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Oh My Gods: A Modern Retelling of Greek and Roman Myths

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Original price $18.00 - Original price $18.00
Original price $18.00
Current price $16.99
$16.99 - $16.99
Current price $16.99
From acclaimed writer and scholar Philip Freeman, a contemporary retelling of classic Greek and Roman mythology.

The Greek and Roman myths have never died out; in fact they are as relevant today as ever in their sharp observations about human nature. For thousands of years they have inspired plays, operas, and paintings; today they live on in movies and video games.

Oh My Gods is a contemporary retelling of some of the most popular myths by Philip Freeman, a noted classicist. These tales of errant gods, fantastic creatures, and human heroes are brought to life in fresh and modern versions. Powerful Zeus; his perpetually aggrieved wife, Hera; talented Apollo; beautiful Aphrodite; fierce Athena; the dauntless heroes Theseus and Hercules; and the doomed lovers Orpheus and Eurydice still inspire awe, give us courage, and break our hearts.

From the astonishing tales of the Argonauts to the immortal narrative of the Battle of Troy, these ancient tales have inspired writers from Shakespeare to J. K. Rowling. In Philip Freeman’s vibrant retelling they will doubtless inspire a new generation of readers.

ISBN-13: 9781451609981

Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Publication Date: 01-01-2013

Pages: 348

Product Dimensions: 5.40(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.00(d)

Philip Freeman is Qualley Professor of Classics at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa, and a former professor of classics at Washington University in St. Louis. He was selected as a visiting fellow at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton for January 2012. He earned the first joint PhD in classics and Celtic studies from Harvard University, and has been a visiting scholar at the Harvard Divinity School, the American Academy in Rome, and the Center for Hellenic Studies in Washington, DC. The author of several previous books including Alexander the Great, St. Patrick of Ireland, and Julius Caesar, he lives with his family in Decorah, Iowa. Visit him at


The hero Perseus had many children with his wife, Andromeda, after he rescued her from the sea monster. Three of the sons they raised in Argos were Alcaeus, Electryon, and Sthenelus. In time Alcaeus grew up and had a son of his own named Amphitryon, while Electryon had nine sons and a daughter he named Alcmene.

When Perseus died, Electryon became king of Mycenae. The coast of Argos in those days was plagued by pirates and one day they attacked Electryon’s sons while they were tending cattle. Unfortunately for the princes, they were no match for the raiders. The king himself then decided to seek revenge on the pirates for their crime. He entrusted Mycenae to his nephew Amphitryon as regent along with the care of his daughter—but gave him a stern warning that her virtue had better be intact when he returned. Nephew and uncle then quarreled, with words leading to drawn swords. In the passion of the moment, Amphitryon slew Electryon.

Electryon’s brother Sthenelus took the throne and banished Amphitryon from the kingdom. Alcmene willingly accompanied him into exile and the two made their way north to the city of Thebes, where King Creon purified Amphitryon of blood guilt from the slaying of his uncle. Amphitryon was now eager to marry Alcmene and enjoy the pleasures of her bed, but his beautiful cousin had other ideas. Yes, she would gladly marry him, but—as a matter of honor—he first had to hunt down the pirates who had killed her brothers. Amphitryon was only too happy to seek vengeance against the men who had murdered his cousins, but he was also eager to make love to his new wife. Thus with great urgency, he collected together a band of warriors and set off to destroy the pirates.

Amphitryon was successful, but on the night of his return, Zeus took on his appearance and entered the chamber of Alcmene disguised as her husband. The god showed his bride trophies of his victory over the pirates and said it was time at last for a real honeymoon. Zeus lengthened the night to three times its normal length as he made love to Alcmene again and again.

