Theseus: Hero Of Athens

By Mary Irvine

Wishing for a son, Aegeus, King of Athens, travels to Delphi to consult the Oracle. Some time later, a son - Theseus - is born.

A great hero of Ancient Greece, Theseus begins his heroic deeds at the age of sixteen, clearing the coast road of Athens of dangerous brigands. Throughout his life, he is determined to defeat anyone who crosses his path, including the Minotaur on Crete.

Protecting the weak and defenceless against evil is his calling, and he lives a life full of bravery and daring. But will his hubris be his downfall?

Inspired by the character from ancient Greek mythology, Mary Irvine's 'Theseus - Hero of Athens' is a riveting historical adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Aug 19, 2022

Book preview

Delphi

The journey from Athens to Delphi had been long and dangerous. The roads teemed with thieves and cut-throats. No-one seemed able to do anything about it. The passes through the mountains were particularly notorious. People normally travelled in large groups for protection. But, although Ægeus travelled alone, he had not been attacked. Maybe the fact that he looked like a warrior had put off the would-be robbers or maybe Ægeus had the protection of one of the gods.

As he approached the sacred oracle of Apollo he marvelled at the splendour of the buildings. The brilliance of the white-hot sun shining over the beauty of the Parnassus Mountains reflected their magnificence. Ægeus stopped to admire this wondrous sight.

‘Maybe one day Athens will look as beautiful. If only I had a son…’

He noticed that a long queue had already formed between the finely carved sculptures of the gods, lining the broad dirt road which led to the oracle itself. Men and women poorly or simply dressed in a single khiton, others richly attired. Each carried an offering for the god Apollo. Some carried a small dove, others gold. Whatever they could afford. These they gave to a priest, before moving on to a second priest who relayed each question to the Pythoness.

This was why Ægeus had come. He was King of Athens, claiming his descent from the first Kings of Athens through the bloodlines of both his parents. So, it was important to Ægeus that he had a son to succeed him. But, although he had been married twice, there were no children. With no heir, Ӕgeus’ hold on the throne was threatened, so he had decided to travel to the Oracle at Delphi for advice. But first he needed to wash away the dust and sweat of his journey. He approached a man, pulling a reluctant goat, coming to join the queue.

‘Excuse me, sir. Could you tell me where the Sacred Kastalian Spring lies? I wish to cleanse myself before seeking the advice of the Oracle.’

‘It’s easy to find and quite close. Just follow the stream of dusty people going down that pathway. You’ll meet people with wet hair coming from the spring.’ He stretched out his left hand to indicate the way, whilst keeping a firm right hand on the rope tied round the goat’s neck. ‘You’ll pass traders selling offerings for the god. Don’t pay the first price asked. They always try it on. I got a good deal by bargaining.’

‘Thank you, sir, both for the directions and the advice.’

Leaving the ever-growing queue for the Oracle behind, Ægeus walked past stalls with their offerings and joined the line at the spring. This was a much shorter line as several people could use the spring at the same time. In a short time, he was on his way back to the longer queue. He passed the hassling traders without stopping, for he had brought a most majestic coronet of the purest gold from his own treasury as an offering.

The sun was now high in the sky. Ӕgeus began to wonder if he would complete his task before the sun set and the Oracle was closed for the day. He was eager to hear the advice of the Pythoness before setting off back to Athens. The queue shuffled forward. Ӕgeus mentally counted down the numbers ahead of him…five, four, three, two, one… then the priest was holding out his hands for the offering. In awe Ӕgeus approached the sacred place.

The Pythoness sat on an iron tripod. She was surrounded by a blue-grey mist rising from the ground. Each supplicant approached the priest, whispered his question, and waited. The priest passed on the whispered question to the Pythoness. After a few minutes of eye rolling and shaking of head, causing the long, tangled hair to fall over the wizened face, the Pythoness uttered the words that had come from the god, Apollo, himself.

