The Naming of Athens: The Hellenic Origin of the Olive
Dedicated to all the peoples from the mountains and the rivers to the Levantine Sea, who understand the true value of the olive tree.
When once the Muse Kleio was admiring the golden sun rising over the mountains of Delphi, she perchanced to glance down at the trickle of supplicants coming to make offerings to Apollo. A man caught her attention. He was bringing an offering of perfumed oils, fresh-pressed and fragrant; where others ignored him as they went about their tasks in the cool morning shadows, she took note of him, for the man possessed a keen and inquisitive mind. The goddess studied the man; by his accent, he was Ionian, having braved the sea storms to pay his respects, and hear the advice of the oracle. Idle and curious, she appeared behind him as an elderly woman, tapping him on the shoulder with her cane.
“Young man” she croaked, adopting the same dialect, “my bones are weary, and I would appreciate your assistance climbing the steps to the top, if you would indulge an old woman? I can tell you a tale as we climb to help pass the time.” The man agreed, happy to have company from his home, and they began walking up the long path as Kleio began her story.
At the beginning of the Age of Heroes, on a rocky peninsula jutting out into the Sea, Gaia birthed forth a populace of people to grow and to love and to act in stewardship of the land. Clever and inquisitive, these Earth-born peoples took to the waves in boats to catch fish, coming together in small nomadic communities of ships. The coastal seas provided, and the people flourished. They thanked the gods with their words alone, and their prayers, while initially answered, soon went unheeded. Fishing boats returned to shore with empty nets. People began to starve, and many believed the gods had abandoned them entirely. Despair gripped the populace and all seemed lost until a man named Periphas stepped forth to comfort the people. A devout follower of Apollo, wise Periphas taught his community how to properly worship the gods and to make sacrifices in their honor, following in the manner of Prometheus. Word soon spread, and the fish returned as peace was had betwixt mortal and immortal.
The people soon became idle and bored, and so Periphas called on Apollo, who sent the Muses to inspire great music and storytelling in the people, filling their hearts with joy. Periphas’ gifts were so beloved that the people began to build temples to him, calling his name when they made sacrifices to Zeus, and giving him the name ‘the Savior’. The attention lavished on Periphas enraged the real Zeus, for it was exactly that haughty attitude which had caused the king of the gods to banish his first mortal creation of silver to the underworld. The mortal-loving gods Apollo and Athena did not wish to see these inventing, story-telling people destroyed, and counseled their father, persuading him to meter his punishment. When his rage finally quelled, the king of the gods settled for punishing Periphas, transformed the mortal king and his lover Phene into eagles and setting them in the skies forever to watch over his sacred sites.
Peace returned to the mortals, lasting several generations from the time of Periphas, and the people continued to live off of the sea. Eventually, a boy by the name of Aktaios was born to these sea-nomads. Displaying great cunning, he quickly became a master of reading the stars, earning him respect and praise from his fellows, his fame winning him the hand of a beautiful woman named Apate. One evening, as the ships came in to one of the southern harbors, a storm picked up from the beach without warning, keeping the ships from landing, in spite of the best efforts of the rowers. Apate had taken her position rowing her husband’s ship when a particularly strong wave hit, violently throwing her into the churning waters, her legs broken by the wooden beams and beyond the capabilities of any healer to mend. And so Aktaios left the sea, building a permanent home in which to live on the beach, where he learned to till the land and plant crops. In due time, others joined Aktaios and Apate, lured by the prospect of greater safety away from the crashing waves, and a small permanent community was formed on the coast. As the first to settle, Aktaios was named the leader, and the community became known as Akte. The Akteans lived in peace with their more nomadic neighbors, trading supplies and food. The population flourished, and before long, grandchildren of those who had originally settled set out on their own, founding new settlements and tilling the land. Settlements sprouted up like the grain the people relied on, spreading along the coast of the region they now called Akkteia as the nomads settled and began farming.
More generations passed, and some of the population heard the call of the sea, returning to it and fishing as their ancestors had done. Every day, many would set out, returning to their homes with nets heavy with fish. Some ventured even further, traveling to foreign ports to trade their wares, bringing back new inventions and crops for cultivation. The people grew wealthy in their new-found trade, and for a time, were happy. But this wealth and prosperity brought with it new-found danger. Pirates, born from all over, began to pursue trade ships, raiding and sacking the coastal cities, killing neighbors and foreigners alike as they went; the people fled inland to escape, but were hard-set by wild animals, for they knew not where to build safely, and prayed to the gods for aid. In response to their pleas, Gaia sent her mortal son Kekrops to live among them. Born with the head and torso of a man, but the tail of a snake for legs, Kekrops was as clever as his father Hephaistos, and calmed the people, leading them further inland, towards a great outcropping of stone a distance from the coast. Here, atop this stone thumb, he had lived, and here, he built a new city, naming it Kekropia. The animals did not venture to those rocky heights, but pirates could, and so strong walls of stone were built to protect from raids. Kekrops quickly proved himself a fair, even-handed leader, allowing none to take advantage of another, nor allowing any to suffer needlessly for want of food or shelter. While some left the city over his policies, accusing Kekrops of favoring the poor, many more people prospered, and were happy with his council.
