Phrixus and Helle were the children of Athamas (king of the Mynia 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 his previous marriage and decided to destroy them. Ino burned the seeds, caused a crop failure, and bribed ambassadors from the Delphic oracle to say that to stop the crop failure, Phrixus and Hellus must be sacrificed to Zeus. The cloud goddess Nephele saved her children by entangling them in a cloud and sending them on a golden-fleeced ram to Colchis (a kingdom in the territory of modern Georgia).
On the way, Helle fell into the waters of the strait, which subsequently received a name in honor of her - the Hellespont (now the Dardanelles). Phrixus reached Colchis, where he sacrificed a magic ram to Zeus, and hung its skin (Golden Fleece) on an oak tree in the grove of Ares.
Grant R. Fairbanks. Sculpture "Frix and Hell"
The image of the Golden Fleece has become firmly entrenched in world culture. The zodiac constellation Aries is named after the golden fleece ram on which Phrixus and Helle fled. In the 14th century, Duke Phillip the Good of Burgundy compared a golden-haired lady who fell from a horse at full gallop 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 sewing and selling clothes) bearing the name Golden Fleece.
Yutaka Kagaya. Aries (Phrixus, Hella and the golden-fleeced ram). Painting from the series "Zodiac".
The ancient Greek historian Diodorus Siculus (1st century BC) interpreted the myth of Phrixus and Helle, based on the criteria of rationality, believing that the brother and sister crossed the sea on a ship, the bow of which was decorated with the head of a ram, and Helle, who became ill from - due to seasickness, she fell into the sea.
However, there was a more optimistic version of the myth: the ram dropped Gella and lost her horn, but Poseidon saved her, and she bore him a son.
According to myths, Phrixus married one of Medea's sisters - Chalkiope or Iofossa. Or King Eet gave Phrixus as a gift to the king of the Scythians, who loved him as his own son and eventually gave him the crown.
As for Ino, the culprit behind the escape of Gella and Phrixa, she was punished by the goddess Hera for taking Dionysus, the son of Zeus and Semele (Ino’s sister), into her upbringing. Hera sent madness to Ino and her husband Athamas. Athamas killed one of the 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
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 the blue sky, the peak of Helikon, a mysterious mountain, rose high, where the goddesses of the arts - the muses - lived between dark groves, above the sonorous streams of the Hippocrene spring.
Far below, shining like a mirror, lies the bright Lake Canada. Its banks are overgrown with such reeds, from which come the best, most sonorous and melodious flutes; here at night, people said, sometimes the god of the forests himself, the great Pan, came to cut reeds for his divine pipe.
The lake rustled gently on its gently sloping banks, surrounded by arable lands, 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 Orchomen.
In those times about which the story will go, the ruler of Orchomen was the happy king Athamas, the son of the god of the winds Aeolus.
The winged father of the king Aeolus, day and night, flew over the seas and over the 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 rich, hot soil of Boeotia, waiting for the harvest. More than anything else, they were afraid of drought. What pleased them most in the world was the large, warm rain washing the crops, flowing with sweet juice from the ground into the heavy bunches of grapes.
That is why, when King Athamas was still very young, the violent god of the wind Aeolus brought to Orchomen on his noisy wings a quiet and gentle ash-haired girl, the goddess of life-giving clouds and light clouds Nephele.
Nephela the cloud was beautiful. Her wavy soft hair shrouded her figure in a light mist. Large, moist eyes looked with thoughtful caress - as 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 close to the hardworking Boeotian people. She often went out onto the roof of the royal palace and remained there for a long time, letting her hair down and raising her hands covered with gold wrists. Standing like that, high above the city, she cast mysterious spells.
Then Athamas's father Aeolus, ringing his wings, flew out of his home. 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 hundred-voiced singing. Nimble lizards hid in the cracks. The birds fell silent. Mountain eagles descended into the gorges. They knew that life-giving rain would soon pour down.
And Nephela kept singing her prophetic hymns. And by order of the queen, her sister clouds began to converge on the meadows and fields of Boeotia from all sides. Weighted down with moisture, they gathered at the top, swirled, and piled up. Distant lightning flashed and dull thunder rumbled.
