Mythos: A Retelling of the Myths of Ancient Greece

And here, unless his own ears deceived him, came the King of the Gods now, crashing through the thicket in loud conversation with someone. Prometheus could make out an answering voice, female, low and measured. Zeus had brought along Athena, his favourite child.

‘Your father the emperor god, the world knows,’ Prometheus could hear him saying. ‘Zeus the all-powerful, yes. Zeus the all-conquering, certainly. Zeus the all-knowing, of course. Zeus the –’

‘Zeus the all-modest?’

‘– Zeus the creator, though. Doesn’t that have a ring?’

‘Quite a ring.’

‘Now then, the riverbank should be just over there. Let’s call him. Oh, Prometheus!’

Roosting weaver-birds rocketed into the air, squawking in alarm. ‘Promeeeetheus!’

‘Over here,’ Prometheus called. ‘But be careful because –’

Too late!

Breaking out through the trees into the clearing Zeus had, in his excitement, stepped onto the row of exquisitely fashioned figures drying on the bank. With a cry of fury and despair Prometheus hurried forward to survey the damage.

‘You clumsy oaf!’ he cried. ‘You’ve destroyed them. Look!’

No one else in creation could get away with talking to Zeus like that. Athena was astonished to see her father bow his head in meek apology.

On inspection things were not quite as bad as Prometheus had feared. Only three of the figures were beyond repair. He prised these from the mud, the squashed clay still bearing the imprint of Zeus’s enormous toes.

‘Oh good,’ said Zeus cheerfully, ‘the rest are fine, that’s plenty. Let’s get on, shall we?’

‘But look at these!’ said Prometheus holding up the squashed and ruined statuettes. ‘The little green, violet and blue creatures were just about my favourites.’

‘We’ve still got the black, brown, ivory, yellow, reddish and what have you. That’s enough, surely?’

‘I really loved that shade of cobalt blue.’

Athena was looking down at the intact figures which lay glowing in the dying rays of the sun. ‘Oh Prometheus, they’re perfect,’ she said in the mild voice that commanded more attention than the roars and screams of the other Olympians. Prometheus cheered up at once. Praise from Athena meant everything.

‘Well, I did pretty much put my heart and soul into them.’

‘Fine job, really fine,’ said Zeus. ‘Formed by a great Titan from Gaia’s clay, they are held together by my royal saliva and fired by the sun and shall be brought to life by the gentle breath of my daughter.’

It was Metis, always inside Zeus, who had sparked the thought in him that it should be Athena who brought these creatures to life. She would breathe into each one, literally inspiring them with some of her great qualities of wisdom, instinct, craft and sense.

A Name Is Found

Kneeling down on the bank of the river Athena breathed her warm sweet breath into each of the little statues. When she had finished she stood to join Prometheus and her father, looking on to see what would transpire.

It all happened quite slowly.

At first one of the darker figures gave a twitch and let out a kind of gasping moan.

At the other end of the row a yellow one wriggled, sat up and gave a small cough.

Within seconds all the little beings were alive and moving. Just moments later they were trying out their limbs, eyes and other senses, looking at each other, smelling the air, chattering and shouting. Before long they were standing and even taking their first wobbling steps.

Zeus took Prometheus by both his hands and danced him round and round.

‘Look!’ he shouted. ‘Look! Aren’t they beautiful! They’re wonderful, quite wonderful!’

Athena raised a finger to her lips. ‘Sh! You’re frightening them.’ She pointed down at the tiny men who were now staring up with looks of fear and consternation on their faces. The tallest of them didn’t quite come up to the level of her knees.

‘It’s alright, little ones,’ said Zeus stooping down and addressing them in what he hoped was a soothing voice. ‘There’s no need to be afraid!’

But the colossal booming sound that emerged seemed to alarm the little creatures further and they began to flail and whirl about in alarm.

‘Let’s reduce ourselves to their size,’ said Prometheus. As he spoke he shrank himself down so that he was only a foot or so taller than his creations. Zeus and Athena did the same.

With embraces, smiles and soft words, the scared and bewildered beings were slowly pacified and befriended. They clustered around the three immortals, bowing and prostrating themselves.

‘There’s no need to bow,’ said Prometheus, touching one of them and marvelling at the texture and life he could feel pounding within. Athena’s breath had turned the clay into such quick, warm flesh. The eyes of them all were bright with life and energy and hope.

‘Excuse me,’ said Zeus, ‘there is every need to bow. We are their gods and they are not to forget it.’