Myths and Legends from Around the World

by Robin Brockman

  “Why are you following me?”

  “I'm not, I …” the boy began but then he stopped himself. “My father sent me.”

  “And who is your father? Is he an enemy of mine? Have I been accused of seducing his wife or killing his brother?”

  “You killed his sister-in-law,” said the boy boldly.

  After an awful pause Hercules looked hard at the youth.

  “By Zeus, it's Iolaus, Iphicles’ eldest.”

  “Yes, uncle.”

  “Am I thought badly of in Thebes?”

  “By some. They say the madness was only drink and resentment.”

  “And you?”

  Iolaus shrugged.

  “But what did my brother send you here for?”

  “To say that he believes in you, and to help you. If I can.”

  “And is this your will?”

  “It might be interesting,” the boy shrugged again.

  Hercules did not have to ask why he had not spoken up before. Iolaus had been understandably afraid of his mad and violent uncle. His first instinct was to send the lad away for his own good but some weakness, as he supposed, caused him to let Iolaus stay. It was so good to have a member of his family around. Together they started along the road to Argos once more. Soon Hercules would be very glad of his nephew's help, not just his company.

  Before long they were wading through the swamp, Iolaus dressed in the Nemean Lion skin Hercules himself had taken to wearing for protection. Alas, such things would be no use against the poison of the Hydra. The crab was another matter, although this too was another of Hera's creations to imperil Hercules. They encountered it first when it sidled out of the swamp grass, clamped the lad in its huge claw and held him there, squeezing the life out of him.

  Like lightning, Hercules rushed around to the side of the crab that was holding the boy, to evade the attack that the crustacean was about to mount on himself. He climbed onto its back. and with his mighty club smashed at its head and beady eyes. Beneath its protective armour the creature's muscles were turning to pulp, and slowly the claw fell open, releasing Iolaus. Apart from sore ribs the boy had no other injuries, thanks to the lion skin.

  After taking a brief rest beside the dying crab, they started deeper into the swamp in search of the Hydra. They did not have to go far to find it. Roused by the commotion, the beast was coming to meet them, furious at this invasion of its territory. The thing was so hideous that even Hercules instinctively recoiled and with Iolaus fled from the swamp, pursued by the monster. They reached dry land before stopping for breath and discussing their next move. Both agreed that taking on the serpent in its own environment would be very rash and it would be more effective to try and drive the monster from his patch.

  They bombarded the serpent with fire arrows and so irked the beast that it came out of the marsh after them. Hercules stood his ground as the berserk monster lumbered towards them. Ordering his nephew to stay back out of immediate danger, he struck at one of the heads with his club, but to little effect, the head merely bobbling on the long neck while the other heads came at him. Hercules wished he had a great sword, instead of his famous club. Redoubling his strength, giving it all his might, he managed to smash off one head but this grew back almost at once. Again Hercules and Iolaus were forced to retreat, this time with the enraged snake monster hard on their heels.

  “Make a fire,” Hercules shouted over his shoulder as he desperately warded off the many strikes of the vicious heads, trying not to let any get near enough to scorch him with their deadly breath. “Bring a brand.”

  Lighting a fire was no easy matter but eventually, as the stamina of Hercules was being tested as seldom before, Iolaus got one going and made a long, blazing fire brand which he took to his uncle.

  “Burn the stumps,” Hercules gasped, still fighting desperately and with an enormous effort bludgeoning one of the heads so hard that it came clean off, leaving the neck swaying empty of its be-fanged and fork-tongued burden. But before Iolaus could act, another head appeared in its place. The two men groaned. The goal was clear. As soon as Hercules batted off a head, Iolaus would have to be ready with the fire brand to burn the stump, cauterizing the wound so the head could not grow back. This they did, head by head. It was slow, laborious work, requiring enormous effort and stamina from Hercules.

