Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes by Rick Riordan
Athamas agreed. When the messengers got to Delphi, the Oracle told them the truth: Queen Ino is a lying weasel who’s willing to let the whole kingdom starve just so she can get her way.
The messengers returned to Boeotia, but Queen Ino made sure to meet with them first. She bribed them heavily, threatened their families and reminded them what a terrible place the royal dungeon was. When the messengers appeared before King Athamas, they said what the queen told them to say.
‘The gods sure are mad!’ the lead guy reported. ‘The Oracle said the only way to fix the harvest is to sacrifice your first two children, Helle and Phrixus.’
Queen Ino gasped. ‘What a shame! I’ll get the knives.’
Athamas was devastated, but he knew you couldn’t argue with the Delphic Oracle. He allowed his children to be taken to the sacrificial altar at the edge of the sea, where Queen Ino was sharpening her fourteen-piece Ginsu cutlery set.
Meanwhile, up in the sky, Nephele heard her children crying for help. Being a cloud, she was a gentle, non-violent type who didn’t know much about hostage situations, but she did have a friend who might help, so she called in a favour.
For the past hundred years or so, a winged ram with a golden fleece had been flying around Greece for no apparent reason. His name was Chrysomallos, and he was the product of a strange date night between a mortal princess named Theophane and my dad, Poseidon. I covered that story in Greek Gods, so please don’t ask me to explain it again. Frankly, it’s embarrassing.
Anyway, Chrysomallos zipped around Greece all the time, but spotting him was a rare occurrence, like seeing a shooting star, a double rainbow, or a celebrity in line at the Shake Shack. The Greeks loved Chrysomallos, because, dude, a winged golden ram! They considered him a good omen. Wherever he appeared, the king of that particular city would say, ‘You see? I’m doing a good job! Super Sheep has endorsed me!’ According to legend, if Chrysomallos stayed in your country for any length of time, your crops would grow faster, people would be cured of all their diseases and your Wi-Fi signal would improve, like, five hundred percent.
Chrysomallos and Nephele were old friends, so when Nephele cried out that her kids were about to get carved into sacrificial fillets the golden ram said, ‘Don’t worry. I got this!’
He swooped out of the sky and knocked Queen Ino to the ground. ‘Hop on, kids!’ he cried in a manly, ramly voice.
Phrixus and Helle scrambled onto the ram’s back and off they flew.
The ram figured they wouldn’t be safe anywhere in Greece. If the Greeks were willing to falsify prophecies and sacrifice their kids, they didn’t deserve nice things like children and flying golden rams. Chrysomallos decided to take Phrixus and Helle as far away as possible so they could start new lives.
‘Hang on, you two!’ the ram said. ‘There’s a lot of turbulence over this part of the sea and –’
‘AHHHHHHHH!’ Helle, who was not hella good at listening, slipped off the ram’s back and plummeted to her death.
‘Darn it!’ said Chrysomallos. ‘I told you to hang on!’
After that, Phrixus dug his hands into the ram’s fleece and wouldn’t let go for anything. The place where Helle died was a narrow channel of water between the Aegean Sea and the Black Sea. Forever afterwards it was called the Hellespont, I guess because Hella Stupid would’ve been impolite.
The ram flew all the way to Colchis, on the eastern shore of the Black Sea. As far as the Greeks were concerned, you couldn’t get any further away and still be in the known world. Past Colchis, it was all, like, dragons and monsters and China and stuff.
The king of Colchis was a guy named Aeetes. He welcomed Phrixus with open arms, mostly because he had brought a cool flying ram with him.
Once Chrysomallos was sure the boy would be safe, he turned to Phrixus and said, ‘You’ll have to sacrifice me now.’
‘What?’ Phrixus cried. ‘But you saved my life!’
‘It’s okay,’ said the ram. ‘We need to thank Zeus for your escape. My spirit is going to become a constellation. I’ve always wanted to be a bunch of stars! Besides, my golden fleece will keep its magic and make this kingdom safe and prosperous for years to come. Nice knowing you, Curly!’
