The First Labor

The First Labor.

Notes:
Heracles was the son of Zeus and a mortal woman. He was a great warrior and hunter, loved by many, hated by the goddess Hera. In truth, Hera hated just about all of Zeus' many bastard children, but she harbored a special grudge against Heracles. He had resisted all of her attempts to kill him, the first attempt being thwarted by Heracles while he was still just a toddler. Eventually, Hera would hurt him where he was most vulnerable. She made Heracles go mad, causing him to kill his own wife and children in the process. His delirium broke and he was heartbroken to see what he had done with his own hands.
Heracles traveled to see Pythia, the oracle at Delphi, to learn what he must do to atone for his actions. The oracle told him that he must travel to Tiryn, where his cousin Eurystheus was king. There he must serve under the king for twelve years, performing any and all tasks Eurystheus would set before him.

Tiryn
“Three weeks. It has been three weeks, uncle. The King has ignored us, letting us fester away in these rooms without purpose or direction. Did we not come here to serve him and his whim?” Iolaus turned on his heel and walked back across the room. He had been pacing for some time, allowing his impetuous frustration build into a burning anger until it seemed as if he couldn't contain himself any longer. Heracles had watched him with some amusement, mentally wagering to see how long it would take for the first outburst. He did not have to wait long.
“Patience, boy. If the king wishes for us to sit here and do nothing, then that is his whim. I can hardly think of less difficult ways to serve a king than by enjoying his hospitality.”
Iolaus huffed at the word. “Hospitality? Uncle, you are his cousin, and has not even invited you to dine at his table, in three weeks.” He smacked his right fist into his left palm. “You are Heracles! He should be begging you to dine with him!”
Heracles could not help but smile at the boy. Iolaus was not indignant at being ignored. His fury was that the king was ignoring Heracles, whom the boy idolized. It was for this reason he had begged to accompany his uncle on his journey, knowing he would not see his home again for twelve years. “Patience. Eurystheus will summon me soon. He is faithful to Hera, and goddess will not tolerate him allowing me to remain idle for long. Her hatred of me is too great. Besides, what is three weeks compared to twelve years?” Heracles gestured toward a short, wooden sword laying upon a table at the side of the room, “Come practice your forms, it will calm you and give your focus. Later we will practice with the bow. Come now Iolaus.”
Begrudgingly, Iolaus obeyed and quickly began his forms; simple actions for a short and simple sword. Heracles watched for a while, offering tidbits of advice and encouragement: place your feet farther apart, hold tighter the grip on the downstroke, well done and again. His own mind wandered off into the distance for a while. He too was angered by his cousin, the king. It wasn't shameful enough that he had to serve his penance under such a worm, but it was a greater insult that he would ignore Heracles for so long without even a sideways glance since their first meeting three weeks ago. He couldn't afford to express himself the way his nephew did. He had to endure these twelve years, with dignity and honor, if he could – glory if he was lucky.
Like Iolaus, Heracles felt restless. He needed to be doing something, anything, and anything would be preferred to this waiting. Unlike Iolaus, He had trained for long enough. He was a warrior, he needed a fight, a hunt, anything that would challenge his prowess. He could feel his muscles tense, his jaw set, brow furrowed just at the thought of his idleness. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, willing his unease away. There would be plenty for him to do once Eurystheus finally devised tasks for him.
He felt a prickle of his hair on the back of his neck, and the warm, soothing touch of a phantom hand on his shoulder caused him to smile. It was the touch of Athena, his great goddess sister, letting him know that the time of waiting was nearly over.

* * * *

It was still another two days before King Eurystheus summoned Heracles before him. As Heracles and Iolaus strode into the massive courtroom, the megaron, of the palace, all activity slowly ground to a halt as each occupant took notice of the son of Zeus. A hush fell over the brightly colored megaron, the crowd followed his every step. To the right of the chamber against a wall was the raised throne of the king, and on that throne was Eurystheus himself, sporting a thinly veiled look of contempt. Iolaus, oblivious to the king, but not the looks of awe and admiration for Heracles, puffed up his chest and walked a little taller next to his uncle.
Once before the king, Heracles had a moment to size up his cousin. Although smaller in size compared to Heracles, Eurystheus was a broad shouldered, barrel chested, muscular man with fine handsome features. If half the stories about him were true, he was also a skilled warrior and hunter in his own right. If not for his lacking character, and his pure unbridled jealousy of Heracles, they might have been allies. Looking upon the king at that moment, Heracles had a brief moment of pity for his cousin.
Heracles was no orator, but he knew when and how to charm an audience, and that moment required heaping great plaudits and thanks upon his host. “Great king Eurystheus, mightiest in Tiryn, revered among kings the world over, I thank you for your boundless hospitality. Your generosity is well known among men, and you do me a great honor by agreeing to help me in my time of need.” He kept his voice warm and friendly as he genuflected as though greeting an honored equal. The solemn nods and appreciative looks from those gathered around the king told him that he was on the right path.
By contrast, Eurystheus stiffened in his seat, a flame of anger flashed in his eyes. He knew the words from Heracles' mouth were hollow and without truth, and he should have ignored them and responded in similar fashion, but the bitter envy in his heart ruled his emotions. His words were curt and full of spite and a clearly forced pleasantry, “My dear cousin Heracles, you are here to serve under me as a penance for your brutal slaughter of your own wife and innocent children. The gods have seen fit to give me power over your labors of twelve years.” He leaned forward, a cruel sneer playing out across his lips. “The tasks I have for you are impossible for any mere man to accomplish. I daresay they may even be too difficult to you. Dear. Cousin.” He spat out the last two words as if they tasted bitter in his mouth.
Heracles had another brief moment of pity, but even so, his anger was simmering beneath his friendly facade. “I am prepared to take on any task that you, or the gods in their wisdom, place before me.”
Eurystheus met the gaze of Heracles, and they were locked in a contest of wills, neither of them would break eye contact, so intent were they upon each other. “Surely you have heard of the great lion at Nemea? It spreads terror around the countryside, killing men and cattle, taking women back to its lair as bait for warriors who would be their rescuers”
“I have heard of it. It also said that its hide is impenetrable and its claws can tear through any armor.”
“Those are the rumors. Many men have found death in the lion's jaws.” Eurystheus' gaze was hard as stone. “I want you to go to Nemea slay the beast and return with its hide. This will be the first labor of your atonement.”
Heracles tone was somber, despite his anger and his pride, he still remembered why he was here in Tiryn. He swallowed hard and set his jaw, willing all thoughts of the deed to stay out of his mind. “I will do whatever is necessary, king Eurystheus.”
The king slouched in his chair and beckoned for his wine. “Then go. Make ready Heracles, the journey to Nemea may be short, but this task will not be so easily overcome, even for you.”

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