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The Death of Adonis

Our story begins in excessive familial love. Myrrha, The daughter of a king, had been much much blessed by Aphrodite. Not the least of her blessings had been her very existence, for her father was the son of Pygmalian, and Galatea, whom the goddess had bestowed life on, out of compassion for her creator. But she did not think to express her appreciation. Angered by the lack of respect, the goddess corrupted her, turning a daughter's natural love for her father into something less wholesome.

Presented with a long line of suitors, she was asked by her father what sort of man she would desire. To this, she said, why one like you. And he smiled, not understanding. That night, tormented by her lust, she sought in her mind to make the wrong seem right, but could not. Her nurse found her hanging herself, and viewed the satisfaction of Myrhha's desires, as the least of the evils presented to her.

The queen was away, for nine long nights, at a festival of Demeter, forbidden her husband's company during it. Drunk with wine, the king eagerly received the nurse, as she told him of of a young woman who had come to warm his empty bed. In the dark, she was brought to him, and they began to make love, until illness struck him. In shame, Myrrha rose to leave, but her father wished to see the face of his young love. He brought a burning taper before him, and in its dim red light saw the truth revealed.

He pursued his daughter, with sword in hand. She prayed for help, but could bear the thought of neither life nor death, and so was granted neither, being transformed into a tree, with the scarcely formed child of her illicit union concealed within a "wooden womb".

The child grew, until he was ready to be born, his cries heard by none save the empty forest, and the gods. When the day appointed for his birth arrived, Aphrodite passed the loom of the fates, gazing upon the slender thread that issued forth from the daughter's cord, only to see another thread brought beside it. Seeing her shock, fate asked her if she would have them leave a cut thread unbound.

Feeling sorrow for the victims of a careless impiety, Aphrodite rushed to earth, to find a boar ripping the tree open, its tusks growing ever closer to the child within. As the newborn Adonis first tasted the outside air, Aphrodite snatched him away, sending him away away to be raised by Persephone, entrusting him to Death herself, in order to save him from it. He grew to manhood, and true to her word, Persephone released him into the world, knowing that one day, fate would return him to her.

Time passed, and lives changed, but the memories remained.

The goddess knew that fate would not give up so easily, and watched over her victim's child. Fate, in its turn, was watching her, from motives far less kind. As she played with her son Eros, one day, he wounded her with one of his arrows. She pushed him away, before he could shoot again, but her wound was deep. Before she healed, she saw Adonis.

From that moment on she was drawn to him, forgetting all else. The sound of her voice was no longer heard on Olympus, for she had no desire to be, where he could not go. She who used to love to rest in the shade, pursuing no quarry save the hearts of those about her, soon wandered through the wilderness, dressed as if she was Artemis, herself, hunting by the side of the one she loved.

But she to whom the young Adonis was once given, was loath to return him. Persephone loved Adonis as greatly as Aphrodite, though perhaps not as well, and desired to make him her own, regardless of Aphrodite's wishes, and even those of Adonis himself. The opportunity to make those desires felt was close at hand.

As Aphrodite wandered the forest beside her chosen mate, she sought to insure that he would not become the hunted. As she called her dogs, she would seek gentler prey, always being careful to avoid those creatures to whom nature had given weapons of their own, urging Adonis to do likewise. "Please do not trade your life and my happiness, for your glory", she said, warning him that his charm would not touch the hearts of such creatures. And so, as he rode beside her, his heart would always pound, but never from the hunt.

As the sun began to set, and the ashes were not yet cold upon the hearth, the goddess felt a longing to return to her home, where some say that she once rose from the sea. Adonis went with her, spear in hand, and she felt a twinge of fear. Again, she asked him to be careful. And away she drove, hoping that he had listened. But neither fate nor Persephone would be denied.

Adonis hungered for richer game to place upon his fire. If it was true that the gods, and Aphrodite herself, could see all, perhaps they would fail to look, this once. And his dogs had already picked up the trail. Adonis was quick to follow.

They had driven an ancient wild boar from its lair. He threw his spear and wounded the animal. But he could not kill it. The beast drew out the weapon with its jaws, and overtook him, as he fled. It buried its tusks in his side, leaving him for death to find. And, upon a loom, a thread was bound, and cut.

