By the Gods!
RSSPosts tagged with "Heroes"
Hector
Are you familiar with the Iliad? Yes? Well, congratulations: it means you’re familiar with an amazing man named Hector.
No? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you like rad dudes? Let me tell you about this one rad dude named Hector.
Praised far and wide for his honour and heretofore unmatched prowess in battle, Hector was the firstborn son of Priam and Hecuba, the king and queen of Troy. As you may or may not know, Troy got tangled up in a tiff with all the Greeks on the other side of the Aegean, who were, for the most part, vassals to Agamemnon. Paris, Hector’s little brother, whisks away Helen, the wife of Menelaus (the king of Sparta), and this is used as a convenient reason for the Greeks to go to war with Troy.
While Hector was an incredible soldier, he was the sort of fellow who valued the lives of his men, and would rather avoid bloodshed. He was regarded highly by friend and foe for his noble and courtly nature, but when it came down to it, he could break your back with his little finger. Hector led the Trojan troops in the war, and demonstrated his brilliant leadership time and time again. He defeated the Greek champion Protesilaus in a duel, and forced a stalemate with the undefeated Ajax. Throughout the siege of his city, it was Hector who planned most of the defenses, and led the counterattack that burnt the Greek ships, nearly securing victory for the Trojans. Odysseus, when faced with Hector’s personal attack, described it as an “invincible headlong terror!”
However deserving a warrior he might’ve been, though, Hector was no match for the wrath of Achilles and the capriciousness of the gods. Hector had slain Patroclus, a beloved friend of Achilles, who had been wearing Achilles’ armour. Sadly for the Trojans, angry-Achilles doesn’t have an off-switch, and no amount of apology can calm the big guy down. As the Trojans retreat to their walled city after a failed attack, Hector hangs back to guard the rear and meets Achilles. They eventually do battle, but Hector is fooled by Athena, who had pretended to be Hector’s friend and shield bearer, but vanished in his moment of need. Achilles stabs poor Hector through the throat, and then attaches the body to his chariot, which he proceeds to drag about the battlefield. He “mistreats” Hectors body for two weeks, but Aphrodite and Apollo protect it from injury.
Priam, Hector’s father, is eventually allowed to reclaim the body. The subdued Achilles, filled with regret at the loss of such a great adversary, allows a twelve day truce so the Trojans can properly mourn Hector.
Besides being a great hero of Mediterranean myth, Hector is still remembered by lovers of antiquity in the western world, and was even immortalized as one of the “Nine Worthies” in medieval Europe, for being so honourable and mighty.
In a move of unprecedented hubris, I hereby reblog myself. This aggregious act is not wholly without purpose, however:
I intend to tackle, in post form, many of these magnificent men in the days to come. Prepare yourselves for the might of the Worthies!
Also: feel free encouraged to imagine them as an amazing squad of crime-fighting hero-buddies. I know I will.
The Nine Worthies
The Nine Worthies are nine figures from history/scripture/mythology who were set up in the Middle Ages as archetypal heroes who personified the ideas of chivalry and virtue. All nine were deemed “Princes,” each being leaders in some form or another. In French, they are Les Neuf Preux, meaning “Nine Valiants,” which gives a more particular idea of the sort of virtue and all-around goodness they were meant to embody. The idea of setting up the Nine Worthies was that the study of each of them would form a good education for aspiring princes regarding their chivalry and radness.
The Worthies were first described in 1312 CE by Jacques de Longuyon in his Voeux du Paon. The idea was that good ol’ fashioned Christian virtue predated the coming of Christ, and was present in Pagan and Jewish societies as well. I bet you’re just dying to know who the Worthies were, huh? I don’t blame you. Let’s get to it. They were divided into a triad of triads, as follows.
Pagans:
Hector, the champion of Troy, who fell honourably to the mighty Achilles.
Alexander the Great, who conquered much of the Mediterranean and Persia, spreading the wisdom of the Greeks, as the medieval scholars saw it.
Julius Caesar, who was the progenitor of Rome’s Empire, that would become the bed of Christendom.
Old Testament Jews:
Joshua, who became the leader of the Israelites after Moses, and led the conquest of the holy land, Canaan.
