Heroes: Volume II of Mythos

T HE S HOWER OF G OLD ACRISIUS, ruler of Argosfn1, having produced no male heir to his kingdom, sought advice from the oracle at Delphi as to how and when he might expect one. The priestess’s reply was disturbing: King Acrisius will have no sons, but his grandson will kill him. Acrisius loved his daughter and only child DANAË,fn2 but he loved life more. It was clear from the oracle that he should do everything in his power to prevent any male of breeding age from getting close to her. To this end he ordered the construction of a bronze chamber beneath the palace. Locked up in this gleaming, impregnable prison, Danaë was given as many creature comforts and as much feminine company as she asked for. After all, Acrisius told himself, he was not flint-hearted.fn3 He had sealed the bronze chamber against all invaders, but he had reckoned without the lusts of the all-seeing, all-cunning Zeus, whose eye had fallen on Danaë and who was even now considering how he might penetrate this sealed chamber and take his pleasure. He liked a challenge. In his long, amorous career the King of the Gods had transformed himself into all kinds of exotic entities in his pursuit of desirable females and, from time to time, males. It was clear to him that to conquer Danaë he had to come up with something better than the usual bulls, bears, boars, stallions, eagles, stags and lions. Something a little more outré was required … A shower of golden rain streamed down through the narrow slit of the skylight one night, poured itself into Danaë’s lap and penetrated her.fn4 It may have been an unorthodox form of coition, but Danaë became pregnant and in due time, with the help of her loyal female attendants, she gave birth to a healthy mortal boy, whom she named PERSEUS. Along with the mortal healthiness of Perseus came a pair of very serviceable lungs, and try as they might neither Danaë nor her aides could stifle the wails and cries of the baby which made their way through the bronze walls of her prison all the way to the ears of her father two floors above. His rage when confronted with the sight of his grandson was terrible to behold. ‘Who dared break into your chamber? Tell me his name and I shall have him gelded, tortured and strangled with his own intestines.’ ‘Father, I believe it was the King of Heaven himself who came to me.’ ‘You are telling me – will someone please shut that baby up! – that it was Zeus?’ ‘Father, I cannot lie, it was.’ ‘A likely story. It was the brother of one of these damned maidservants of yours, wasn’t it?’ ‘No, father, it was as I said. Zeus.’ ‘If that brat doesn’t stop screaming I’ll smother him with this cushion.’ ‘He’s just hungry,’ said Danaë, putting Perseus to her breast. Acrisius thought furiously. His threat with the cushion notwithstanding, he knew that there could be no greater crime than a blood killing. The murder of one’s kin would provoke the Furies to rise up from the underworld and pursue him to the ends of the earth, scourging him with their iron whips until the very skin was flayed from his body. They wouldn’t leave off until he was raving mad. Yet the oracle’s prophecy meant that he could not suffer this grandson to live. Perhaps … The next night, out of sight of gossiping townspeople, Acrisius had Danaë and the infant Perseus shut up in a wooden chest. His soldiers nailed down the lid and hurled the chest over the cliffs and into the sea. ‘There,’ said Acrisius, dusting off his hands as if to clear himself of all responsibility. ‘If they perish, as perish they surely will, none can say that I was the direct cause. It will be the fault of the sea, the rocks and the sharks. It will be the fault of the gods. Nothing to do with me.’ With these weasel words of comfort, King Acrisius watched the chest bob out of sight.