Frix and hella. "Argonautics Myths of ancient Greece frix and hella

Biotia. Orchomenus and Delphi

In ancient Miniyskiy Orchomenus (ancient Greek Ὀρχομενός) ruled in Boeotia son of the wind god Eol, king Afamant. He had two children from Nephele, goddess of the clouds, son of Frix and daughter of Hell. King Athamas and changed Nephele and married Ino daughter of Cadmus. Ino disliked the children from her husband's first marriage and plotted to destroy them. She persuaded the women of the orchid to dry up the seeds prepared for sowing. The Orchomen sowed the fields with dried seeds, but nothing sprouted on their always fertile fields. Famine threatened the Orchomen.

Then I decided Athamas to send an embassy to sacred Delphi, to ask the oracle of the archer Apollo about the cause of the barrenness of the fields. The insidious Ino bribed the ambassadors, and they, returning from Delphi (ancient Greek Δελφοί), brought a false answer from the oracle.

—This is the answer given by the soothsayer Pythia, the bribed ambassadors said to Athamas. — Offer your son Frix as a sacrifice to the gods, and the gods will return the fertility of the fields.

Athamas, in order to avoid the great disaster that threatened Orchomenus, decided to sacrifice his beloved son. Ino triumphed: her plan succeeded kill Frix.

Everything was ready for the sacrifice. Should have fallen under the priest's knife young Frix but suddenly appeared golden-fleeced Aries (lat. Aries), a gift from the god Hermes. The ram was sent by the mother of Phrixus, the goddess cloudsNephele, to save their children. Sat on the golden-fleeced ram Frix with his sister Gella and a ram carried them through the air far north.

The ram was running fast. Far below were fields and forests, and silver rivers meandered between them. A ram flies above the mountains. Here is the sea. A ram is flying over the sea. Hella was frightened, from fear she cannot stay on the ram.

Fell into the sea of ​​Hell and swallowed her eternally noisy sea waves. Couldn't save Frix's sister. She died. Since then the sea where Helle died became known as the Hellespont - Sea of ​​​​Gella. (now the Dardanelles).

Farther and farther rushed the ram with Phrixus and finally descended on the banks of Phasis in distant Colchis *, where the son of the god Helios, the magician Eet, ruled. Raised Eet Friks, and when he matured, married him to his daughter of Halkiope. The golden ram that saved Phrixus was sacrificed to the great Zeus. Eet hung the golden fleece* of the ram in the sacred grove. Guarding the fleece was supposed to be a terrible, spewing flame the Dragon, never closed his eyes with sleep.

Phasis (lat. Phasis) in distant Colchis, where the son of the god Helios, the magician Eet, ruled

The rumor about this golden fleece spread throughout Greece. The descendants of Afamant, the father of Frix, knew that the salvation and prosperity of their family depended on the possession of the rune, and they wanted to get it at any cost.

BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF JASON

On the shore of the blue sea bay in Thessaly (lat. Thessaly) brother of King Athamas, Cretheus (Krepheus), the son of the Thessalian king Eol and Enarete, built city ​​of Yolk.

From the north by a natural border Thessaly serves mount Olympus, which the ancient Greeks considered the abode of the gods. The city of Iolk grew, the fertility of its fields, trade and navigation gave it wealth. King Creteus and his wife Tiro had three sons - Amiphaon, Feret and Eson.

When the king of Thessaly, Creteus, died, his son Eson began to rule in Iolka, but his maternal brother, son of the god Poseidon (ancient Greek Ποσειδῶν), "earth shaking", Pelias (Greek Πελίας), took away power from Aeson, and he had to live in the city as a simple citizen.

Soon Aeson's son Jason was born, lovely boy. Eson was afraid that the arrogant and cruel Pelias would kill his son, who rightfully held power over Iolk, and decided to hide him. Eson announced that the baby had died immediately after his birth, and celebrated even for him a magnificent wake; he himself carried his son to the slopes mountains of Pelion to the wisest of the centaurs, Chiron (ancient Greek Χείρων) and Filira. There, in the forest in a cave, a boy grew up, brought up by Chiron, his mother Filira and his wife Chariklo. Wise Chiron gave him a name. Chiron taught everything to Jason : to wield a sword and a spear, shoot from a tight bow, music and everything that he himself knew. There was no equal to Jason in dexterity, strength and courage, and in beauty he was equal to the celestials.

Until the age of twenty, Jason lived with Chiron. Finally, he decided to leave the secluded the slopes of Pelion , go to Iolk and demand from Pelias that he return power over Iolk to him.

JASON IN IOLKA

Based on the verses of Pindar (Pythian ode)

When Jason came to Iolk, he went straight to the square, where all the inhabitants had gathered. The inhabitants of Iolk looked with surprise at the beautiful young man.

They thought it was himself God Apollo or Hermes — he was so beautiful. He was not dressed like all the inhabitants of Iolk; a motley panther skin was thrown over his shoulders, and only one right leg was shod in a sandal *.

Lush curls of Jason fell to his shoulders, he shone all over with the beauty and strength of the young god. He stood calmly among the crowd of citizens admiring him, leaning on two spears.

At this time on a rich chariot came to the square and Pelius. He looked at the young man and shuddered, noticing that the young man had only one foot shod. Pelias was frightened: after all, the oracle had once revealed to him that he was threatened with death from a man who he will come to Iolk from the mountains and will be shod on one foot; this man, the son of Aeson, was supposed to kill Pelias by force or cunning, and death should be inevitable.

Pelias hid his fear and arrogantly asked the unknown young man:

—Where are you from, young man, what tribe do you belong to? But only answer the truth, do not defile yourself with lies, I am the enemy of hateful lies.

Jason calmly answered Pelias:

—Wise Chiron taught me only truth and honesty, and I am always faithful to his instructions. For twenty whole years I lived in the cave of Chiron and never violated the truth and was not guilty of anything. I returned home here, to my native Iolk, to my father Eson. I want to demand that my power over Yolk be returned to me. She, as I heard, was taken from my father by the treacherous Pelius. Citizens, take me to the home of my great ancestors. I am not a stranger to you, I was born here, in Iolka. I am Jason son of Aeson.