And now the first drops of rain are jumping on the hot stones; Here the children, opening their small mouths, catch them right on their tongues; 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 wine, refreshing the tired: it’s raining!”
The god Aeolus often flew at night, either through the narrow windows or the wide doors of the Athamant Palace. He was bending over the cradles where his grandchildren Frixus and Gella were sleeping. He moved Phrixus’s curls, kissed Hella’s fair forehead, blew a mighty breath on them and, slipping into the royal bedchamber, whispered in the ear of his sleeping son:
Afamant, Afamant, love Nephela the cloud! Take care of Nephela the cloud! In her hands is the life and happiness of your country.
And as long as Athamas listened to 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, the daughter of Cadmus, dark-haired Ino, captivated his gaze.
Ino was a brave, ardent, talkative girl, and Athamas's wife Nephele walked with an inaudible step, spoke quietly, and smiled timidly.
Ino laughed often and loudly - Nephela the Cloud often cried with bright tears of tenderness.
Ino was always cheerful, like a sunbeam, - Nephela often became quiet and sad, like her dear sisters, silent rain clouds.
And so Afamant 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 hated Nephele’s children, the boy Frixus and the girl Gella. She did not like that Athamas left them with him when Nephele left him for the dwelling of the gods, on the distant snowy Mount Olympus.
As time went. Frixus and Hella became teenagers, and the stepmother began to be afraid of them: it increasingly occurred to her that, having become adults, they could take revenge on 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. Clouds had long been circling the Boeotian sky. Rains have become rare. Dust swirled everywhere, and the farmers did not know whether they should throw seeds into the dry ground, hot from the sun. Ino gathered the Orkhomean women and taught them to dry even more in the sun the grains that their husbands were going to sow.
We need to teach proud Nephela a lesson! - she laughed impudently. - Nephela thinks that without her care you will die! It's a lie. Pray to the sun god Apollo and he will send you a great harvest!
This is what the Orkhomen women did. The dry, skinny grains fell into the dry, hot soil, and out of many thousands of seeds, not a single one sprouted.
Fear seized the Boeotians. Famine threatened their country. In vain they prayed to the sky to send them refreshing rain. In vain did the many-winged Aeolus persuade the sorrowful Nephele to forget her offense: the goddess walked far around the land that had become hateful to her, and her bitter tears flowed over foreign, distant lands.
What were people supposed to do? Athamas, falling into despair, decided to send the wisest elders to the sacred city of Delphi: let the prophetic priests of Apollo teach them what to do to avoid hunger and death.
The ambassadors set off and reached the Delphic Temple.
King Athamas, the priests told them, must beg forgiveness from Nephela the Cloud. He must do everything she tells him to do.
But the insidious Ino did not allow these terrible words to be conveyed to her husband. Far beyond the walls of the city, where the statue of the god Hermes stood white in the shadow of the sacred olive grove, she, disguised as a simple woman, met Athamant’s ambassadors. She gave them expensive wine. She showered them with magnificent gifts. She bribed them. And, having arrived at the royal palace, the gray-bearded ambassadors lied to Athamas.
O king! - they told him as Ino taught them. - In order to save your people from disaster, hunger and death, you must sacrifice your son Frixus to the great gods. Take the boy to the sacred mountain and slaughter him there over the altar. Let his blood splash instead of rain on the Boeotian soil. 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, wrung his hands, and hugged his beloved son. But outside the walls of the palace a crowd of people was already raging. The people, emaciated from hunger, looked gloomy. Pale mothers raised their hungry children in their arms and showed them to the unfortunate king. And King Athamas 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 Nephele, Nephele! The gods are punishing me terribly for my guilt before you. My punishment is terrible, Nephela! Have pity on us!
A night passed full of sadness and crying. And so on a high sacred mountain, under a densely leafed fig tree, a group of people gathered at dawn the next day. It was quiet and the sky was bright blue. But it’s 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, had been washed in the evening. On copper tripods they lit grains of fragrant incense in incense burners. They brought wide-necked vessels with water. The stern old priest, holding a sharp and crooked knife in his right hand, extended his left. He mercilessly grabbed the curly, jet-black hair of the crying, trembling boy bound with a white towel.
