Chapter 4 examines the critical problem of Hector’s self-condemnation in Book 22, where he attributes the army’s destruction to his ‘recklessness.’ The text reviews the three interpretations that have been offered: that Hector acted hubristically against Zeus’s advice, that he was innocently deceived by an unfulfilled divine promise, or that his actions were due to double motivation. The chapter argues that none of these interpretations is correct. Zeus only influenced Hector via external messages, without direct mental intervention, and Hector’s actions were not hubristic. The argument proposes that one must ‘read’ Hector’s mind, interpreting his actions on the basis of what he knows. Hector’s fatal decision in Book 18 to remain outside the city walls, ignoring Polydamas’ advice, resulted from a misunderstanding. He mistakenly believed Apollo’s encouragement (Book 15) superseded Zeus’s earlier message (Book 11), perceiving it as a new, specific divine instruction. Hector’s tragic downfall is thus rooted in a failure of communication and his misinterpretation of Zeus’s will, leading to an outcome opposite to everyone’s intentions, and, subsequently, his negative self-assessment.

The Introduction presents the main themes of the book. Against the view that Homer’s epic poem is episodic or incoherent, the book reads the poem as a structured narrative driven by intention, miscommunication, and moral reversal. The book encourages the reader to pay close attention to textual details to ‘read the minds’ and understand the motivations of the characters – a methodology aligned with cognitive studies. It argues that the cognitive approach of ‘mind-reading’ is practised by all interpreters of fictional texts, including ancient commentators. The Introduction ends with an overview of the content of the book.

Chapter 1 introduces some crucial themes of the book, discussing the contraposition between Achilles and Hector in the reception of the Iliad and in modern interpretations of the poem. Both heroes acknowledge causing the destruction of their philoi (’loved ones’) (Hector at 22.104, Achilles at 18.82). Zeus, a deeply emotional god (17.198–218), also causes suffering to humans he loves, a consequence he anticipates from the poem’s start when he grants Thetis’ request (1.511–19). The chapter treats these incidents as examples of a single narrative mechanism: the central characters achieve the opposite of their goals. These instances demonstrate tragic ‘reversal’ (Aristotle) and ‘moral bad luck’ (Williams), highlighting the gap between intention and outcome in the epic’s structure.

The first part of the chapter argues that the Iliad was an ‘oral-dictated text’ and it remained basically stable from the beginning. It challenges the common belief that the text was unstable until the time of Pisistratus. The second part addresses the interaction between divine action and human freedom. Many critics wrongly reject the Iliad’s narrative coherence by overestimating the power of gods and fate. These critics often assume Zeus is omnipotent and that humans must instantly obey. The chapter counters this, showing that Homeric characters, particularly Achilles, act freely, contemplating the possibility of rejecting divine orders, and of accepting the possible consequences of doing so. It discusses the concept of ‘double motivation’, defining it strictly as a god influencing a character’s mind without the character’s awareness. These instances of double motivation are rare and highlighted by the Homeric narrator. Cases where gods threaten or bribe characters are excluded from this definition, being analogous to cases when powerful human beings do the same. This new definition clarifies the scope of ethical choices and freedom within the Iliad’s narrative mechanism.

This chapter offers an interpretation of early Greek conceptions of divine and human as a coherent constellation of ideas organised around the core notions of human vulnerability, short-sightedness and mutability. Beginning with Achilles’ speech to Priam in Iliad 24, I discuss these key principles and their expressions in genres including epic, elegy, choral lyric, philosophy and historiography. I analyse some of their specific formulations and inflections, with a particular focus on perceptions of the unpredictable and unstable nature of human affairs, the conception of human beings as ephēmeroi (‘creatures of the day’), ideas of divine retribution and the ‘archaic chain’ linking prosperity, greed, arrogance, delusion and disaster. In a second step, I examine the relationship between these ideas and the narratives in which they are embedded, mainly using the examples of the Iliad and Solon’s Elegy to the Muses (fr. 13W).

