On the homeward journey a new adventure awaited him on the coast of Troy, for here he found Hesione, the daughter of Laomedon, fettered to a rock, waiting in speechless terror for the monster which was to devour her. Poseidon had built the walls of Troy for her father, but the king had withheld the reward he had pledged. In revenge the god sent a sea-monster which ravaged the region of Troy, until Laomedon, in despair, agreed to offer up his own daughter to save his land. As Heracles was passing, the unhappy father called to him and asked his help, promising to give him in return for his daughter’s rescue the splendid horses Zeus had given his father. Heracles made fast his ship and waited for the monster. When it came with jaws gaping to consume the maiden, he leaped down its throat, slashed its entrails, and clambered forth as though he were coming up from the pit of death. But again Laomedon broke his word. He did not give Heracles the horses, and the hero went on his way uttering furious threats.
THE LAST THREE LABORS OF HERACLES
When the hero laid Queen Hippolyte’s girdle at the feet of Eurystheus, the king did not yet allow him to rest from his toils but sent him immediately to fetch the oxen of Geryon. This was a giant who dwelt on the island of Erythia, in the gulf of Gadeira. He owned a herd of fine chestnut-colored cattle, which a fellow giant guarded for him with the help of a two-headed dog. Geryon himself was unimaginably huge and had three bodies, three heads, six arms, and six feet. No man of mortal birth had ever dared brave him, and Heracles realized very well what careful preparations would be necessary for this difficult undertaking. All the world knew that Chrysaor, Geryon’s father, who had been given the name of Goldsword because of his great riches, was king of all Iberia and that, in addition to Geryon, he had three other valiant sons of vast size who fought for him, and that each of these three commanded a host of strong and warlike followers. It was for this very reason that Eurystheus had enjoined this task upon Heracles. He hoped that on such an expedition and in such a country the demigod would at last lose the life so hateful to his taskmaster. But Heracles was no more afraid of these new perils in store for him than of all the dangers of his earlier quests. He assembled his armies on the island of Crete, which he had freed from wild beasts, set sail, and chose Libya for his first landing. Here he wrestled with the giant Antaeus, whose strength was renewed whenever he touched the earth, his mother. Heracles, observing this, held him up in the empty air, where he was helpless, and strangled him in his grip. Then he cleared Libya of beasts of prey, for he hated savage animals and wicked people, because these reminded him of the unjust ruler he was compelled to serve for so many years.
After a long journey through desert regions, he came to a fertile valley watered by broad rivers. Here he founded a city of great size and called it Hecatompylos, the city of the hundred gates. At length he found himself opposite Gadeira, on the Atlantic Ocean, and set up two pillars, known and famed as the Pillars of Heracles. The sun burned down upon him with intolerable heat, until he could endure it no longer. Lifting his eyes to heaven and pointing his bow upward, he threatened to shoot down the god of the sun. Apollo admired his intrepid courage and aided him on his way by lending him the golden bowl in which he himself journeyed by night, from the setting to the rising of the sun. In this Heracles floated to Iberia, his fleet sailing along beside him. Here he found the three sons of Chrysaor, with three vast armies, camped close to one another. But Heracles did not have to fight the hosts. He challenged the leaders to single combat, killed them one and all, and conquered their country.
After this he went to Erythia, where Geryon dwelt with his herds. As soon as the two-headed dog scented the new arrival he rushed at him, but Heracles gripped his club more firmly and crushed him. When he had also killed the giant herdsmen who came to the aid of the dog, he hurried off with the oxen. Geryon however overtook him, and a grim battle followed. Hera herself came to the giant’s aid, but Heracles wounded her breast with a shaft, so that the goddess was forced to flee. A second dart pierced the giant in the region of his stomach where his three bodies joined, and he fell dead.
Heracles’ homeward course through Iberia and Italy—for he took the land route, driving the cattle before him—was beset with glorious adventures. Near Rhegium, in lower Italy, one of the oxen got away, swam the strait, and so escaped to Sicily. Heracles at once drove the other oxen into the water and swam across to Sicily, holding one of them by the horn. After many other exploits, the hero left Italy and returned to Greece and the isthmus over Illyria and Thrace.
