Mythos: A Retelling of the Myths of Ancient Greece

After Cadmus and Harmonia departed on their travels, their son-in-law Pentheus reigned in Thebes.fn1 He was not a strong king, but he was honest and did the best he could with the limited store of character and cunning on which he was able to call. While the city-state flourished well enough under him, he needed always to look over his shoulder to the children of Cadmus, his brothers- and sisters-in-law, whose greed and ambition posed a constant threat. Even his wife Agave seemed contemptuous of him and anxious for him to fail. His youngest sister-in-law, Semele, was the only one with whom he felt at all at ease, in truth because she was less worldly than her brothers Polydorus and Illyrius, and nothing like as ambitious for wealth and position as her sisters Agave, Autonoë and Ino. Semele was a beautiful, kindly and generous girl, content with her life as a priestess at the great temple of Zeus.

One day she sacrificed to Zeus a bull of especially impressive size and vigour. The offering complete, she took herself off to the River Asopos to wash the blood from her. It so happened that Zeus, pleased with the sacrifice and intending anyway to look in on Thebes to see how the city prospered, was flying over the river at the time in his favourite guise of an eagle. The sight of Semele’s naked body glistening in the water excited him hugely and he landed, turning himself quickly back into his proper form. I say ‘proper form’, for when the gods chose to reveal themselves to humans they presented themselves in a reduced, manageable guise that did not dazzle or overawe. Thus the figure that stood on the riverbank smiling at Semele appeared human. Large, stunningly handsome, powerfully built and possessed of an unusual radiance, but human all the same.

Crossing her arms over her breasts Semele called out, ‘Who are you? How dare you sneak up upon a priestess of Zeus?’

‘A priestess of Zeus, are you?’

‘I am. If you mean any harm to me I will cry out to the King of the Gods and he will rush to my aid.’

‘You don’t say so?’

‘You may be sure of it. Now leave.’

But the stranger came closer. ‘I am well pleased with you, Semele,’ he said.

Semele backed away. ‘You know my name?’

‘I know many things, loyal priestess. For I am the god you serve. I am the Sky Father, the King of Olympus. Zeus, the all-powerful.’

Semele, still half in the river, gasped and fell to her knees.

‘Come now,’ said Zeus, striding through the water towards her, ‘let me look into your eyes.’

It was splashy, frenzied and wet, but it was real love-making. When it was over Semele smiled, blushed, laughed and then wept, leaning her head on Zeus’s chest and sobbing without cease.

‘Don’t cry, dearest Semele,’ said Zeus, running his fingers through her hair. ‘You have pleased me.’

‘I’m sorry, my lord. But I love you and I know all too well that you can never love a mortal.’

Zeus gazed down at her. The eruption of lust he had felt was all over, but he was surprised to feel the stirrings of something deeper, glowing like embers in his heart. A god who operated in vertical moments with no real thought for consequences along the line, he really did experience just then a great wellspring of love for the beautiful Semele, and he told her so.

‘Semele, I do love you! I love you sincerely. Believe me now when I swear by the waters of this river that I will always look after you, care for you, protect you, honour you.’ He cupped her face in his hands and bent forward to bestow a tender kiss on her soft, receptive lips. ‘Now, farewell, my sweet. Once every new moon I will come.’

Dressed in her gown, her hair still damp and her whole being warm and bright with love and happiness, Semele walked back across the fields towards the temple. Looking up, a hand shading her eyes, she saw an eagle sweep and soar through the sky, seemingly into the sun itself, until the dazzle of it made her eyes water and she was forced to look away.

The Eagle’s Wife

Zeus meant well.

Those three words so often presaged disaster for some poor demigod, nymph or mortal. The King of the Gods did love Semele and he really meant to do his best by her. In the fervour of his new infatuation he managed conveniently to forget the torments Io had endured, maddened by the gadfly sent by his vengeful wife.

Alas, Hera may no longer have had Argus of the hundred eyes to gather intelligence for her, but she had thousands of eyes in other places. Whether it was one of the jealous sisters, Agave, Autonoë or Ino, who spied on Semele and whispered to Hera the story of the love-making in the river, or whether it was one of the Queen of Heaven’s own priestesses, is not known. But find out Hera did.

So it was that, one afternoon, Semele, returning with romantic sentiment to the place of her regular amorous encounters with Zeus, encountered a stooping old woman leaning on a stick.

‘My, what a pretty girl,’ croaked the old woman, slightly overdoing the cracked and cackling voice of a miserable crone.