Legendary Heroes and Feats: Achilles

Achilles receiving divine armor from his goddess mother

Achilles, as depicted in Homer’s Iliad, is a legendary hero. You might even say a mythological one since his mother was said to be a goddess—a goddess strong enough to protect Zeus when all the other gods ganged up against him. Some mom! And some son.

He’s an interesting bundle of contradictions. In the Iliad, he asked uncomfortable questions of the Greek leadership in the Trojan War. Why are we fighting? What is the meaning of a warrior’s life if we all die, both the one who fights in the forefront and the one who hangs back? For what end should our fathers, mothers and wives suffer such losses? He had the moral courage to be a thorn in a powerful but greedy leader’s side and defend the men of the fighting ranks. Homer’s depiction of this questioning dimension in Achilles’ character makes him an appealing hero to a modern world, weary of war. Achilles would be great in a democracy—just the kind of gadfly every open society needs. Through Achilles Homer lets us explore the big questions about life and war, family and loyalty, love and hate. There’s something so irresistible about a man who has all the physical power and none of the answers but is willing to ask the questions anyway.

On the battlefield at Troy

But also in the Homeric tradition Achilles was the Best of the Achaians, a formal title that meant everyone saw him as the pre-eminent warrior without question on the battlefield. If he sometimes questioned why they fought, he still excelled at the fighting.

One battle in particular showed his semi-divine excellence. The Greeks and other ancient people imagined that every river was a god, and appropriately enough, the rivers that embraced Troy on either side were controlled by divinities who supported the Trojans. At one particularly fierce moment in the war, Achilles slaughters Trojans right and left in order to get to Hector, the greatest of the Trojan warriors. Hector has killed Achilles’ best friend, and Achilles is driven by both grief and fury. He kills so many Trojans on the bank of the River Scamander that the divine river decides to enter the battle and finish Achilles off. Huge waves rear up to drown the hero. Zeus sees what is going on and brings a fiery wind to help drive away the water. Eventually Achilles fights his way free and dashes across the plain killing Trojans as he goes. Revenge is a powerful motivator. To succeed against a godly river is an extraordinary feat—even if we rationalize the tale it’s still impressive. Almost nothing is more powerful than the onslaught of tons of water. But when the tradition remembers your battle as a victory over a god, well, that’s a pretty legendary feat.

I’ve been intrigued at where the tradition behind such a hero might have arisen. It’s as likely as not that some “real” human warrior provided the beginning of the Achilles legend. Some version of a Trojan War did historically happen (I discuss this in articles entitled  “Troy History or Myth?” and “Did the Trojan War Really Happen?”) But any historical warrior received several generations of mythologizing before he became the Achilles we hear about in the tradition.

We think of Achilles as part of the Greek tradition because Homer composed in Greek, but it’s also the case that the poetic/mythological tradition of the Trojan War, including the stories of the heroes on the Greek side, arose in the region around Troy, the western coast of what is now Turkey. The peoples there, in the era in which any “Trojan War” would have occurred, were culturally and religiously closely related to the powerful Hittite Empire just to the east. Troy was formally allied to the Hittites through much of this period.

Among the Hittite myths there is one about a young, angry god, Telipinu, and I think his myth influenced the way Achilles’ story formed. Homer and the other oral bards would have heard the Telipinu cycle of myths, and they could have incorporated it into their understanding of this hero.

Hittite gods carved into an open air sanctuary

As the Hittite myth describes it, Telipinu, son of the Stormgod, attends the assembly of the gods one day only to find they have offended his honor so vilely that he rushes out in fury and refuses to have anything to do with the gods or mankind. He runs around burning rivers and hiding from his friends. His absence from the company of the gods causes great harm. Eventually he is brought back into harmony with the gods. This mythic plotline calls up pieces of Achilles’ story with remarkable precision, including burning up a river. I think this young warrior god, Telipinu, whom the armies of the Hittites and Trojans described as “running before them” in battle, became intermixed with a human warrior. I think this literal combination of man and myth gave rise to a hero slightly disjointed with his world, one who could ask big moral questions as well as fight.