Now he had completed ten labors, but because Eurystheus refused to hold two of them valid, he had to do two others in their place.
Very long ago, at the wedding of Zeus and Hera, when all the gods came with gifts for the bridal pair, Gaea too did not want to be remiss in generosity. On the western shore of the ocean she brought forth a tree with many boughs, all laden down with golden apples. Four virgins, the Hesperides, daughters of Night, were set to watch the sacred garden in which the tree grew, and they were aided in their task by Ladon, the hundred-headed dragon, who had sprung from Phorcys, the father of all manner of monsters, and Ceto, a daughter of Gaea. The dragon never slept, and a deafening chorus of hisses betrayed his presence, for each of his hundred throats uttered a different sound. And it was from this monster—so ran the orders of Eurystheus—that Heracles was to snatch the golden apples.
The demigod set out on his long and arduous journey. He chose the road haphazardly, for he did not know where the Hesperides were to be found. First he came to Thessaly, the land of the giant Termerus, who killed all the travellers he met by running at them with his forehead, which was hard as rock. But when the giant’s head touched the brow of divine Heracles it was dashed to pieces. Farther on, near the river Echedorus, the hero met with another monster, Cycnus, son of Ares and Pyrene. When Heracles asked him the way to the Garden of the Hesperides, he refused him a civil answer and challenged him to single combat. But he was slain by the demigod. At that Ares himself appeared to avenge the death of his son, and Heracles was compelled to fight him. Since Zeus, however, did not wish his sons to spill each other’s blood, he hurled a bolt of lightning to separate them. After this Heracles wandered through Illyria, crossed the Eridanus, and came to the nymphs, the daughters of Zeus and Themis, who dwelt on the banks of this river. Of these too he inquired the way to the Hesperides. “Go to Nereus, the old river-god,” they replied. “He is a seer and knows all things. Overwhelm him in his sleep and bind him, and then he will be forced to point you the right direction.” Heracles followed this counsel and mastered Nereus, even though he changed himself into many and various shapes according to his custom. But the son of Zeus and Alcmene did not loose his hold on him until he had learned in what part of the world he would find the golden apples. Then he went on through Libya and Egypt.
Busiris, the son of Poseidon and Lysianassa, was the king of that country. After nine years, during which the land had been afflicted with barrenness and drought, a soothsayer from Cyprus had issued the cruel oracle that the earth would grow fertile if a stranger were sacrificed to Zeus every year. Busiris showed his gratitude for this utterance by offering up the soothsayer himself first of all. Gradually the barbarous king developed so great a liking for the yearly tribute that he took to slaying all strangers who came to Egypt. Heracles too was seized and dragged to the altar of Zeus. But he rent his fetters and killed Busiris, along with his son and the priest who had acted as a herald for the king.
In the course of his further journey, Heracles freed Prometheus from his bondage in the Caucasus and, following the directions the liberated Titan gave him, came to that part of the world where Atlas stood, bearing the broad sky on his shoulders. Near him the tree with the golden apples spread its boughs under the watchful eyes of the Hesperides. Prometheus had counselled the demigod not to attempt the theft of the apples in his own person, but to send Atlas on this mission. Heracles offered to assume his burden while he was gone, and bore the weight of the sky on his mighty shoulde
rs. In the meantime, Atlas entered the garden, lulled to sleep the dragon who encircled the tree with his coils, slew him, outwitted the watchful maids, and returned safely with the three apples he had plucked for Heracles. But he had tasted freedom! “My shoulders have felt what it is to have nothing resting upon them,” he said. “I shall not strain them again!” And with this he tossed the apples on the grass at the feet of Heracles and left him bearing the intolerable load. But quickly the hero thought of a ruse to rid himself of it.
“Just let me twist a coil of rope around my head,” he said to the bearer of the sky, “otherwise the weight will crush me.” Atlas considered this a fair request and assumed the burden for what he thought was a few moments. But if he was waiting for Heracles to relieve him, he would have to wait through all eternity, for the cheat had been cheated. The demigod picked up the apples and went his way. He carried them to Eurystheus, who, since Heracles had not lost his life in the getting of them, as he had hoped, gave them back to him as a gift. Heracles, in turn, placed them on the altar of Athene, but the goddess, who knew that these divine fruits must not be kept elsewhere, took them back to the Garden of the Hesperides.
