LATONA and the RUSTICS
by Jean Lang · from A Book of Myths
Adapted Version
Have you heard a frog croak? Croak, croak, croak! It sounds like a story. They tell a story. Why do they croak?
Leto was a special lady. She lived in a nice home. A mean queen sent her away. The queen was very angry. Leto felt very sad. The queen was jealous. She wanted Leto gone.
The queen said, "No one help her!" No one be kind! This was a bad rule. The queen was truly mean.
Leto walked and walked. She was very, very tired. She was so, so thirsty. Her throat was very dry. She found a green valley. The sun beat down. Her feet ached. She needed water fast.
She saw a pond. It had clear, clear water. Some men were there. They cut plants by the pond. Leto knelt down. She wanted to drink. The water looked so cool. She hoped for a drink.
Leto asked, "Please, may I drink?" Her voice soft. The men just laughed. They did not care. The Unkind Men said, "No! Go away!" They were rude. Leto was sad.
The men laughed at Leto. They stomped in the water. They made it muddy, muddy, muddy! "Now you can't drink!" they said. The water was very dirty. They thought it was funny. Mud rose to the top. The water was ruined. Leto watched in shock.
Leto stood up tall. She was not just a tired lady. Her eyes were strong and dark. She was very, very angry. The men were very unkind. Her power began to show. Her face changed. She spoke with power. She said, "You are so unkind!" "Now you will be frogs!" "Live in the mud you made!" The men changed. They became green frogs. The frogs jumped into the muddy water. They could only say, "Croak, croak!" And that is why frogs still croak. They croak in the mud today. They remind us to always be kind.
Original Story
LATONA AND THE RUSTICS
Through the tropic nights their sonorous, bell-like booming can be heard coming up from the marshes, and when they are unseen, the song of the bull-frogs would suggest creatures full of solemn dignity. The croak of their lesser brethren is less impressive, yet there is no escape from it on those evenings when the dragon-flies’ iridescent wings are folded in sleep, and the birds in the branches are still, when the lilies on the pond have closed their golden hearts, and even the late-feeding trout have ceased to plop and to make eddies in the quiet water. “Krroak! krroak! krroak!” they go—“krroak! krroak! krroak!”
It is unceasing, unending. It goes on like the whirr of the wheels of a great clock that can never run down—a melancholy complaint against the hardships of destiny—a raucous protest against things as they are.
This is the story of the frogs that have helped to point the gibes of Aristophanes, the morals of Æsop, and which have always been, more or less, regarded as the low comedians of the animal world.
Latona, or Leto, was the goddess of dark nights, and upon her the mighty Zeus bestowed the doubtful favour of his errant love. Great was the wrath of Hera, his queen, when she found that she was no longer the dearest wife of her omnipotent lord, and with furious upbraidings she banished her rival to earth. And when Latona had reached the place of her exile she found that the vengeful goddess had sworn that she would place her everlasting ban upon anyone, mortal or immortal, who dared to show any kindness or pity to her whose only fault had been that Zeus loved her. From place to place she wandered, an outcast even among men, until, at length, she came to Lycia.
One evening, as the darkness of which she was goddess had just begun to fall, she reached a green and pleasant valley. The soft, cool grass was a delight to her tired feet, and when she saw the silvery gleam of water she rejoiced, for her throat was parched and her lips dry and she was very weary. By the side of this still pond, where the lilies floated, there grew lithe grey willows and fresh green osiers, and these were being cut by a crowd of chattering rustics.
Humbly, for many a rude word and harsh rebuff had the dictum of Hera brought her during her wanderings, Latona went to the edge of the pond, and, kneeling down, was most thankfully about to drink, when the peasants espied her. Roughly and rudely they told her to begone, nor dare to drink unbidden of the clear water beside which their willows grew. Very pitifully Latona looked up in their churlish faces, and her eyes were as the eyes of a doe that the hunters have pressed very hard.
“Surely, good people,” she said, and her voice was sad and low, “water is free to all. Very far have I travelled, and I am aweary almost to death. Only grant that I dip my lips in the water for one deep draught. Of thy pity grant me this boon, for I perish of thirst.”
Harsh and coarse were the mocking voices that made answer. Coarser still were the jests that they made. Then one, bolder than his fellows, spurned her kneeling figure with his foot, while another brushed before her and stepping into the pond, defiled its clarity by churning up the mud that lay below with his great splay feet.
