Athena the Wise

by Joan Holub; Suzanne Williams

  Aphrodite went first. “I needed to wash my hair. It always takes so long to dry and fix it afterward.” Her eyes scanned Athena from head to toe. “So, what’s up with the battle gear? I thought we defeated the Titans long ago.”

  “Ha-ha,” said Athena. “I’m going hunting with Heracles.”

  Aphrodite grinned. “Not for deer, I hope.”

  Athena’s helmet had begun to slide forward. She pushed it back. “You must’ve talked to Artemis. Did she tell you about the labors?”

  “Duh. Naturally. But I would’ve liked to hear about them from you,” she said pointedly, “only you never came by.”

  “Oops. Sorry about that,” said Athena. “By the time I got back I was so exhausted I went straight to bed.”

  Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. “Just don’t spend so much time with Heracles that you forget about the rest of us.” Athena seemed to remember Aphrodite giving Artemis similar advice when she was seeing a lot of Orion.

  “I won’t.” Athena gave Aphrodite a quick hug. Which wasn’t easy to do dressed in a shield-shirt and helmet. “Later,” she said.

  Heracles was waiting for her just inside the bronze doors at the entrance to MOA. “Nice armor,” he said, nodding his approval. He was carrying his club, of course, and wearing his lion-skin cape. Standing next to him, she didn’t feel quite so overdressed.

  “Got a ways to travel today. Figured we should use the winged sandals again?” he said, handing her a pair.

  “Good plan,” she said, noticing that he was already wearing some. She put hers on outside, at the bottom of the granite steps. He was less shy about taking her hand this time, and their fingers laced together as if they held hands all the time.

  “We go south,” said Heracles as the silver wings on their sandals began to flap.

  “How do you know where the boar lives?” Athena asked as they sped across the courtyard.

  Heracles smiled at her. “Since he’s called the Erymanthian boar, I imagine he lives on Mount Erymanthus.”

  Well, duh on me, thought Athena. Glancing at him, she said, “You know you’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Or maybe you’re just rubbing off on me,” he said.

  They traveled for nearly two hours. When they were almost at the top of Mount Erymanthus, Athena cried, “Look, Kentauroi!” Hiding behind a large boulder, she and Heracles hovered for a few minutes to watch as several of the wild half-human, half-horse centaurs cooked a meal over a fire outside a cave. “I wonder if it would be more correct to call them a group? Or a herd?” mused Athena.

  “How about something halfway in-between,” Heracles suggested. “A gerd, maybe.”

  Athena laughed. “Or a houp.”

  As they continued up the mountain, the air turned colder. Snow covered the ground below their feet and clung to the branches of the trees. They hovered lower again to have a look around. “Boar tracks!” Heracles said at last, dropping down to examine some prints in the snow.

  Athena studied the hoof prints over his shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” said Heracles. “You can tell because the hoof tips are rounded. And this is one heavy beast. See how spread out the toes are?” They followed the boar’s tracks as they wound up the mountain. Eventually, they came upon an enormous black beast with a long snout and tusks as sharp as the point on Athena’s spear.

  Athena elbowed Heracles. “Is that it?”

  He nodded. The monstrous boar was breathing heavily and appeared to be asleep as it lay on its back under a bush with all four of its legs sticking up in the air.

  After loosening the ties on their sandals and looping the wings, Athena and Heracles crept closer. Suddenly the boar gave a snort, and its eyes popped open. Athena froze, but Heracles raised his club over his head. “Don’t even think about attacking us!” he warned.

  The boar stared at Heracles’ club in surprise. “Why, I wouldn’t dream of it. As you can probably tell,” he said, wiggling his hooves, “I’m hardly in a position to mount an attack, even if it was something I was inclined to do. Which it isn’t.” He paused. “I don’t suppose you’d let me sit up? I feel rather silly talking to you with my legs in the air.”

  “Fine,” Heracles grunted, keeping his club at the ready. “But one sudden move, and I’ll—”

  “Is he always this uptight?” the boar interrupted, winking at Athena as it began rocking side to side.