I’ve expressed this understanding of Achilles through fiction in my novel of Briseis and the Trojan War, Hand of Fire. While my readers need never have read the Iliad or any Hittite myths, those influences guided my writing. Here’s my description of Achilles burning up the river, with some appropriately ambiguous help from Briseis and the gods. (For my sources of inspiration, you’ll find the relevant “battle in the river” verses in Homer in Iliad Bk 21, the first 400 lines or so, and the Telipinu myth is published in English translation in Hittite Myths, by Harry Hoffner, Jr., published by Scholars Press.)

“There—Briseis saw a golden flash. Achilles stood in the river surrounded by the dead bodies of his victims. The water crested above him like a lion pouncing on its prey. Boulders and bodies, carried by the water’s force, knocked his feet from under him. Troy’s immortal river itself engaged him in battle. Achilles reached for a branch of an overhanging elm, but the whole tree wrenched from the riverbank, its dense roots dragging the river bluff with them into the water, nearly burying Achilles.

Surely this was not his fate, to lie folded under mud and stones in the hostile waters of Scamander, but how could even he escape such raw power?

To reach for Troy he had fought against the city’s gods for so long; she could not tolerate this river god rising against him also and drowning his beauty in its murk, no matter how many dead he had thrown into Scamander’s waters. She strained forward, willing him to escape the river’s hold. A wind rose up, hot and blasting. It caught her hair and pulled it toward the river. When she tried to gather her hair in her hand, it scorched her fingers and escaped her hold.

The banks of the river burst into flames. The dead burned in a sudden pyre. The water boiled. The fish leapt upon the scorched banks in a vain attempt to flee the flames that had replaced their watery homes. The tamarisks and elms along the river’s edge became monstrous torches.

In the midst of this inferno, she saw Achilles lift his massive shield and spear in victory. Her heart surged. Not even the divine river could stop him. She heard his shout of joy as he raced across the plain, blasting Trojans like a bolt of lightning. Invincible warrior god, unstoppable fire.”

Legendary Heroes and Feats: Siegfried

By Kim Rendfeld

The story of Siegfried is part dragon slayer and part tragic soap opera, and it’s deeply ingrained in the Germanic psyche. You only need drive along the Rhine and encounter Drachenfels, the high hill where he slew the beast, and Worms, the city where he was betrayed and murdered.

The roots in history are tenuous. Part of Siegfried’s story might be based on a fifth century slaughter of rebellious Burgundians by the Romans, and a supporting character has a similar name to the Burgundian Gundahar. But we don’t know if Siegfried or someone like him existed. Nevertheless, he captured the Frankish imagination, and the story spread to the north, where Siegfried is called Sigurd. In the 19th century, Wagner gave the tale new life in his Ring Cycle operas.

Siegfried slaying the dragon - 1911, Arthur Rackham

Like any legends, there are variations, but here are the basics. Siegfried, the son of a slain warrior, forges a sword from the pieces of his father’s blade, one that can split anvils. At the instigation of the dwarf Regin, he goes after a giant-turned-dragon, guarding a cursed, stolen treasure.

The hero has one chance. He digs a ditch and lies in it. When the dragon goes for a drink, Siegfried stabs it in the soft underbelly. The dying dragon warns him that Regin plans to kill him.

Regin emerges from hiding, cuts out the dragon’s heart, and begs Siegfried to roast it. While it’s on the fire, Siegfried burns his fingers and sticks them in his mouth. He understands the speech of birds, who also tells him of Regin’s treachery. This time Siegfried listens and kills Regin. He bathes in the dragon’s blood, which makes him invulnerable except for where the linden leaf falls between his shoulders.

His next quest: Rescue a maiden in an enchanted sleep. She isn’t the stereotypical Sleeping Beauty. She’s Brunhild, a warrior queen who will marry only a man who must prove he knows no fear by riding through a fire that surrounds her.

Brunhild and Siegfried - 1920, Harry George Theaker

Siegfried makes it through the flames and cuts off her too tight armor, which revives her. They fall in love. If only the story ended here, we’d have a happily ever after and could forget about the curse on the treasure. But the story continues, and we come to the part that resembles a soap opera.

When Siegfried leaves to do heroic deeds, Brunhild pledges her troth, and he promises to remain faithful.

Siegfried arrives at Worms, and that’s when his troubles really begin. There, he meets the lord, Gunnar (one of two or three brothers), and his sister, the beautiful Gundrun (also called Kriemhild). Siegfried drinks a potion that makes him forget Brunhild and then marries Gundrun.