Anyone wanting advice from the god could ask the Pythoness to speak to him on their behalf. The problem that the answer was never very clear and could often be interpreted in different ways was not always helpful. But it did mean the Pythoness was never wrong.

It was done. Ӕgeus walked past the queue, many of whom would have to return the next day as the sun was now quickly disappearing between the twin peaks that overlooked the sanctuary. His brow furrowed as he considered the god’s words, relayed by the priestess.

‘Do not open the stopper of the wine skin before you reach Athens.’

Ӕgeus set off to walk the short journey to Arakova where he planned to spend the night. The evening was cool, the smell of jasmine strong. He walked slowly, thinking what this cryptic message could mean.

The village was busy but Ӕgeus had ensured a night’s lodging earlier that day. He enjoyed a supper of goat stew and retired early, but his sleep was troubled by a dream in which the Pythoness appeared and again delivered Apollo’s message.

In the morning he awoke early and breakfasted on goat cheese, black olives, and fresh bread. He paid for his lodgings with a sliver of silver and set off to walk to the port of Kirra. From there he would take a ship to Korinthos.

Kirra to Korinthos

Shortly before mid-day, he arrived at the small port of Kirra. He knew there were trading ships that called there as part of their journey around the coastal towns of the Great Sea. He also knew that many of these ships would accept one or two paying passengers to supplement their income. This was his quickest way to Korinthos. There were only two boats in the harbour, the small, tubby crafts that were used for coasting, each being prepared for sea. Ӕgeus approached the nearest, where three men were loading supplies of bread and cheese, as well as amphoras of wine and water. Two other men were plugging the oarlocks with wax. Another sat nearby checking a sail. One man appeared to be supervising all the proceedings. Ӕgeus assumed he was the captain.

‘Good morning, Sir. Would you be the captain of this boat?’

The man gave a brief nod so Ӕgeus continued. ‘I wish to get to Korinthos so, if you are going there, would you accept a fare-paying passenger?’

‘We are going to Korinthos but not directly. First, we’re going to Kyprus to pick up copper and then to Krete to collect pottery. Only then will we go on to Korinthos. If you wish to get there quickly I suggest you try the boat there. I know the captain well. We often share a flask of wine when we meet, have sometimes shared a woman too.’ He paused, smiled, as if remembering. ‘He’ll see you right and won’t cheat you on the charge. Go with him, and you’ll be in Korinthos by tomorrow morning.’

‘Thank you, Captain. And may Poseidon grant you a safe voyage.’

‘Thank you for the blessing. I always pay tribute to Poseidon, and he’s seen us right so far.’

Ægeus moved on to the second boat. He was in luck. This captain told him that, normally, he would make intermittent stops at the coastal villages but, as they were carrying fresh fruit and vegetables, he would be going straight to Korinthos. A price was agreed and Ӕgeus parted with more slivers of silver. He watched the captain and crew making ready for the voyage. Most of the loading of stores and trade goods had already been completed. Final checks were being made to ensure everything was safely stored. A large canvas was spread over the goods for protection. There was a slight breeze which promised to become stronger. The captain approached Ægeus. ‘This wind will be stronger by late afternoon. We’ll take full advantage of that as it’s blowing in the right direction for our journey. Timing is important. We have to reach the point for turning south to Korinthos just as night is falling. We need the benefit of the stars.’

Ӕgeus nodded. Although a brave warrior, he had a healthy respect for the power of the sea, admiring the bravery and fortitude of men who relied on its vicissitudes.

Late afternoon all was ready and the ship slipped anchor. The sails were unfurled and soon filled with wind. The helmsman, also the navigator, took his place on the high stern of the ship, the captain at his side. The ship moved safely out of the harbour and into the coastal sea. Ӕgeus settled in the prow of the ship, protected by the figure head of Poseidon, to ponder further his message from Apollo. He needed to talk to someone about the words of the Oracle. Someone he could trust. He decided he would not return directly to Athens but would visit his friend and ally, Pittheus, who governed the small city of Trœzenia. Athens and Trœzenia enjoyed close ties; they were the same people, coming from the same origins. Having made that decision, Ӕgeus settled down to watch the helmsman at work.