  At last, only the immortal head remained and this Hercules, with one supreme final swing of his club, knocked senseless. He then jumped upon the prostrate neck and, drawing a dagger, cut off the head. This he buried beneath an enormous rock. With Iolaus’ help he set about making a large stock of good true arrows whose points he dipped in the poisonous blood of the Hydra.

  Hercules returned too soon for Eurystheus’ liking. While he was away the king had been pleasantly distracted and had not had the inclination to think up any really good labours. One did spring into his mind, however, after a bit of pondering. Knowing it would take ages, even if it could be accomplished, he sent the hero off to capture the Cerynitian Hind.

  Eurystheus was quite right. It took Hercules a whole year to finally catch this beautiful Hind with golden antlers and hooves of bronze. The animal was sacred to the goddess Artemis and perfectly harmless, though highly elusive. In netting the creature finally, on the banks of the river Ladon, Hercules hurt it slightly. For this he incurred the wrath of Artemis. Outraged, she accosted him on his way back to Tiryns, with the poor helpless Hind over his shoulder. When he rightly put the blame entirely on Eurystheus, she forgave him.

  The lengthy absence of Hercules had given Eurystheus time to examine all possibilities at his leisure, and gather knowledge of every monster in the known world. He had come up with what he considered his best labour yet. Given how long the Hind business had taken, relative to the other labours, it was obvious that Hercules was rather better at killing things than catching them. What if the two kinds of task were combined? What if he sent the damn heroic fool after something really dangerous, but to bring it back alive?

  Eurystheus congratulated himself roundly as he packed Hercules off on the day of his return, as was his habit now. The object of the chase this time was the Erymanthian Boar. It was winter and up on Mount Erymanthus, where the Boar lived, Hercules would soon be freezing his great biceps off, Eurystheus chuckled to himself.

  The joke turned out to be on Eurystheus. Hercules pursued the Boar into deep snow where it could not easily run away and netted it without too much difficulty. A sharp tap on its ugly head and that was that. Other than a nasty incident while sharing some special wine with a centaur acquaintance on the return journey, it was all straightforward enough.

  By the time he got back to Tiryns, Hercules had tamed the boar and trained it a little. On entering Eurystheus’ palace he pretended to be still struggling mightily with it as he presented it to the king. At one point Hercules pretended the boar had escaped him and so frightened Eurystheus that he hid inside a large urn while the animal snorted around it with Hercules desperately trying not to laugh out loud.

  Later, when Eurystheus had recovered his dignity and the boar was safely out of the way, he chose to toy with the hero a while. Grinding in the fellow's servitude as much as he dared, he at last announced his new errand and dispatched an indignant Hercules to clean the Augean Stables.

  Augeas, King of Elis, was a man after Eurystheus’ own heart but he was grateful enough to see Hercules arrive. Magnanimously he swore to give the hero ten percent of his herd of cattle if he could clean the vast stables. The goddess Athene was often as much a help to Hercules as Hera was a hindrance and she now obligingly diverted two rivers to flow through the stables and wash out all the years of accumulated manure. An unpleasant chore had been executed in less than half a day.

  Augeas went back on his word and refused to pay Hercules, however, saying the hero was only following the orders of his master, Eurystheus. Phyleus, his only son, sided with Hercules in the dispute, and Augeas expelled them both. Later, though, when the labours were done, Hercul
es would return at the head of an army and depose Augeas, kill him and put Phyleus on the throne in his stead.

  During a rare moment of relaxation after this episode, Hercules instituted the Olympic Games in honour of Zeus. His rest was short lived and soon Eurystheus had him on his way again. Now he must deal with the Stymphalian Birds. These man-eaters had iron beaks, claws and wings and inhabited a marsh in Arcadia. So numerous were they that when they took to the air they blotted out the sun.

  Again with the help of Athene, who had a soft spot for heroes, he used the enormous cymbals she had given him to frighten the birds, and keep them on the wing until they dropped, exhausted. While they flapped about on the ground, he finished them off with arrows.