  “I—I don’t know,” she said uncertainly. Heracles seemed convinced that the boar was dangerous, but she wasn’t so sure.

  The boar heaved itself up to a sitting position. “You could sit too,” he suggested, patting the ground in front of him with a solid-looking trotter.

  Gripping his club even tighter, Heracles frowned suspiciously. “Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to stand.”

  “I’ll sit,” Athena said quickly. It just seemed so rude not to. Brushing some snow off a rock, she perched on it.

  The boar sighed blissfully. “It’s so nice to have company. It gets rather lonely living on top of a mountain. The Centaurs hardly ever make it up this far, and when they do they never stay for long. I don’t understand why because I simply adore entertaining guests. I have a huge store of amusing stories I like to share. For example, there’s the story about the time I was walking through a forest and came upon an anthill and sat down to watch it. Pretty soon I saw an ant crawl out of a hole at the top, can you imagine? Then another ant crawled out, and it followed the first one down the side of the hill, and a moment later—can you guess?—a third ant crawled out of the hill, and after that—”

  As the boar droned on and on, Athena glanced over at Heracles. His club had sunk to the ground, and he appeared to have followed it down, till he had fallen asleep using it as a pillow. By the time the boar started to tell about the twentieth ant to crawl out of the anthill, Athena was using her fingers to prop up her eyelids. This was one boring boar! Maybe he was dangerous after all. He could probably bore his victims to death!

  Hoping to put an end to the thrilling ant story, she leaned forward and cautiously scratched the boar behind one ear the way she did Artemis’s dogs. It worked. As he snuffled happily, she reached out with her foot and prodded Heracles awake.

  Startled, he grabbed his club again and leaped to his feet. Seeing Athena so close to the boar, a look of alarm came into his eyes. “You leave her alone!” he shouted.

  “Calm down,” said Athena. She smiled at Heracles. “I was just thinking about inviting our new friend here to go with us to visit your cousin.”

  “Who, me?” the boar asked with obvious surprise.

  “Um—yeah, good idea,” said Heracles, relaxing a little as he began to catch on. “My cousin, Eurystheus, loves stories.”

  “He does?” The boar was beaming.

  “That’s right,” said Heracles. “Once he hears that anthill tale of yours, I bet he’ll want you to stick around so he can hear all of your stories.”

  “How marvelous!” said the boar, quivering with delight by now. “You probably won’t believe it, but I rarely get invited out.”

  Hiding a smile, Athena said, “Well, you should definitely plan to hang out with Heracles’ cousin for a while. Just think, by the time you return home again, you’ll have a bunch of new stories to tell!”

  The boar looked ecstatic. “I bet there are lots of things this cousin of yours and I could do together. Like maybe we could spend a whole afternoon watching some paint dry. Or waiting for a pot to boil. Or—” He jumped up on all fours. “I’m ready when you are!”

  The trip to Eurystheus’s house would have taken twice as long if Athena hadn’t figured out that she and Heracles could fit the boar’s hooves into their winged sandals. The two rode on his back as the sandals carried all three of them down the mountain and across meadows, forests, and towns, until they reached their destination.

  Again, Eurystheus was hiding inside his bronze vase when the three of them were ushered into the courtyard. Herac
les strode over to the vase and began rubbing it. “Hey! If there’s a genie in here, come out and grant me a wish!” he joked.

  “Ha!” came the muffled reply. “Very funny.”

  “I brought you a visitor,” said Heracles.

  “That olive goddessgirl?” asked Eurystheus, sounding unimpressed.

  “Well, yes, but someone else, too.” Turning to the boar, Heracles said, “Sorry about this.” Then he easily hoisted the boar, which probably weighed a couple of tons, over his head. Ye gods! thought Athena. The boy is definitely strong!

  Eurystheus screamed when Heracles held the boar up to the mouth of the vase.

  “If this is the way you welcome your guests, I’m not sure I should have come,” huffed the boar.

  Eurystheus made no reply. Athena wondered if perhaps he had fainted from fright. But then she heard movement inside the vase and knew that he was okay.