This chapter offers a detailed reading of Sophocles’ Trachiniae. It begins by analysing the characters’ use of theological and philosophical discourse in the tragedy’s first half, paying close attention to its function and its relationship with its broader dramatic context. It then focuses on the scenic experiences and trajectories of the characters (in particular Deianeira), demonstrating that the play, through its presentation of the interplay between knowledge and ignorance and the experience of reversal, dramatises traditional Greek notions of vicissitude and short-sightedness. Finally, the chapter attempts to trace some of the broader patterns and forces underlying and shaping the play’s events, the means by which these patterns emerge and the characters’ efforts to understand them. It argues that the characters are all, in their own way, pitiful victims of a shifting world that cannot be bent to their will, and is governed by distant, uncaring gods.

Sound and hearing play a crucial role in the conceptualisation and perception of divine entities, cultic places, and ritual processes. Sound phenomena can evoke religious experiences, structure ritual communication and stimulate desired emotional responses, whilst exposure to certain resonance frequencies can affect the human body, thereby influencing one’s perceptions and states of consciousness. This essay analyses the Dodonean soundscape, exploring the potential affect of the various sonic experiences in relation to the process of consultation. In addition to the diverse sensory input from the natural environment, which in the case of Dodona is crucial, as it can be surmised from the traditional accounts of the oracular oak, special consideration is given to the chalkeion of Dodona, a remarkable sonic installation that offered one of the most unusual auditory experiences to the pilgrims. Based on the symbolic and sound properties of the chalkeion, it is possible to suggest that the soundscape at Dodona invited a form of ecstasy or meditation, with the potential to alter the focus of attention and consciousness, thus allowing for new forms of knowledge to become available.

Mycenaean pottery has a remarkable continuity. In LH I and LH II pottery is based on Minoan principles. MH styles continue but the lustrous paint technique is introduced from Crete first in Ayios Stephanos, Laconia in LH I, and the lustrous decorated style developed. Marine, Ephyraean and the monumental palace style mark the LH II. Gradually though naturalism fades, tendency to abstraction and standardization appear leading to the uniformity of the famous Mycenae ‘koine’. In LH III, often inspired by wall-paintings, the Pictorial style expanded, kraters representing mainly chariot scenes being the typical vessels. The revival of the pottery after the destruction of the palaces brings to the pictorial an explosion of new themes. Close and granary styles mark the end of the pottery sequence. Clay painted larnakes, rare in Greece, appeared first in Crete under bathtub or rectangular form; exception is a unique set discovered in Tanagra depicting in a realistic vivid way scenes related to death and funeral rites.

The long-lasting impact of Pheidias, antiquity’s master of religious art, especially his Zeus at Olympia, is considered in the context of the theme of personal religion. The chapter adopts a broad chronological perspective and explores how the great master was perceived during the centuries following his lifetime, with a focus on his chryselephantine masterpiece, which he completed in the later decades of the fifth century BCE. It considers how later generations have conceived of his personal religious life, its relation to his famed artwork, and the position his figure has come to occupy within broader cult practices and devotional experiences. Close analysis of Pausanias’ Description of Greece alongside other evidentiary materials shows that by the second century CE, Pheidias was a figure of religious significance in his own right. Greco-Roman authors ascribed to him the qualities of a visionary endowed with unparallel access to Zeus. He left his detectable trademarks in his masterpiece, and his presence was felt in communal cult practices. Centuries after his departure from Olympia, his artmaking has come to be understood as a form of devotional practice.

Chapter 4 is in part an examination of a Mycenaean divine Potnia, one affiliated with the “labyrinth,” the Potnia of the dabúrinthos (δαβύρινθος). The labyrinthine space with which she is associated is an Asian cult notion introduced from Anatolia to Balkan Hellas. This chapter also examines the Rājasūya, a Vedic rite of consecration by which a warrior is made a king and a likely cult counterpart to the Mycenaean initiation of the wanaks.

Chapter 2 examines the Vedic sacrificial post called the yūpa and its role in ritual performances. A Mycenaean Greek cognate term and comparable ritual implement lies behind the Linear B form spelled u-po – that is, hûpos (ὗπος). Among other topics treated in this chapter are the Mycenaean deity called the po-ti-ni-ja, a-si-wi-ja, the Asian Potnia, and the u-po-jo po-ti-ni-ja, the Potnia of the u-po (that is, húpoio Pótnia [ὕποιο Πότνια]), a term matched exactly by Sanskrit patnī-yūpá-.

