BIRTH OF PARIS

What a nightmare! Queen Hecabe of Troy was pregnant with the child of her husband, King Priam of Troy. But a few days before she was to deliver her baby, Hecabe dreamt that, instead of an infant , she had brought forth a bundle of burning firewood, from which wriggled countless fiery snakes that consumed everything.

Yikes! Hec, you've got to lay off those magic mushrooms! Awaking screaming from this bad acid trip, Hecabe cried out that the great city of Troy was ablaze, as were the nearby forests of Mount Ida. In her dream she had foreseen the fiery destruction of mighty Troy.

King Priam immediately summoned his son Aesacus, a famous seer, who wasted no time in announcing that "The child about to be born will be the ruin of our country! I beg you to do away with him," he beseeched King Priam.

Say what?! Kill the baby? Damn oracles! They never bring good news. But Aesacus wasn't quite finished. A few days after his ominous warning, he made a further announcement: "The royal Trojan who brings forth a child today must be destroyed, and so must be her offspring," he said.

Alas, for every seer, there is a sucker. That very morning King Priam's sister Cilla delivered her infant son Munippus and Priam at once ordered both his sister and her baby killed. I'm here to tell you that the royal jerk didn't even bother to get a second opinion from another oracle! Yo, Priam, that's your sister and her newborn you just murdered!

Bummer. Hate when that happens. My ancient ancestors were quite barbaric at times, yes?...Still, when Queen Hecabe was delivered of a son before nightfall, Priam felt pity and spared their lives, even though the seers and priests of Apollo urged him and Hecabe at least to kill the luckless child.

No way. Already in deep do-do with his family, who were understandably  perturbed that he had killed his sister and her baby, Priam knew better than to incur Hecabe's wrath by murdering their baby boy in cold blood. So he sent for his chief herdsman, a pleasant peasant named Agelaus. Priam charged Agelaus with the odious task of getting rid of the newborn son.

But Agelaus was a softie. Unwilling to use a rope or sword on the helpless baby, instead he exposed the infant on wild Mount Ida, knowing that in a day or two the boy would be dead from the elements or mauled by the beasts.

Imagine his surprise when Agelaus in a few days returned to bury the baby's corpse, only to discover that a she-bear had found the newborn and had suckled him as if he were one of her own. Amazed at this portend, and unwilling to tempt the Fates by further attempting harm upon the child, instead Agelaus carried the boy home in a wallet - hence the name 'Paris', which roughly translates from ancient Greek into 'Gucci wallet' - for his wife to rear with his own newborn son.

To prove to Priam that his command had been carried out, Agelaus delivered to his King the tongue of a dog as evidence of the child's death. (After-hour rumors circulating around Thanasi's Olympus Greek Restaurant had it that Hecabe bribed Agelaus to save her son, paying him handsomely to keep the secret from Priam. I'm not telling, but I will reveal that Hecabe's dog never again barked...)

Thus begins our story. Had Agelaus carried out Priam's directive and murdered Paris, perhaps mighty Troy still would be standing today. But then, the world would have missed out on the greatest heroic tale ever.

Why don't you pour yourself a cup of your favorite ambrosia, curl up in your most comfortable chair, and join me and the Muse as we sing about the gore and glory of the War of Troy...

BIRTH OF HELEN

Nemesis was having a real bad day. My horny godfather Zeus had set his lustful gaze upon the beautiful goddess of vengeance and retribution,  and was now pursuing her relentlessly. We laughed at the irony, because normally it was Nemesis who harassed and tormented others, but she didn't find the role reversal funny at all.

Nemesis changed into a fish, only to have Zeus  quickly transform into a beaver. Leaping ashore and turning into this and that wild beast, still she couldn't lose her amorous hunter, who simply changed himself into the form of yet wilder and swifter beasts.

I'm sure something similar has happened to you at a party. Men can be such oafs! At last Nemesis flew off as a wild goose, and transforming himself into a swan, Zeus caught her and had his way.

The wild goose chase paid off; the egg from this union begat Helen. You see, the story goes that Nemesis arrived in Sparta, where she laid an egg in a marsh. Leda, wife of King Tyndareus of Sparta, found the egg and brought it home, where eventually Helen was hatched.

