Hello, friends! We’re mixing it up today with the Partheneia story first and discussion afterward. I’m also keeping it all in one post instead of two back to back. If you have strong feelings either for or against this model, reach out!
Note: If you missed Hera’s introduction post, you can find it HERE.
One of the most famous of Zeus' victims was Alcmene, the beautiful princess of Tiryns. When she came to Zeus’ notice, she was already married to a man named Amphitryon, whom she loved and honored. She missed him bitterly when he was gone, which is perhaps how Zeus was able to trick her.
Zeus, for reasons mortals can only guess at, decided that he must produce an especially impressive demigod to rule over the descendants of Perseus, who was himself a son of Zeus. Again for reasons unknown, and out of the many options available, he selected Alcmene, a granddaughter of Perseus, to play the role of broodmare.
As his motive was procreation rather than desire, Zeus restrained himself from outright violence and instead disguised himself as Alcmene’s husband. Zeus told himself and anyone who cared to ask that it was all quite legitimate and proper, for what is more righteous than a woman having sex with her husband?
This is how Zeus managed his deception: Amphitryon was called away to aid in a border dispute, but only for one night. Zeus, wanting to do a really thorough job of it, ordered the sun god Helios to keep his chariot and horses in their stable for three days. He then came to Alcmene in the guise of Amphitryon, and Alcmene welcomed her “husband” home with open arms.
“But you’re home so soon,” she cried. “The sun hasn’t even risen yet!”
“I rode quickly,” Zeus replied, and took her immediately to bed.
He dallied with Alcmene for a night that lasted three days, enjoying her favors. Zeus also greatly enjoyed his deception, laughing to himself as he recounted the great deeds Amphitryon had indeed performed while he was away. When the sun finally rose, Zeus left Alcmene. The real Amphitryon arrived, only to find his wife still in bed.
“What are you doing still abed?” Amphitryon asked. “Are you unwell? I thought you would be at the door to greet me.”
“What can you mean?” Alcmene laughed. “You know well what I’m doing in bed. You’ve been doing it with me all night.”
“I’ve been traveling for two days to get here,” Amphitryon replied, his face growing dark. “There was trouble on the road.”
As the two regarded each other, they realized something was terribly wrong. They went immediately to the seer Tiresias, who told them the truth of what had happened, and that Alcmene would bear a single son sired by Zeus. Weeping, they returned to their home and tried to put the tragedy behind them. They lay together, and when Alcmene’s belly swelled with twins, they knew, at least, that one of the babies was theirs and theirs alone.
For a time, all was as well as it could be in the wake of Zeus’ cruel trick. Alcmene suffered all the normal pains and trials of a twin pregnancy with grace and courage, but she couldn’t help fearing for both her children. Children of gods rarely lived peaceful lives, and neither did those closest to them. But what else was there to do but go on?
On the day that Alcmene’s labor began, Zeus rubbed his hands together in glee and made an announcement to his fellow Olympians:
“On this day, a child of mine will be born,” Zeus declared. “He will rule over all and become a great king.”
Hera, who was well aware of how Zeus had abused Alcmene, spied an opportunity.
She asked, “A child of yours, husband?”
“Of my blood,” Zeus hedged, hoping to avoid an argument. “A descendant of my son, Perseus.”
“Ah, I see. How nice. But you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, you know,” Hera told him. “How disappointing for the child’s mother, if it were not to be.”
“I tell you, it shall be,” Zeus said. “I will make it so. I swear it on the River Styx.”
Even a god could not break such an oath without consequence, and so Hera went to work. She appeared before Alcmene, who was walking back and forth beneath the trees to ease her pain. At the sight of Hera, however, she fell to her knees.
“I’m not here to hurt you, daughter,” Hera said. “I’ve come to help you, if I can.”
“To help me give birth, you mean?” Alcmene asked, cautious and confused.
“Well,” Hera said. “Perhaps… or perhaps not. The choice is yours.”
Hera explained as best she could her husband’s determination to father the next ruler of men and his proclamation that a descendant of Perseus, born today, should be that ruler. Alcmene listened, flabbergasted.
“He didn’t even want me…” she said. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or insulted.”
