The Twelve Labours of Hercules

by Joe Corcoran

rest and, for the first time, there were not enough fit men to row, and they only managed to put up two to an oar. It was beginning to look like a real competition, with no certainty over who would win, when the wind began to blow again. The oars were shipped, the sail raised, and then all thoughts of the competition were put to one side as the Hellespont came into sight.

  Several of the sailors had heard frightening stories of the Hellespont and its sister channel, the Bosphorus. In order to pass from the Aegean Sea to the Black Sea, a ship had to travel through both these narrow straits, and the crews had to face their various dangers. One sailor told of moving rocks, that would crash together if ever a vessel should try to pass between. Another had heard of currents in the water that ran faster than any river and would toss a boat around as if it were just a toy. Most frightening of all was the story of the eight headed monster that would quietly approach a ship and then snatch sailors from the deck, carrying them off to the rocks where it would eat them in full view of their comrades. So it was a nervous and vigilant crew that entered into the first of those narrow passages, the Hellespont.

  Fortunately the stories seemed to have been exaggerated. There were rocks, but they didn’t move and were easy for the experienced crew to avoid. The current was strong and they sometimes had to use the oars and the sail to make progress, but the galley was always in control, and if there was a hideous monster lurking in the waters, it didn’t reveal itself. Iolaus was secretly disappointed that everything was so normal, while the sailors, who were older and wiser, were very glad of the uneventful passage. Before too long, they had passed through the narrow Hellespont and emerged into the small sea beyond. The sun shone, the wind blew fair, and gulls followed in the wake of the boat, diving down from time to time to grab at a fish. Everyone was in great spirits, and their mood only improved once they had entered the next narrow strait, the Bosphorus, which led to the Black Sea.

  Not only was the water calm and the passage easier to navigate than they had expected, but also it was not long before Hercules pointed to a village on the Southern shore and told the captain that this was their first destination. He explained that he had visited this place on one of his previous adventures, and that they would be sure to find a good market for their cargo. Sure enough, as soon as they brought the galley in to the quayside, a small crowd gathered. Everyone was dressed in colourful clothes, some carried musical instruments and they were all in a festive mood. When the captain descended the gangplank, a tall, stout man approached him, beaming from ear to ear.

  “Welcome, my friends, welcome to Chalcedon,” he said, enveloping first the captain, then the first mate, then Hercules himself in massive hugs, “you are most fortunate to arrive today. Today we are having one of our biggest celebrations. Today is the day when, according to our history, Dionysus first learnt the secret of how to grow grape vines. It is the fifth or sixth most sacred day in our calendar, not quite as important as when Dionysus first created wine, but much more important than when Dionysus conquered India.”

  “I take it, then, that you are followers of Dionysus,” the captain said, eyeing Hercules with what could have been a new found respect.

  “Of course, we follow the god of wine,” replied the man, “but quickly, we must go to the village square. This is our fourth festival this month and I’m afraid we now have only a little wine left, we must get there before it is finished.”

  And with this the man turned to go, grabbing the captain’s hand and trying to drag him along. But the captain stood fast.

  “You’re short of wine,” he said, “well there’s a coincidence. We happen to be taking a cargo of … but no, I shouldn’t say as it’s already promised to another buyer.”

  The man stopped and turned around, a look of desperate longing on his face, “Do you have a cargo of wine? Has Dionysus himself sent you to us in our very hour of need?”

  “Well … yes,” said the captain, looking embarrassed, “but, like I say, we only stopped to rest before the next leg of our voyage. Our cargo is promised to a merchant further to the north. It’s a long way to go, but he pays very well for fine Greek wine.”

  “I should explain,” said the man, looking very serious, “that I am the mayor of this village, and you should know that, although we don’t work very hard, we have an extremely good location here for trading, and so we are all very rich. I’m sure we could pay you just as well as this merchant. Besides,” he added, “this wine will be used to honour Dionysus, someday you may be thankful for the goodwill of the god of wine.”