Then it gets more complicated. Gunnar wants to marry Brunhild, but he can’t get through her wall of fire. The solution: he and Siegfried change forms, then Siegfried rides through the flames and claims Brunhild on Gunnar’s behalf. Fooled by the ruse, Brunhild reluctantly agrees to marry Gunnar. Siegfried removes the ring he originally gave to her and replaces it with a ring from the hoard.

And this could have been a happy ending for both couples, sort of, except for one problem. Brunhild learns the truth. When the women were about to bathe in the river, Brunhild refuses to be downstream from Gundrun, claiming a better father and husband. Gundrun can’t stand it and tells her Siegfried was the one who braved the fire. Then, she shows her rival a ring—the original token of Brunhild’s betrothal to Siegfried—as proof.

This becomes a matter of honor of Brunhild. She can’t be married to two men and plots with Gunnar and his brother to kill Siegfried. While they are hunting, the hero is stabbed in his only vulnerable spot, between the shoulders.

Brunhild is overcome with remorse, stabs herself with a sword, and pleads to burn with Siegfried on his funeral pyre. The grieving Gundrun lives only for vengeance, one with betrayal, murder, and cannibalism.

Public domain images via Wikimedia Commons.

Source

The Nibelungenlied, translated by Daniel B. Shumway (Houghton-Mifflin Co., New York, 1909)

Siegfried likely was already a legend in the eighth century, the time period for Kim Rendfeld’s books, The Cross and the Dragon (2012, Fireship Press) and The Ashes of Heaven’s Pillar (2014, Fireship Press). Alda, the heroine of Kim’s first book, grows up across the river from Drachenfels. To read the first chapters of either novel or learn more about Kim, visit kimrendfeld.com. You’re also welcome to visit her blog Outtakes of a Historical Novelist at kimrendfeld.wordpress.com, like her on Facebook at facebook.com/authorkimrendfeld, or follow her on Twitter at @kimrendfeld, or contact her at kim [at] kimrendfeld [dot] com.

Legendary Heroes and Feats: Caradog Freichfras

By Ian Lipke

Caradog Freichfras: A Cymric Arthurian Hero, also known as Caradawc Vreichfras and Caradawc mab Llŷr Marini: Beloved Strong-arm

Caradog Freichfras' name is derived from the Cymric components car- (love), braich, and bras giving 'Beloved Strong-arm' as a translation. Caradog Freichfras is not the only character in Cymric history and mythos to bear this name. There is also Caradog mab Brân and the two characters may well have been confused especially as both, according to the genealogies at least, are descended from Llŷr (Caradog Freichfras being the son of Llŷr Marini and Caradog mab Brân being Llŷr's grandson. Whether these characters were once one and the same or became linked due to the similarities in their names may never be entangled from the extant sources (http://www.celtnet.org.uk/gods_c/caradog_llyr.html).

Much of the legend associated with this hero is to be found in the Trioedd Ynys Prydein where he features in four of the Triads. Some scholars argue that he is a true fifth century historical figure who founded the Morgannwg dynasty but this seems unlikely. The genealogies themselves are full of invented or mythological characters and often they borrow their material from the Trioedd Ynys Prydein. All that is certain is that anything recorded in legend can only be regarded as speculative but, in its own way, informative.

Caradog Feichfras has been named son of Llŷ Marini as one of Arthur's chief counsellors. The Life of St Collen gives the saint's descent as deriving from: Gwynoc ap Kydeboc ap Kowrda ap Kyriadoc Vyraichvyras. There is also a Karadawg in the ancestry of St Tatheus and they may well be the same person, based on the need for descent from an heroic ancestral figure. Another hagiography, the Life of St Padarn associates Caradog Freichfras with the colonization of Brittany, and there is speculation in the literature that a text, though written in French shows many Celtic properties and may well be based on a Breton version of the original Cymric mythos of Caradog.

So much for the tangled web that tell us snippets about this fellow, Caradog. There is a literature surrounding Caradog that is rich in myth. Following http://www.celtnet.org.uk/gods_c/caradog_llyr.html, the first part of a tale involves the 'beheading gamne' which occurs in the tale of Sir Gawain and the Greene Knight as well as the Irish tale of Bricriu's feast.

