Mythos: A Retelling of the Myths of Ancient Greece

Periander was overjoyed by the homecoming of the musician he loved. The story of his rescue filled the court with wonder and amazement. They feasted all night and into the morning. It was evening by the time they set out to see, praise and pet the heroic dolphin. But a sad sight met their eyes. Ignorant dock workers had brought the animal ashore to be fed. It had languished overnight without any water to keep its skin moist and then lay all morning and afternoon on the quayside, surrounded by inquisitive children, the hot sun burning down and drying it up. Arion knelt on the ground and whispered into its ear. The dolphin rippled an affectionate reply, heaved a shuddering sigh and died.

Arion recriminated himself bitterly and even Periander’s instructions that a high tower be constructed to commemorate the dolphin and glorify its memory failed to raise his spirits. For the next month all his songs were sad ones and the palace mourned along with him.

Then came news that the brig crewed by the nine sailors and its villainous captain had been blown by a storm into Corinth. Periander sent messengers to command the crew to come before him, bidding Arion to stay away while he questioned them.

‘You were supposed to be conveying my bard Arion back from Tarentum,’ he said. ‘Where is he?’

‘Alas, dread majesty,’ said the captain. ‘So very sad. The poor boy was swept overboard in the storm. We recovered the body and gave him a most respectful burial at sea. Great pity. Charming lad, popular with all the crew.’

‘Aye. Indeed. Pleasant fellow. Terrible loss …’ muttered the sailors.

‘Be that as it may,’ said Periander, ‘news reaches me that he won his singing competition and came to you with a treasure chest, half of which is my property.’

‘As to that …’ the captain spread his hands. ‘The chest was lost during the violent pitching of the storm. It opened as it slid down the deck and into the sea and we managed to recover some small bits and pieces. A silver lyre of some kind, an aulos – one or two trinkets. I wish it had been more, sire, really I do.’

‘I see …’ Periander frowned. ‘Assemble tomorrow morning by the new monument at the royal docks. You can’t miss it. There’s a carved dolphin on top. Bring what treasure remains and perhaps I will allow you to keep Arion’s share, now that the poor boy is dead. You are free to go.’

‘Have no fear,’ said Periander to Arion as he related to him all that had been said. ‘Justice will be done.’

Next morning, the sea-captain and his nine men arrived early at the monument. They were laughing and relaxed, amused that they had to return only a small amount of Arion’s treasure and might even expect to be given a share of that by the gullible tyrant.

Periander arrived with his palace guards at precisely the appointed hour. ‘Good morning, captain. Ah, the treasure. That’s all you managed to save? Yes, I see what you mean, not much at all, is it? Now, remind me what befell Arion?’

The captain repeated his story fluently and easily, every word exactly the same as it had been the day before.

‘So he really is dead? You really did recover the body, prepare it for burial and then return it to the waves?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And these trinkets are all that remain of the prize treasure?’

‘It grieves me to say so, majesty, but yes.’

‘How then,’ Periander asked, ‘do you account for the discovery of all this hidden in the hollow of your ship’s timbers?

At a sign, some guards came forward bearing a litter on which was disposed the bulk of the treasure.

‘Ah. Yes. Well …’ the captain gave a winning smile. ‘Foolish of us to attempt to deceive you, dread lord. The poor boy died, as I said, and there was his treasure. We are but poor working sailors, sire. Your cunning and wisdom has found us out.’

‘That is handsome of you,’ said Periander. ‘But I am still puzzled. I had a kithara made for Arion in silver, gold and ivory. He never went anywhere without it. Why is it not here amongst the other things?’

‘Well now,’ said the captain. ‘I told you how fond we were of young Arion. Like a younger brother to us, isn’t that right, lads?’

‘Aye, aye …’ muttered the sailors.

‘We knew what his kithara meant to him. We included it with him in his shroud before committing his body to the waves. How could we have done otherwise?’

Periander smiled. The captain smiled. But suddenly his smile disappeared. From the mouth of the golden dolphin at the top of the column emerged the sound of a kithara. The captain and his men stared in amazement. Arion’s voice joined the notes of the kithara and these were the words that came from out of the carved dolphin’s mouth:

‘Kill him, men,’ the captain said.

‘Kill him now and seize his gold.’

‘We’ll kill him now,’ the sailors cried,

‘And throw him to the sharks.’

‘But stop,’ the minstrel said. ‘Only let me sing

One final farewell song.’

One of the sailors let out a scream of fear. The others fell quaking to their knees. Only the captain, white-faced, stayed upright.