|
Deïanira [die-uh-'NEAR'-a] was one of the
most beautiful of princesses who lived a long ago times with Greek gods and
goddesses. It seemed as if all the loveliness of the world was hers. Her hair
was bright with the yellow of the first spring sunshine, and her eyes were as
blue as the skies of spring. Summer had touched Deïanira's cheeks with the
pink of rose petals, and the colors of the autumn fruits shone in her jewels,
crimson, and purple, and gold. Her robes were as white and sparkling as the
snows of winter, and all the music of soft winds, and bird songs, and
rippling brooks was in this princess' voice.
Because of her
beauty, and her goodness, princes came from all over the earth to ask
Deïanira's father, Æneus [EYE-ni-us], if she might go
home to their kingdoms and be their queen. But to all these Æneus replied
that to none but the strongest man would he give the princess to.
There were many
tests of these strangers' skill and strength in games and wrestling, but one
by one they failed. At last there were only two left, Hercules, who could
hold the sky on his great shoulders, and Acheloüs [aw-key-LO-as], the river-god,
who could twist through the fields and make them fertile. Each thought
himself the best man, and it was between them which should win the princess.
Hercules had powerful strength. But
Acheloüs was able to slip between the huge fingers of Hercules. He was as
slim and graceful as a willow tree, and dressed in the green of foliage. He
wore a crown of water lilies on his fair hair, and carried a staff made of
reeds. When Acheloüs spoke, his voice was like a gentle stream.
"The princess
Deïanira will be mine!" said Acheloüs. "I will make her the queen
of the river lands. The music of the waters shall be always in her ears, and
the plenty that follows wherever I flow shall make her rich."
"No,"
shouted Hercules. "I am the strength of the earth. Deïanira is mine. You
shall not have her."
Then the river-god
grew very angry. His green robe changed to the black of the sea in a storm,
and his voice was as loud as thunder on a mountain. Acheloüs could be almost
as powerful as Hercules when he was angered.
"How do you
dare claim the princess?" he roared, "I am a god, and the king of
the waters, you are just a man! Wherever I take my way through the earth, grains
and fruits ripen, and flowers bud and bloom. The princess is mine by
right."
Hercules frowned as
he ran toward the river-god. "Your strength is only in words," he
said. "My strength is in my arm. If you would win Deïanira, it must be
by hand-to-hand combat." So the river-god threw off his clothes and
Hercules his lions' skins, and the two fought for the hand of the princess.
It was a brave battle.
Neither gave up; both stood firm. Acheloüs slipped in and out of Hercules' mighty
grasp a dozen times, but at last Hercules' greater strength overpowered him.
Hercules held the river-god fast by his neck, choking him. But Acheloüs knew
magic. He suddenly changed himself into a long, slippery snake. He twisted
out of Hercules' hands, and darted out his forked tongue at him, showing his
poisonous fangs.
Hercules was not
yet finished. He laughed at the snake. While he was still a baby, Hercules
once strangled two snakes, and he had met a Hydra monster with a hundred
heads that he had cut off. He was not in the least afraid of the river-god.
Acheloüs could not
win so he had changed into a raging bull. With its horns lowered, it charged
upon Hercules. Hercules grabbed hold of the bull's horns, bent its head, grasped
its neck, and throwing it down buried the horns in the ground. Then he broke
off one of the horns with his strong hand, and held it up in the air,
shouting,
"Victory! The princess is mine!"
Acheloüs returned
to his own shape, and, crying with pain, ran from the castle grounds where
the combat had taken place, and did not stop until he had plunged into a
cooling stream.
So Deïanira stood
by his side, and the goddess of plenty came forward to give the winner his
reward. She took the great horn which Hercules had torn from Acheloüs' head
and heaped it high with the year's stores. Ripe grain, grapes, apples, plums,
nuts, pomegranates, figs, and all the other fruits of the autumn filled the
horn, and overflowed it. Then they carried this horn of plenty, high above their
heads, and gave it to Hercules, and his beautiful queen, Deïanira. It was the
richest gift the gods could make, the year's harvest.
And ever since that
long-ago story time of the Greeks the horn of plenty has stood for the year's
blessing of us; it is full to overflowing with the fruits of the harvest. THE
END
|