  So that was that. The deal was done, and Hercules unloaded all the wine, which was stored in large jars, called amphorae. He took all of these to the village square. All except one, which the mayor insisted the villagers should carry to the square, as it was part of their ritual. Now, Hercules had known that this village was home to the thirstiest people in the world, so he had told the captain to take as many amphorae as the galley could carry. Even so, the villagers drank at such a pace that Iolaus thought they would finish everything, but when dawn showed her first pink rays to the east there was still wine left, and it looked like the festival would continue into a second day. Not wanting to depart from such a merry place, but knowing they had a mission to complete, the traders said goodbye to those left standing and launched their ship once more into the Bosphorus.

  The Black Sea, when Iolaus first saw it, seemed poorly named as the waters were a sparkling blue colour under the morning sunshine. Of course, he could not resist asking why it was called ‘black’.

  “No one really knows how it got its name,” said the captain, in answer to the young man’s question, “we sailors from the Mediterranean call it black because we know so little about this sea that it might as well be shrouded in darkness. Not everyone calls it the Black Sea, some call it the Inhospitable Sea, but what’s in a name, eh?”

  Iolaus thought there was quite a lot to the name and he noticed that a lot of the sailors felt the same way. During the day they were nervous, jumpy and irritable. They kept close to the shore, and as soon as the sun began to sink low in the sky, they started to look for a sheltered inlet in which to anchor for the night.

  “Why can’t we keep going,” complained Hercules, “don’t you know what a hurry we’re in.”

  But the captain would not consider continuing through the night. He said that they were away from their home waters and did not know this sea at all. To continue would be to invite disaster, stopping for the night was the only safe way. Even when they had anchored, the sailors were uneasy. They sent scouts ashore to look for food and water, and also to see if they could find any evidence of caravans having passed this way. There was food and there was water, but there was no sign of caravans, and when they settled for the night the cries of strange wild animals along the shore kept them awake. This pattern was repeated for two more nights, and the crew became more and more tired. Arguments seemed to start often and for no reason, with blows being exchanged on one occasion, until the captain broke up the fight. This strange sea was testing the team spirit of the traders to its very limits.

  The fourth night was different. Because of trouble between the crewmates, and because they had found a suitable anchor, the traders decided to stop early. No-one wanted to keep going and risk not finding anywhere else to spend the night. As usual, a number of the sailors went ashore, in teams of two, to scout out the land around the galley. It hadn’t been long when one pair returned, wide-eyed and out of breath.

  “We saw them, we saw them,” both sailors competed to tell the story to their crewmates, “we went to the east, over those small hills you can see there,” one pointed while the other continued, “we were coming down the other side when we heard the sound of a chariot. We hid behind a rock and watched it pass right by. They were terrible,” both men shivered at the memory, “four huge horses, eyes flashing fire and foam at their mouths like a rabid dog. The man in the chariot looked just as bad and twice as mad. He was huge, almost a giant, and he
had this stare …”

  The men shivered again, unable to find the right words to capture the horrors they had seen. Hercules, however, needed no words. He was busy fastening his lion skin cloak and gathering his weapons, until a look from Iolaus made him pause.

  “Surely this must be Diomedes,” said the hero, “let us be after him, and this challenge can be finished before nightfall.”

  “He who acts in haste, repents at leisure,” said Iolaus.

  Hercules looked at him blankly for a second, then turned back to loading arrows into his quiver.

  “Wait,” continued Iolaus, “think for a moment. Diomedes is a king, and kings have armies. We have no way of knowing how many soldiers we will face besides the man himself, who seems to be a giant.”

  “Almost a giant,” mumbled Hercules, upset at being held back.

  “Even so,” replied Iolaus, “wouldn’t it be better to spend one single day to ensure victory, rather than to risk failure by rushing into unknown dangers?”

  The look on Hercules’ face suggested that he would be quite glad of a few unknown dangers after his long sea voyage, however he stopped his preparations and sat down facing his young