  Heracles lowered the boar to the tiled floor. “Don’t mind my cousin,” he said. “He may not be much of a host, but if you stay right here beside the vase, I’m sure you’ll find him a terrific listener.”

  Athena nodded in agreement. “A captive audience, in fact.”

  “Be sure and tell him the ant story,” said Heracles as he and Athena helped the boar out of the winged sandals and slipped them onto their own feet again. They clasped hands and rose into the air.

  Just before they were out of earshot, Eurystheus recovered enough to call after them. “Hope you enjoy your next task, cowboy!” Then he laughed so hard the vase swayed from side to side and almost fell over.

  Pooped

  What IS THE NEXT TASK?” ATHENA ASKED Heracles as the winged sandals whisked them down the hill from Eurystheus’s house. If Heracles could complete one more task today, that would leave seven more to finish in six days, improving his chances of accomplishing them all by next Friday.

  Heracles didn’t have to consult his list this time. His face squinched up with a look of disgust. “I’ve got to clean King Augeas’s stable.”

  “How bad could that be?” Athena asked cheerfully. She was just glad the task wouldn’t involve chasing down and capturing another animal. She glanced up at the sky, and saw that the sun was directly overhead. “It’s only noon now. We can do it before we return to MOA.”

  “You think?” asked Heracles.

  “Piece of cake,” said Athena. “Speaking of which, I’m hungry. You?”

  “Starved.”

  They stopped at an orchard along the way and ate their fill of pears and sweet figs before continuing on. “So, does King Augeus have a lot of cattle?” Athena asked as they approached Elis, the region the king governed.

  “Several thousand, I think.”

  “Whoa,” said Athena. “That’s a lot!” Cleaning the stables for that many animals could take a bit longer than she had anticipated.

  As they entered Elis, an incredible stench filled her nostrils. “P.U.! What is that nasty smell?” she said. Heracles didn’t answer. He was staring ahead at some dark brown mountains that stood in a valley between two rivers. “What weird mountains,” Athena remarked.

  “Um, I don’t think they’re mountains,” Heracles said, shooting her a worried glance. “I think they’re piles of dung. As in cow patties. Poop.”

  “Ye gods!” Athena exclaimed. “Well, that explains the smell.”

  The stink grew even worse as they touched down by the stables. Looking around at the mess, Heracles wrinkled his nose. “I’m guessing no one’s cleaned these stalls in thirty years!”

  Athena held her nose. “Good thing we already ate. Kind of takes away your appetite, doesn’t it? I’m surprised this stench doesn’t reach all the way to Mount Olympus!”

  “Might as well get cracking,” said Heracles. He found a couple of shovels. Athena pitched in gamely, but after a couple of hours they’d only managed to clear one stall. And though Heracles had done the lion’s share of the work, Athena was exhausted. “There must be an easier way,” she said, leaning on her shovel. But if there was, she sure couldn’t think of it. In exasperation, she exclaimed, “We’d need a flood to wash all this away!”

  Heracles dropped his shovel. “That’s a brilliant idea!”

  “Huh?” Athena stared at him in confusion as he left the stable and stalked toward the rushing river on the right side of the valley.

  When he reached the riverbank, he began uprooting trees with his bare hands. Athena watched, amazed. With his tremendous strength, it was as easy for him as plucking daisies from a field. Tossing the trees into a pile, he created a dam. Soon the river’s waters built up behind it and began to spill over its sides into the valley. Quickly, Heracles built a second dam on the opposite river. Seeing what he was up to, Athena ran for higher ground. Before long, the waters from the two rivers had flooded the stables and washed away the mountains of poop.

  Athena and Heracles high-fived in relief. Before they left, they sent out two doves with messages—one bound for King Augeas’s castle and the other for Eurystheus—confirming Heracles’s accomplishment. Athena hoped the king would be pleased. He couldn’t possibly have enjoyed living among mountains of poop!