The boy screamed in horror. Fair-haired Gella, his sister, rushed to her brother with a desperate cry. The priest roughly pushed her away, but suddenly...
Suddenly there was a sound like a clap of thunder over the mountain. Both the priest and everyone who came to see how the royal son Phrixus would be sacrificed shuddered and covered their eyes with their hands. A blinding light cut through the air. A slight ringing sound was heard, as if an invisible hand was plucking the golden strings of a huge lyre. A white cloud, shining more and more, flew onto the mountain, enveloped the fig tree, the altar, the people, and flew away. And on the bare stones, next to the trembling Frixus and Hella, there remained a ram, a lamb, but not an ordinary ram, but a golden one. His long, delicate but heavy fleece shone like a flame. The golden horns curled in tight curls. The broad back was shiny and burning.
My children! My children, Frixus and Hella! - a gentle voice came from the flying cloud. - Quicker! Don't hesitate! Sit on the back of this Aries. I will save you, oh my children!
Hastily, without thinking about anything, no longer afraid of anything, Frixus and Gella grabbed the lush strands of the golden fleece with their hands. Pressed closely together, hugging each other, they sat down on the broad back of the ram. And at the same moment, he took a running start and rose from the mountain into the air.
Under him there remained a terrible white stone, the grass around which was brown and hard from the blood spilled over it. Below him 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, covering their heads with clothes. Farther away, under the mountain, the buildings of Orkhomenes turned yellow and white, wooded valleys darkened, rivers meandered like silver ribbons, fields and forests spread out. And the magical ram rushed over this country, rising higher and higher.
Here ahead, on the far horizon, lies a dark blue endless expanse. She rose higher and higher, merging with the sky. It was the sea. Young Frixus then firmly grasped the golden horns of the ram. With eyes full of delight and amazement, he peered at the unprecedented sight, supporting his frightened, trembling sister with his other hand. He persuaded her not to be afraid, showing her first the clouds floating towards her, now the mountains and valleys of Greece flashing below, now 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 gripped 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 that moment, when the ram left the shores of Greece and rushed over the eternally 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 feather, she flashed in the blue abyss and with a slight splash fell into the noisy waters. And immediately the waves closed over her, forever running into the distance, forever roaring waves of the sea...
The wonderful Aries 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 hid forever the weak body of the frightened daughter of Athamas, people began to call from then on the sea of Hell, the Hellespont.
Look at the map of Greece drawn by learned people. Between Europe and Asia you will see a narrow strait. Now it is called the Dardanelles, but this is the Hellespont...
The magical golden ram rushed through the air faster and faster. 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 onto the distant shore, above which in the darkness the majestic mountains of the Caucasus shone 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 wizard Eet, then reigned, the wonderful ram brought his saddened rider.
Eet knew in advance that this would happen someday. He also knew that the golden fleece ram brings happiness to the country in which he resides.
Therefore, the delighted king kindly received Frixus in his palace.
I will raise you as my own son, O Phrixus, grandson of Aeolus! - he said. - But I will never allow you to leave the borders of my kingdom. Your Aries must be sacrificed to the great cloud chaser, almighty Zeus. This is what needs to be done!
And so it was done. The ram was slaughtered, and the fleece, blazing with a hot shine of gold, was hung on a huge, spreading plane tree in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares.
This grove rustled with its branches on the shore of the Black Sea. The peaks of the snowy Caucasus Mountains rose high above it. It was surrounded on all sides by rocks; Eet assigned a terrible fire-breathing dragon to guard the only path to the rune; and day and night, not for a moment did the monster’s terrible and watchful eyes, guarding such a treasure, wash away.
A little time passed, and rumors of a great miracle spread throughout the world. Everyone began to talk about the magic fleece, forever shining like heat in a dark grove on the shores of the Black Sea. This rumor reached distant Boeotia. And King Athamas, dying of old age, bequeathed to his descendants to obtain and return this happiness-bringing fleece to Greece at all costs. “This is why,” people said, “it depends on whether the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of Athamas will be happy.”
On these very days, the old shepherd Thersander, a resident of a coastal village in Thessaly, was wandering with his flock along the slope of the great Mount Pelion. Every day he drove his goats higher and higher into the mountains, and by nightfall he would make a fire somewhere under a rocky ledge, take out a handful of dried figs and unleavened flatbread from a bag, have dinner, wash down his food with clean water, and go to bed until the morning.