The inhabitants of Iolk pointed out to Jason the house of his father. When Jason entered, the father immediately recognized his son. Tears of joy welled up in the eyes of old Eson, he rejoiced, seeing that his son had become a mighty and beautiful young man.

came quickly the news of the return of Jason to the brothers of Aeson: Feret, king of Fer, and Amphaon from Messenia . Soon they arrived at Aeson with their sons Admet and Melampod. Eson and his son Jason honored them with feasts for five days and nights. Jason revealed to them in a conversation his desire to regain power over Iolk. They approved Jason's desire and went with him to Pelius. Jason demanded that Pelius return power to him, and promised to leave him all the wealth that he had taken from Aeson. Pelias was afraid to refuse Jason.

— Ok, I agree Pelias replied, but I will put only one condition on you: you must first propitiate underground gods. Shadow Frix, who died in distant Colchis, prays that they go to Colchis and take possession of the golden fleece. The shadow of Friks revealed this to me in a dream. In Delphi, the archer Apollo himself ordered me to go to Colchis. I am old and cannot decide on such a great feat, but you are young and full of strength, accomplish this feat, and I will return power over Iolk to you.

So Pelias answered Jason, holding malice in his heart. He believed that Jason would die if he decided to go to Colchis for the Golden Fleece.

The myths about the campaign of the Argonauts are mainly set out in the poem of Apollonius of Rhodes "Argonautica"

Long ago in Greece, between two blue sea bays in a deep valley fenced off high mountains from the rest of the world, lay the country of Boeotia.

Under its blue sky, the peak of Helikon rose high, a mysterious mountain, where between the dark groves, above the sonorous jets of the Hippocrene spring, the goddesses of arts - muses lived.

Far below, gleaming like a mirror, was the bright Canada Lake. Its shores are overgrown with such reeds, from which the best, most ringing and melodious flutes come out; here at night, people said, sometimes the god of the forests himself, the great Pan, came to cut a reed for his divine flute.

The lake gently rustled in gentle shores, surrounded by arable land, meadows and vineyards, because the inhabitants of Boeotia were skilled farmers. And very close to its water, reflecting in it its temples and towers, houses and gates, stood on one of the lake shores the Boeotian city of Orchomenus.

In those times about which the story will go, the lord of Orchomenus was the happy king Afamant, the son of the god of the winds Eol.

The winged father of King Eol day and night hovered over the seas and over land at the head of his air army. He loved his son Athamas and helped him. He knew well what exactly could bring happiness to the Boeotian plowmen.

With sharp hoes they loosened the fat, hot land of Boeotia, waiting for the harvest. More than anything, they were afraid of drought. Most of all in the world they were pleased with the large, warm rain, washing the crops, flowing like sweet juice from the earth into heavy grapes.

That is why, when King Afamant was still very young, the violent god of the wind Eol brought to Orchomenus on his noisy wings a quiet and gentle ash-haired girl, the goddess of life-giving clouds and light clouds, Nefelu.

Nephele-cloud was beautiful. Wavy soft hair shrouded her camp in a light mist. Big moist eyes looked with a thoughtful caress - as the stars look through the light haze of the sky ... Athamant fell in love with Nephele. He married her. And for the time being, their life flowed quietly and happily.

The goddess of rain and fog became related to the hardworking Boeotian people. Often she went out to the roof of the royal palace and remained there for a long time, her hair loose, her hands covered with golden wrists raised up. Standing like that, high above the city, she cast mysterious incantations.

Then the father of Athamas, Eolus, with the sound of his wings, flew out of his dwelling. The wind began to whistle through the branches of the Boeotian pines, rustling the dry foliage of laurel trees and olives. The sonorous grasshoppers and cicadas stopped their stocolous singing. Nimble lizards huddled in the cracks. The birds were silent. Mountain eagles descended into the gorges. They knew that life-giving rain would soon pour down.

And Nephele sang her prophetic hymns. And by order of the queen, her sister-clouds began to gather from all sides to the meadows and fields of Boeotia. Weighed down with moisture, they gathered at the top, swirled, piled up. Distant lightning flashed, muffled thunder rumbled.

And now the first drops of rain are jumping over the hot stones; here children, opening their little mouths, catch them right on the tongue; fruit trees tremble with washed leaves; and tired peasants happily expose their dusty heads to the warm downpour. “Thank you Nephele, queen of the clouds! they say. - Now we will have bread and our sour, refreshing tired wine: it's raining!

The god Eol often flew at night either through the narrow windows or the wide doors of the Athamantov palace. He bent over the cradles where his grandsons Frix and Gella slept. He stirred Frix's curls, kissed Gella's bright forehead, blew a mighty breath on them, and, slipping into the royal bedchamber, whispered in the ear of his sleeping son:

Afamant, Afamant, love Nefelu-cloud! Take care of Nephelu-cloud! In her hands is the life and happiness of your country.

And while Athamas obeyed wise advice, everything went well.

But it so happened that one day he went to the main city of Boeotia, to the seven gates of Shiva, to the proud Theban king Cadmus. Here, at a feast in the magnificent royal chambers, his eyes were captivated by the daughter of Cadmus, dark-haired Ino.

Ino was a bold, ardent, talkative girl, and Afamant's wife Nefela walked with an inaudible step, spoke quietly, smiled timidly.

Ino often and loudly laughed - Nefela-cloud more often cried with bright tears of tenderness.

Ino was always cheerful, like a sunbeam, - Nefela often became quiet and sad, like her dear sisters, noiseless rain clouds.

And then Athamas fell in love with the cheerful, stormy Ino. He drove away the meek Nephele, and took the dark-haired daughter of Cadmus as his wife. Athamas fell in love with her, but she did not love anyone but herself. And most of all, the stepmother of the children of Nephele, the boy Frix and the girl Hella, hated. She did not like that Afamant left them with him when Nephele retired from him to the dwelling of the gods, to the distant snowy mountain Olympus.

As time went. Friks and Gella became teenagers, and the stepmother began to be afraid of them: it increasingly occurred to her that, having become adults, they could avenge her for their mother and destroy her.