Other versions of Helen's birth exist. Some say that Zeus pretended to be a swan being pursued by an eagle. Taking refuge in the bosom of Nemesis, a la Hera's cuckoo, he ravished her and she laid the egg. Prankster Hermes threw the egg between the thighs of Leda, as she sat on a stool with her legs apart. When Leda gave birth to Helen, Zeus placed the images of Swan and Eagle in the Heavens, to commemorate this event.

That makes perfect sense to me. How about you?

Yet others insist that it was Leda herself with whom Zeus consorted in the guise of a swan. From the egg she laid were hatched Helen and her brothers Castor and Polydeuces, my Argonaut buddies. From a second egg was hatched Helen's sister Clytaemnestra, they say.

How can I put this delicately? Leda, apparently not entirely satisfied with Zeus'...er...swan song, had also lain with her husband Tyndareus that night, so the actual parentage of Helen, Castor, Polydeuces and Clytaemnestra was a tad suspect...My uncle Homer insisted that Helen alone was a daughter of Zeus, and that Castor and Polydeuces were the sons of Tyndareus...But why don't we carry on with our story while we wait for the DNA results to come back from the lab?

Helen grew to be the most beautiful of mortal women. I'm talking drop-dead gorgeous, folks. Even among the goddesses, arguably only my cousin Aphrodite, resplendent in her golden girdle, was more stunning. Men would gaze upon Helen and their hearts would ache with longing.

Hell, women would gaze upon Helen and their hearts would ache with longing, and that's not even counting the ones from Lesbos...

How pretty was Helen? The great hero Theseus beheld the maiden when she was a mere twelve years of age and instantly fell in love with her. He and his pal Peirithous abducted Helen, brought her to Athens, and drew lots to see which one would marry her when she reached womanhood. Theseus won and, to appease his equally love-struck friend, promised Peirithous to help him find a wife of equal status.

(One late night down at Thanasi's Olympus, an inebriated Theseus confided to me that he had "fixed" the draw to ensure that he got Helen: "I knew that Peirithous always called 'heads' so I used my trick coin with an eagle on both sides, Myth Man dude," he slurred. "I was willing to go to hell and back for that girl, never seen anyone so beautiful...")

When Helen became old enough to marry, Peirithous boldly announced that his chosen wife was Persephone, Queen of the Underworld. Never mind that at the time Demeter's daughter was married to the King of the Underworld, Hades, who probably had something to say about that.

Oh my...What's a Greek hero to do? Undaunted, Theseus journeyed to hell, where he and Peirithous became trapped by Hades in Chairs of Forgetfulness. They wasted four years there until my nephew Hercules happened to chance by, recognized his old buddy Theseus, and extracted him from the Chair. Herc refused to free Peirithous, in order to punish him, but I'm saving all that until it's time to sing about Theseus... 

During her abductors' lengthy absence, Helen was rescued by her brothers Castor and Polydeuces, better known as the Dioscuri. They returned to Sparta and Helen became the desired object of a great contest. Princely suitors from all parts of Greece came to King Tyndareus to humbly request his permission to marry Helen, whose beauty was by now renowned.

Sure. Take a number and a seat, and we'll be with you shortly. Helen's intense beauty was legendary, and being abducted - but untouched - by one of the greatest heroes who ever lived only added to the mystique. Helen had her pick among the aristocrats of Greece, all of them bearing glittering gifts.

It got downright ugly, and nearly reached farcical levels when shrewd King Tyndareus listed Helen on open auction down at EBay.com. Odysseus was one of the suitors but his balance sheet didn't come close to matching many of the other royals, so he knew that his chances to win Helen were slim to none. He told Tyndareus that he knew a way to avoid all-out war with the unsuccessful suitors. All Odysseus asked in return was for the King to help him land Penelope as wife, a beautiful maiden who was Tyndareus' niece.

When the deal was made, he advised King Tyndareus that he could avoid bloodshed by making the suitors swear to the gods that they would defend to the death whomever was chosen as Helen's husband. Very clever. This became known as the Oath of Tyndareus.

It was in the suitors' best interest to respect the oath, so they all swore to uphold the claim of the successful prince.