Chapter 6 examines Iranian cult and myth as evidenced in the Nart sagas of Transcaucasia, but also among Scythians as well as in Zoroastrian tradition, including the psychotropic cult substances Haoma (Iranian) and Soma (Indic). The Greek polis of Dioscurias in the Caucasus is explored as a place where Hellenic and Indo-Iranian divine-twin myth and cult affiliation meet, as indeed they do in the Pontic polis of Sinope. Aeolian connections are conspicuous at both locales.

Chapter 7 examines the sheep’s fleece filter used in the preparation of Soma. A cult ideology in which such an implement played an important role was preserved for some time in Iranian tradition in the Caucuses, ultimately giving expression to Greek ideas about the presence of fleecy filters impinged with gold in the vicinity of Dioscurias – rationalizing accounts of the Golden Fleece of Aeolian Argonautic tradition. Particular elements of the Golden Fleece myth find parallels in Indic poetic accounts of the performance of Soma cult. The common Hellenic and Indic elements constitute a shared nexus of ideas that earliest took shape in Bronze-Age communities of admixed Mycenaean and Luvian populations into which Mitanni Soma ideas had spread via Kizzuwatna. The Golden Fleece mythic tradition, with its geographic localization in Transcaucasia, is a Mycenaean Asianism that took shape in Asia Minor under Indic and Iranian influences and that continued to evolve among the Iron-Age Asian Greeks.

Chapter 5 considers the Indic divine twins, the Aśvins (Aśvínā), or Nāsatyas (Nā́satyā), their association with the Indic Dawn goddess Uṣas, and their place in the Indic Soma cult. Discussion then shifts to the kingdom of Mitanni in Syro-Mesopotamia, a place into which Indic culture was introduced as Indo-Iranian peoples migrated southward through Asia, as also at Nuzi. There is good lexical evidence for the presence of a Soma cult in Mitanni, and Soma-cult ideas appear to have spread out of Mitanni, through Kizzuwatna, into the Luvian milieu of western Asia Minor, where such ideas would almost certainly have been encountered by resident Mycenaean Greeks, intermingled biologically, socially, culturally, and linguistically with Luvian populations. With that spread certain elements of Soma-cult ideology were mapped onto Anatolian cult structures.

Chapter 1 examines Pylos tablet Tn 316 in depth, giving particular attention to the Linear B forms spelled po-re-na, po-re-si, and po-re-no-, and related Sanskrit forms, and to the especial closeness of post-Mycenaean Aeolic to ancestral Helleno-Indo-Iranian in regard to this matter.

Chapter 3 examines the Mycenaean wanaks and lāwāgetās, figures responsible for leading Mycenaean society in specific ways and who correspond notionally to figures implicit in Indic and Iranian social structures – figures who descend from still more ancient Indo-European antecedents charged with the task of leading society through the spaces of the Eurasian Steppes and in migrations southward out of the Steppes.

Chapter 8 explores how technologies can be used to imitate and challenge the gods. Lucian’s Icaromenippus is analysed first in terms of how the text reimagines divine and human realms as mechanically bridgeable, and then for the possible theomachic implications of the protagonist’s flight. Lucian’s Icaromenippus demonstrates that technologies are integral to navigating the junction between human and divine, but there are also hints that this can be manipulated in ways that pose threats to the existing divine order. The suggestion that Menippus’ actions mark him out as a pseudo or fake god provides a useful entry point for discussion of the issue of technology as a tool for theomachy more generally in the Greek cultural imagination including in figures like Salmoneus.

Discussion of the transfer of cult knowledge from Anatolia to European Hellas in both the Bronze Age and Iron Age, with a close examination of Ephesian Artemis and other Asian Mother-goddess figures with consideration of Ur-Aeolian (= Ahhiyawan) and Aeolian involvement in the process.

The investigation of Aeolian foundation myths continues in this chapter, with examination of traditions of the founding of Boeotian Thebes. Ancestral Indo-European tradition is again evident, as is an Anatolian stratum, one which foregrounds technological expertise of Asian origin.