The Twelve Labours of Hercules

by Joe Corcoran

no more damage than the arrows. In fact it bent almost in two, just as if it were made of lead. The lion simply yawned and looked at Hercules, licking its lips. Fortunately Hercules still had his club and, in a single movement, he brought it round from where it hung on his back to crash down on the lion’s head. The club shattered into a hundred pieces and the lion, although not hurt, retreated into its cave, shaking its head because of the singing in its ears. Hercules also retreated, to Nemea, to cut himself a new club and to plan his next move. He had no idea how to defeat an enemy that no weapon seemed able to harm.

  The next day Hercules returned to the cave, where he found the lion asleep. Working quietly he spread a net over one entrance to the cave, then he picked up an iron sword and a bronze shield and made his way round to the other entrance. Taking a deep breath, he began to shout at the top of his voice, at the same time banging the sword on the shield. In this way he advanced into the cave, and the sound grew louder as it bounced off the rocky walls. The lion had never heard anything like it and raced away from the terrible din, running slap bang into the net. Quickly Hercules was on him, wrestling the beast to the ground and getting his strong arms around its neck. The lion fought back, and even managed to bite off one of Hercules’ fingers, but it was tangled in the net and Hercules was too strong. He squeezed his arms tighter around the lion’s neck until it could no longer breathe, and soon it fell down dead. Hercules then hoisted the carcass onto his shoulders and carried it all the way back to Cleonae. He arrived exactly thirteen days after he had left, and found Molochus preparing to sacrifice the sheep to him as a dead hero. Instead they sacrificed the sheep together in honour of Zeus, and invited all the village to share the feast. Now the villagers seemed to have forgotten their fear of Hercules and they praised him as a hero, the most important among them competing for the honour of bringing him food and wine. Despite this, Hercules was still uneasy and did not seem to be enjoying himself.

  “What’s the matter,” asked Molochus, “you are a hero. You’ve defeated the lion that could not be harmed – the invulnerable beast. You have achieved the impossible. Why do you not celebrate?”

  “I do not celebrate because my task is not yet complete. Pittheus instructed me to bring the lion’s skin back to the city, so that everyone can see that it is dead. I’ve tried to skin the animal, but every knife I had has crumpled against its impregnable hide. I do not know how I will be able to succeed.”

  Molochus thought carefully about this for a few minutes, and the two men sat silently together while the sounds and smells of the feast drifted around them. Then the builder straightened up as a thought came to him.

  “The wise say that all things carry within themselves the seeds of their own destruction. Maybe the lion’s skin cannot resist the lion itself?”

  Hercules thought about this, nodding wisely, but otherwise he made no move.

  “Maybe the lion’s skin can be cut by one of the lion’s own claws,” Molochus prompted.

  Hercules leapt to his feet as though stung and ran back to the house where he had left the lion’s carcass. Molochus followed, but first he went to speak to a particular man who was sharing the feast. They arrived together just as Hercules was triumphantly making the first cut into the lion’s skin using its own claw as a knife.

  “It slides through as easily as if it were butter,” he smiled, then, looking up, saw the man who Molochus had brought with him. “Who’s this?” he asked.

  “I am the village tanner,” the man explained, “I can see that your old cloak has seen better days. I’d like to make you a new one. One that will be fit for a hero.”

  Hercules looked at his old lion skin cloak, with its bald patches, tears and colonies of fleas. Then he looked at the body of the invulnerable lion and his smile broadened into a grin.