Then she decided on an insidious deed to prevent this.

She knew well that now King Athamas and the Boeotian people had nothing to expect help from the offended Nephele-cloud. The clouds had long since passed the Boeotian borders across the sky. Rain has become rare. Dust swirled everywhere, and the tillers did not know whether they should throw seeds into the dry, hot earth. Ino, however, gathered the Orchomean women and taught them to dry even more in the sun those grains that their husbands were going to sow.

We must teach the proud Nephele a lesson! she laughed defiantly. - Nefela thinks that without her care you will perish! It's a lie. Pray to the sun god Apollo, and he will send you a great harvest!

So did the women of Orkhomen. Dry, skinny grains lay down in the dry, hot earth, and out of many thousands of seeds, not a single one sprouted.

Fear gripped the Boeotians. Famine threatened their country. In vain they prayed to heaven to send them a refreshing rain. In vain did the many-winged Eol persuade the woeful Nephele to forget her offense: the goddess far bypassed the land that had become hateful to her, and her bitter tears flowed over strange, distant lands.

What were people to do? Athamas, in despair, decided to send the wisest elders to the holy city of Delphi: let the prophetic priests of Apollo teach them what to do in order to avoid starvation and death.

The ambassadors set off and reached the Delphic temple.

King Afamant, - the priests told them, - must beg forgiveness from Nephele-clouds. He must do whatever she tells him to do.

But the insidious Ino did not allow her husband to convey these terrible words to her. Far beyond the walls of the city, where the statue of the god Hermes was white in the shadow of the sacred olive grove, she, disguised as a simple woman, met the ambassadors of Afamant. She made them drink expensive wine. She showered them with sumptuous gifts. She bribed them. And, having come to the royal palace, the gray-bearded ambassadors played cunning before Athamas.

O king! they told him the way Ino taught them. - To save your people from disaster, hunger and death, you must sacrifice your son Frix to the great gods. Take the boy to the sacred mountain and slaughter it there over the altar. Let his blood splash instead of rain on the Boeotian land. Then the gods will forgive you, and this land will bring people a great harvest.

King Athamas wept bitterly when he heard these words. With a cry of despair he tore his royal clothes. He beat his chest, wringed his arms, pressed his beloved son to him. But outside the walls of the palace, a crowd of people was already raging. The people, emaciated from hunger, looked gloomily. Pale mothers raised in their arms and showed their hungry children to the unfortunate king. And King Afamant made up his mind.

May one of my sons perish if his death saves many! he whispered, covering his head with the hem of his chiton. - Oh Nefela, Nefela! The gods punish me terribly for my guilt before you. Terrible is my punishment, Nephele! Have pity on us!

The night passed, full of longing and crying. And so, on a high sacred mountain, under a thick-leaved fig tree, a handful of people gathered at the dawn of the next day. It was quiet and the sky was a bright blue. But strange: above the very top of the mountain in the morning there was a light, bright, shining cloud in the blue sky.

Everything was ready for the sacrifice. The white stone, stained with the blood of countless lambs and calves, was washed out in the evening. Grains of fragrant incense were lit in censers on copper tripods. They brought wide-mouthed vessels with water. The stern old priest, holding a sharp and curved knife in his right hand, held out his left. He ruthlessly grabbed the curly, pitch-black hair of a crying, trembling boy bound in a white towel.

The boy screamed in horror. Fair-haired Hella, his sister, with a desperate cry rushed to her brother. The priest roughly pushed her away, but suddenly...

Suddenly, a thunderclap sounded over the mountain. Both the priest and everyone who came to see how the king's son Phrixus would be sacrificed shuddered and covered their eyes with their hands. A blinding light cut through the air. There was a slight ringing, as if an invisible hand had touched the golden strings of a huge lyre. A white cloud, shining more and more, flew over the mountain, enveloped the fig tree, the altar, people, and was carried away. And on the bare stones, next to the trembling Frix and Gella, there was a ram, a lamb, but not a simple ram, but a golden one. His long, gentle but heavy fleece shone like a flame. The golden horns twisted in tight curls. The broad back was shiny and burning.

My children! My children, Frix and Gella! - came a gentle voice from a flying cloud. - Quicker! Don't delay! Sit on the back of this ram. I will save you, oh my children!

Hastily, not thinking about anything, not afraid of anything anymore, Frix and Gella grabbed their hands on the lush strands of the golden fleece. Clinging closely, embracing each other, they sat down on the broad back of the ram. And at the same moment, he, having run up, rose from the mountain into the air.

A terrible white stone remained under him, the grass around which was brown and hard from the blood spilled over it. Beneath it flashed white skulls and bones of animals killed here for the glory of the gods. The old priest and other people lay down there on the ground in fear, their heads covered with clothes. Away, under the mountain, the buildings of Orchomenus turned yellow and white, wooded valleys darkened, rivers meandered like silver ribbons, fields and forests spread out. And the magical ram was flying over this country, rising higher and higher.

Here ahead, on the distant horizon, lay a dark blue endless expanse. She rose higher and higher, merged with the sky. That was the sea. Then the young Frix clung tightly to the golden horns of the ram. With eyes full of delight and amazement, he peered into an unprecedented spectacle, supporting his frightened, trembling sister with his other hand. He persuaded her not to be afraid, showed her now at the clouds sailing towards them, now at the mountains and valleys of Greece flashing below, now at the many-oared boats with red and white sails diving in the blue sea waves. But the girl did not listen to him. Great fear seized her more and more. Her whole body trembled, her hands trembled and could not hold on to the golden fleece, her eyes closed in horror.

And finally, at the moment when the ram left the shores of Greece and rushed over the ever-splashing dark blue sea, Gella's weak fingers unclenched. The light body slid off the side of the ram, glowing with golden reflections. Like a fluff, she flashed in the blue abyss and with a slight splash fell into the noisy waters. And immediately the waves closed over her, eternally running into the distance, eternally roaring waves of the sea ...

The wonderful ram did not stop for a moment. As if nothing had happened, he easily carried the bitterly sobbing Frix into the distance. And that sea, which forever hid the weak body of the frightened daughter of Athamas, people began to call since then the sea of ​​\u200b\u200bGella, the Hellespont.