Instead of destroying his hated rival, Eurystheus had up to this time only succeeded in helping Heracles to greater glory in the course decreed for him by Fate. His mastery of the labors enjoined on him had made him appear the true champion of mortals, the avenger of all inhumanity on earth. But his final quest—so the crafty king planned—was to take place in a region where heroic strength would be of no avail. He was to battle with the sinister powers of the underworld, to bring out of Hades Cerberus, the watchdog of Hell. This monster had three dog-heads with gaping jaws always slobbering venom, his body ended in a dragon’s tail, and the hairs on his heads and his back were writhing snakes.
To prepare himself for this terrible quest, Heracles went to the city of Eleusis in Attica, where wise priests headed a secret cult concerning divine matters both in the upper and in the underworld. In this holy place the priest Eumolpus initiated him into mystic teachings, after he had first purified him of the murder of the centaurs. Thus girded with the knowledge of secret things and prepared to face the terrors of the lower world, he journeyed to the Peloponnesus, to the city of Taenarum in Laconia, where there was an entrance to Hades. Hermes, shadowy conductor of souls, accompanied him down the deep cleft in the earth, and they came to the city of King Pluto. The shades who were hovering joylessly about the gates—for in the underworld life is not merry as it is in the light of the sun—took flight when they beheld men of flesh and blood. Only the spirit of Meleager and the Gorgon Medusa remained steadfast in the face of life. Heracles brandished his sword and made as if to slay the Gorgon, but Hermes held him by the arm and explained that the spirits of the dead are nothing but empty shadows, which cannot be harmed by the sharpest blade. But with the soul of Meleager Heracles conversed tenderly and promised to carry his greetings to his sister Deianira on earth.
When he was close to the gates of Hades, he saw Pirithous, who had come to the underworld accompanied by Theseus in order to woo Persephone. Pluto, angered by this insolent design, had fettered both to the stone on which they had sat down to rest. When they caught sight of the demigod who was their friend, they stretched imploring hands toward him and trembled with the hope of regaining the golden light of day. And Heracles did indeed take Theseus by the hand and cut his bonds, but when he tried to free Pirithous as well he failed, for the earth began to quake under his feet. Going forward, Heracles recognized Ascalaphus, who had once betrayed Persephone by telling that she had eaten of the pomegranates of Hades, and this hindered her return to earth. He rolled from him the stone with which Demeter, in despair at the loss of her daughter, had all but crushed him. Then he fell upon Pluto’s herds and slaughtered one of the oxen, in order to quench the thirst of the souls of the dead with blood. But Menoetius, the herdsman, would not allow this and challenged the hero to a wrestling match. Heracles at once gripped him around the body and broke his ribs, nor would he have released him had not Persephone herself come between them. At the gates of the city of the dead stood King Pluto and blocked the entrance. But the arrow of Heracles pierced the god’s shoulder and he endured the agonies of mortals, so that when Heracles modestly asked his permission to take with him the hound of hell, he no longer refused, but imposed the condition that the demigod master the dog without using the weapons he carried with him. So the hero stripped himself of everything but his breastplate and lion’s skin and went to look for the monster. He found him crouched at the mouth of the Acheron, and ignoring his triple bark, which sounded like dull thunder multiplied a hundredfold, he clamped the heads between his legs, twined his arms around the necks, and did not loosen his hold, though the creature’s tail—in itself a dragon—lashed out at him and bit him in the flank with its teeth. He held fast and choked the monster’s throats until he had gained the upper hand. Then he lifted up the dog and, issuing from Hades through another entrance near Troezen in Argolis, returned safely to the upper world. When the hellhound Cerberus saw the light of day, he grew mad with fear and began to spew venom on all sides. This caused the poisonous aconite, a plant which still abounds in that region, to spring from the ground. Heracles at once went to Tiryns and showed the shackled monster to Eurystheus, who could scarcely believe his eyes. And now the king despaired of ever ridding himself of this powerful son of Zeus. He resigned himself to his fate and discharged the hero, who took the dog back to his owner in the underworld.