One day he woke up at dawn, as he was awakened by the clatter of hooves on a flinty path.
"Strange! - thought Fersander. “Where could a horseman come from here in the mountains?”
However, the stomping kept getting closer, and then voices were heard. Someone was driving along the road behind the bushes, rounded a rocky ledge and finally stopped a little lower than Fersander.
Well, father? - the shepherd heard the words spoken in a young, ringing voice. - Here is a big stone, here is an intersection. The time has come for separation. Tell me what you wanted to say and let me go in peace. I am afraid of one thing: that someone would overhear your secret before the time.
“Don’t worry, my son,” answered another voice, dull and hoarse, and Fersander shuddered when he heard it. - Nobody sees us. Here only a herd of goats wanders along the slope and, probably, a shepherd is sleeping somewhere: I smell the smell of an extinguished fire. But what do we care about that? 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, on long winter nights he loved to tell his gullible fellow villagers all sorts of tall tales about what happens in the forest in the summer.
Carefully, trying not to make a noise, he pulled himself up on his elbows along the stone slab and looked over its edge down onto the road. "Zeus Almighty!" - his lips whispered immediately.
Under an old oak tree, on a huge boulder, sat a young man of about twenty, no more. His courageous face was beautiful. Golden curls, held in place by a narrow braid, did not cover her high forehead. He held a hunting dart in his hands, on his feet were dusty colorful sandals woven from white and brown straps, and a soft and bright leopard skin was thrown over his shoulder. He sat smiling, crossing his legs; directly opposite him on the grass, with his front legs bent under him, as horses tired from a long journey do, lay a huge centaur, white as silver.
The powerful back of the horse-man was wet with morning dew, and his long wavy mane fell onto the grass. From his thick gray beard and hair as white as snow, one could see how old the centaur was: only his eyebrows darkened over his black, wise and kind eyes. He lay calmly and looked lovingly at the young man, who tenderly ran his hands through the strands of his long silver beard.
Well, father? - the young man finally said. - What did you want to tell me?
The centaur was silent for a few moments.
Oh 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 couldn't help but come. You must find out 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 Iolkos. Many years ago, the wise Kretius, brother of the Orchomen king Athamas, built it here. The gods blessed his deeds. The city grew and prospered, and Cretius, dying, entrusted power over it to his son Eson. Eson was supposed to reign in Iolka by right and law. But it so happened that Cretius’s stepson, 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 the Athamas whose son was carried overseas by the golden ram?
The same one, Jason. What do you say to this?
I think father! But I just don’t understand why I need to know about Eson’s misfortune?
I swear by my immortality, Jason, for you know that I am immortal! You need to hear about this. So listen!
A few years later, Eson had a son. Eson was afraid to raise the boy in Iolka: he thought that the cruel Pelias might kill him. He spread a rumor that the child died as soon as he was born. He even held a magnificent funeral for him. When it got dark, he swaddled the boy in 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, lived there. And so he brought his son to Chiron.
And the kind, wise Chiron took the boy from him? - the young man asked, smiling.
Yes, he took this boy, - answered the centaur, - he took him into his cave and raised him among other centaurs, and loved him as if he were his own... And - listen to me carefully - at the request of his father, he named his pupil Jason...
The centaur had not yet finished speaking when the young man jumped off the rock. His eyes sparkled, his face turned pale.
My father, is this possible? It was me? - he cried. - So I'm Eson's son? My father... Now I see what I need to do. I must appear before Pelias... I must return his kingdom to my father!..
At these words, the old centaur rose noisily to his feet.
Frightened Fersander recoiled back and hid in the bushes. When he finally dared to look at the road again, there was no one on it.
Then the cunning shepherd slowly walked into the depths of the forest.
But, having walked away a little, he suddenly stopped, leaned on his staff and took his sparse beard in his hand. Squinting his eyes, moving his toothless mouth, he stood there for a long time, completely motionless. He was thinking about something.
The feet of a young man are lighter than the feet of an old man! - he said grinning. - 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 Pelias’ palace and tell him about everything he saw and heard. And - who knows? - maybe then Pelias will make him a shepherd of the royal flock... I think he will!..