  Then came the Cretan Bull, which Minos had been given by Poseidon. Minos had refused to sacrifice it in the end and it wandered destructively about the land until Hercules caught it and brought it back to Eurystheus. After this exploit there were the Mares of Diomedes to contend with.

  Diomedes was a Thracian king who owned a herd of female horses that he had trained to eat human flesh. With a small army of volunteers, Hercules entered the country, killed the animals’ guardians, rounded up the horses and did battle with the king and his forces. After defeating Diomedes, Hercules fed him to the mares, then tamed the magnificent creatures and brought them back to Eurystheus, who dedicated them to Hera.

  While journeying to Thrace and gathering his forces for the expedition, Hercules had stayed with Admentus, king of Pherae. Admentus was recently bereaved and although he tried his best to be a good host he could not conceal his sadness at the loss of his beloved wife, Alcestis, to whom he had been devoted.

  Hercules summoned the spirit of death itself, Thanatos, and after winning a strange wrestling match, forced him to return Alcestis to her husband alive. Soon, resisting death and the land of the dead would be a regular pastime for Hercules. Unbeknown to anyone, Eurystheus most of all, Zeus was about to take a hand in shaping the nature of the labours. On the surface, they were just going to get harder.

  First, there was one more contest of a more terrestrial nature, but a formative one. With utter frivolity, almost growing tired of the game by now, Eurystheus ordered Hercules to fetch him the Girdle of Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons, which was said to be set with valuable jewels and have magical powers.

  Once more the nature of the contest required the help of volunteers. This was no attack on an individual monster but a foray into hostile territory at the far northern end of the known world. There would be terrible hardships along the way, and a world-renowned army to face when they got there.

  Accompanied by other famous heroes such as Theseus, Telamon and Peleus, he set off, it must be said reluctantly. While the others looked forward to a fantastic adventure, Hercules could not help thinking that for once there was no good service in this labour, no noble deed. It would be mere conquest or out and out theft. Of course, Hercules was not above such things ordinarily but more and more he began to see his labours in a new light, not simply as ways of placating the gods, suffering humbly in service to a lesser mortal as lesson and punishment, but as holy missions. They were, after all, supposed to lead to his virtual deification.

  The first port of call of the warriors was Paros, where they ended up fighting the sons of Minos before moving on to Mariandyne in Mysia. Here, they helped King Lycus to defeat the Bebryces, becoming battle hardened in the process and learning to work as a team. As a commemoration of the event, Lycus built the town of Hercules Pontica in honour of their leader.

  By the time the group of heroes neared Amazonia, they were honed to perfection as a unit. This small band of men who as individuals were nearly invincible had become a mighty fighting body acting as one, each able to rely fully on the other as never before in their collective experience. The confidence and well-being they felt in each other's company was immeasurable and never had any of them been in better physical or mental condition.

  When they arrived on the border, they paused and looked to Hercules who had been strangely silent.

  “Shall we issue an ultimatum?” Theseus asked. “Attack the first town we see or wait for them to sally out for war?”

  “No,” Hercules said. “I don't think so.”

  “Go into the capital at night, hit Hippolyta's palace and make off with the girdle and a few hostages?” Theseus suggested.

  “No, let's just find the border patrol and have them escort us in. All weapons such as clubs, war axes and spears put up, swords sheathed and bows unstrung.”

  “What?” Theseus cried, wide-eyed. “Against some of the deadliest warriors alive? I think we are good enough to take on anyone's army and win but not if we give away any advantages.”

  “Maybe we can just buy the thing,” Hercules said, looking around at his bewildered comrades. “Or, well, sort of charm it off them.”

  “These Moon Goddess worshipping, men hating, warrior harpies?” one of their number scoffed.

  “These backward, female barbarians who probably eat testicles as a delicacy on high holidays?” chimed in another.

  Now, none of them thought their leader's idea a good one but they preferred to trust his judgement in the matter rather than jeopardize their unity. Anyway, it was his labour and making a challenge more difficult rather appealed to all of them. As they crossed the border, obviously unprepared to fight, they watched out for some sort of guardians of the territory to make themselves known.