  It was late afternoon by the time they started back to Mount Olympus. When they came upon the little town of Hypaepa, Athena skidded to a stop. “That famous mortal weaver lives here,” she said. “A girl named Arachne,” she added when Heracles stared at her blankly. He must’ve been talking to Apollo and the other godboys and missed her conversation with Pheme at the Super Natural Market, she realized. “I want to meet her but I won’t stay long. If you want to walk on, I’ll catch up in a few minutes.” Since he couldn’t make the sandals fly without holding her hand, he wouldn’t be able to get very far ahead of her.

  “’Kay,” said Heracles. “Check you later.” Swinging his club and whistling off-key, he continued along the road through town.

  Not wanting to draw undue attention to herself, Athena transformed herself into an old woman before asking around for Arachne’s address. She was directed to a small wooden house at the edge of town. When she knocked on the door, a girl with a big round body, unruly brown hair, and long, thin fingers answered. “Yes?” she said crossly.

  Athena peered past her, through the door. She spotted a large weaving loom in the center of the room. Along the walls were neat shelves stacked high with colored yarns. “Are you Arachne?” she asked.

  “That’s right,” the girl said haughtily. “I’m not surprised you’ve heard of me. Most people have.”

  Godness! thought Athena. This Arachne was certainly full of herself. But perhaps she had reason to be.

  “I know a little about weaving too,” Athena said modestly. “I wondered if you might show me some of your work?”

  Arachne heaved a great sigh, but opened the door wider. As Athena stepped past her, the girl fanned her hand in front of her nose. “Phew! You stink like a cow pasture, old woman! And you’re filthy. Take care you don’t touch anything.”

  She was right, of course. The smell of cow poo still clung to Athena like grapes to a vine. Nevertheless, Arachne’s rudeness irritated her. She was about to respond with a sharp retort when she caught sight of the girl’s weaving. “Oh! This is lovely work, indeed,” she exclaimed, admiring the half-finished scene of a group of women filling urns at a well. The colors were like luminous jewels, and the weave was tight and fine. “Surely, you must have been taught by Athena herself,” she said slyly.

  Arachne tossed her head. “No way,” she scoffed. “She might be good, but if she ever dared to let others judge our work in a contest, I’m sure I could beat her.”

  “Show some respect,” Athena scolded. “One should not dishonor a goddess!”

  “Humph.” Arachne flicked her long fingers. “Who are you to give advice?”

  “See for yourself who I am!” Athena exclaimed, shedding her disguise and taking her goddess form.

  Arachne jumped in surprise. A blush spread across her cheeks, but then she jutted out her
chin and folded her arms. “How like a goddess to try to trick a poor mortal! Still, I stand by my challenge.”

  “You’re on,” said Athena. “But if I win, I want you to tell the world who is the better weaver.”

  “Ditto if I win,” said Arachne.

  “Deal,” said Athena.

  They arranged to meet on Thursday morning, in five days’ time. Athena had only two afternoon classes that day. She figured she could get away and make it here and back before they started. The two girls agreed to let the women of the town judge whose weaving was better, and Athena departed.

  Once on the road again, she changed herself into an owl and flew overhead until she spotted Heracles. Catching up to him, she swooped down and took her goddess form again. They decided to walk the rest of the way to MOA, leaving their sandals loosely strapped. It was a nice evening and the slower pace made it easier to talk.

  “How dare she treat you like that!” Heracles roared when Athena told him what had happened with Arachne. It was nice of him to be on her side, she thought. But when he continued to rant and wave his club around, she began to feel uncomfortable and annoyed.

  “Let’s go back there!” he yelled finally. “I’ll knock some sense into her!”

  “Stop it!” she said. “Yes, the girl was rude, but you’re blowing this way out of proportion.”

  Heracles stared at her in surprise. “How can you say that? You’re a goddess! You can’t let her get away with such disrespect. Avenge yourself! If you don’t, her behavior will only get worse!”

  There was some truth in what he said, thought Athena. Perhaps if she’d been more forceful, Arachne wouldn’t have been so brazen as to challenge her to a weaving contest in the first place. But if she backed down now, Arachne might think she was afraid of losing the contest. And she wasn’t. Well, maybe a little. After all, she was out of practice and Arachne was so skilled she must weave all the time.