It was a straight run at first. The helmsman had only to keep the coast on his left, making sure he steered well away from the shoals. There were also some rocks about an hour out, but the helmsman was experienced and steered a safe passage between the rocks and the coast. Soon they were in sight of the headland of Sykia. Now the helmsman looked to the sinking sun. Keeping the setting sun on his right, he turned south into the open sea. Once the sun had sunk in a blood-red display of colour and the moon had risen, the helmsman used the stars to steer into the safe waters of the bay of Korinthos, arriving at the port of Lekaion before dawn. After thanking the helmsman and crew for a safe journey Ӕgeus said farewell to the captain and disembarked.

Taking the path between the long walls, which gave protection from the danger of the city being cut off from the port, he arrived at Korinthos just as dawn was breaking. He stopped to admire the walls surrounding the city and the acropolis, the envy of all who saw it, wondering if his city would ever equal such greatness.

He joined the bustle and babble of people already busy buying from the traders, noisily advertising their wares. Ægeus’ priority was to replenish his supply of bread and cheese and fill his water skin.

He noticed the market was set out in rows, each catering for associated items, and spaced so there was enough room for potential buyers to pass or pause feely. Ӕgeus was drawn to the area concentrating on weapons. As he approached, his hand went to his sword. He had been known as a skilful fighter in his youth, protecting his people from tribes who envied his land. If only he had a son to whom he could pass on these skills, maybe his sword, when the son was grown to manhood.

Several men were searching amongst the arrows, spearheads, axes and daggers. Ægeus saw the owner of the stall was keeping a careful eye in case any of the smaller items were slipped into pouches. Maybe he had been robbed previously in this way. Ӕgeus picked up a sword, weighing the balance. The stall holder watched him.

‘I see the sword you’re wearing was made by a craftsman. Specially made, was it?’

‘Indeed, and it has served me well over the years.’

‘Been bloodied many times, no doubt. A good sword to hand down to your son.’

Ӕgeus gave a brief nod and moved on. Next to the tools of war were the tools of domesticity, sickles, awls, drill bits, chisels, tongs. Both stalls offered second-hand as well as new. He pondered what had caused the sale of the second-hand weapons and tools. Death, poverty, theft?

The next row concentrated on pottery. A variety of pots of all shapes and sizes. Earthenware, some with a design Ӕgeus recognised as Minoan but all cheaply priced for domestic, everyday use. Statues of the gods. Mostly small, cheap. All were represented; it wouldn’t do to offend any. They were very jealous and vengeful when crossed. Statues of Poseidon dominated. Ægeus knew Poseidon was the protector god of Korinthos, which relied heavily on the sea for its wealth. The safety of the trading ships depended on appeasing Poseidon.

The smell of freshly baked bread led Ӕgeus to another row. He bought a loaf. Breaking a piece off, he savoured its freshness, putting the rest of the loaf in his food pouch. The stall also sold wheat, millet, barley, as well as an assortment of wild grasses. There was a long line of women buying baskets of each grain or grass of choice.

The adjacent stall sold cheese, so that was his next purchase. The young, attractive seller smiled as she wrapped the cheese in a small piece of cloth. The cheese joined the bread.

‘Are you travelling far, Sir?’

‘To Trœzenia, Mistress.’

‘Not alone, I hope. The way’s very dangerous. You should find a group of travellers to join. There’s safety in numbers.’

‘Thank you for your advice. I will be looking for such a group.’

‘You should go to the ‘Sign of the Trident’. It’s near the Temple of Apollo. Anyone will direct you.’

‘Thank you. I will.’

‘May your god go with you.’

‘And yours.’

Ӕgeus moved on, meeting the aromas of the stall selling almond and pine nuts, cumin and coriander, which vied with its neighbours. Another selling herbs, cultivated and wild, another fruit, figs, grapes, oranges, lemons. Some stallholders