HERACLES AND EURYTUS
After all his toil and effort, Heracles was at last free from the service of Eurystheus and returned to Thebes. He could not remain with Megara, his wife, whose children he had killed in a fit of madness, and so with her own consent he gave her to his beloved nephew Iolaus and began to look for a new wife for himself. His fancy turned to lovely Iole, the daughter of Eurytus, King of Oechalia in Euboea, who, when Heracles was a boy, had instructed him in the art of shooting with the bow. This king had promised his daughter to that man who, in a contest with the arrows, could outdo him and his sons. When this was proclaimed Heracles hastened to Oechalia, mingled with the throng of contestants, and soon proved that he was a not unworthy pupil of old Eurytus, for he carried off the victory. The king gave his guese due honors, but in his heart he was sorry that Heracles had won, for he remembered Megara’s lot and feared his daughter might suffer a like fate. Because of this he put off Heracles day after day and said he needed time to consider this marriage. In the meantime, Iphitus, the eldest son of Eurytus, who was of the same age as Heracles and admired his strength and courage generously, without envy, had become the hero’s friend, and he used every trick of persuasion to influence his father in favor of the noble stranger. But Eurytus persisted in his refusal.
Deeply offended, Heracles left the palace and was for a long time a wanderer in foreign lands. While he was away, a messenger came to Eurytus to report that a robber had stolen cattle from the royal herds. The culprit was knavish Autolycus, whose thieving was known far and wide. But in his vexation the king said: “No one but Heracles has done this thing! This is his ignoble revenge because I refused to give my daughter to him, the murderer of his own children!” Iphitus defended his friend with warmth and eloquence and offered to seek out the hero, so that with his aid he might find the stolen cattle. Heracles received the king’s son hospitably and was willing to join him in his search. But they were unsuccessful, and when they had climbed the walls of Tiryns to try to discover the herd from this lofty lookout, Heracles was again overcome by his madness, for angry Hera darkened his mind. Taking his faithful friend Iphitus for one of Eurytus’ conspiring allies, he hurled him down from the ramparts of Tiryns.
HERACLES AND ADMETUS
After Heracles had sullenly left the palace of the king of Oechalia and wandered far and wide, a curious thing happened. In the city of Pherae, in Thessaly, lived King Admetus with his young and beautiful wife Alcestis. These two had seve
ral beautiful children and were surrounded by the affection and loyalty of happy subjects. Long ago, when Apollo had slain the Cyclopes and had fled Olympus and been compelled to serve a mortal, Admetus, the son of Pheres, had welcomed him kindly and made him shepherd over his flocks. After Zeus had restored the sun-god to favor, he became the king’s patron, and ever since had bestowed his favors upon him. When the span of Admetus’ life was drawing to a close, Apollo, being a god, knew of this and wrung from the Fates a promise that the king should escape Hades, even now threatening him, provided another mortal consented to die and go down to the underworld in his stead. Apollo, therefore, left Olympus and sought out his former host to warn him of his approaching death and at the same time to reveal the secret of the means whereby he might evade it. Admetus was an honest man, but he loved life. And not only he, but all his family and his subjects were greatly alarmed to learn that the pillar of the royal house, the husband and father, the kind ruler of his people, was to be taken from them. So the king went about and looked for a friend who would die for him. But there was not a single one who was willing to do this. Although they all had broken into loud lament when they heard of the loss they were to suffer so soon, they grew silent and cold when they were told of the condition by which the king’s life could be prolonged. Even his old father Pheres and his aged mother, both of whom knew they must die at any moment, did not want to give up the few hours of life left to them, to save their son. Only Alcestis, in the fullness of her bloom, only his wife, the mother of his children, in the lovely spring of her life, was moved by such pure and unselfish love for her husband that she declared she would give up the light of the sun for his sake. Scarcely had the words left her lips when Thanatos, the dark god of death, approached the palace to claim his victim and lead her down to the realm of shades. For he knew exactly the day and the hour the Fates had decreed for the death of Admetus. When Apollo saw Death coming, he swiftly left the king’s house, lest he, a god of life, be defiled by that sinister presence.
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