He examined his goats, woke up the boy-shepherd, 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...
That same day, at noon, a decrepit old beggar woman was sitting on the bank of a fast mountain river flowing down from the slopes of Pelion. The sun was hot, flies were circling above her, and no one was walking along the road. The old woman herself was afraid to wade through the stormy river without help.
Finally, the bushes rustled nearby, and an old shepherd came ashore from them with a long staff in his hand and a leather bag over his shoulders. As soon as he stepped out onto the road, he stopped, vigilantly looked at it in both directions from under his arm and grinned.
Hello, old one! - he shouted to the beggar. - How long have you been sitting here? Tell me, did not a young man pass through this ford, as beautiful as the god Hermes, wearing colorful sandals and a leopard skin thrown over one shoulder? No? Fine. But I still need to hurry. - And he began to go down to the water.
Slow down, shepherd! - 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 did not even slow down.
What's your hurry? - he shouted mockingly. - Sit still, mother of our grandmothers. Probably, the already prophetic Moira will soon cut the thread of your old life. I don't have time to bother with you. I'm in hurry!
He crossed the river and disappeared behind the rocks on the other bank, 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 around a bend in the road. He must have walked from afar: road dust covered his legs to the knees, beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. But his eyes shone with youthful joy, and, going down from the river bank to the ford, he hummed loudly.
Seeing him, the old beggar woman began to rise from the stone again.
Hello, mother! - the young man shouted. - What are you doing here alone in the desert?.. May your path be blessed!
O heroic youth! - the old woman cried, covering her eyes with her palm and looking at him against the sun. - O heroic youth! I don't dare bother you with a request. But I’m so old, and this flow is so stormy. Nobody 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, left his path. Carefully and tenderly, with his powerful hands, he lifted the weak old body, pressed it to himself, like the father of a child, and, carrying it across the river, carefully lowered it to the ground. Only as he was leaving the violent stream did he stumble: the stormy river suddenly tore off the sandal from his left foot and in an instant carried it into its foamy streams.
However, there was nothing to be done. Youth does not lose heart from such insignificant sorrows. With only one foot shod, the traveler moved on. A little later he saw a gray-haired shepherd sitting sadly on the edge of the road. Bent over, the shepherd winced, 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 instead of answering, the old man turned away angrily. He did not say anything to the passerby: it was impossible to help him. A sharp thorn pierced his heel deeply. He couldn't walk fast. He couldn't accomplish what he set out to do. With annoyance and anger, he now looked at how the slender figure of a young man with a leopard skin on his shoulder, the young man who had overtaken him on the way to Iolkos, was increasingly diminishing in the distance on the road. But neither the young nor the old knew one thing: the old beggar woman sitting by the river was still looking at them from afar. Only she has now become a young and slender girl. A copper helmet glittered on her head, and a light spear wavered in her hand. And, blinded by the sun, an owl sat on her shoulder, for this girl was the goddess of wisdom, Athena.
Legends and myths of ancient Greece (ill.) Kun Nikolai Albertovich
FRIKS AND GELLA
FRIKS AND GELLA
In the ancient Minyan Orkhomenes in Boeotia, the son of the wind god Aeolus, King Athamas, ruled. He had two children from the cloud goddess Nephele - a son, Frike, and a daughter, Gella. Afamant cheated on Nephele and married the daughter of Cadmus, Ino. Ino disliked the children from her husband's first marriage and planned to destroy them. She persuaded the Orkhomen women to dry the seeds prepared for sowing. The Orkhomenians sowed the fields with dried seeds, but nothing sprouted in their always fertile fields. The Orkhomenians were threatened with famine. Then Athamas decided to send an embassy to the sacred Delphi to ask the oracle of the archer Apollo about the reason for the infertility of the fields. The insidious Ino bribed the ambassadors, and they, returning from Delphi, brought a false answer from the oracle.
This is the answer the soothsayer Pythia gave, the bribed ambassadors told Athamas. - Sacrifice your son Phrixus to the gods, and the gods will return fertility to the fields.
Athamas, in order to avoid the great disaster that threatened Orkhomenes, decided to sacrifice his beloved son. Ino triumphed: her plan to destroy Frixus was a success.
