Hercules and the Nemean Lion, part 2 (Patreon)

Hercules studied the sturdy huts that marked the edge of Cleonae. Here was the last settlement before the road led to the caves where the Nemean Lion hunted any who attempted to go to the temple of Zeus. Hercules knew that the oracle served Hera, so he was surprised that the oracle’s first task included clearing the way for the worshippers of Zeus. 

He grinned as he imagined how Zeus had managed to twist the prize out of Hera’s hands. No doubt she would want Hercules to unearth the oak of Zeus at Dodona or destroy the oracle of Ammon. However, Zeus had turned Hercules’ punishment to his own ends. That thought gave Hercules a twinge of unease. He knew his father would not wish him enslaved, but it bothered him that Zeus was benefiting from this situation. 

A door opened and an older man with grey-streaked hair and patched clothing stepped out from a small hut. He spotted Hercules and clutched his sickle tighter. “What business have you, stranger?”

Hercules held out his hands to show they were empty. “I come on a quest from the gods.”

“Then may the fates have mercy on you. This is no safe place for quests. If you value your life, turn around and go back.” The old man had a fierceness to his voice that Hercules found amusing given that the elder was no more substantial than a wisp of grass.

Hercules smiled. This was an honest man giving him honest advice. “I cannot do that, but as I am Hercules, the son of Zeus, I don’t fear where this road may lead.” 

For a moment, the man stared at Hercules, unmoving. Then he slowly lowered his sickle. “Truly?”

The adoration and shock was familiar. Hercules smiled. “Truly, friend. The gods have sent me to rid this place of the lion the keeps visitors from the temple of Zeus.” With the lion gone, Cleonae would regain its position as the last rest stop for those making a pilgrimage to worship Zeus. Their lives would improve, and Hercules could hold that up as a good deed.

The man set his sickle down on a wobbly stool next to his door. “If you tell the truth, then today is a day of great celebration. I am Molorchus, a worker in the fields. I am blessed by your presence. I should…” He looked around as though he couldn’t decide what he should do.

Hercules laughed. “You need do nothing, Mololrchus. The day is late, and I planned to stay here before tracking the lion to his lair.”

“But you have no weapons.”

“I have what I need.” Hercules held up his two hands, and Molorchus’ eyes grew wide. “I don’t know if I will prevail, but I know no weapons that could serve me better than these.” 

The worshipful gaze was balm to Hercules’ soul. He would bed down here tonight and tomorrow he would take on his first quest.

“The others will return soon. Any of us would be honored to have you stay with us.” Molorchus gestured to the other huts, and now Hercules could see women peering at him through the crude openings. Movement caught his eye, and he turned around to see a young woman looking at him while half hiding behind the corner of a stone hut. He knew that if he gave her a second look, she would fall into his bed, but his emotions were too raw for that.

He turned back to Molorchus. “If you will have me as a guest, I will sleep easily in your hut.”

Molorchus’ smile was bright enough to light the skies. “I shall make a sacrifice for you, to ask the gods to help you with your hunt.” He turned into his house and when he came out a few seconds later, he had a rope in hand. “I shall get the goat.” He took a step toward the hillside, but Hercules reached for his arm, stopping the man with a single touch.

“I appreciate the offer. When I return, we can make the sacrifice together to thank Zeus.”

“When you return,” Molorchus echoed.

Hercules nodded, “And if I do not return in 30 days, it means I have failed, and you can make the sacrifice to my soul.” Hercules hoped that would not be his end, but if Hera had his way, he would bleed out in some desert—alone and unburied. Her hate was so hot that he was surprised it did not burn her.

“I’m sure you will prevail,” Molorchus said, but now that Hercules had brought up the alternative, he did look concerned.

“Have no worries,” Hercules said, and then he said more loudly, “If any might have food or wine for a passing hero, I have tales to tell and good spirits to share before I go on my quest.” Hercules watched as the women gathered their courage and came out of the huts. The men would return from their fields and their flocks soon enough, and then they could all share food and Hercules could indulge in the warmth of human kindness before returning to his punishment.

The men did not return until after the sun had fallen, and by then, Molorchus and Hercules had shared two skins of wine. One of the farmers came back angry that Molorchus had not returned from his task of sharpening his blade, but Hercules interrupted the angry tirade, and the name of Hercules was enough to calm the man’s temper. More than one young boy or girl watched with adoring eyes, and Hercules stayed up well into the night, singing tales of his mighty tasks. These were simple folk, and even stories of Thebes impressed. When Hercules told how he had killed a lion at eighteen or strangled two snakes from his crib, they were ready to build him an altar. The worshipful attention continued until they slowly fell asleep, one after another. 

A lass called Adelphe had her head resting against his calf, her mother asleep nearby. Hercules leaned forward to stroke her hair.

“What has Hera brought you to, my son?” 

Hercules looked up to see Zeus standing near the communal fire. “Father.” He eased his leg out from under the girl, but she didn’t even twitch. No doubt Zeus had wished them asleep. “Is everyone at home safe?” Hercules kept his words as ambiguous as possible. He would not put his children in danger by asking about them specifically, but he hungered for news of them.

“Everyone is well,” Zeus said. He threw his walking stick up into the air and it turned to an eagle and soared away. “So this is the quest the oracle has chosen.”

“No doubt influenced by you since this will open the path for worshippers to return to your Nemean temple.” Perhaps it was the flickering firelight or some trick of Hercules’ mind, but it almost seemed as if anger twisted Zeus’ features for a second before he turned to face the darkness.

“Killing the lion will anger Echidna,” Zeus warned.

Hercules nodded. “And I will face her if I must.” He would rather not, but he would. She was said to have face and bosom of a beautiful nymph, the body of a snake, and a ravenous hunger for raw flesh. And she had given birth to many monsters, so Hercules assumed that Zeus was warning him that the Nemean Lion was one of hers.

Zeus turned back around. “Hera has gone too far this time. I am ready to put an end to this now.”

“What?” Hercules felt panic claw at his insides. “You said that I must pay for my children’s murder—that I had to submit myself to the justice of the oracle. You said this was the only way to divert Hera’s anger. I have to protect the family I have left.”

“At the expense of your own freedom?” Zeus asked.

He had not spoken against Hercules’ slavery before, so this was an unexpected turn. “My freedom is nothing compared to my family. I will survive.”

Zeus was silent, but Hercules could feel some censure linger in the air between them.

“What would you have me do? I have to protect the family I have left, and if that means that I must endure slavery, then I don’t feel any shame in doing so.”

Hercules expected Zeus to explain himself, but in the blink of an eye, Zeus vanished, leaving Hercules alone with the sleeping families, but their presence was no longer the comfort it had been. Gathering his meager supplies, Hercules headed down the trail to begin his hunt. He didn’t know what else he could do.

Hercules and the Nemean Lion

Part One 

Part Two 

Part Three 

Part Four 

Part Five 

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