Look at the map of Greece drawn by learned people. Between Europe and Asia you will see a narrow strait. Now they call it the Dardanelles, but this is the Hellespont ...

Faster and faster the magical golden ram rushed through the air. He flew over another great strait, the Bosporus, crossed the Euxinian Pontus, which people now call the Black Sea, and finally, heavy with fatigue, began to descend to a distant shore, over which the majestic mountains of the Caucasus shone in the mist, like white and pink clouds.

Here, on the banks of the mountain river Phasis, in the mysterious overseas country of Colchis, where the son of the sun god, the magician Eet, then reigned, brought the wonderful ram of his sad rider.

Eet knew in advance that this would ever happen. He also knew that the golden-fleeced ram brings happiness to the country in which he resides.

Therefore, the overjoyed king affectionately received Phrixus in his palace.

I will raise you as my own son, O Phrixus, grandson of Eol! - he said. “But I will never let you leave my realm. Your ram is to be sacrificed to the great cloud chaser, the almighty Zeus. That's how it should be done!

And so it was done. The ram was slaughtered, and the fleece, glowing with a hot sheen of gold, was hung on a huge, sprawling plane tree in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares.

This grove rustled with its branches on the Black Sea coast. High above it rose the peaks of the snowy Caucasus Mountains. Rocks surrounded it on all sides; to guard the only path to the rune, Eet assigned a terrible fire-breathing dragon; day and night, the monster of terrible and keen eyes did not wash away for a moment, guarding such a treasure.

A little time passed, and a rumor about a great miracle spread throughout the world. Everyone began to talk about a magical fleece, forever shining like heat in a dark grove on the Black Sea coast. This rumor also reached distant Boeotia. And King Afamant, dying of old age, bequeathed to his descendants by all means to get and return to Greece this fleece that brings happiness. “That's why,” people said, “it depends on whether the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Afamant will be happy.”

In these very days, the old shepherd Thesander, a resident of a coastal village in Thessaly, roamed with his flock on the slopes of the great mountain of Pelion. Every day he drove his goats higher and higher into the mountains, and by nightfall he made a fire somewhere under a rocky ledge, took out a handful of dried figs and an unleavened cake from a bag, ate supper, drinking food clean water and went to bed until morning.

One day he woke up at dawn, as he was awakened by the clatter of hooves on a flinty path.

"Strange! Fersander thought. “Where could a rider come from here in the mountains?”

However, the clatter was getting closer, then voices were heard. Someone was driving along the road behind the bushes, rounded a rocky ledge and finally stopped a little lower than Fersandra.

Well, father? - the shepherd heard the words spoken in a young, sonorous voice. - Here is a large stone, here is a crossroads. It's time for parting. Tell me what you wanted to say, and let me go in peace. I'm afraid of one thing: no one would have overheard your secret before the time.

Don't worry, my son," answered another voice, dull and hoarse, and Fersander shuddered at hearing it. - Nobody sees us. Here, only a herd of goats roams the slope, and, probably, a shepherd is sleeping somewhere: I smell the smell of an extinct fire. But what are we up to? Sit on a piece of rock, and I will lie down in front of you: my hooves are tired ...

Old Fersander was as curious as a boy; besides, he liked to tell gullible fellow villagers on long winter nights all sorts of fables about what happens to be seen in the summer in the forest.

Carefully, trying not to make a noise, he pulled himself up on his elbows along the stone slab and peered over its edge down onto the road. "Zeus the Almighty!" whispered his lips at once.

Under an old oak tree, on a huge boulder, sat a young man of about twenty years old, no more. His manly face was beautiful. Golden curls, picked up by a narrow braid, did not cover a high forehead. In his hands he held a hunting dart, on his feet were dusty, colorful sandals woven from white and brown straps, and a soft and bright skin of a leopard was thrown over his shoulder. He sat smiling, cross-legged; directly opposite him on the grass, with his front legs bent under him, as horses weary from a long journey do, lay a huge centaur, white as silver.

The powerful back of the man-horse was dampened with morning dew, a long wavy mane descended onto the grass. From his thick gray beard, from his snow-white hair, one could see how old a centaur was: only his eyebrows darkened above his black, wise and kind eyes. He lay calmly and looked lovingly at the young man, who affectionately ran his hand through the strands of his long silver beard.

Well, father? the young man said at last. - What did you want to tell me?

The centaur was silent for a few moments.

O Jason, son! - he said then, and the echo picked up the echoes of his speech. The day has come that I have long feared. But he could not come. You must know everything. You must find out who you are and what you need to do now ...

So, Jason. Not far from here, on the seashore, stands the rich city of Iolk. Many years ago, the wise Cretios, brother of the Orchomenian king Afamant, built it here. The gods blessed his deeds. The city grew and prospered, and Cretius, dying, handed power over it to his son Aeson. Aeson was to reign in Iolca by right and law. But it so happened that the stepson of Cretias, Pelias, rebelled against his brother, overthrew him from the throne, took away his power and himself began to reign over Iolkos. The unfortunate Eson, hiding from his evil brother, settled on the outskirts of the city, taking a different name, and still lives there in poverty and obscurity. Do you hear, my son?

I hear everything, father! Jason said. - Forgive my ignorance: is this Athamas, whose son was carried away over the sea by a golden ram?

The same Jason. What do you say to that?

I think father! But I can't understand why I need to know about Aeson's misfortune?

I swear by my immortality, Jason, for you know that I am immortal! You need to hear about it. So listen!

A few years later, Eson had a son. Eson was afraid to raise the boy in Iolka: he thought that the cruel Pelius could kill him. He spread the rumor that the child died as soon as it was born. He even celebrated a magnificent wake for him. When it got dark, he swaddled the boy in a white linen, took him in his arms and carried him into the wooded gorges of Mount Pelion. He knew that the old centaur Chiron, a friend of all the offended, lives there. And so he brought a son to Chiron.

And the kind, wise Chiron took the boy from him? - Smiling, asked the young man.