Everything was ready for the sacrifice. Young Frike was about to fall under the priest’s knife, but suddenly a golden-fleeced ram appeared, a gift from the god Hermes. Frix's mother, the goddess Nephele, sent the ram to save her children. Frike and his sister Gella sat on the golden-fleeced ram, and the ram carried them through the air far to the north.
The ram rushed quickly. Far below lay fields and forests, and silver rivers meandered between them. Aries rushes above the mountains. Here comes the sea. Aries rushes over the sea. Gella was frightened; she could not stay on the ram for fear. Gella fell into the sea, and was swallowed up by the ever-noisy sea waves. Couldn't save Frike's sister. She died. From that time on, the sea where Gella died began to be called the Hellespont (Sea of Gella; modern Dardanelles Strait).
Frike and Gella on a golden-fleeced ram; to the left is their mother, the goddess Nephele.
(Drawing on the vase.)
The ram with Phrixus rushed further and further and finally descended on the banks of Phasis in distant Colchis, where the son of the god Helios, the wizard Eet, ruled. He raised Eet Phrixus, and when he matured, he married him to his daughter Chalciope. The golden ram, who saved Phrixus, was sacrificed to the great cloud-killer Zeus. Eet hung the golden fleece of the ram in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares. The fleece was to be guarded by a terrible, flame-spewing dragon, who never closed his eyes to sleep.
The rumor about this golden fleece spread throughout Greece. The descendants of Athamas, the father of Phrixus, 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.
author2.2. Phrixus, sacrificed and ascended to heaven by the Golden Ram, is a reflection of the crucified Christ 2.2.1. The myth of Phrixus and the Golden Aries King Athamas and his wife Nephele had a son, Phrixus, and a daughter, Gella. Soon King Athamas fell in love with another woman - Ino, and took her as his wife, driving her away
From the book The Beginning of Horde Rus'. After Christ. The Trojan War. Founding of Rome. author Nosovsky Gleb Vladimirovich2.2.2. The name Frixus is reminiscent of Christ. The myth is about the boy Frixus, who is about to be sacrificed. But then the Golden Aries intervenes and takes the boy away. The symbol of the sacrifice of Aries (or Lamb) has a brightly sounding Christian connotation. Note that the very name FRIKS
From the book The Beginning of Horde Rus'. After Christ. The Trojan War. Founding of Rome. author Nosovsky Gleb Vladimirovich2.4. Hella, the sister of Phrixus, who could not stay next to him on Aries, is a reflection of the gospel plot “don’t touch me.” Let us recall that, according to the “ancient” story, Phrixus-Christ arrived to King Eetus alone, since Hella could not stay on the back of Aries, fell into the sea and drowned,
author Nosovsky Gleb Vladimirovich2.2. Phrixus, sacrificed and ascended to heaven by the Golden Aries, is a reflection of the Crucified Christ. The myth of Phrixus and the Golden Aries. King Athamas and his wife Nephele had a son, Fricke, and a daughter, Gella. Soon King Athamas fell in love with another woman - Ino and took her as his wife, driving her away
From the book The Founding of Rome. The beginning of Horde Rus'. After Christ. Trojan War author Nosovsky Gleb Vladimirovich2.4. Hella, the sister of Phrixus, who could not stay next to him on the ram, is a reflection of the Gospel plot “don’t touch me.” Let us recall that, according to the “ancient” story, Phrixus-Christ arrived to King Eet alone, since Hella could not stay on the back of Aries , fell into the sea and
In the ancient Minyan Orkhomenes in Boeotia, the son of the wind god Aeolus, King Athamas, ruled. He had two children from the cloud goddess Nephele - a son, Phrixus, and a daughter, Gella. Afamant cheated on Nephele and married the daughter of Cadmus, Ino. Ino disliked the children from her husband's first marriage and planned to destroy them. She persuaded the Orkhomen women to dry the seeds prepared for sowing. The Orkhomenians sowed the fields with dried seeds, but nothing sprouted in their always fertile fields. The Orkhomenians were threatened with famine. Then Athamas decided to send an embassy to the sacred Delphi to ask the oracle of the archer Apollo about the reason for the infertility of the fields. The insidious Ino bribed the ambassadors, and they, returning from Delphi, brought a false answer from the oracle.This is the answer the soothsayer Pythia gave, the bribed ambassadors told Athamas. - Sacrifice your son Phrixus to the gods, and the gods will return fertility to the fields.