No sooner had the god left than the real Amphitryon entered the palace. He ran upstairs to Alcmene’s bedroom and embraced his wife at last. The exhausted Alcmene couldn’t understand how her husband still had such energy after the long night of passion they had already enjoyed. When dawn came, the poor woman asked why he had come to her twice in a single night as if it were the first time. Amphitryon was furious, so he decided to seek out Tiresias the prophet to discover who had slept with Alcmene before him. The seer revealed that it was in fact Zeus who had shared her bed. Amphitryon was none too pleased with this news, but he could hardly blame his wife for the amorous encounter and it was pointless to rage against the god. Reluctantly he accepted the fact that both he and Zeus had enjoyed her favors that night.

Hera was angry as always that Zeus had cheated on her. She determined to make Alcmene and her child pay for the philandering of her husband. The goddess was even more eager to do this when after nine months Zeus rose from his throne on Olympus and declared that the fruit of his loins born that day would rule over the fertile plain of Argos. Hera made him swear that this would be so, then she slipped away and sped down to Mycenae, where the young wife of Sthenelus was seven months pregnant. The goddess caused her to go into early labor so that her son would be born first in fulfillment of the prophesy instead of Alcmene’s. As Sthenelus was the grandson of Zeus, his son was also the offspring of Hera’s husband and could fulfill the prophecy.

Meanwhile, to buy time until the wife of Sthenelus gave birth, Hera had sent Eileithyia, the goddess of childbirth, to wait outside the bedchamber of Alcmene. Instead of easing her delivery, Eileithyia sat with her legs and fingers tightly crossed in an act of sympathetic magic to prolong her labor. The screams of Alcmene went on for many hours as the pain increased. At last one of her servants, a clever old woman named Galanthis, noticed the stranger in the shadows and understood what this mysterious figure was doing. Galanthis then shouted, “Rejoice, a child is born! Alcmene has given birth!”

“Impossible,” cried out Eileithyia, but the distraction was enough to break her concentration and end the spell. Eileithyia was so angry at the trick that she immediately turned the old woman into a weasel. The long-suffering Alcmene then at last gave birth not to one but two sons. One was Iphicles, fathered by the mortal Amphitryon, but the other was sired on the same night by Zeus. His name was Hercules.

After Hercules was born, his mother Alcmene was afraid that Hera would kill her just as she had so many of Zeus’ lovers. She therefore took her baby and left him to die in a deserted field, hoping that this would satisfy the vengeance of the goddess. By no coincidence, Athena happened upon the infant and took him to Mount Olympus. She brought him to Hera and asked if she would nurse the beautiful baby she had found. Hera did not know who the boy was and always had a soft spot for children, so she gladly agreed and put the child to her breast. All went well until the precociously strong Hercules bit his divine nursemaid hard on the nipple. Hera screamed in pain and jumped up, spurting milk everywhere. Athena then took the child back to his mother in Thebes and persuaded her to raise him. Hera’s milk meanwhile spread across the heavens and came to be known as the Milky Way.

Hercules was just a few months old when Hera first tried to kill him. He was in his crib with his brother, Iphicles, one night when the goddess sent two large and poisonous serpents into their room. The snakes silently moved across the floor until they came to the bed, then climbed up until they were on top of the babies. Iphicles awoke and screamed, but Hercules grabbed a serpent in each of his chubby hands and squeezed. Alcmene and Amphitryon rushed in to find baby Hercules laughing as he held two dead snakes by the neck.

From his earliest days Hercules excelled in physical activities, especially since his teachers were the best Greece had to offer. His mortal father, Amphitryon, taught him to drive a chariot, while a king named Eurytus instructed him in the use of the bow. Helen’s brother Castor taught him to fight with a sword and Hermes’ son Harpalycus showed him how to wrestle. Linus, the brother of Orpheus, tried to teach him to sing and play the lyre, but Hercules was a poor student of music. Linus grew so frustrated with his pupil that one day he boxed him on the ears. Hercules flew into a rage and smashed the lyre on top of his teacher’s head, killing him. Young Hercules was put on trial for murder, but argued that by ancient custom a man was allowed to kill anyone who struck him first. The judges were impressed by this clever youth and acquitted him of all charges.