With tears in his eyes, Phrixus killed the ram. Chrysomallos’s spirit became the zodiac constellation Aries. King Aeetes took the Golden Fleece and nailed it to a tree in the sacred grove of Ares, where it was guarded 24/7 by a fierce dragon.
Phrixus settled down, married the king’s eldest daughter and had a bunch of kids. Colchis became rich and powerful. The Greeks were bummed that they had lost the endorsement of Super Sheep.
Over the years, the Golden Fleece became a legend. Every once in a while, some Greek king would say, ‘Hey, I should go to Colchis and get back the Fleece! That would prove I’m blessed by the gods!’ But nobody knew exactly where Colchis was or how to get there. A few brave heroes tried. Their ships never returned.
Until … DUN DUN DUN!
Fast-forward a generation, to when Jason lost his shoe and became hella important.
Pretty much every king in Thessaly was related to Athamas somehow. They all felt bad about losing the Golden Fleece. Each king would’ve given anything to get it back, but none of them had the resources to pull off a major expedition. Heck, most of them couldn’t even maintain a functional family.
Take King Cretheus. He ruled this small town called Iolcus, but he had more than his share of big city drama. He’d been raising his orphaned niece, Tyro, which was nice and all, except that his wife, Sidro, was super jealous of her, because she was so young and beautiful.
When Tyro was about seventeen, she attracted the attention of Poseidon. Things got complicated. Tyro ended up a single teenage mom with two little demigod boys. She named the eldest Pelias, or birthmark, since the first thing she noticed after he was born was the red blotch under his right eye. I guess it could’ve been worse. She could’ve named him Prune Face or Slimy Head.
Anyway, when Queen Sidro heard about Tyro’s children, she blew her stack. ‘Oh, sure they’re Poseidon’s kids. A likely story! I bet my husband is having an affair with that little hussy!’
Of course Tyro was the king’s niece, so that would’ve been gross, but, hey, we’re talking about Ancient Greece. If that’s the most disgusting thing you’ve read, you should flip back a few chapters.
Sidro couldn’t kill the girl outright. The king wouldn’t allow it, but the queen did her best to make Tyro’s life miserable. Since Sidro had been unable to have babies, she took away Tyro’s boys and raised them as her own. She forbade Tyro to tell the kids who their real mother was. Then Sidro sent Tyro to work in the horse stables. The queen looked for any excuse to beat or whip the girl for misbehaviour.
So, yeah, that was a healthy relationship.
Finally, when Pelias was a teenager, he found out the truth. He realized how his stepmother Sidro had been treating his real mom all these years, and he flew into a rage. He drew a sword and chased Sidro through the palace. Nobody tried to stop him, probably because Pelias was a son of Poseidon and we can be pretty scary when we want to be. Also, nobody liked the queen.
Sidro fled to the shrine of Hera. She threw herself at the feet of the goddess’s statue and yelled, ‘Protect me, Hera!’
Hera was the goddess of wives and mothers, but she wasn’t sure what to do, since Sidro wasn’t exactly a poster queen for motherly virtue. As it turned out, Hera didn’t have to do anything. While the goddess was deliberating, Pelias stormed into the shrine and killed Sidro, getting blood all over Hera’s nice altar.
Hera hadn’t really cared about Sidro one way or another, but nobody was allowed to defile her shrine! From that point on, she hated Pelias and started thinking of ways to get him back.
Once the queen was dead, old king Cretheus decided, What the heck? Sidro was afraid I’d marry Tyro? Maybe I should!
He made Tyro his new queen. They had a bunch of kids together. The oldest was a boy named Aeson (pronounce
Now here’s where it gets tricky. Who was supposed to become king when Cretheus died? His oldest son, Pelias, wasn’t even related. He was the son of Tyro and Poseidon. Sure, Cretheus had adopted him, but most people considered Aeson the rightful heir.
Cretheus was less than helpful. He didn’t make a will or anything. When he unexpectedly croaked, Pelias took matters into his own hands. He declared himself king and immediately began killing all his brothers and sisters to make sure they would never challenge him for the throne.
Somehow Aeson got away.
Maybe he faked his own death or went into witness protection. Maybe Pelias just miscounted the names on his hit list and thought he’d taken care of everybody. It’s hard keeping track of all those siblings to murder.
