Free Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One by Bernard Evslin Page A

to live without hope. And there was a prophecy abroad, which no one dared speak aloud, but was whispered from household to household. It was: “Help will come from the sea.” Just six words, very short ones, but they fed the flickering flame of hope that warmed the Libyans through years of icy despair.
    But like many other a tangled tale of monster and hero, the adventure that was to give meaning to this prophecy was being brewed in high, hidden councils. The fate of this monstrous king, youngest son of Mother Earth, was sprouting far from earth, out of plots woven by the feuding gods.
    You might say it began with Prometheus.

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    Sport for the Gods
    When Zeus first became king of the gods, there was a Titan named Prometheus who occupied a special place in the heavens. He dwelt alone in a cloud-castle, refusing to join the court or take sides in any quarrel.
    He was so wise that everyone sought his counsel. Zeus alone disliked him, but was not ready to show his feelings.
    Prometheus came to him one day and said: “You have just begun your reign and I have no wish to discourage you, but I must tell you that we gods are doomed.”
    â€œWe are immortal,” said Zeus.
    â€œWe cannot die in a gross physical sense,” said the Titan. “But we can cease to be gods. And that for gods is worse than death.”
    â€œWhat threatens us?”
    â€œWe are being starved.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œA god’s nourishment is to be worshiped. But there is nobody to do that.”
    â€œWe have each other,” said Zeus.
    â€œAnd we love or hate each other, or, mostly, are indifferent. But we cannot worship each other because we are all of the same family.”
    â€œDo you have a remedy, oh wise one, or have you come only to spread gloom?”
    â€œI have a suggestion,” said Prometheus. “I propose that we plant a new species in this garden of earth. And these new beings, created by us, resembling us in some ways, will lack our power, of course, but will have what we lack—the capacity to worship.”
    â€œTo worship us , you mean?”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œYour idea has some merit …”
    â€œIt is you, oh Zeus, they will especially worship.”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œYou are king of the gods. Of course they will worship you most.”
    â€œThe idea gains merit even as you speak, good Titan. I shall consider it carefully.”
    Zeus decided to take the Titan’s advice. After several trials, he succeeded in creating a clever two-legged race and set the first batch down on earth, dividing them into male and female so that they could begin to breed. At first, he spent hours watching them, but ceased to be amused by their antics. They seemed to be showing little impulse to worship their creator.… They did occasionally tie a bundle of straw into a kind of doll, mumbling to it and offering bits of food. But Zeus could not connect that crude figure with himself. So he lost interest.
    The other gods, however, were fascinated—for a different reason. They began to believe that Zeus had planted mankind on earth as a landowner stocks a trout stream. Hunting humans became the gods’ favorite pastime. It didn’t provide the thrills of hunting a wild boar who could turn upon you with razor tusks, or a lion with claws that could rend you to shreds; man had neither horns nor tusks, nor claws, and was too slow-footed to offer the excitement of the chase. But the creature did possess that which other animals did not: self-consciousness, a sense of the future, a shuddering aversion to death and remarkable skill at evading it. Also, and most entertaining of all, these creatures were questioners; they groped for answers. Unlike other prey, they tried to understand what was happening to them. They could not comprehend the invisible arrows that struck out of nowhere, killing young and old, the strong and the feeble. And their agonized