In just a short few years, Kekropia grew into a jewel of a city rivalling any on the peninsula and providing safe harbor for the people, attracting artisans and inventors from across the seas to stop and trade as they made their way to distant ports. Visitors to the city would return to their homes speaking of how the sun cast the intricate carvings on the stone columns in deep relief and of the temples reaching to the skies, illuminated in the dying sun and casting deep, exacting shadows over the wild countryside. Hiding deep in these shadows, devotees of Artemis hunted boars, their tusks to be used for Kekrops’ battle helmet. When they returned, Apollo’s followers saw to tending their wounds and soothing their minds with music; as the day grew late, followers of Poseidon would return from the sea, nets laden with food, and across the city, people would light fires and cook fish or game, flavoring their food with herbs grown in neat rows by Demeter’s truest adherents, but always offering the first portion to Hestia, who saw to it that their hearths never cooled. The proximity to the coast and security of the city’s position raised Kekropia to new heights of wealth and influence, and drew the attention of the gods themselves. The denizens of Olympos squabbled over the right to the lion’s share of the mortal’s gratitude; fights broke out, some even coming dangerously close to all-out war as the gods haggled over different cities and regions. It was clear to all that in due course the world would be filled with mortal cities just as grand, if not grander, than Kekropia, and none wished to lose out on their share. In the end, Zeus’ just council prevailed, and it was decreed that any mortal could make sacrifices to any of the gods, but that some regions would be favored by, and give the lion’s share of sacrifices to, specific gods. Guided by Zeus’s council, the gods took turns carving out their territories. The Eurotas Valley went to Ares, the wilderness between cities went to Artemis, and Delos was claimed by Apollo; the island that would be known as Atlantis was taken by Poseidon; while Korinthos went to Aphrodite.
On and on the gods went, dividing up the world, each claiming a piece until they came to Kekropia. The walls protected the people in their homes, but pirates continued to plague the seas, and fights were not uncommon with other cities. The people had grown to fierce warriors, argued Ares, and should worship him. But, argued Athena, their warriors were successful because of the brilliant strategies she inspired in their leaders, and should worship her. Poseidon countered both, saying that the people of Kekropia were descended from sailors, and should worship him; Apollo returned that fighting and fishing were all well and good, but without him, the people would have never known the proper means of making sacrifices. Once again, the gods seemed close to warring, and once again, Zeus’ council saved them. Ares already had the Eurotas, whose people were already proving fierce and loyal warriors, and Apollo had Delphi, where all came to honor him and hear words of prophecy. And so their claims were dismissed. Athena had no cities, and while Poseidon had Atlantis, it was bereft of people to make sacrifices, leaving their claims with some merit. To resolve the issue, Zeus decreed that the two gods would compete directly for the favor of the people: whichever god gave the people the best gift would become the city’s patron. Both gods agreed to the terms, a day was chosen for them to make their case, and Zeus visited Kekrops in his dreams, instructing him to gather the people on the highest point of the city to await the coming of the gods.
On the appointed day, Kekrops gathered his citizens from across the hillside and arrayed them before the highest point of the hill. As Helios began his daily trip across the sky, there was a mighty boom and a flash of light that nearly blinded the assembled mortals. As it faded the assembled Kekropians beheld three of the mighty gods, all in a form suitable for mortal eyes. Poseidon stepped forth first, dressed in a deep green half-tunic which ended at his hips and a magnificent beard which cascaded down his bare chest like sea foam. Looking around at the crowd from beneath a pearl-laden crown of red corals and holding in his hand a trident of purest gold, he stood tall and imposing, soaking in the awe of the assembled mortals. Next to step forward was Athena. Where Poseidon was magnificent, she was resplendent. She appeared in a linen dress, dyed deep blue and covered with armor of gleaming golden oreikhalkos, intricately carved with raised patterns, as much a work of art as an implement of warfare; in one hand she held a mighty spear with a gleaming tip, and the other a shield painted with the image of an owl. Between the two gods competing for the city was Pallas, granddaughter of Poseidon, and dearest friend of Athena. Unlike the other two, she had donned a simple dress, being there only to arbitrate. The crowd of mortals was silent, taking everything in.