“Believe me, I’m familiar with the feeling,” Hera replied with a sniff. Then she sighed. “I can’t undo what he has done to you, but there is something else I can do. Your aunt-by-marriage, Nicippe, is also with child. Her son is just as much a child of Perseus as you are yourself. If you wish it—and if she does, too—I have a trick of my own to play, one that, Fates willing, may protect you from further interference from my husband.”
Alcmene raised her brows. “And one that will allow you to spit in his eye by subverting his plans?”
Hera only smiled.
Alcmene, too, smiled and said, “Do what you will, Mother. Whatever you will… and whatever it takes.”
Hera flew to Mycenae, where Alcmene’s uncle ruled with his wife. She told Nicippe of Zeus’ proclamation and Alcmene’s predicament.
“If you wish it,” Hera told Nicippe, “I will bring your babe forth early—now, today—and delay your niece’s labor. Your child will rule.”
“But it’s so early,” Nicippe said. “Only seven months…”
“I give you my word,” Hera told her. “No harm will come to your child. I will deliver him myself.”
Nicippe, who had always been ambitious, would never allow another boy to take her son's place as ruler of that land. Steeling herself, she agreed. And Hera went to work.
Hera sent her daughter Eileithyia and three wise women to delay Alcmene’s labor. Eileithyia crossed her fingers and legs, chanting and muttering spells to bind Alcmene and prevent her labor from progressing. Alcmene withstood the pain, determined to take back some measure of the control and choice Zeus had stolen from her.
Hera, meanwhile, stayed in Mycenae to act as midwife to Nicippe. As soon as Nicippe’s son Eurystheus was born, Hera flew to Alcmene’s side and shared the news that it was now safe for Alcmene’s twins to be born. It was a long and difficult labor, and not only because of the initial delay. Alcides came first, then Iphicles the next night.
Alcides, who had been born small and sickly, continued to struggle for the first months of his life. He cried inconsolably from hunger but could not suck without giving himself gas and causing Alcmene pain. Mother and baby struggled all day and all night, until Alcmene prayed to Hera for help.
“I feel responsible for your troubles,” Hera told Alcmene. “With your permission, I will take the child for a time and nurse him myself.”
Alcmene agreed readily, for she was at her wits end and desperate with worry for her baby. She gave Alcides one last kiss and sent him away with Hera, who took him back with her to Mount Olympus. Alcides grew strong on Hera’s milk for several months, until he cut his first tooth and bit down on Hera’s nipple.
“Ouch!” Hera cried, startled.
When Hera pulled Alcides from her breast, milk sprayed out across the sky and formed what we now call the Milky Way.
Laughing, Hera said, “How strong you’ve grown! I think it’s time you returned to your mother.”
Alcmene was overjoyed to be reunited with her firstborn son. Iphicles was at first somewhat put out by having to share his mother’s attention, but soon the two brothers were as inseparable as ever.
“He is well now?” Alcmene asked Hera. “He is strong and healthy?”
“Quite strong,” Hera replied dryly. “But I will give you a gift to ease your mind.”
Hera conjured two snakes, one for each baby. Snakes and serpents were widely associated in those days with healing and protection, and they often acted as guardians in one capacity or another.
“Take these snakes,” Hera said. “They have been blessed by Hygieia, goddess of good health. They will protect your sons. Your house, too, for they are excellent ratters.”
But as the snakes approached the two little boys, Iphicles began to cry in fear. Alcides immediately seized both snakes, crushing them in his hands.
“Mother Hera, I beg you, forgive him,” Alcmene cried, aghast.
“He is a baby,” Hera said firmly. “There is nothing to forgive. But I must confess, this is a most unfortunate omen.”
“What does it mean?” Alcmene asked.
“I do not know,” Hera replied. “You must be vigilant and guide him well.”
“I will,” Alcmene promised.
Still, Hera was troubled. She knew Zeus must have had great plans for the son he had taken such pains to produce. Would he find a way to carry out those plans in spite of Hera’s interference, or would he lose interest in the boy? She judged it about even odds, and there was nothing to do now but watch and wait. So Hera left Alcides to his mother, trusting Alcmene to keep her promise.
Now, let’s dig into what the source material says about all this and where/how/why my story departs from the ancients’ versions. This bit is for paid subscribers so if you’re already with me there, carry on. If not, take the leap!
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