  Seeming to rise up from the very ground nearly as soon as they entered Amazonia, several large dirt smeared, grassand hide-covered women popped up to challenge them. This well armed party eyed them so closely as to make the men become a little uncomfortable, but neither side offered any violence.

  Hercules politely asked to be conducted to their queen. The woman in charge nodded from beneath her camouflage and instructed two of her subordinates to do this.

  Word of their approach must have also been sent ahead, for everywhere they passed seemed deserted. At last they walked along the empty streets of the principal city of the Amazons’ domain and into the palace of their queen. Once inside the palace walls they got their first glimpses of the people, or rather women, and such women. The strong palace guard impressed the band of heroes as much for their beauty as their obvious fitness and the easy way they handled their weapons. For their part the guard stared open mouthed at the heroes and their eyes followed them wherever they went. By now the border watchers who had acted as their escort had removed their camouflage and revealed striking figures, muscular feminine physiques and tough but comely faces.

  The men were taken into the main hall which was also the throne-room. More guards arrived and, as Hercules stepped forward, the murmuring in the great room increased to a low roar. And then there she was, Hippolyta, raising her head to look at him. Suddenly her eyes widened and her jaw dropped, then slowly an enormous smile spread across her handsome features.

  The truth was that none of the Amazons had ever seen such men. Their own were a scrawny, submissive rather coy sort whom they cossetted and looked after. Their enemies might muster one man in a hundred anything remotely like this group of obviously elite warriors. Hercules, their leader, was obviously the most magnificent specimen of them all.

  For their part the Greek heroes were incredibly impressed with the Amazons. All were strong, forthright looking, bold and direct, as interested in the accoutrements of war and adventure as themselves, and, from the sparkle in their eyes, much more besides.

  Everyone in that large well-armed company of aggressive, violent and daring individuals was desperate to get to grips with his or her opposite number, but no one was thinking about fighting. The tension in the room was palpably sexual.

  “Why have you come to our country?” Hippolyta asked in a husky voice.

  “I am here to somehow acquire your girdle, ma'am,” Hercules smiled awkwardly but with all the roguish charm he could muster.

  “Well,” the queen smiled again. A worldl
y woman in her late thirties, muscular but shapely, she looked him up and down. “A bauble like that doesn't come cheap, you know. You don't seem to be carrying any sacks of gold.”

  “No, ma'am.”

  “How do you propose to pay then, dear lad, for a priceless thing like that? A fellow would have to do quite a lot to earn it, wouldn't he?” “I imagine so, ma'am.” Hercules gave her his best saucy grin. “I have a reputation as a very hard worker, though.”

  “I'll just bet you do, my boy,” Hippolyta said breathily. “Let us go and see if we can strike some sort of bargain. The court is dismissed. See that our other guests are entertained,” she told her troops. “But, I warn you, none of your coarseness. Take no unseemly liberties with them. Show all proper respect for their sex.”

  With a wink at Hercules, she held out her hand, which he took with enthusiasm and they withdrew to her private quarters. As soon as the queen had gone her attendants and guards moved in on the heroes with wicked looks and sparkles in their eyes. Silently all on both sides had established contact with someone and each pairing made for couches while serving boys and girls brought food and drink, which would be largely ignored for quite a while yet.

  Both parties were equally pleased and taken aback at just how easy the other side seemed to be. There was no talk of respect in the morning, commitment, or having children. There was no coy behaviour or pretend delicacy or modesty, no need for flowers, flattery and pretence. The Amazons had never had it so good, and the heroes very rarely. Sadly, though, it was not to last.

  By morning Hera was among the Amazons, disguised as one of them, starting rumours and spreading false reports.

  “Why do you really think they are here?” she would whisper to one or two of the guards or attendants of the queen the next morning. “You cannot believe the girdle story. What could be more ridiculous?”

  “Isn't it a little unlikely that such well armed and obviously well seasoned soldiers should come amongst us, all good looking and on such a spurious mission?”