Yes, he took this boy, - answered the centaur, - he took him to his cave and raised and raised him among other centaurs, and fell in love with him like his own ... And - listen to me well - at the request of his father, he called his pupil Jason ...

The centaur had not yet managed to finish, as the young man jumped off the stone. His eyes sparkled, his face paled.

My father, is it possible? It was me? he cried. “Then I am the son of Aeson?” My father... Now I see what I have to do. I must appear before Pelius ... I must return his kingdom to my father! ..

At these words, the old centaur rose to his feet noisily.

Frightened, Fersandre recoiled and hid in the bushes. When at last he dared to look again at the road, there was no one on it.

Then the cunning shepherd walked slowly into the depths of the forest.

But, having moved a little way, he suddenly stopped, leaned on his staff and took his sparse beard in his hand. Squinting his eyes, moving his toothless mouth, he stood so completely motionless for a long time. He was thinking about something.

The legs of a young man are lighter than the legs of an old man! he said smiling. - But the old man knows the nearest road to Iolk, but the young man does not. This means that the elder will be the first to enter the palace of Pelius and tell him about everything that he saw and heard. And - how to know? - maybe then Pelius will make him a shepherd of the royal flock ... I think he will! ..

He examined his goats, woke up the shepherd boy, said that he would return only tomorrow evening, ordered to beware of wolves and snakes, and left along a winding rocky path through the mountain ...

On the same day, at noon, a decrepit old beggar woman sat on the banks of a fast mountain river flowing down the slopes of Pelion. The sun was hot, flies were circling over it, and no one was walking along the road. The old woman herself, without help, was afraid to wade through a stormy river.

Finally, the bushes rustled nearby, and from them an old shepherd came ashore with a long staff in his hand, with a leather bag over his shoulders. As soon as he got out onto the road, he stopped, vigilantly looked her in both directions from under his arm and grinned.

Hello old! he shouted to the beggar. - How long have you been sitting here? Tell me, did not a young man pass through this ford, beautiful as the god Hermes, in colorful sandals and in a leopard skin draped over one shoulder? No? Fine. But still, I have to hurry. - And he began to descend to the water.

Slow down, pastor! the old woman spoke after him, groaning and trying to get up. - Don't go alone. You are stronger than me, you have a staff. Help me cross the stream...

But the shepherd didn't even slow down.

Where are you in a hurry? he shouted mockingly. - Sit still, mother of our grandmothers. Probably, the prophetic Moira will soon cut the thread of your old life. I don't have time to mess with you. I'm in hurry!

He crossed the river and hid behind the rocks on the other side, and the old woman, shaking her skinny fist after him, muttering something under her breath, sat down again on the rocks.

This time she didn't have to wait so long. Light steps were heard behind her, and a young man came out from behind a bend in the road. He must have come from afar: road dust covered his legs up to his knees, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. But his eyes shone with youthful joy, and, descending from the river bank to the ford, he hummed loudly.

Seeing him, the old beggar again began to rise from the stone.

Hello mother! - shouted the young man. - What are you doing here alone in the desert?.. May your path be blessed!

O young hero! cried the old woman, covering her eyes with her hand and looking at him against the sun. - O young hero! I dare not bother you with a request. But I'm so old, and this stream is so stormy. No one wants to take me to the other side... Help me, and the good gods will give you what you are looking for!..

Then the young man, without saying a word, went out of his way. Carefully and affectionately, he lifted the weak old body with his mighty hands, pressed it to himself, like the father of a child, and, carrying it across the river, carefully lowered it to the ground. Only when he was leaving the turbulent stream did he stumble: the raging river suddenly tore off the sandal from his left foot and in an instant dragged it into its foamy streams.

However, there was nothing to be done. Youth is not discouraged by such petty afflictions. Shod on only one leg, the traveler moved on. A little later he saw a gray-haired shepherd sitting sadly on the side of the road. Bending over, the shepherd grimaced, holding his right foot with his hand.

What's the matter with you, old man? - the young man called out to him, passing by. - What makes you sad? Tell me maybe I can help you?

But the old man turned away angrily instead of answering. He said nothing to the passer-by: it was impossible to help him. A sharp spike dug deep into his heel. He couldn't walk fast. He couldn't do what he intended. With annoyance and anger, he now looked at how the slender figure of a young man with a leopard skin on his shoulder, a young man who had overtaken him on the way to Iolk, was decreasing in the distance on the road. But neither young nor old knew one thing: the beggar old woman sitting by the river was still looking at them from a distance. Only she has now become a young and slender girl. A copper helmet shone on her head, and a light spear waved in her hand. And, blinded by the sun, an owl sat on her shoulder, for this girl was the goddess of wisdom, Athena.

In ancient times, all free women of Hellas dressed in linen. Among rich Greek women, especially, thin expensive linen fabrics were popular. From the works of Strabo, Herodotus, Pliny the Elder, it is known that in Ancient Greece bad, undersized flax grew and only coarse fabrics were obtained from it. The Hellenes had to buy flax in Egypt or in Colchis, where high quality flax was grown. Colchis sold its fine linen to the countries of the Ancient East and the Mediterranean.

From ancient times, the Hellenes were irresistibly drawn to the countries of the Black Sea, evidence of this are the finds of archaeologists who discovered the world numerous Hellenic settlements on the shores of the Black Sea.

A well-known ancient Greek legend tells about the voyage of Jason for the Golden Fleece, about the heroic campaign of the Argonauts to Colchis. Until now, the campaign of the Argonauts is the subject of research by scientists, writers and travelers.

The most ancient version of the legend about the Argonauts dates back to the 13th century BC. e., in the ancient legend we are talking about the river Tanais (Don), but not Rioni. In archaic times, 500 years before Hellenism, The lands of the Sea of ​​\u200b\u200bAzov were called Colchis, and not the territory of present-day Georgia.

Evidence for this assumption is provided by myths about Frikse, the first owner of the Golden Ram.

