daughters of
Pelias, to be his bride. The minstrels sang of the glories of the
house of Pherai, and of the brave deeds of Admetos--how, by the aid of
the golden-haired Apollo, he had yoked the lion and the boar, and made
them drag his chariot to Iolkos, for Pelias had said that only to one
who came thus would he give his daughter, Alkestis, to be his wife. So
the sound of mirth and revelry echoed through the hall, and the red
wine was poured forth in honor of Zeus and all the gods, each by his
name, but the name of Artemis was forgotten, and her wrath burned sore
against the house of Admetos.

But one, mightier yet than Artemis, was nigh at hand to aid him, for
Apollo, the son of Leto, served as a bondman in the house of Pheres,
because he had slain the Cyclopes, who forged the thunderbolts of
Zeus. No mortal blood flowed in his veins, but, though he could
neither grow old nor die, nor could any of the sons of men do him
hurt, yet all loved him for his gentle dealing, for all things had
prospered in the land from the day when he came to the house of
Admetos. And so it came to pass that when the sacrifice of the
marriage feast was ended, he spake to Admetos, and said, "The anger of
Artemis, my sister, is kindled against thee, and it may be that she
will smite thee with her spear, which can never miss its mark. But
thou hast been to me a kind task-master, and though I am here as thy
bond-servant, yet have I power still with my father, Zeus, and I have
obtained for thee this boon, that, if thou art smitten by the spear of
Artemis, thou shalt not die, if thou canst find one who in thy stead
will go down to the dark kingdom of Hades."

Many a time the sun rose up into the heaven and sank down to sleep
beneath the western waters, and still the hours went by full of deep
joy to Admetos and his wife, Alkestis, for their hearts were knit
together in a pure love, and no cloud of strife spread its dark shadow
over their souls. Once only Admetos spake to her of the words of
Apollo, and Alkestis answered with a smile, "Where is the pain of
death, my husband, for those who love truly? Without thee I care not
to live; wherefore, to die for thee will be a boon."

Once again there was high feasting in the house of Admetos, for
Herakles, the mighty son of Alkmene, had come thither as he journeyed
through many lands, doing the will of the false Eurystheus. But, even
as the minstrels sang the praises of the chieftains of Pherai, the
f