Anyway, Aeson hid out in the country and married a lady named Polymede. Together they had a son named Jason. I know, you’re like, Seven pages in and we finally get to the main character of the story. Yeah, those Ancient Greeks – they never make anything simple.
To keep their kid safe and his identity secret, Aeson and Polymede sent Jason into the wilderness to train with Chiron the centaur. Chiron spent years teaching him all about the hero business and explaining how, if the world was a better place, Jason would have grown up to be the rightful king of Iolcus.
Meanwhile, back in the city, Pelias settled down and started a family of his own. His firstborn son was named Acastus. When the kid turned sixteen, King Pelias decided to celebrate. He announced a big festival with sports competitions, fabulous prizes and sacrifices in honour of Poseidon, who was (duh) Pelias’s favourite god.
Young men from all over the country were commanded to bring offerings and birthday presents for Iolcus to the party. Jason happened to be home visiting his parents when he got the invitation.
‘Sports competitions?’ Jason puffed up his chest. ‘This is my chance to win fame and glory! I have to go!’
‘Son,’ said Aeson, ‘if Pelias realizes who you are –’
‘Don’t worry, Dad. He’s never met me. How would he recognize me?’
As it turned out, Pelias would recognize him by his footwear.
Like all evil kings, Pelias’s biggest fear was losing his throne. Once he’d killed all the family members he could get his hands on, he consulted the Oracle of Delphi to make sure he was safe.
‘So, no problems, right?’ he asked the Oracle. ‘I get to stay king?’
‘One threat remains,’ the Oracle warned him. ‘Beware the man who wears only one shoe!’
Pelias’s hands began to tremble. ‘What do you mean? Why would he wear only one shoe? Is that supposed to make him look scary? Is it a metaphor? I don’t get it!’
‘Thank you for your offering and –’
‘DON’T SAY IT!’ Pelias left before the Oracle could wish him a nice day. If she did that, he was afraid he might kill her.
Years later, by the time the big festival rolled around, Pelias had almost forgotten about the prophecy. He was having a great time. Everything seemed cool. He’d almost got over his compulsive need to check people’s feet, or scream at ambassadors wearing long robes, ‘WHAT SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?’
Early on festival day, Jason was strolling through the woods on his way to the city. He came to a wide river and saw an old woman in a tattered dress standing on the banks, wringing her hands.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, ‘how will I ever get across this river?’
Jason was no fool. He knew that old ladies didn’t normally stand alone on riverbanks, wondering how to get across. Usually they got somebody else to run errands for them, or they travelled in packs of old ladies for safety. Jason figured this woman might be a goddess in disguise. Chiron had told him stories about such things. He decided to play it cool.
‘I will help you, madam!’ he said with a polite bow.
The old lady gave him a toothless smile. ‘What nice manners! What a fine young man! But I’m very heavy. Are you sure you can carry me?’
‘No problem. I’ve been working out.’
He picked up the lady piggyback-style and forged into the water. The current was fast and cold. The old lady hummed ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’ as he stumbled along, which was sort of annoying, but Jason figured that might be part of the test. Halfway across the river, Jason’s foot sank into a patch of mud. When he pulled it out, his sandal was gone, sucked into the goo. He stumbled and looked down, but there was no way he could retrieve the sandal, especially not with the old lady on his back.
‘Everything all right, dearie?’ asked the old woman.
‘Oh, yeah. No biggie.’ Jason carried her to the opposite bank and put her down safely. ‘Anything else I can help you with?’
The old woman noticed his feet. ‘Oh, you lost a shoe because of me!’
‘Don’t worry about it. I can hop the rest of the way to Iolcus.’
‘You show promise, Jason.’ The old woman’s form shimmered. Suddenly, she became the goddess Hera, wearing a gold crown, a flowing white dress and a belt of peacock feathers. ‘I am Hera, the Queen of Heaven.’
‘I knew it!’ Jason caught himself. ‘I mean … I had no idea!’
‘You have aided me, so I will aid you. Go to Iolcus and claim your rightful place as king!’
‘Is this because you hate Pelias? Chiron told me the story about that murder in the shrine.’