David, the anointed king of the Hebrew people, who slew Goliath and whose line was forever chosen by God (Yahweh) to lead his people.
Judas Maccabeus, who led the revolt against the Seleucid empire, and restored the Jewish faith to the Temple at Jerusalem.
Christians:
King Arthur, who in Christian myth was the idyllic king in pursuit of honour, justice, and the holy grail.
Charlemagne, the King of the Franks who turned his kingdom into an empire that would encompass most of western Europe and be the protector of Catholic Rome for centuries.
Godfrey of Bouillon, a medieval Frankish knight who was a leader of the First Crusade, and became the first ruler of the (short-lived) Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Beowulf vs. Grendel’s Mother
The celebration of Beowulf’s victory against Grendel was like an Anglo-Saxon rock star: it partied incredibly hard and died young.
The very next night, after Hrothgar’s people and Beowulf’s thanes went to sleep in Herot, Grendel’s mother crept in and slaughtered a good portion of the partygoers. After all the rewards that had been heaped on Beowulf for slaying Grendel, he felt obligated to help Hrothgar again, and in the morning everyone who could hold a sword set out to track Grendel’s mother to her lair.
Beowulf and the Geats and Hrothgar and his Danes followed her tracks to the water, frothing red with blood, and filled to the brim with monsters. Hrothgar himself shot and killed one aquatic-beast with an arrow, but no one was especially eager to follow Grendel’s mother into her wet home. Luckily, “bloody and full of monsters” is exactly how Beowulf gets his bath-time on. In he jumped, thrashing about with an ancestral sword lent him by one of Hrothgar’s men. His armour protected him from the claws and tusks of the sea-beasts, but once Grendel’s mother grappled him and dragged him into her own monstrous hall the game changed entirely; the gifted sword broke against her magic hide, and she hit him hard enough to send the hero sprawling.
From his new vantage point on the ground, Beowulf spotted a magic sword among the hoarded treasure splayed around the hall. Lose one enchanted blade, find another; the universe never closes a door without opening a window, I guess. It was an ancient sword of the Eotens (giants) that Beowulf managed to lift with his vast strength, and in one mighty swing he finished the fight by decapitating his foe. His blade melted like ice under her corrupted blood, so Beowulf returned victorious with her head as his only trophy. In fact, it was a two-for-one head sale that day: the corpse of Grendel had been displayed by the late Grendel’s Mom in her cavernous abode as an attempt to brighten up the place, and it was just begging to have its head removed.
So finally, up comes Beowulf after nine hours to at last celebrate his victory and the safety of the Danes. There aren’t words in the English language to accurately describe how much mead was consumed that night, but most scholars estimate is was close to “a buttload.”
Caligula
We recently talked about Augustus, the first Emperor of Rome, and how he had been placed in the Roman Pantheon of Gods posthumously. He was a fairly amazing gent, after all—what harm could there be in worshipping him as a transcendant spirit akin to those who wrought the world from Chaos? A few emperors down the line, though, came Caligula. This guy took deification to a new, literal (probably quite embarrassing for Romans at the time) level.
When Caligula (whose real name was Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, with “Caligula” being a nickname meaning “little soldier’s boot”) ascended to the role of Emperor, things went well at first, and we was beloved among the people throughout the vast empire. As you might imagine, however, all of that love, all those sacrifices in your name, all the knee-bending and praise might eventually go to one’s head. And it did. Oh, did it ever.
Eventually, Caligula’s political payments for support, luxury and extravagance exhausted the Roman treasuries, and there was a wee bit ‘o famine. Despite the proverbial and literal belt-tightening occurring throughout the empire, Caligula went on a construction spree, and didn’t do much to disprove the accusations of his fiscal inadequacy. About this time, he got wound up in a few sex scandals, too, and was said to be extra-perverted, even among the hedonistic Roman upper-class. Now that’s an accomplishment.
Caligula clearly believed that he was the bees knees, and then began making it a state requirement that everyone else think the same. He declared himself a living god. The story goes that, when several kings came to Rome and each argued about the nobility of his own descent, Caligula burst out “Let there be one Lord, one King!” and I have a sneaking suspicion that he was referring to himself. He began to appear in public dressed as Hercules, Mercury, Venus, and Apollo to name a few of his costumes du jour, and began referring to himself in documents and in person as Jupiter. After a few years of this, he told his court that he wished to be worshipped as Neos Helios, meaning “New Sun,” and was represented as the Sun God on Egyptian coins.
