he grew up healthy and strong, and he learned to ride about the country and to leap and run over the hills and valleys, and swim about in the clear rivers. He had not forgotten his sister h.e.l.le, for he loved her still as much as ever, and very often he wished that she could come and live with him again, but he knew that she was with his mother, Nephele, in the happy land to which good people go after they are dead. And therefore he was never unhappy when he thought of his sister, for he said, "One day I, too, shall be taken to that bright land, and live with my mother and my sister again, if I try always to do what is right." And very often he used to go and see the beautiful ram with the golden fleece feeding in the garden, and stroke its golden locks.

But the ram was not so strong now as he was when he flew through the air with Phrixos and h.e.l.le on his hack, for he was growing old and weak, and at last the ram died, and Phrixos was very sorry. And King Aietes had the golden fleece taken off from the body, and they nailed it up upon the wall, and every one came to look at the fleece which was made of gold, and to hear the story of Phrixos and h.e.l.le.

But all this while Athamas and Ino had been hunting about everywhere, to see if they could find out where the ram had gone with the children on his back; and they asked every one whom they met, if they had seen a sheep with a fleece of gold carrying away two children. But no one could tell anything about it, till at last they came to the house of Aietes, the King of Kolchis. And they came to the door, and asked Aietes if he had seen Phrixos and h.e.l.le, and the sheep with the golden fleece. Then Aietes said to them, "I have never seen little h.e.l.le, for she fell off from the ram's back, and was drowned in the sea, but Phrixos is with me still, and as for the ram, see here is his golden fleece nailed up upon the wall." And just then Phrixos happened to come in, and Aietes asked them, "Look, now, and tell me if this is the Phrixos whom you are seeking." And when they saw him, they said, "It is indeed the same Phrixos who went away on the ram's back, but he is grown into a great man;" and they began to be afraid, because they thought they could not now ill-treat Phrixos, as they used to do when he was a little boy. So they tried to entice him away by pretending to be glad to see him, and they said, "Come away with us, and we shall live happily together." But Phrixos saw from the look of their faces that they were not telling the truth, and that they hated him still, and he said to them, "I will not go with you; King Aietes has been very good to me, and you were always unkind to me and to my sister, and therefore I will never leave King Aietes to go away with you."

Then they said to Aietes, "Phrixos may stay here, but give us the golden fleece which came from the ram that carried away the children."

But the King said, "I will not--I know that you only ask for it because you wish to sell it, and therefore you shall not have it."

Then Ino and Athamas turned away in a rage, and went to their own country again, wretched and unhappy because they could not get the golden fleece. And they told every one that the fleece of the ram was in the palace of the King of Kolchis, and they tried to persuade every one to go in a great ship and take away the fleece by force. So a great many people came, and they all got into a large ship called the Argo, and they sailed and sailed, until at last they came to Kolchis.

Then they sent some one to ask Aietes to give them the golden fleece, but he would not, and they would never have found the fleece again, if the wise maiden, Medeia, had not shown Iason how he might outdo the bidding of King Aietes. But when Iason had won the prize and they had sailed back again to their own land, the fleece was not given to Athamas and Ino. The other people took it, for they said, "It is quite right that we should have it, to make up for all our trouble in helping to get it." So, with all their greediness, these wretched people remained as poor and as miserable as ever.

MEDEIA.

Far away in the Kolchian land, where her father, Aietes, was King, the wise maiden, Medeia, saw and loved Iason, who had come in the ship, Argo, to search for the golden fleece. To her Zeus had given a wise and cunning heart, and she had power over the hidden things of the earth, and nothing in the broad sea could withstand her might. She had spells to tame the monsters which vex the children of men, and to bring back youth to the wrinkled face and the tottering limbs of the old. But the spells of Eros were mightier still, and the wise maiden forgot her cunning as she looked on the fair countenance of Iason, and she said within herself that she would make him conqueror in his struggle for the golden fleece, and go with him to be his wife in the far-off western land. So King Aietes brought up in vain the fire-breathing bulls that they might scorch Iason as he plowed the land with the dragon's teeth, and in vain from these teeth sprang up the harvest of armed men ready for strife and bloodshed. For Medeia had anointed the body of Iason with ointment, so that the fiery breath of the bulls hurt him not; and by her bidding he cast a stone among the armed men, and they fought with one another for the stone till all lay dead upon the ground. Still King Aietes would not give to him the golden fleece, and the heart of Iason was cast down till Medeia came to him and bade him follow her. Then she led him to a hidden dell where the dragon guarded the fleece, and she laid her spells on the monster and brought a heavy sleep upon his eye, while Iason took the fleece and hastened to carry it on board the ship Argo.

So Medeia left her father's house, and wandered with Iason into many lands--to Iolkos, to Athens, and to Argos. And wherever she went, men marveled at her for her wisdom and her beauty, but as they looked on her fair face and listened to her gentle voice, they knew not the power of the maiden's wrath if any one should do her wrong. So she dwelt at Iolkos, in the house of Pelias, who had sent forth Iason to look for the golden fleece, that he might not be King in his stead, and the daughters of Pelias loved the beautiful Medeia, for they dreamed not that she had sworn to avenge on Pelias the wrong which he had done to Iason. Craftily she told the daughters of Pelias of the power of her spells, which could tame the fire-breathing bulls, and lull the dragon to sleep, and bring back the brightness of youth to the withered cheeks of the old. And the daughters of Pelias said to her, "Our father is old, and his limbs are weak and tottering, show us how once more he can be made young." Then Medeia took a ram and cut it up, and put its limbs into a caldron, and when she had boiled them on the hearth there came forth a lamb, and she said, "So shall your father be brought back again to youth and strength, if ye will do to him as I have done to the ram, and when the time is come, I will speak the words of my spell, and the change shall be accomplished." So the daughters of Pelias followed her counsel, and put the body of their father into the caldron, and, as it boiled on the hearth, Medeia said, "I must go up to the house-top and look forth on the broad heaven, that I may know the time to speak the words of my charm." And the fire waxed fiercer and fiercer, but Medeia gazed on at the bright stars, and came not down from the house-top till the limbs of Pelias were consumed away.