FRIX AND GELLA. (retelling based on the poem by Apollonius of Rhodes "Argonautica")

In ancient Boeotia, in the Minian city of Orchomenus, King Afamant, the son of the wind god Eol, ruled. He had two children from the goddess of the clouds Nephele - the son of Frix and the daughter of Hella. Athamas married a second time to Ino, the daughter of Cadmus, who disliked Phrixus and Gella and plotted to destroy them. When a crop failure occurred in Boeotia and the country was threatened with famine, Athomant sent ambassadors to the temple of Apollo at Delphi to ask the Delphic oracle about the reason for the barrenness of the fields. The insidious queen Ino bribed the ambassadors who returned from Delphi, and they told King Afamant to sacrifice his young son Frix to the gods, then the gods would return the fertility of the fields.

Afamant was ready to sacrifice his beloved son in order to save the country.

During the sacrifice, when the young Frix was supposed to fall under the knife of the priest, the goddess of the clouds Nephele, the mother of Frix, sent him a golden-fleeced Aries (ram), a gift from the god Hermes. Phrixus and his sister Hella sat on the golden-fleeced Ram, which carried them above the mountains, through the air far to the north.

Frightened by the height of Gell, could not resist and fell into the sea, since Sea of ​​​​Gella, called the Hellespont (Strait of the Dardanelles).

Further and further rushed the golden Aries with Frix and descended to the banks of the Phasis River in Colchis, where King Eet, the son of the god Helios (Sun), ruled. He raised Eet Friks and married him to his daughter Halkiope (or Kalkiope, Cyclopes), princess of Colchis.

The golden ram that saved Phrixus was sacrificed to the god Zeus. Eet hung the golden fleece of Aries in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares. The golden fleece was supposed to be guarded by a terrible, flame-spewing dragon, who never closed his eyes (Arimasp - "not closing his eyes" according to the description of Herodotus).

The descendants of King Afamant, the father of Frix, knew that the well-being of their family depended on the possession of the golden fleece, and they wanted to get it at any cost.

It is known from the legend that Frix got to Colchis, following not along the northern coast of Asia Minor, but along the coast of Thrace, heading to Taurida (Crimea), to a cape called Baraniy Lob (the modern name is Cape Sarych). Further, Frix continued his journey north, at the mouth of the Phasis River, as the Tanais (Don) River was called in those days. On the banks of the Phasis River (Tanais-Don), and was the capital of the legendary Colchis, the city of Eyu, where the Scythian king Eet, the son of the god Helios, ruled.

Only in the 3rd century BC Roman tragic poets transferred Colchis from the Sea of ​​\u200b\u200bAzov to the banks of the Rioni River (modern Georgia).

According to pseudo-Plutarch: “Phasis is a river in Scythia, ... before it was called Arcturus, having received this name from that which flows through cold areas. At the time of the creation of the Ionian epic about the Argonauts, the Phasis river was described in myths in the north and was identified with the Don, and not with the Rioni river in the Caucasus.

Roman historian Pompey Trog (1st century BC - 1st century AD), author world history in 44 volumes, The History of Philip writes: "Scythia, spreads in an eastern direction, on the one hand it is limited to Pontus, on the other - the Riphean mountains, from the rear - Asia and the river Phasis." As you know, the Don (Phasis, Tanais-Don) has always been the border between Asia and Europe. The Rioni River in the Caucasus could not serve as the border of Scythia, nor the border between Europe and Asia.

Valery Flakk in a poem "Argonautiki" writes: "We sing the seas first passed by the great sons of the gods, and the prophetic ship that dared to follow to the shores of the Scythian Phasis».

Ancient Roman politician, consul 100 BC e Lucius Valery Flaccus, directly calls King Eet, the ruler of "Scythia and the cold Phasis."

The soothsayer Phineus, referring to Jason, says: “So you will finally arrive at the swift river Phasis. There is already a Scythian camp and rises fraternal Erinia" .

Hellas and Colchis - these two countries are connected by stories, legends, myths of Ancient Greece about the journey of the Argonauts on the Argo ship.

A long time ago in Greece, between two blue sea bays, in a deep valley, fenced off by high mountains from the rest of the world, lay the country of Boeotia.

Under its blue sky, the peak of Helikon rose high, the mysterious mountain, where between the dark groves, above the sonorous jets of the Hippocrene spring, the goddesses of art - the Muses - lived.

Far below, shining like a mirror, the bright Kopaid Lake spreads. Its shores are overgrown with such reeds, from which the best, most ringing and melodious flutes come out; here at night, people said, sometimes the god of the forests himself, the great Pan, came to cut a reed for his divine flute.

The lake gently rustled in gentle shores, surrounded by arable land, meadows and vineyards, because the inhabitants of Boeotia were skilled farmers. And very close to its water, reflecting in it its temples and towers, houses and gates, stood on one of the lake shores the Boeotian city of Orchomenus.

In those times about which the story will go, the lord of Orchomenus was a happy king Athamant son of King Eol.

In the days of his youth, he captivated the immortal nymph Nephelu-cloud with his beauty and courage. She went down to him. was beautiful Cloud Nephele. Wavy soft hair shrouded her camp in a light mist. Big moist eyes looked with thoughtful caress, as the stars look through the light haze of the sky. Athamas fell in love with Nephele. He married her. And for the time being, their life flowed quietly and happily.

The goddess of rain and fog became related to the hardworking Boeotian people. Often she went out to the roof of the royal palace and remained there for a long time, her hair loose, her hands covered with golden wrists raised up. Standing like that, high above the city, she cast mysterious incantations.

Then the wind began to whistle in the branches of the Boeotian pines, rustling the dry leaves of laurel trees and olives. The sonorous grasshoppers and cicadas stopped their stocolous singing. Nimble lizards huddled in the cracks. The birds were silent. Mountain eagles descended into the gorges. They knew that life-giving rain would soon pour down.

And Nephele sang her prophetic hymns. And at the behest of the queen, her cloud sisters began to converge on the meadows and fields of Boeotia from all sides. Weighed down with moisture, they gathered at the top, swirled, piled up. Distant lightning flashed, muffled thunder rumbled.

And now the first drops of rain are jumping over hot stones: here are the children, opening their small mouths, catching them right on the tongue; fruit trees tremble with washed leaves, and tired peasants joyfully expose their dusty heads to the warm downpour.