Eventually Caligula was assassinated through a plot devised and carried out by his own Praetorian Guard, the elite men trusted with guarding the Emperor at all costs. You know you must’ve screwed something up when the guys blood-sworn to protect you bring the hurtin’.
It’s not like Caligula was the first guy to claim divinity, but he sure went about it in a big way. Dressing up like Venus, the goddess of love, takes cohones no matter when you’re from.
Augustus, Emperor of Rome
By now, I’m sure you know that the Romans had more than a few gods back in their day. The Roman Pantheon, brother to that of Ancient Greece, was growing every day as it incorporated the deities and venerated warriors/prophets/legends of conquered and soon-to-be conquered civilizations. However, this still wasn’t enough to slake their intense thirst for more things to pray to. In the days of the Republic (before 27 BCE) Generals and other men of merit would occasionally be raised to the status of god posthumously. A big example of deification like this came in the form of Augustus, the first Emperor of the Roman Empire.
Born Gaius Octavius, he was raised to the adopted son of Julius Caesar upon Caesar’s death, and began his path to glory. He became a Consul of the Roman Senate, (a position of immense influence and power) and received an enormous inheritance from his dead adoptive father. Julius Caesar’s death had thrown the Republic into a state of turmoil the likes of which had not been seen before, and Octavius formed a Triumvirate with the generals Lepidus and Marc Antony to take control of the wide lands of the Romans, and destroy those they saw as rebels. Octavius proved time and again that he was a brilliant tactical, political and financial leader, and brought prosperity to his people. Eventually destroying Marc Antony in a later clash, Octavius soon found himself without Roman enemies to dispatch, named himself Emperor, and turned his attention outward, to expand the territories of the rich empire.
At this point his name was changed, again, to Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus (Augustus meaning “the revered one”), and he initiated the period that would come to be known as the Pax Romana, or “the Roman Peace”—a period of stability and wealth. Augustus, in his time, greatly enlarged the empire’s territories, developed networks of roads, established a standing Roman Army and the Praetorian guard, and basically set every recognizable tradition and protocol that would make the Empire great for centuries to come. Upon his death in 14 CE, he was declared a god by the Roman senate. The people were told to worship him just as they would Jupiter and the established pantheon, and his legacy certainly had a “divine” vibe. Each emperor after would adopt the names Augustus and Caesar, so beloved and renowned had the original Augustus been. The month of August, too, receives its name from the first Emperor; the sixth month of the Roman calendar, Sextilis, was renamed Augustus in his honour. What a guy!
The Nine Worthies
The Nine Worthies are nine figures from history/scripture/mythology who were set up in the Middle Ages as archetypal heroes who personified the ideas of chivalry and virtue. All nine were deemed “Princes,” each being leaders in some form or another. In French, they are Les Neuf Preux, meaning “Nine Valiants,” which gives a more particular idea of the sort of virtue and all-around goodness they were meant to embody. The idea of setting up the Nine Worthies was that the study of each of them would form a good education for aspiring princes regarding their chivalry and radness.
The Worthies were first described in 1312 CE by Jacques de Longuyon in his Voeux du Paon. The idea was that good ol’ fashioned Christian virtue predated the coming of Christ, and was present in Pagan and Jewish societies as well. I bet you’re just dying to know who the Worthies were, huh? I don’t blame you. Let’s get to it. They were divided into a triad of triads, as follows.
Pagans:
Hector, the champion of Troy, who fell honourably to the mighty Achilles.
Alexander the Great, who conquered much of the Mediterranean and Persia, spreading the wisdom of the Greeks, as the medieval scholars saw it.
Julius Caesar, who was the progenitor of Rome’s Empire, that would become the bed of Christendom.
Old Testament Jews:
Joshua, who became the leader of the Israelites after Moses, and led the conquest of the holy land, Canaan.
David, the anointed king and Messiah of the Hebrew people, who slew Goliath and whose line was forever chosen by God (Yahweh) to lead his people.
Judas Maccabeus, who led the revolt against the Seleucid empire, and restored the Jewish faith to the Temple at Jerusalem.