Loudly the peasants laughed at this merry jest, and they quickly followed his lead, as brainless sheep will follow the one that scrambles through a gap. Soon they were all joyously stamping and dancing in what had so lately been a pellucid pool. The water-lilies and blue forget-me-nots were trodden down, the fish that had their homes under the mossy stones in terror fled away. Only the mud came up, filthy, defiling, and the rustics laughed in loud and foolish laughter to see the havoc they had wrought.
The goddess Latona rose from her knees. No longer did she seem a mere woman, very weary, hungry and athirst, travelled over far. In their surprised eyes she grew to a stature that was as that of the deathless gods. And her eyes were dark as an angry sea at even.
“Shameless ones!” she said, in a voice as the voice of a storm that sweeps destroyingly over forest and mountain. “Ah! shameless ones! Is it thus that thou wouldst defy one who has dwelt on Olympus? Behold from henceforth shalt thou have thy dwelling in the mud of the green-scummed pools, thy homes in the water that thy flat feet have defiled.”
As she spoke, a change, strange and terrible, passed over the forms of the trampling peasants. Their stature shrank. They grew squat and fat. Their hands and feet were webbed, and their grinning mouths became great, sad, gaping openings by which to swallow worms and flies. Green and yellow and brown were their skins, and when they would fain have cried aloud for mercy, from their throats there would come only the “Krroak! krroak! krroak!” that we know so well.
And when, that night, the goddess of darkness was wrapped in peace in the black, silver star bespangled robe that none could take from her, there arose from the pond over which the grey willows hung, weeping, the clamour of a great lamentation. Yet no piteous words were there, only the incessant, harsh complaint of the frogs that we hear in the marshes.
From that time the world went well with Latona. Down to the seashore she came, and when she held out her arms in longing appeal to the Ægean islands that lay like purple flowers strewn, far apart, on a soft carpet of limpid blue, Zeus heard her prayer. He asked Poseidon to send a dolphin to carry the woman he loved to the floating island of Delos, and when she had been borne there in safety, he chained the island with chains of adamant to the golden-sanded floor of the sea.
And on this sanctuary there were born to Latona twin children, thereafter to be amongst the most famed of the deathless gods—the god and goddess, Apollo and Diana.
“... Those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona’s twin-born progeny,
Which after held the sun and moon in fee.”
Milton.
Yet are there times, as we look at the squat, bronze bodies of the frogs—green-bronze, dark brown spotted, and all flecked with gold, the turned-down corners of their wistful mouths, their very exquisite black velvety eyes with golden rims—when the piteous croaks that come forth from their throats of pale daffodil colour do indeed awake a sympathy with their appeal against the inexorable decrees of destiny.
“We did not know! We did not understand! Pity us! Ah, pity us! Krroak! krroak! krroak!”
Story DNA
Moral
Those who show cruelty and deny basic human kindness, especially to the vulnerable, will face severe and lasting consequences.
Plot Summary
Banished by Hera and forbidden kindness, the goddess Latona wanders the Earth, suffering from thirst. She eventually finds a clear pond but is cruelly denied water by a group of rustics who mock her and deliberately defile the water. In her divine wrath, Latona transforms the callous peasants into frogs, condemning them to live forever in the mud they defiled, croaking their unending lament. Latona later finds sanctuary on the island of Delos, where she gives birth to Apollo and Diana, while the frogs serve as a perpetual reminder of the consequences of their inhumanity.
Themes
Emotional Arc
suffering to triumph
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
This is a retelling of a classical Greek myth, specifically Ovid's Metamorphoses, which explains the origin of the frog's croak as a punishment for disrespecting a goddess.
Plot Beats (13)
- The story begins with a description of frogs and their incessant croaking, hinting at their origin.
- Latona (Leto), goddess of dark nights, is banished to Earth by Hera, Zeus's jealous queen.
- Hera decrees that no one, mortal or immortal, shall show kindness to Latona.
- Latona wanders, suffering, until she reaches a green valley in Lycia, parched and weary.
- She finds a clear pond where rustics are cutting osiers and kneels to drink.
- The rustics rudely forbid her from drinking, despite her humble plea for a single draught.
- They mock her, physically abuse her, and deliberately stir up the pond's mud to make the water undrinkable.
- Latona rises, her divine form revealed, and angrily condemns the rustics for their cruelty.
- She transforms them into squat, web-footed, green-skinned creatures with gaping mouths, capable only of croaking.
- The transformed rustics are left to lament their fate in the defiled mud.
- Latona is later granted sanctuary by Zeus on the floating island of Delos, which is then anchored.
- On Delos, Latona gives birth to the twin gods, Apollo and Diana.