Thanks to Nephele, queen of the clouds! they say. - Now we will have bread and our sour, refreshing tired wine: it's raining!

The god Eol often flew at night either through the narrow windows or the wide doors of the Athamantov palace. He bent over the cradles where his grandchildren slept Frix and Gella. He stirred Frix's curls, kissed Gella's bright forehead, blew a mighty breath on them, and, slipping into the royal bedchamber, whispered in the ear of his sleeping son:

Afamant, Afamant, love Nefelu-cloud! Take care of Nephelu-cloud! In her hands is the life and happiness of your country.

And while Athamas obeyed wise advice, everything went well.

But it so happened that the daughter of the Theban king Cadmus, dark-haired, captivated his eyes. ino, who settled in Orchomenus after her sister Agave killed her son Pentheus in a fit of madness.

Ino was a bold, ardent, talkative girl, and Afamant's wife Nefela walked with an inaudible step, spoke quietly, smiled timidly.

Ino often and loudly laughed - Nefela-cloud more often cried with bright tears of tenderness.

Ino was always cheerful, like a sunbeam, - Nefela often became quiet and sad, like her dear sisters, silent rain clouds.

And then Athamas fell in love with the cheerful, stormy Ino. He drove away the meek Nephele, and took the dark-haired daughter of Cadmus as his wife. Athamas fell in love with her, but she did not love anyone but herself. And most of all, the stepmother of the children of Nephele, the boy Frix and the girl Hella, hated. She did not like that Afamant left them with him when Nephele retired from him to the dwelling of the gods, to the distant snowy mountain Olympus.

As time went. Friks and Gella became teenagers, and the stepmother began to be afraid of them: it increasingly occurred to her that, having become adults, they could avenge her for their mother.

Then she decided on an insidious deed to prevent this.

She knew well that now King Athamas and the Boeotian people had nothing to expect help from the offended Nephele-cloud. The clouds had long since bypassed the Boeotian borders. Rain has become rare. Dust swirled everywhere, and the tillers did not know whether they should throw seeds into the dry, heated earth. Ino, however, gathered the Orchomean women and taught them to dry even more in the sun the grains that their husbands were going to sow.

We must teach the proud Nephele a lesson! she laughed defiantly. - Nefela thinks that without her care you will perish! It's a lie. Pray to the sun god Apollo, and he will send you a great harvest!

So did the women of Orkhomen. Dry, skinny grains lay down in the dry, hot earth, and out of many thousands of seeds, not a single one sprouted.

Fear gripped the Boeotians. Famine threatened their country. In vain they prayed to heaven to send them a refreshing rain. In vain did the many-winged Eol persuade the woeful Nephele to forget her offense - the goddess far bypassed the land that had become hateful to her, and her bitter tears flowed over strange, distant lands.

What were people to do? Athamas, in despair, decided to send the wisest elders to the holy city of Delphi: let the prophetic priests of Apollo teach them how to act in order to avoid hunger and death.

The ambassadors set off and reached the Delphic temple.

King Afamant, the priests told them, must beg forgiveness from Nephele the cloud. He must do whatever she tells him to do.

But the insidious Ino did not allow her husband to convey these terrible words to her. Far beyond the walls of the city, where in the shadow of the sacred olive grove the statue of the god Hermes was white, she, disguised as a simple woman, met the ambassadors of Afamant. She made them drink expensive wine. She showered them with sumptuous gifts. She bribed them. And, having come to the royal palace, the gray-bearded ambassadors played cunning before Athamas.

O king! they told him the way Ino taught them. - To save your people from disaster, hunger and death, you must sacrifice your son Frix to the great gods. Take the boy to the sacred mountain and slaughter it there over the altar. Let his blood splash instead of rain on the Boeotian land. Then the gods will forgive you, and this land will bring people a great harvest.

King Athamas wept bitterly when he heard these words. With a cry of despair he tore his royal clothes. He beat his chest, wringed his arms, pressed his beloved son to him. But outside the walls of the palace, a crowd of people was already raging. The people, emaciated from hunger, looked gloomily.

Pale mothers raised in their arms and showed their hungry children to the unfortunate king. And King Afamant made up his mind.

Let one of my sons perish if his death saves many! he whispered, covering his head with the hollow of his chiton. - Oh Nefela, Nefela! The gods punish me terribly for my guilt before you. Terrible is my punishment, Nephele! Have pity on us!

The night passed, full of longing and crying. And so, on a high sacred mountain, under a thick-leaved fig tree, a handful of people gathered at the dawn of the next day. It was quiet and the sky was a bright blue. But it is strange: over the very top of the mountain in the morning there was a light, bright, shining cloud in the blue sky.

Everything was ready for the sacrifice. The white stone, stained with the blood of countless lambs and calves, had been washed since the evening. Fragrant incense grains were lit in censers on copper tripods. Loud vessels with water were brought. The stern old priest, holding a sharp and curved knife in his right hand, held out his left. He ruthlessly grabbed the curly, jet-black hair of a weeping, trembling boy tied up in a white towel.

The boy screamed in horror. Fair-haired Hella, his sister, with a desperate cry rushed to her brother. The priest roughly pushed her away, but suddenly...

Suddenly, a thunderclap sounded over the mountain. And the priest, and all who came to see how the king's son Phrixus would be sacrificed, vzd
groaned and covered their eyes with their hands. A blinding light cut through the air. There was a slight ringing, as if an invisible hand had plucked the golden strings of a huge lyre. A white cloud, shining more and more, flew over the mountain, enveloped the fig tree, the altar, people, and was carried away. And on the bare stones, next to the trembling Frix and Gella, there was a ram, a lamb, but not a simple one, but a golden one. His long, delicate, but heavy fleece shone like a flame. The golden horns twisted in tight curls. The broad back was shiny and burning.

My children! My children, Frix and Gella! - came a gentle voice from a flying cloud. - Quicker! Don't delay! Sit on the back of this ram. I will save you, oh my children!

Hurriedly, not thinking about anything, not being afraid of anything anymore, Frix and Gella grabbed their lush strands with their hands. golden fleece. Clinging closely, embracing each other, they sat on the broad back of a wonderful ram. And at the same moment, he, having run up, rose from the mountain into the air.