Aphrodite had not yet reached Cyprus, when she heard him groaning in pain. She rushed back, to find the blood pouring from his lifeless body. Mourning him, she cursed the fates by name, though only two were guilty of the crime. She vowed that their victory would be a partial one, at best. Determined that the memorials of her grief would endure, and that neither his life or death would ever be forgotten, she sprinkled the nectar of the gods on his blood.

As each drop struck the dust, it became a flower of bloody hue. One which blooms to this day, but only lives briefly, as did the man it serves to commemorate. It is said that that the wind which blows the blossoms open, will soon afterwards blow the petals away; so it is called the Anemone, or Wind Flower, for that which brings forth its life, ends it.

Fate and Persephone, perhaps, would have had the story end there, but Aphrodite would not. She to whom all hearts were open, knew where to find her rival.

Down to the realm from which none return, the kingdom of Hades, and his stolen queen, Aphrodite directed her thoughts. Into a darkness which the day had never banished, were lost the fading echos of her footsteps, as she entered, her rage her only companion. Cerberus, the guardian, stepped aside as she passed, not knowing whether to feel delight or fear. And down she continued, until she waited beside the nameless shades, waiting for passage across the Acheron, the river of woe.

As Charon, the ferryman, approached the shore, he stopped, and stared at the goddess in cold silence, and then astonishment, as she raised a sword, and threatened to break the gates of Hell, until the dead should outnumber the living, under the light of the sun, if he would not let her enter. Over the silent waters Charon fled, to bring the warning to his king and queen.

Charon entered the palace of Hades, begging his leave, to announce the goddess' arrival, and to relay her message to Persephone. At this, the Queen of the Underworld turned pale with anger, at this violation of the sovereignty of her domain.

"Is it not decreed", she asked, "that all that passes within these Halls becomes forever ours? Shall I now become be a caring friend to the dead, as I share a draught from the Lethe, toasting the health of each ? Shall I mourn the mates of all who are left widowed, as she would have me mourn her own? Shall I sit beside the mother, as she cries for the dead child in her arms? Shall we weep for the maidens who were torn from those who loved them? Welcome her, ferryman, and show her the usual tender courtesies."

Across the rivers, and through seven gates was Aphrodite lead, by the ferryman who welcomed her to the realm below, with Persephone's kind greetings, and offers of peace. At each gate, she was asked to surrender another adornment to the guardian's safekeeping as the price of passage, to that place where worldly goods can not follow, until, having surrendered all in her possession, and entirely unclad, she was brought before the queen, having yielded even her sword.

Without a thought, Persephone exploded in fury. She called on her servants to bind the goddess in Tartarus, and release upon her every plague and misery that had ever brought the mortal into her presence. But, even as her broken body was consumed, immortality denying her even the release of death, the goddess would not yield, and she made her demand again, more loudly than before. Persephone welcomed her to eternity.

In the world above, Aphrodite had made herself felt, by her absence. Man forgot woman, and goddess payed no attention to god. The sounds of the newborn faded from the air, and even the beasts no longer sought to continue their kind. And still the argument in the realm below raged, until it echoed throughout all of existence, to the top of Olympus, and Zeus, himself.

Reality presented itself to Hades, in the form of his brother. He had no illusion of being able to hold either Aphrodite, or Adonis in his realm by force of arms. But there was a matter of honor, as his wife had pointed out, for Zeus himself had promised to Hades, all that she had said was decreed. And yet, had she also not promised to protect Adonis, and what had become of this promise?

To end the dispute, Zeus decreed a compromise, after securing Aphrodite's release, and having her healed. During each year, Adonis would remain with Persephone during the Winter, a gift given to a gift. His summers would be given to Aphrodite. The remnant of the year, was his to spend as he pleased, and always it pleased him to spend it with she who had cared for him most, in the sunlight and the open air.

As certainly as Winter would come, though, each year would come the time when Adonis would have to rejoin Persephone, dying again, as she departed beneath the earth to be with Hades, who had first taken her to his realm below. And so, each year, as the anemones bloom for the last time, the world remembers the death of Adonis, and looks forward to the time when life and warmth shall return.

Returning, now to the subject of Aphrodite ...

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The Death of Adonis

Note : this material, written by Antistoicus, is copyrighted 1999. See notice. If you want to see our justification for the additions made to the story, and a little discussion of it, either click here for the annoted version of the story, or here if you wish to skip straight to the footnotes, without having to reread the story.

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