At the end of the "auction" Menelaus held the highest bid, being the Bill Gates of his time, and that's how Helen became his wife. The rest of the dejected princes had no choice but to adhere to their oath. It was this same oath which compelled them to help Menelaus get her back when Helen ran away with Paris, igniting the Trojan War. But I'm getting way ahead of myself...

PARIS GROWS UP

Even though Paris was no more than a common slave, there was no disguising his noble birth. His outstanding beauty, strength and intelligence betrayed his royal heritage. At an early age he earned admiration and the honorary surname Alexander after routing a band of cattle-thieves and recovering the stolen cows.

It was testament to his beauty that the fountain-nymph Oenone, exquisite daughter of the River Oeneus, chose Paris as her lover. Together they would herd their flocks and hunt joyously, Paris carving her name on the bark of trees. Oenone was a respected prophetess, who had been taught the art of foretelling the future by Apollo, or, as some claim, Rhea. She was a young woman of extraordinary wisdom and understanding.

Knowing what the future held, Oenone made the best of her time with Paris, for she realized that soon he would leave her. But she told her lover that once the coming sordid war was over, only she could heal his wounds, and to return to her. She would be waiting.

Paris had a passion for setting bulls to fight one another, and he would crown the victor with flowers and the loser with straw. He eventually identified his best bull and challenged anyone to compete against him, promising to set a golden crown upon the horns of any bull that could defeat his own.

God of war Ares turned himself into a bull in jest and sure enough was able to overcome Paris' champion fighter. Even though Paris was a poor man, nonetheless without hesitation he scrounged together his meager savings and awarded the golden crown to the bull previously known as Ares...

This great act of sportsmanship caught the attention of the Olympians, who atop Mount Olympus were watching the antics of Ares with amusement. Zeus took particular heed of this sporting gesture and that's why he chose Paris to be the judge when it came time to pick the most beautiful woman.

The Judgment of Paris

So there was Paris, minding his own sheep, happily consorting with Oenone, when Hermes appeared, with Aphrodite, Hera and Athena in tow. What's up with that? Paris felt a wave of "vuja de" overwhelm him, which is the feeling that you've never been somewhere before...

Well, it appears that Eris, that trouble-making goddess of Discord, had not been invited to the wedding of Pelius and Thetis. (No kidding...who in their right mind would invite mean old Discord to their wedding? Wouldn't that be asking for trouble? Eris was my least-favorite aunt!) To gain revenge, the shunned goddess of Discord threw a golden apple among the invited guest, a prize to be given to the most beautiful woman present.

(Ladies and gentlemen, I'm probably not the first person to bring this up, but what we have here is the first beauty pageant in recorded history.)

To nobody's surprise, Hera, Athena and Aphrodite were the three finalists for the golden apple of Eris, and they asked Zeus to make the ultimate selection, but wise Zeus wanted nothing to do with the final decision...

("Whoa! Talk about a lose-lose proposition," I heard Zeus muttering. "If I don't pick my wife Hera, she castrates me! Athena's my favorite child, and she sure is beautiful, so I'd be tempted to award her the apple. But then there's Aphrodite, and wouldn't you know it, she's wearing that darn golden girdle again! What a babe! Oh my... What's a god to do?")

So Zeus, remembering how well Paris had handled losing the bullfight to Ares, assigned the volatile task to him, washing his hands of the whole messy affair.

Poor panicked Paris in turn tried to weasel out of judging the beauty contest, immediately offering to split the golden apple three ways, but Hermes convinced him that it wasn't possible to do so. Paris had to choose only one goddess, Zeus had commanded it. Oh my.

Ok. Resigned to his fate, Paris agreed to be the judge, on the condition that the losers not punish him.

"I'm just a poor shepherd, how can you ask me to be an arbiter of divine beauty?" he cried. "Still, if it is by command of Zeus, I beg the losers not to be vexed at me, for I am only a mere mortal, bound to make mistakes!"

No problem. The goddesses, each confident that they alone would win, agreed to abide by his decision. Paris turned to Hermes for help in choosing but the messenger god shook his head and told him that it was completely up to his discretion.