In Arthur's court, a knight on a grey horse gallops into the great hall and asks Arthur for the gift of a blow on the neck in exchange for another. The knight places his head on a table and stretches out his neck. Only Caradog steps forwards and, raising his sword, severs the knight's head from his body. But the body rises and, retrieving the head, places it back on his shoulders. Then he turns to the king and says that after receiving such a blow it is his turn to deliver another; though it would only be done a year hence. A year hence and the court gathers once again and Caradog prepares himself for the fateful blow. The knight raises his sword and halts. Caradog berates him for delaying and the queen comes in and asks the knight to spare Caradog. The knight brings his sword down but strikes Caradog's neck with the flat of his blade and announces that he is Caradog's father. Caradog does not believe him and wants to fight with him, for his mother would never have slept with a stranger.

But the knight insists that he is Caradog's father though the tale of his begetting would be far too tedious to relate. Yet, tedious or not, the tale is told.

Caradog, King of Vannes, came to Arthur's court at Quinilli and asked the king for a wife. The king gave him Ysave of Carahés, his niece. Unfortunately, a knight who was also the enchanter, Eliavrés, was at court and developed a passion for Ysave.  Eliavrés contrived it that he slept with her for the first three nights of her marriage, while his enchantments ensured that King Caradog slept successively with a greyhound, a sow and a mare, believing each to be his wife. From the liaison of Ysave and Eliavrés, Caradog was conceived. Again Caradog denies that the knight is his father and the knight turns on his heel and rides away. Caradog the Younger embarks on a number of adventures before he returns to Caradog the Elder's court where he reveals his father's cuckoldry. Humiliating vengeance is visited on Eliavrés. He is forced to lie down with farm animals. Thus is Eliavrés locked away from his mistress, Ysave.

Unfortunately, the wizard attempts escape and when Caradog attempts to stop him Eliavrés summons a serpent that entwines itself around Caradog's arm, crippling it and draining his life energy away. Thus was he called Caradog Breifbras (The epithet means 'Short-arm' in French and is an obvious corruption of the original Cymric Breichfras 'Strong-arm'). Nobody can remove the serpent until Caradog's friends, Sir Cador and his sister Guinier, come up with an answer. Caradog is to sit in a tub of vinegar whilst Guinier sits in a tub of milk with her breasts exposed. As the serpent loathes vinegar, it leaps towards Guinier and attaches itself to her breast. Cador kills it with a single blow from his sword but unfortunately, Guinier's nipple is sliced off in the process [this is later replaced with a magical gold one]. Thus is Caradog freed from the serpent though his arm is permanently damaged from that day forth. Caradog plans to marry Guinier and so, King Mangoun of Moraine sends him a drinking horn to expose any infidelity on the part of the wife of he who drinks from it. Caradog takes a draught from the horn and it shows Guinier to be faithful. In some of the stories the horn is replaced by a mantle.

As Wikipedia tells us:

Several versions of the Mantle of Chastity test involving Caradog's wife were translated into Norse during the reign of King Hakon Hakonarson, and a version of the chastity test from The Book of Caradog in the First Continuation of the Old French Perceval is found in the Norse Mottuls Saga. The story survives in the traditional English folk ballad The Boy and the Mantle, collected by Bishop Thomas Percy in Percy's Reliques. The chastity test involving the drinking horn was narrated in the Lai du Cor (1160) by the jongleur Robert Biket, who said that Cirencester was awarded to Caradog for winning the drinking horn through the fidelity of his wife, and that the horn was on display there.

The tales of Caradog are many and it is not too large a leap to suggest that there must have existed a much expanded canon written about Caradog Freichfras than has come down to us. A fascinating tale in any case.

Ian Lipke became a teacher of primary children in 1958, transferring to secondary schools in 1964. He has taught in schools in remote and metropolitan areas of Queensland, Australia. He left school teaching in 1977 to lecture at the University of Queensland and at Queensland University of Technology. Throughout the late 1980s and 1990s, he was a deputy principal at several high schools, before retiring to manage his own tutoring business. In 2006, he returned to postgraduate studies through research at the University of Queensland. His whole life has been devoted to academic studies, which he very much enjoys. He is the author of NARGUN.