Atalanta's Race
The princess who ran faster than any man, and the race that won her heart
Page 1
In the green country of Arcadia, there lived a king who had a daughter named Atalanta. She was famous for being the fastest runner anyone had ever seen. The King was proud, but also worried, because Atalanta had no wish to marry. Finally, he called his royal herald. "Go to the public square," the King commanded, his voice heavy. "Announce this to all. A great race will be held. Any man who can beat my daughter will become her husband and a prince of Arcadia." The herald bowed. "And what of those who lose, your majesty?" The King sighed. "Any man who tries and fails must be sent away from this kingdom, never to return." He hoped that someone, somewhere in the world, would be fast enough to win.
Page 2
The King sat on his throne and pleaded with his daughter. "Atalanta," he said, his voice echoing in the stone hall, "you are a princess. Why must you set this impossible challenge? Must we send away every noble youth in Greece?" Atalanta stood before him, her back straight. Years ago, an oracle had warned her that marriage would be her undoing. "Father," she replied, her voice steady, "I do not wish to marry. But if I must, it will be to a man who is my equal." She gestured around the hall. "I am the fastest in Arcadia. Is it so wrong to ask the same of the man I would marry?" The King sighed, resting his head in his hand. He knew he could not change her mind. "Then the race stands," he said sadly. "But the condition is a hard one."
Page 3
News of the King's proclamation spread far and wide. A long line of hopeful young men formed in the palace courtyard, each certain he could win. One by one, they raced Atalanta, and one by one, they lost. "She is too fast!" one suitor muttered to another as he left the track. "No mortal can beat her." The losers were not harmed, but they were sent away from Arcadia forever. As another race finished, a young prince stood before the guards. "I have lost," he said, his voice hollow. He unbuckled his sword belt and handed it over. "I must leave now." From a high balcony, the King watched him go, his heart growing heavier. Soon, there would be no suitors left at all.
Page 4
One day, a stranger named Hippomenes arrived in Arcadia. He saw the crowd by the city gates. "What foolishness is this?" he asked a man watching beside him. "It is the princess's race," the man replied. "She is beautiful, but unbeatable. He is the tenth to lose this month." Hippomenes thought it was a foolish risk, but he stayed to watch. Then, the race began. He saw Atalanta run, and his breath caught in his throat. She moved with a power and grace he had never seen, flying past the cheering crowd. In that moment, Hippomenes forgot everything else. "I did not think a race could be so beautiful," he whispered. He knew, with a certainty that filled his heart, that he had to try.
Page 5
Hippomenes was brave, but he knew he could not win with speed alone. That evening, as twilight settled, he walked to a quiet grove of olive trees where a small shrine to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, stood in a clearing. He knelt on the cool earth before the statue. "Oh, great Aphrodite," he prayed, his voice soft but earnest. "You see my heart. I do not seek a prize or a crown, only the love of Atalanta. She has captured my heart, but I cannot win by my own strength." He reached out and touched the cold marble base of the shrine. "Please, lend me your power. Help me win this impossible race. Only with your help can I hope to succeed."
Page 6
Suddenly, the air grew warm and bright. A gentle light glowed before Hippomenes, and it was Aphrodite herself. "Your courage has pleased me," the goddess said, her voice like music. "Love is not won by the swift, but by the clever. I will help you." She reached to a tree with silver leaves and plucked three perfect, heavy apples, each glowing with magical light. "Take these," she commanded, her voice gentle but firm. "They are from my sacred garden. No one can see them and not desire them." She placed them carefully into his hands. "Use them when her speed is greatest. But do not forget to thank me when you have won."
Page 7
A huge crowd gathered along the track. "Look at them!" someone shouted. "She is like a goddess." "He is brave to even try," said another. Atalanta took her place, her eyes on the finish line. She felt a strange pity for the handsome young man beside her. "Are you ready for this?" she asked quietly. Hippomenes nodded, his heart pounding. He clutched the three golden apples, hidden in his tunic. King Iasus stood in his pavilion. He raised a white flag, held it for a silent moment, and then let it drop. The race had begun! The crowd roared as Atalanta shot forward like an arrow from a bow.
Page 8
Atalanta was far ahead. Hippomenes' hope began to fail. "Now!" he thought, his lungs burning. "Or I am lost!" He took out the first golden apple and threw it so it rolled into the grass. Atalanta saw the flash of gold. "What is this?" she wondered, her stride faltering. "A trick!" She hesitated, but she had never seen anything so beautiful. She turned, ran to snatch it up, and returned to the track, but Hippomenes was now in the lead. She quickened her pace, easily catching up. As she drew level, he threw the second apple, even farther than the first. Again, she could not resist and ran to retrieve it.
Page 9
The finish line was in sight. "He's going to do it!" roared the crowd. Atalanta put on a final burst of speed, about to pass him. "Just a few more steps..." Hippomenes thought, and threw his last apple far into a field. Atalanta saw it arc through the air. "Don't do it!" a part of her mind screamed, but the desire was too strong. She swerved to find it. That moment was all Hippomenes needed. He staggered forward and fell across the finish line. "He has won!" shouted the King, his voice full of joy. "He has won!" The crowd exploded with cheers. Hippomenes, exhausted, had done the impossible.
Page 10
Hippomenes won the race and the hand of Atalanta. In their joy, they began their new life together. But they forgot one thing: to thank Aphrodite, who had given them their happiness. For this, they were magically transformed. Their bodies grew strong and sleek, covered in golden fur. They were no longer a prince and princess, but two magnificent lions. And so they spent their days together, not in a palace, but under the wide-open sky, as swift and free as they had always been in their hearts. And if you travel to Arcadia, some say you can still see them, two golden shapes running like the wind. "Snip, snap, snout," says the storyteller's voice, "this tale's told out."
About this story
- Audience: kids (ages 6–12)
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