"Shall I have them disrobe for you, Paris?" he asked with a smile. Hey, this may be fine after all, thought the shepherd.

"Sure, it's best to judge them in all their beauty," agreed Paris. As the goddesses stripped down to their radiant birthday suits, a bitter exchange took place between Aphrodite and Athena:

Athena: "I insist that the tramp take off her golden girdle, it's quite the unfair advantage. Naked means naked! Let's get real, as long as she's wearing that damn girdle, no god can resist her, let alone a mortal, wise and handsome though he may be..."

Aphrodite: "Are you talking to me? At least I'm not a thousand year old virgin, Minerva dear! (Athena hated being called Minerva, and Aphro knew it!) And if I have to take off my golden girdle you'll have to remove your helmet. You're positively hideous without it."

Athena: "Well, at least there's not a tunnel connecting my ears..."

Aphrodite: "Yeah, and if you stopped acting like a man, and instead bedded a few of them, maybe you wouldn't be such an uptight old bitch!"

Oh my...Ladies, ladies, manners please. Remember, you are goddesses. Fully nude at last, one by one the great Olympians slowly paraded before Paris, like models at a Parisian fashion show...Hermes just sat back and took in the view, kicking himself for forgetting his Olympus digital camera...

Hera came first. Posing seductively before Paris, she asked him to examine her at his leisure. What a beauty! Paris couldn't believe the Queen of the Olympians stood before him in all her glory.

"Are you sure Zeus ok'd this?" he shouted out to Hermes, who stood at a discreet distance with the other two goddesses. Not to be paranoid, but any minute now Paris fully expected one of Zeus' patented thunderbolts to strike him upside the head, for ogling his wife...

Hera played her trump card. Knowing that the other two would offer Paris bribes, she struck first. If she were awarded the apple, she would make Paris lord of Asia and the richest man alive, she said, cutting right to the chase. That's what I always liked about my great aunt Hera, she never was one to mince words. Living with Zeus did that to you.

Hey, this is going to be ok! thought Paris to himself. With a straight face, he told Hera that he couldn't be bribed and thanked her. He couldn't wait to see what the others had to say and display...

Next to show and tell was Athena. The goddess of wisdom was just as beautiful as Hera, and she looked terrific even without her helmet, regardless of what Aphrodite said! What a body! Athena was a...well... goddess! In every form of the word.

She was as athletically inclined as Artemis, swift goddess of the hunt, and her muscle tone was superb. Paris gazed upon Athena's fair body, knowing that he was probably the first, and quite possibly the last, person to see her naked and live to tell about it. Oh my...

Athena let Paris admire her at length, blushing at the unaccustomed scrutiny, then she purposely delivered her offer. Show enough brains and pick her, she said, and she would make him victorious in all his battles, as well as turn him into the handsomest and wisest man in the world.

Whoa! I really like this, thought Paris...Assuring divine Athena that he couldn't be bribed, Paris gathered his composure and waited for my cousin Aphrodite to display her wares, wondering if there was a cold stream nearby...

Ever so slowly Aphro sashayed up to Paris, coming so close to him that they were nearly touching. Mercy! Paris pinched himself. Ouch! Yeah, she's real, alright. No, I'm not dreaming. Oh my...

Thank you Zeus. Thank you, thank you Zeus...

Moving yet closer, if that was possible, Aphrodite locked her gaze on the dazed Paris. Her smell enveloped his very being, making him drunk with sensual desire.

Did I remember to thank you Zeus? he thought...

Aphrodite chuckled to herself. This is too easy, she mused. Men. How could the other two hags even think that they could match her beauty? Ha!

Still. Not taking any chances, she whispered in Paris' ear that if she were awarded the golden apple, she would see to it that the most beautiful mortal woman alive was his.

Her name was Helen and she was as gorgeous and sensual as herself, Aphro told Paris, who by now was hyper-ventilating. Helen was his for the asking, all Paris had to do was declare Aphrodite the winner.

What would you have done? I think I would have taken Athena's offer, but then again, I didn't have a nude Aphrodite draped all over me. Poor Paris had no chance. Much to the dismay of Hera and Athena, he handed Aphro the golden apple of Eris.

The rest is history.

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