"Your death sits in that cage, and she hears you:" Harpies and Hellions

As I begin this post, I can hear the voice of my pap calling after my cousins and I as we burst through the kitchen door, rattling cups and snatching at snacks, and then out the back door onto the porch. "Rapscallions!" he would exclaim, blowing a trail of white smoke after us that mingled with the laughter in his voice. His eyes flashed at us as we rolled through - all long limbs and noise - but they flashed with merriment! I don't know how long it took me to learn what "rapscallion" meant, exactly, but as a girl I thought it must be some kind of wily, mischievous lizard... and maybe it had words with will-o-wisps and harpies!

My first introduction to harpies can be found in the video below, snippets strung together from the wonderful, animated, Rankin Bass adaptation of Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn. Mommy Fortuna is pleased at snaring a harpy, but the unicorn cautions her with the words that make up today's title, "Don't boast, old woman. Your death sits in that cage, and she hears you." 

Mommy Fortuna is happy to exchange life for the glories of fame, a sentiment that wouldn't be out of place in The Oresteia.

I first encountered Aeschylus's cycle of plays under the instruction of a professor so fierce that she would have given the furies a run for their money. (We did pour out libations to her, and I would write quotes on the fronts of my exams like, "It is better to suffer into truth," which she made us do whether it was better or not.) As I re-read the plays, I was delighted to find my old notes in the margins. I traced a theme of nets throughout, as you can see here:

 The circled, entangling words are: "snare," "sheath," "winding sheet," "net," "coiling," "foot trap," and "lure," all used within a few lines of dialogue. Young close reader that I was, I think I was on to something! Also, I was pleased to discover that this version was translated by the amazing Robert Fagles, whose translation of The Odyssey is my favorite (I used it for my class on Epics last semester). I had completely forgotten the final play and rejoiced in Athena's offer of "a home/ Where all the pain and anguish end." Who doesn't want that? And what a neat contrast of a home (Athens) with the house of Atreus!

And this tattered thing is a blast from the past! I remembered this book from my childhood reading days. Our local library has the whole illustrated series of "Monsters of Mythology," and I loved this one best of all. I found a copy to borrow from openlibrary and then spent my time wondering why this was in the children's section!

The writing is enjoyable, fast-paced, descriptive... and sometimes profane... and gory... and disturbing. It clearly isn't written for adults... but it must have been aimed at a pretty liberal group of kids! Hecate is a great villain though; her film should be playing right alongside that of Wonder Woman. Now I may have to go back and check out the other titles in the series...  In many ways, this title reminded me of the Time Life Enchanted World series. Maybe my parents figured that I had survived Tales of Terror and Night Creatures without incident, so why not classical myths?

The enchanted world series in all of its glory!

In the end, myths and harpies remain scary. To prove it, I leave you with a sample from my own novel, Shieldfall who features a harpy that must have been inspired by all those who came before!

"The woman who had been a bird was captivating in face and figure, but scaled wings of rust and rouge unfurled behind her shoulders. They snapped angrily in the silence and Drake sensed that their clawed tips were functional rather than ornamental. With what the navigator thought was foolish calm, Skyla took a seat and met the harpy's molten, yellow stare. “Lieutenant Tela, what news?”

Lieutenant? Drake puzzled. Does she rule such things?

The harpy spoke, interrupting his thoughts. Her voice was a razor blade hidden in a honeycomb, a sweetness that cost. Tela trembled faintly, ruled by a barely restrained fury at having to speak civil words to the sorceress. She would have preferred to set her claws at the woman's eyes. “War is coming. Your enemies see past your wards and veils. The distant planet of Arkor has chosen your kingdom as its next conquest. My master sends you his seal.” A claw at her shoulder unfolded, extending the jewel. Skyla drew her sword and caught the ornament on the edge of her blade. She then deposited it on the other end of the couch and eyed it warily. “He asks to be your ally.”

Drake was certain of it: while Rhotomego, black cape drawn to his porcelain face, seemed near to shattering, Skyla was bored. “Ah, the trustiness of a king of demons,” she replied at last. “What to reply?”

The clamor of Tela's wings was deafening. The stone of the castle walls seemed to edge back, unnerved in the face of her anger. “You do not deserve him!” she declared, fangs bared. “He wishes only to love you, to serve you, to be used by you.” 

“To enslave me, to rule my lands as well as his own, to see me go to my knees in his name,” Skyla countered wryly. “I know. Tell your master I'll meet with him in time – as well he knows since he has that ship. And thank him for the warning. It is admirable, the way he sees to my welfare.”

Tela nodded severely. Just as Drake was adjusting to her current form, she became a raven and vanished into the sky. Like a lake swallowing a great stone, the surface of the window reverberated and collided with its frame. Skyla motioned the shattered glass back into the wholeness with a disgusted sound that was all consonants. “Harpies.”