Athamas, in order to avoid the great disaster that threatened Orkhomenes, decided to sacrifice his beloved son. Ino triumphed: her plan to destroy Frixus was a success.
Everything was ready for the sacrifice. Young Phrixus was about to fall under the priest’s knife, but suddenly a golden-fleeced ram appeared, a gift from the god Hermes. Frix's mother, the goddess Nephele, sent the ram to save her children. Phrixus and his sister Hella sat on the golden-fleeced ram, and the ram carried them through the air far to the north.
The ram rushed quickly. Far below lay fields and forests, and silver rivers meandered between them. Aries rushes above the mountains. Here comes the sea. Aries rushes over the sea. Gella was frightened; she could not stay on the ram for fear. Gella fell into the sea, and was swallowed up by the ever-noisy sea waves. Frix could not save his sister. She died. From that time on, the sea where Gella died began to be called the Hellespont (Sea of Gella; modern Dardanelles Strait).
He raised Eet Phrixus, and when he matured, he married him to his daughter Chalkiope. The golden ram, who saved Phrixus, was sacrificed to the great cloud-killer Zeus. Eet hung the golden fleece of the ram in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares. The fleece was to be guarded by a terrible, flame-spewing dragon, who never closed his eyes to sleep.
The rumor about this golden fleece spread throughout Greece. The descendants of Athamas, the father of Phrixus, 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.
Over the past few days I have been constantly remembering the myths of Ancient Greece, to be honest, mostly the same, the myth of children associated with the Golden Fleece, the very beginning...
FRIKS AND GELLA
In the ancient Minyan Orkhomenes in Boeotia, the son of the wind god Aeolus, King Athamas, ruled. He had two children from the cloud goddess Nephele - a son, Phrixus, and a daughter, Gella. Afamant cheated on Nephele and married the daughter of Cadmus, Ino. Ino disliked the children from her husband's first marriage and planned to destroy them. She persuaded the Orkhomen women to dry the seeds prepared for sowing. The Orkhomenians sowed the fields with dried seeds, but nothing sprouted in their always fertile fields. The Orkhomenians were threatened with famine. Then Athamas decided to send an embassy to the sacred Delphi to ask the oracle of the archer Apollo about the reason for the infertility of the fields. The insidious Ino bribed the ambassadors, and they, returning from Delphi, brought a false answer from the oracle.
This is the answer the soothsayer Pythia gave, the bribed ambassadors told Athamas. - Sacrifice your son Phrixus to the gods, and the gods will return fertility to the fields.
Athamas, in order to avoid the great disaster that threatened Orkhomenes, decided to sacrifice his beloved son. Ino triumphed: her plan to destroy Frixus was a success.
Everything was ready for the sacrifice. Young Phrixus was about to fall under the priest’s knife, but suddenly a golden-fleeced ram appeared, a gift from the god Hermes. Frix's mother, the goddess Nephele, sent the ram to save her children. Phrixus and his sister Hella sat on the golden-fleeced ram, and the ram carried them through the air far to the north.
The ram rushed quickly. Far below lay fields and forests, and silver rivers meandered between them. Aries rushes above the mountains. Here comes the sea. Aries rushes over the sea. Gella was frightened; she could not stay on the ram for fear. Gella fell into the sea, and was swallowed up by the ever-noisy sea waves. Frix could not save his sister. She died. From that time on, the sea where Gella died began to be called the Hellespont (Sea of Gella; modern Dardanelles Strait).
He raised Eet Phrixus, and when he matured, he married him to his daughter Chalciope. The golden ram, who saved Phrixus, was sacrificed to the great cloud-killer Zeus. Eet hung the golden fleece of the ram in the sacred grove of the god of war Ares. The fleece was to be guarded by a terrible dragon spitting fire, who never closed his eyes to sleep.
The rumor about this golden fleece spread throughout Greece. The descendants of Athamas, the father of Phrixus, 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.
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