Finally, Kekrops broke the silence. “Lord Poseidon, Lady Athena, we have gathered here upon the heights of our city to bear witness to the gifts you bring. Your brother and father, the great Lord Zeus, has decreed that we be granted the privilege of choosing the patron for our city, and so we humbly ask of you, demonstrate what your patronage would provide our simple community.”
Poseidon stepped forward first, his booming voice crashing down on the assembled people. “You and your forefathers’ve long witnessed my generosity, and benefitted greatly from my domain; after all, I’ve protected you and yours when you come to fish in my waters, for you and yours have been generous with your offerings in return. But my generosity doesn’t end at the shoreline!” He lifted his trident above his head and brought it down, striking a rock at his feet, cracking it in two. Water immediately began to trickle forth, becoming a stream that flowed down the side of the rocky hill and through the plains below. “Here’s my offer: should you name me your patron, this spring’ll quench your thirst, and the thirst of all who come after. Never again will you need trudge to a stream to wash clothes or bring water for your homes. If you name the city for me, then by my powers, this spring will never run dry.”
Kekrops slithered forward and cupped his hands in the water to take a sip. It was sweet on the tongue, fresh and very drinkable. The assembled people began to murmur amongst themselves as Poseidon beamed, self-satisfied and assured of his victory. What could Athena provide that would be more valuable than an endless source of fresh water? Hundreds of faces turned to her in silent expectation. Athena stood still, considering the spring before her. After a moment’s contemplation, she stepped forward, and without a word thrust the butt of her spear into the rocky soil. In an instant, the spear was transformed into a small, gnarled tree with silvery leaves shaped like the spear’s tip and dark oblong fruits hanging from the branches.
“This is my gift” she said, her voice steady and commanding. “The wood of this tree is hard, and can be fashioned to make tool handles or to feed fires to keep warm in the winter. The branches will provide shade from the heat of the summer. The fruits can be cured and eaten, or pressed for oil which can be eaten with vegetables, or used for medicine or face painting, or to cook or light lamps without blackening the rafters with soot.” Without another word, she stepped back, her gaze stern and her face unmoving.
Utter silence followed Athena’s proclamation, as the people turned from the tree before them to the spring and back, weighing their options. Many turned to Kekrops to see his decision, but he only shook his head, silently urging the citizens to cast their vote for themselves, and not to rely solely on his opinions. A clamor arose, citizens debating the merits of each option as the Sun climbed higher and higher in the sky. As Helios reached his zenith, the noise of the crowd dimmed to a murmur. The assembled gods waited, Poseidon confident and Athena contemplative. Then, from the center of the crowd came a single voice, calmly and flatly stating “I cast my vote for Athena.” Silence followed. Two women in the front row chimed in “we vote for Athena as well!” Soon more voices joined in, and the entire populace cried out unanimously “Athena! Athena! We cast our votes for Athena!”
The goddess stepped forward, raising her hand to quiet the crowd. “I applaud you for your wisdom in seeing the value of my gift. I thank you for your faith. Henceforth, this city and her people will be under my protection. I will carry word to my lord father, that he too might bless this city and her people.” Pallas walked over and gave Athena a congratulatory kiss on the cheek, drawing cheers from the same pair of mortal women. Kekrops too came forward to congratulate the goddess; unseen behind Pallas and Athena, Poseidon stood, his face contorted. His gift was perfect, and yet he had been rejected. His fury boiled within him like a storm at sea. With a roar that drew all eyes, he struck at the ground again with his trident, and the spring began to flow faster and faster. It was soon a raging torrent of water that drowned the surrounding plains within mere moments. The stony outcropping was left as the largest of a series of small rocky islands in a great bay of turbulent, churning waters that stretched to mountainous Dekeleia, halfway across the peninsula. Another sour look at the cowering mortals and he departed for the sea, leaving Pallas, Athena, and Kekrops to calm the people. Once order was restored, Pallas took off after her grandfather to argue the people’s case, while Athena departed to Olympos to enlist her father’s help for her people.
Gathering his senses, Kekrops slithered forth and tasted the spring Poseidon had left behind, recoiling at the taste of salt. Taking control of the situation, he began organizing the people to ensure their survival. Adherents to Demeter quickly began picking the dark fruits and planting them in the rocky soil. The trees grew with astonishing speed, forming a small woodland. Worshipers of Athena and Hephaistos crushed the remaining fruits to extract the oil and to boil and purify the water from the spring, while those most dedicated to Hestia began to work on gathering stones and constructing housing for everyone, many people having lost their homes in the plains below. Excess wood was used for fishing poles by Poseidon’s remaining followers to fish in the newly-formed bay, though with greatly-diminished success.