  The next morning Hercules said goodbye to his new friends and set off for Troezen, wearing his new cloak. The tanner had worked all night, waking Hercules several times to take measurements, and he had made the most splendid and practical garment from the skin of the lion. The cloak covered Hercules almost down to his knees and would protect him better than the best armour, being impenetrable to all weapons. He had even made a helmet out of the lion’s head, so that when Hercules strode out of the village that morning he looked for all the world like a lion walking upright. Not that there was anyone to see, as he made his journey through the countryside, sleeping overnight under the stars. Impatient to be back he woke early, before the sun, and ran through the darkness, arriving at the gates of Troezen just as dawn was breaking. He entered the city through the main gate, and began the climb to the palace of Pittheus, which was at the top of a small hill. Half way up he stumbled on a loose stone and fell forward onto all fours, scraping his knee and roaring in pain as he did so. By bad luck it was just at this moment that a small boy was coming out of a nearby house. He carried a stone jug that he was going to fill with water for his family’s breakfast, but what he saw was a huge lion, roaring a terrible roar and heading for the palace. At once he retreated back into his house, slammed the door shut and hurried to tell his father of the danger. Hercules, meanwhile, knew nothing of this, and as panic began to spread through the households below him, he completed his climb up to the palace and asked to be presented to Pittheus.

  The Philosopher King was already up and Hercules found him at a desk, reviewing reports and writing instructions to ensure the smooth administration of the city, even as he ate his breakfast. On seeing the returning hero, however, the King put everything aside and stood up to grasp Hercules warmly by the hand.

  “I see you have been successful … unless there were two lions,” said Pittheus with a gentle laugh.

  “Don’t joke,” replied Hercules, “one was quite trouble enough.”

  “Please do tell me about it,” said Pittheus, “and let me arrange something for your breakfast.” But before the King reached the door it was flung open, and the commander of the palace guard came rushing in.

  “Sire, thank heavens your safe!” he exclaimed, “The townspeople have armed themselves, and there is a mob of them surrounding the palace. They say the lion has come to kill you, but that they will protect you.” He was going to say more, except he caught sight of Hercules, standing quietly in his new cloak. He frowned, then screwed his face up tight in thought, then finally smiled as he realised what must have happened.

  “Maybe I should present our saviour to the people,” said Pittheus, “we can all hear his story together.”

  And so it was. Food was brought out, and Hercules told his story to the crowd. Then he chased the little children around, roaring as they squealed in pretend terror. Then he told the story again, and the people all cheered when he got to the bit where he defeated the lion.

  “Well, we seem to have avoided a mass panic this time,” said Pittheus to Hercules, in a quiet moment, “but I think that next time it would be best if you displayed your trophies outside the city walls.”

  The Second Challenge: The Lernaean Hydra

  After he had had something to eat and something to drink, and had told his story to a hundred and one different children, Hercules decided to go and have a bath. It was three weeks since his last one, which he had taken the day before setting out for Nemea. Now, in the time of Hercules people went to public baths, which were more like swimming pools than the baths we use today. Troezen had some very fine public baths, and Hercules went to the largest one of these. First he took off all his clothes, because everyone bathed naked. Then he went through to the first pool, which was neither cold nor hot, but pleasant enough to sit in and pass the time. Hercules went swiftly through this pool, impatient to get to the rooms beyond, which contained a hot pool, a sizzling steam room and last, his favourite of all, the freezing cold plunge pool. After staying for as long as he could bear in the steam room, Hercules found that diving into the icy water was a shock and a relief all in one.

  “Hercules! Hercules!” Just as Hercules was climbing out of the plung
e pool a young man came running into the room, calling his name. The youngster had obviously been in such a rush that he had forgotten to take his clothes off, and all around people were tutting and shaking their heads in disapproval of this poor behaviour. But the young man didn’t notice, he was too focused on finding Hercules.

  “Hercules!” He called again and then, on seeing the hero emerging from the pool, he blurted out, “I bring a message from King Pittheus. He requests your presence in the palace at once, immediately and without delay.”

  “That’s a lot of words for a simple meaning,” replied Hercules, “but I understand. Lead on.”

  The young man led the way, running through the streets at a surprising speed, although no faster than Hercules could manage. As they ran there came the sounds of shrieks and whistles and loud tuts, and Hercules suddenly realised that he’d run out of the baths without pausing to put on his clothes. Fortunately as they went into the palace he was able to borrow a cloak from one of the soldiers on guard. It would never do to appear naked before the king. The young man led Hercules to the throne room, and then left as quickly as he had arrived. Inside, King Pittheus was waiting and he told Hercules of his