The Twelve Labours of Hercules

by Joe Corcoran

ever since.

  Now all that remained was to rebuild the chariot, tie the cattle behind it, and drive them back through the Underworld. Except one more obstacle remained. Geryon himself had been awakened by the crash, as Erytheia had been joined with Europe. Now he stood, huge and terrible, blocking the entrance to the Underworld.

  “Hercules?” he said, disbelief showing in his voice, “scourge of the giants, hero among mortals. Are you now just a common thief come to steal my herd?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he bent his three bodies to the ground and began picking up huge rocks, which he hurled at Hercules, forcing him to hide behind a large boulder.

  “I can see you behind there, skulking like a cockroach,” shouted Geryon, “your lion skin cloak is unmistakeable.”

  Hercules tried to dodge out from behind the boulder to fire his bow, but Geryon had six hands with which to throw rocks and had no trouble keeping his adversary pinned down. It looked like Hercules was trapped.

  “Pstt,” said a voice down by Hercules’ feet. Iolaus had sneaked in behind the rock, under the cover of a shallow stream bed. He was soaked and cold, but Geryon had not seen him.

  “Don’t look down,” he whispered, “just hold still. I’ll climb up inside your cloak and then you can crawl out along the stream. Geryon only sees the cloak, he doesn’t know who’s inside.”

  Hercules did as Iolaus said, and soon he was crawling along the stream bed, getting into a position where he could attack Geryon from the side. The plan would have worked well, except that Iolaus grew overconfident. There he was, wearing the impenetrable cloak of Hercules. Now and again he would show a fold of the cloak, and Geryon would throw his rocks at it, but they would simply bounce off. After a few minutes Iolaus grew bold enough to jump out from behind the rock and jump back. Once or twice a stone caught him a glancing blow, but the cloak protected him. Then he went too far. He jumped out from behind the boulder and did a little dance, taunting Geryon. Geryon was no fool. He took careful aim and landed a rock – smack - right in the middle of Iolaus’ forehead. Without the cloak it would have cracked Iolaus’ skull in two, as it was he was knocked unconscious and fell senseless to the ground. Geryon, thinking it was Hercules who now lay there on the ground, picked up a huge stone in his six hands and advanced, aiming to crush his foe.

  Looking up from his hiding place, Hercules was horrified, thinking that Iolaus had been killed. He readied his bow to take revenge, although he was unsure where to aim given that this giant had three bodies and three heads. To add to the urgency, a small crowd had started to gather, and Hercules was surprised to hear them cheering and chanting Geryon’s name. A small part of Hercules’ brain began to work over this new puzzle, but his thinking was clouded by thoughts of revenge. Hercules drew his bow and shot. Thunk, thunk, thunk - the arrow pierced all three of Geryon’s bodies, pinning him to the boulder behind which Iolaus had been hiding. Thinking their king had been killed, the crowd surged forwards, meaning to avenge him in turn, but Hercules was quicker. Bounding from his hiding place, he drew a second arrow, and aimed it at Geryon, who was moaning in pain but starting to move his limbs.

  “Hold!” shouted Hercules to the crowd, who stopped in their tracks, “there was no poison on that arrow, your king still lives. This arrow, however, is poisoned. Come one more step and he will die.”

  “Kill him and we’ll tear you limb from limb,” shouted a man from the crowd.

  “Why does this monster deserve to live?” replied Hercules.

  “He’s no monster,” said a woman, “he’s our king and we love him.”

  Then other people began to shout.

  “Geryon is a good ruler, wise and just … We have prospered during his reign … He leads us in battle, always in the thick of the fight … He saved my life when we fought the barbarian invaders … and mine … and mine!”

  Hearing all these things, Hercules realised that he had made a mistake in judging Geryon by his looks alone. Iolaus would be avenged, he thought, but not by following one wrong act with another. He returned the poison arrow to its quiver, and motioned for the crowd to come and care for their king. However, before any one of them could move a muscle, there was a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder and there, on the mountainside, stood Zeus himself.

  “Hercules,” shouted Zeus, his great voice echoing around the rocky landscape,” why does Geryon still live?”

  “Father Zeus!” Hercules shuddered and bowed his head, “the challenge was not to kill Geryon, only to steal his cattle.”