Christians:
King Arthur, who in Christian myth was the idyllic king in pursuit of honour, justice, and the holy grail.
Charlemagne, the King of the Franks who turned his kingdom into an empire that would encompass most of western Europe and be the protector of Catholic Rome for centuries.
Godfrey of Bouillon, a medieval Frankish knight who was a leader of the First Crusade, and became the first ruler of the (short-lived) Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem.
Saint Patrick
Here he is, folks: the patron Saint of Ireland, whose big day is March 17, honoured the world over with copious amounts of green alcohol and annoying pinching prayer and appreciation. It’s the end of the holiday now as this article goes up, but who are we kidding— none of you will be in any shape to read this until late tomorrow morning, right?
We have two authentic letters written by the ol’ Saint, and from them we can garner a few pieces of information: Patrick, when he was about 16 years old, was captured from Britain by Irish raiders and taken to Ireland as a slave. He dwelt there, slave-style, for six years before escaping and returning to his family. After entering the Church and becoming a learned fellow and ordained bishop he returned to Ireland and did the whole Saint-thang.
His famous exploits include but are not limited to:
▪ Banishing all the snakes from Ireland (they attacked him during a fast — big mistake.
▪ Making the Shamrock important — he related the three-leafed clover to the three faces of the trinity. The metaphor stuck.
▪ His magic walking stick growing into a real tree.
▪ Communicating with ancient Irish ancestors. Being psychic is always a helpful Saintly tool.
To sum up, he was a devout bishop that served in Ireland, and lived through the late-4th to mid-5th centuries CE. He died on the 17th of March, and the day is celebrated as a day of solemnity and holy obligation in Ireland, and a day of general merriment and “kiss-me-I’m-Irish-ness” everywhere else.
Queen Medb
Also known as Maeve, Medb was the mighty warrior-queen of Connacht (the north-west of Ireland). Magnificent but malevolent, it was said she fought as fiercely as the Morrigan, the goddess of death on the battlefield. According to Irish mythology, no king could reign in Connacht unless he was married to Medb, who was believed to hold the kingdom’s sovereignty in her person. You hear that? She was the kingdom! Medb was the real deal.
Medb’s most famous action was the invasion of Ulster (the north of Ireland), when her forces captured the great brown bull of Cuailgne and killed the hero of Ulster, the super-powered Cuchulainn. Medb herself was slain by Forbai, the son of King Conchobhar Mac Nessa, while she was bathing in a pool. It’s always a pity when the truly great ones go out Elvis-style.
Forbai had learned that Medb always bathed in the same pool. He carefully measured the exact distance between the spot she bathed and the shore, and returned to Ulster to practise shooting a slingshot the same distance until he was satisfied with his accuracy. Back goes Forbai to the pool, and KOs Medb from a staggering distance with his slingshot, right between the eyes. Thus, Ulster was revenged. Those guys really loved Cuchulainn.
Atalanta
In Greek mythology, Atalanta was the daughter of Iasus of Aradia. Who’s he? Doesn’t matter! We’re here to talk about Atalanta, the famous huntress. She was born unwanted to Iasus, and thus cast aside; left to die on a mountainside as a wee babe. A friendly bear came along and suckled her, raising her as a bear cub until they were bested by hunters. The hunters then assumed parentage of Atalanta, raising her as one of their own. Thanks to her wild origins, she became a truly mighty hunter. She was inclined, to manly pursuits, and even applied to be an Argonaut with Jason and those fellas, but was refused. Jason was worried that having a beautiful woman aboard would cause jealousies among his crew.
Atalanta’s most famous myth concerns the lengths to which she went to avoid marriage. She said that her husband-to-be must first beat her in a race, and any man who lost would be put to death. Many tried, many placed 2nd, many died. Then, along came Melanion, whose hopeless love for Atalanta won Aphrodite’s pity. She gave young Mel three golden apples, which he used to distract Atalanta at different points during the footrace, as they were completely irresistible. Melanion won the race and married Atalanta, but in his haste to consummate the marriage, forgot to make a vow of thanks to Aphrodite. Melanion and Atalanta both paid for the sacrilege by being turned into lions. That seems like a proportionate response, Olympus.
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