- The story concludes by reiterating the frogs' piteous croaks, suggesting their eternal plea for understanding and pity.
Characters
Latona ★ protagonist
Initially appears as a weary, travel-worn woman, but can transform to a stature of a deathless god. Her eyes are dark as an angry sea at even when angered.
Attire: Not explicitly described, but implied to be simple and humble during her exile, suitable for wandering. In her goddess form, she is later described as 'wrapped in peace in the black, silver star bespangled robe'.
Wants: To find refuge and relief from Hera's curse, to quench her thirst, and later, to protect her children.
Flaw: Vulnerable to Hera's curse and the cruelty of mortals while in her exiled form.
Transforms from a persecuted, weary wanderer to a powerful goddess who finds sanctuary and gives birth to divine children, overcoming her exile.
Humble, weary, pitiful, just, powerful, vengeful when provoked, compassionate (later, for her children).
Image Prompt & Upload
A tall, powerful goddess with dark, flowing hair and eyes like a stormy sea. She wears a black robe spangled with silver stars, draped elegantly around her. Her expression is one of stern justice. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Rustics ⚔ antagonist
Initially described as a 'crowd of chattering rustics' with 'churlish faces' and 'great splay feet'. After transformation, they become 'squat and fat' with 'webbed hands and feet'. Their skins are 'green and yellow and brown', and their mouths are 'great, sad, gaping openings'.
Attire: Not explicitly described, but implied to be simple, coarse peasant clothing suitable for cutting osiers. This clothing would disappear upon their transformation.
Wants: To assert their perceived ownership of the pond, to amuse themselves at the expense of a perceived weak outsider.
Flaw: Their cruelty, foolishness, and lack of pity, which leads to their transformation.
Transform from cruel, mocking humans into lamenting frogs, forever bound to the mud they defiled.
Rude, churlish, mocking, cruel, brainless, foolish, lacking empathy, boisterous.
Image Prompt & Upload
A menacing group of rough, weathered villains with sun-darkened skin and wild, tangled hair matted with dirt and twigs. They wear tattered clothing made from burlap sacks, animal hides, and rough-spun cloth in muddy browns and deep greens. Their eyes gleam with cunning malice beneath heavy brows. Jagged scars mark their faces and exposed arms. They carry crude weapons—rusty pitchforks, jagged scythes, and gnarled wooden clubs wrapped in thorny vines. Their postures are hunched and predatory, leaning forward with wicked grins revealing broken, yellowed teeth. Their fingers are thick and calloused, dirt permanently embedded beneath cracked fingernails. Patches of moss and dried leaves cling to their garments as if they emerged from the forest floor itself. Their expressions are cruel and calculating, radiating menace and wild ferocity. One stands taller than the rest, clearly the leader, with a crown of twisted branches atop their matted mane. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature
Locations
Green and Pleasant Valley with a Still Pond
A verdant valley, cool grass underfoot, with a still pond reflecting the twilight. Lithe grey willows and fresh green osiers grow by its side. The water is initially clear, with water-lilies and blue forget-me-nots floating on its surface, and mossy stones beneath.
Mood: Initially serene and inviting, transitioning to hostile and then dramatically transformative.
Latona seeks to drink from the pond but is cruelly denied and the water is defiled by rustics, leading to their transformation into frogs.
Image Prompt & Upload
A tranquil, verdant valley at dusk, with a still pond at its center. Soft, cool grass slopes gently to the water's edge, where lithe grey willows and fresh green osiers stand. Water-lilies and blue forget-me-nots float on the clear surface, catching the last silvery light of the fading day. Overhead, the sky transitions from soft blues to deep purples, hinting at the approaching night. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
The Aegean Sea and Delos Island
The vast, limpid blue expanse of the Aegean Sea, dotted with distant Aegean islands appearing like purple flowers. The floating island of Delos, eventually chained with adamant to the golden-sanded floor of the sea, becomes a sanctuary.
Mood: Hopeful, peaceful, and sacred, a place of refuge and divine birth.
Latona finds sanctuary after her ordeal, is carried to Delos by a dolphin, and gives birth to Apollo and Diana.
Image Prompt & Upload
A serene, wide expanse of the limpid blue Aegean Sea under a clear sky, with distant, hazy purple islands scattered like flowers on the horizon. In the foreground, the golden-sanded seabed is visible through the crystal-clear water, with massive, dark adamant chains anchoring a small, rocky island. The air is bright and still, reflecting the peaceful sanctity of the location. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