A terrible white stone remained under him, the grass around which was brown and hard from the blood spilled over it. Under it flashed past skulls and bones of animals killed here for the glory of the gods. The old priest and other people lay down there on the ground in fear, their heads covered with clothes. Away, under the mountain, the buildings of Orchomenus turned yellow and white, wooded valleys darkened, rivers meandered like silver ribbons, fields and forests spread out. And the magical ram was flying over this country, rising higher and higher.

Here ahead, on the distant horizon, lay a dark blue endless expanse. She rose higher and higher, merged with the sky. That was the sea. Then the young Frix clung tightly to the golden horns of the ram. With eyes full of delight and amazement, he peered into an unprecedented spectacle, comforting his frightened, trembling sister. He persuaded her not to be afraid, showed her now at the clouds sailing towards them, now at the mountains and valleys of Greece flashing below, now at the many-oared boats with red and white sails diving in the blue sea waves. But the girl did not listen to him. Great fear seized her more and more. Her whole body trembled, her hands trembled and could not hold on to the golden fleece, her eyes closed in horror.

And finally, at the moment when the ram left the shores of Greece and rushed over the ever-splashing dark blue sea, Gella's weak fingers unclenched. A light body slid off the side of the ram, glowing with golden reflections. Like a fluff, she flashed in a deep abyss and with a slight splash fell into noisy waters. And immediately the waves closed over her, eternally running into the distance, eternally roaring waves of the sea ...

The wonderful ram did not stop for a moment. It was as if nothing happened, he easily carried the bitterly sobbing Frix into the distance, And the sea that forever hid the weak body of the frightened daughter of Athamas, people began to call since then the sea of ​​​​Gella - the Hellespont.

Look at the map of Greece drawn by learned people. Between Europe and Asia you will see a narrow strait. Now they call it the Dardanelles, but this is the Hellespont...

Faster and faster the magical golden ram rushed through the air. He flew over another great strait, the Bosphorus, crossed the Euxine Pontus, which people now call the Black Sea, and finally, heavy with fatigue, began to descend to the distant shore, over which the majestic mountains of the Caucasus shone in the mist, like white and pink clouds.

Here, on the banks of the mountain river Phasis, in the mysterious overseas country of Colchis, where the son of the sun god, the magician Eet, then reigned, brought the wonderful ram of his sad rider.

Eet knew in advance that this would ever happen. He also knew that the golden-fleeced ram brings happiness to the country in which he resides.

Therefore, the overjoyed king kindly received Phrixus in his palace.

I will raise you as my own son, O Phrixus, grandson of Eol! - he said. “But I will never let you leave my realm. Your ram is to be sacrificed to the great cloud chaser, the almighty Zeus. That's how it should be done!

And so it was done. The ram was slaughtered, and the fleece, glowing with a hot sheen of gold, was hung on a huge, sprawling plane tree in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares.

This grove rustled with its branches on the Black Sea coast. High above it rose the peaks of the snowy Caucasus Mountains. Rocks surrounded it on all sides; Eet put a terrible fire-breathing dragon to guard the only path to the rune - and day and night the monster of terrible and keen eyes did not close for a moment, guarding such a jewel.

A little time passed, and a rumor about a great miracle spread throughout the world. Everyone began to talk about a magical fleece, forever shining like heat in a dark grove on the Black Sea coast. This rumor also reached distant Boeotia. And King Afamant, dying of old age, bequeathed to his descendants by all means to get and return to Greece this fleece that brings happiness. "That's why," people said, "it depends on whether the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Afamant will be happy."

Phrixus and Helle were the children of Athamas (king of the Minian tribe in Boeotia) and Nephele (goddess of the clouds). Subsequently, Athamas married Ino, who bore him two sons. The stepmother disliked her husband's children from a previous marriage and decided to destroy them. Ino burned the seeds, caused a crop failure, and bribed the ambassadors from the Delphic oracle to say that in order to stop the crop failure, Frix and Hell should be sacrificed to Zeus. The cloud goddess Nephele saved her children by entangling them in a cloud and sending them on a golden-fleeced (i.e. with a golden skin) ram to Colchis (a kingdom in the territory of modern Georgia).
On the way, Hella fell into the waters of the strait, which after that received a name in honor of her - the Hellespont (now the Dardanelles). Frix reached Colchis, where he sacrificed a magical ram to Zeus, and hung his skin (Golden Fleece) on an oak tree in the grove of Ares.

Grant R. Fairbanks. Sculpture "Frix and Gella"

The image of the Golden Fleece has firmly entered the world culture. The zodiac constellation Aries is named after the golden-fleeced ram on which Frix and Gella fled. In the 14th century, Phillip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, compared a golden-haired lady who fell at full gallop from a horse with Hella, who fell from the back of a golden-fleeced ram, and, impressed by this, founded the knightly Order of the Golden Fleece. Nowadays, you can often find companies (especially for tailoring and selling clothes) bearing the name Golden Fleece.

Yutaka Kagaya. Aries (Frix, Gella and golden-fleece ram). Picture from the cycle "Zodiac".

The ancient Greek historian Diodorus Siculus (I century BC) interpreted the myth of Phrixus and Gella based on the criteria of reasonableness, believing that the brother and sister crossed the sea on a ship, the bow of which was decorated with a ram’s head, and Gella, who became ill from due to seasickness, fell into the sea.
However, there was a more optimistic version of the myth: the ram dropped Gella and lost the horn, but Poseidon saved her, and she bore him a son.

Frix, according to the myths, married one of the sisters of Medea - Halkiope or Iofossa. Or King Eet gave Frix as a gift to the king of the Scythians, who fell in love with him as his own son and eventually gave him the crown.

As for Ino, the culprit of the flight of Gella and Frixa, she was punished by the goddess Hera for having taken up Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Semele (Ino's sister). Hera sent madness on Ino and her husband Athamas. Athamant killed one of his sons, and Ino, saving the second, jumped into the sea with him, turning into the good goddess Leucothea, who once saved Odysseus when he sailed from the island of Calypso and his raft was broken by Poseidon (for more details, see the article