  “Geryon has become proud,” replied Zeus, “he thinks he has control over Mother Earth, and so he no longer feels the need to worship me. He ordered my statue to be torn down and my temple to be used as a storehouse.”

  “He is a good ruler,” argued Hercules, “he protects his subjects and serves them well.”

  “He teaches them to disobey the gods,” thundered Zeus, “they must learn that to worship the gods is not only right and good, but also necessary. You must show them that Geryon has taken the wrong path and sets a bad example. Kill him!”

  “This was not the challenge, and I will have no part in it,” shouted Hercules, “you gods want only power. I have learnt now what all men know in their hearts, that power is nothing unless it is wielded with honour and justice and mercy.”

  “Very well,” growled Zeus.

  He pointed his spear at Geryon, and from its tip burst a bolt of lightning that danced over Geryon’s body until there was nothing left of it but ash. Then, ignoring the tears, screams and wails of the crowd, he turned again to Hercules.

  “Now, ungrateful son of mine, hear the real reason for my visit.”

  “I’ll hear nothing more from you,” shouted Hercules, staring in disbelief at the blackened boulder where Geryon had stood a few moments earlier.

  “Well then,” said Zeus, “if you grieve so over one mortal, imagine how you will feel when Alcyoneus destroys whole cities.”

  Hercules was still angry that his father had killed Geryon, and he was still grieving for Iolaus, but he had to admit that completing the twelve challenges was more important. He looked Zeus in the eye and nodded, and the next moment they were stood side by side on a cloud high, high in the sky. Hercules looked down and saw the world spread beneath them. The blue seas, broken by the occasional dash of white foam, sparked in the sun. The land below was mottled green and brown, and in the distance, were the grey forms of high mountains, jagged against the horizon.

  “Those mountains,” began Zeus, “mark the edge of the world. There stands the Titan, Atlas, who holds up the sky on his shoulders.”

  Sure enough, when Hercules looked carefully, he could see a gigantic figure stood on the summit of the highest mountain. Even at this distance, Hercules could see that he was bent under the enormous weight he carried. Atlas, he remembered, had led the Titans in their war against the gods, and so when the Titans had been defeated, Zeus had punished him with this terrible duty.

  Having set the scene, Zeus now explained the next challenge. When he had married Hera, Zeus gave his new wife a tree as a wedding present. This was a beautiful and magical tree, and golden apples grew upon its branches. Hera had planted the tree in the Atlas Mountains, and she had entrusted its care to the daughters of Atlas. The daughters, who together were called the Hesperides, tended the tree well, but they abused their position of trust and started to steal apples. Outraged, Hera sent a huge serpent to guard the tree. It had a hundred heads, which all slept at different times, and its fangs dripped venom. The serpent, who was called Ladon, curled around the trunk of the tree and made sure no one ever picked another apple.

  Now it was the daughters’ turn to be upset.

  “Well,” they said to each other huffily, “if we can’t take the apples then no-one else shall have them.”

  “Except maybe father,” said the youngest.

  “Yes,” agreed the others, “we’d let father have one, but of course he’ll never come to claim it because he h
as to hold up the sky all the time.”

  Having decided this, they set about building a high wall all around the garden in which the tree stood. The wall had a single gate, which they secured with strong locks and magic spells. So now no-one, not even Hera herself, could pick the apples.

  “Soon it will be our wedding anniversary,” concluded Zeus, “five thousand years to the day, and I would like to give my wife a gift. A golden apple from the very tree I gave her on our wedding day, all those years ago.”

  “And I am to fetch it for you,” said Hercules.

  “Indeed. Leave your mortal pet here to tend the cattle, and use the shadow compass to travel through the Underworld. Call for me when you have the apple.”

  “Mortal pet?” snarled Hercules, then after a moment’s thought, “Wait, you mean that Iolaus still lives!”

  “Indeed,” said Zeus again and with a wave of his spear he cleared the clouds at their feet.

  Far down below Hercules could see the tiny figure of Iolaus being helped up off the ground and accepting a drink from one of the townspeople. Then, in a flash, Hercules found himself standing on the ground next to his friend, with a lot of explaining to do.

  The Eleventh Challenge: The Apple of the Hesperides

  Hercules did not depart on his quest at once, although Iolaus had quickly been able to repair the chariot. Instead he stayed the night with