The days stretched into weeks and then into months as the flood waters kept the people trapped. There was little to eat other than olives, those these were plentiful. Unable to secure other sources of food, hardship set in, soon turning to famine. Pirates began raiding in earnest, drawn in by the bay, which was ever calm on their arrival, but turned violent by Poseidon’s rages when the Athenians set foot in their remaining ships. Unable to convince Zeus to intervene and seeing the people’s troubles, Athena traveled to the underworld and forbade Death at spearpoint from touching her people, and so none perished, but Athena could not end their suffering alone.
Up on Olympos, Athena raged at Poseidon, demanding that he pull his waters back, but he was obstinate. After months of arguing, Athena had enough, and threatened to run Poseidon through with her spear if he did not stop. The threat split the Olympians in two; many, such as Apollo pledged themselves to Athena’s cause, while Thanatos and Hades sided with Poseidon, angry at Athena’s intervention in their domain. Even Zeus could not contain the quarreling of his family.
Soon, the battle lines were drawn, and the gods equipped for a war that would have ended all. Athena’s fighters met the chthonic gods and their hordes of drowned and dead souls. Before the first arrow could be loosed, Eirene, daughter of Zeus and Themis, stepped out into the field between the armies bare-chested and without weapons. Facing Poseidon and his deathly cohort, she cried out in despair “shame on the whole of you! Shame on you for risking so many lives. You all know the fate that awaits mortal kind if this war begins. You saw the Men of Ash and their bronze weapons. You know what became of them, and now you would make their mistake yourselves! We all witnessed the agreement sworn by the contestants for this city. The two of you swore to accept the mortals’ choice, and the mortals chose their path. You all must honor it, or else fight here and make me the first casualty, for I will not watch you destroy everything.”
Hades retorted angrily “bold words, girl, but Athena had no right to come into my domain and demand her people live on as we deathless gods. I am master of the underworld, and I will not allow any to disrupt the order of mortal lives without my permission. Daughter of my brother she may be, but none have the authority to interfere in my domain.”
Eirene nodded, calling back “she did enter your domain, but she was protecting the mortals she agreed to guard against all threats, including those by your ally, who broke his agreement to abide by the decision of the people. Her actions were dutiful as the patron of her city, and no less than you or any other god would do.”
Eirene’s words reverberated around the field of clouds and a perfect silence hung over the battlefield as the gods considered her words. The tension had been broken, and none were willing to be the one to strike first. Finally, after what may have been an eternity, Poseidon himself stepped forward, saying “I’ll agree to cast aside their slight, but only on the condition that the mortals pay proper respect to me. They will build me a temple, not of common stone, but of the finest marble, and placed for all to see. If they agree to do that, and to provide the due sacrifices, I’ll recall my flood and guarantee the people my protection on the seas.”
The assembled gods agreed to the terms, and Athena returned to the highest point on the outcropping of her city and spoke to the people. She presented Poseidon’s terms, to which the people, weary of their isolation, readily agreed, and soon the waters began to recede, leaving the soil forever salty and rocky.
The following year, the Athenians traveled south to the tip of the peninsula with the supplies they had collected, to where the cliffs overlooked the sea, and there, built a grand temple to Poseidon a sign of their eternal respect for his domain. By way of apology for all he had done, Poseidon promised to come to aid the Athenians when they needed him most. Peace soon returned, and with Poseidon’s blessings renewed, the Athenians returned to the seas, once again traveling across the waters to the many ports, where they traded the fruits of this most miraculous tree, sharing the gift given to them by the very gods so that all peoples could benefit.
By the time Kleio finished her story, she and the man had reached the oracle. Kleio produced a small lyre, leaving it for her half-brother Apollo and turned to begin the walk back down, leaving the man to make his offering. The man called after her, asking her how she was so sure, for the people in his homeland had a different story about where olives came from. Kleio turned back to him with a smile. She put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear “only the gods truly know where the olive came from, and which people first used it. There may have been many peoples and many gods, or only one; it matters little. What matters is that our peoples, both here and across the seas, have made use of it for generations. The olive and sea connect our people and bring us together. So it matters not where the it originally came from, but rather how it is used, for the olive holds immeasurable value for those who understand and treasure it.” With those words, she disappeared into the crowd, and the man was left to contemplate her story.