‘Well, yes, I hate Pelias. But I also think you’d be a good king. Honestly!’
‘Won’t Pelias try to kill me?’
‘Not at his big festival with hundreds of people watching. That would be bad PR. You must trick him into publicly making a deal. When you reveal your true identity, ask Pelias to assign you an impossible task to prove you’re worthy of being king. He will agree, because he’ll assume you will fail and die. But, with my help, you’ll succeed. Then you will become king!’
‘An impossible task … something to prove I’m worthy of being the king …’
‘Yes.’ Hera smiled knowingly. ‘You will seek –’
‘The Golden Fleece!’ Jason jumped up and down. ‘I’ll retrieve the Golden Fleece!’
Hera sighed. ‘I was about to say that.’
‘Oh, sorry.’
‘You kind of stepped on my moment, but whatever. Go, Jason! Prove yourself a great hero!’
Hera disappeared in a burst of peacock-coloured light, and Jason hopped eagerly onward.
When he got to town, everybody noticed he had only one shoe. Why didn’t Jason just take off the other shoe and go barefoot? I suppose he figured one shoe was better than none. Besides, shoes were expensive back then. The locals snickered at him as he hopped across the hot pavement and asked directions to the festival, but Jason didn’t care. He was too excited. This was his first time in the big city (Iolcus had, like, a thousand people living in it!!). When he finally found the registration booth for the sporting contests, he signed up for everything.
Nobody had heard of him, so, at the first event, the announcer decided to have some fun at his expense. ‘AND NOW, JASON! THE MAN WITH ONE SHOE!’
King Pelias nearly fell out of his throne.
The crowd laughed and catcalled as Jason stepped forward. He nocked an arrow in his bow. He made three bull’s-eyes in a row and won the archery contest by a mile.
It’s just a coincidence, thought Pelias. People lose shoes all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.
Then Jason won the wrestling contest. And the javelin throw. And the discus. And the quilting competition. And the pie-eating contest. He even won the fifty-yard dash, despite his lack of proper footwear.
The locals started chanting, ‘ONE SHOE! ONE SHOE!’ but it was no longer a joke. It was praise.
At the awards ceremony, everybody gathered around to see Jason collect his swag. It was customary for the king to ask the big winner what he wanted for a grand prize.
Pelias hated that custom. He’d arranged this festival for his son, Acastus, and
‘So, young man!’ Pelias said. ‘What do you want for your prize? Another shoe, perhaps?’
Nobody laughed.
Jason bowed. ‘King Pelias, I am Jason, son of Aeson, rightful king of Iolcus. I’d like my throne back, please and thank you.’
The crowd fell silent, because that was a pretty big ask. As they looked more closely at Jason, they could see a resemblance to Pelias – except that Jason didn’t have a red birthmark under his eye, and his face wasn’t permanently contorted with rage.
The king tried to smile. It looked more like somebody was pulling a nail out of his backside. ‘Jason, let’s think about this. Pretend you are in my place. A young man you don’t know appears out of nowhere. He claims to be your nephew, but he offers no proof. He simply demands the throne. What would you do?’
Jason started to answer, but Pelias held up his hand.
‘There’s more,’ said the king. ‘Years ago, I went to the Oracle of Delphi. A prophecy warned me that some day a man with one shoe would take my throne and kill me. Now … that’s treason, right? It could destabilize the whole kingdom! So I ask you again, if you were in my place, facing this man with one shoe, what would you do?’
Jason knew the answer the king expected: Gee, I’d probably kill him.
Then Pelias would feel justified in executing him.
Instead, Jason remembered his conversation with Hera. ‘Uncle Pelias, you raise a good point. I would have to be sure this person was actually the rightful king. I’d give him a chance to prove himself by assigning him an impossible task – something only the greatest hero could accomplish. Then, if he succeeded, and only if he succeeded, I would give him the throne.’
The crowd stirred and murmured. This was getting more exciting than the pie-eating contest.
Pelias sat back and stroked his beard. ‘And what would this impossible task be?’
Jason spread his arms. ‘We are Thessalians, aren’t we? The task is obvious. I would command this would-be king to bring back the Golden Fleece!’