Amphitryon then wisely decided he should send Hercules out into the country to vent his energy doing chores on a farm. The boy loved this rural life and outdid all of his companions in performing farm tasks and hunting in the woods. By the time he was a young man, he was taller by a head than all his fellows and his eyes gleamed with fire. No one could beat him in contests of skill, whether shooting arrows or throwing the javelin.

When Hercules was eighteen, word reached him that an enormous lion was ravaging the flocks of King Thespius on nearby Mount Cithaeron. The beast was very hard to track, so Hercules spent fifty nights in the home of Thespius while he hunted. The king was so impressed by this young man that he decided he wanted each of his fifty daughters to bear his child. Hercules was potent but not very bright. Every night while he stayed with the king, a different girl slipped into his dark bedroom. Hercules—thinking that it was the same young woman each time coming back for more—gladly made love with each one. Some stories even say that Thespius got Hercules drunk and sent in all fifty daughters at once. But whether in a single night or over a period of weeks, Hercules impregnated each girl. Somehow he also found time to kill the lion.

In the days when young Hercules lived in the city, Thebes was dominated by the Minyans to the north. The king of the Minyans was Erginus, who ruled at Orchomenus and demanded that each year the Thebans send him a hundred of their best cattle. As Hercules was returning home after he had killed the lion of Mount Cithaeron, he happened to meet the Minyan heralds on their way to Thebes to collect their annual tribute. Hercules was so incensed by this humiliation of his town that he cut off the ears, noses, and hands of the heralds and sent them back to Orchomenus mutilated. King Erginus was furious at this outrageous insult and gathered his powerful army to march against Thebes. When he reached the walls of the city he demanded that Creon send out Hercules to be punished. The king of Thebes was seriously considering this when Hercules gathered the young men of the town and broke into a local temple. There the Thebans had long ago dedicated their weapons to the gods and hung them on a wall where they had gathered dust for years. With Hercules leading them, the youthful warriors took up the ancient arms and marched out against the Minyans. The band of Thebans not only slew Erginus and killed almost everyone in the Minyan army, but they also proceeded to the capital of their enemy and burned Orchomenus to the ground. Thanks to Hercules, the Thebans were now free.

Creon was so grateful to Hercules that he gave him his own daughter Megara to be his bride. The young couple lived happily together and had three sons, but Hera had not forgotten her anger against Hercules and was not about to let this happy domestic scene continue. She whispered in the ear of Hercules that he was nothing, a nobody from a small town who was a grave disappointment to his divine father. A true son of Zeus would have accomplished more than kill a mangy lion and defeat the Minyan rabble in a minor war. In visions of the night and in his darkest thoughts, she told him he was no hero.

Hercules wanted to be so much more than a husband and father. Hearth and home had their rewards, but he longed for danger and adventure to prove himself. The conflict between his dreams and the responsibilities of family life caused him such frustration that he didn’t know which way to turn. Hera fanned this frenzy until at last Hercules lost his mind.

One day he was performing a sacrifice to the gods with his wife and sons in attendance. His beautiful young children looked up at him in silent reverence as he carried the sacred basket of barley around the altar. Hercules stood ready to quench the flame of the altar torch in a basin so that he could sprinkle the holy water on his family as a blessing. Suddenly, without a word, he froze. Megara and the children stared at him wondering what was wrong. His bloodshot eyes rolled wildly in his head, drool dribbled into his beard, and then he screamed out with manic laughter: “Why should I sacrifice before I slay Eurystheus, son of Sthenelus, king of Mycenae? I’ll kill that miserable usurper with a single blow. Throw away the basket, pour out the water, and someone get my bow! I’m off to Mycenae. I’ll knock down those mighty walls with my bare hands.”

Hercules grabbed his bow and club, then climbed into an imaginary chariot and whipped invisible horses to a gallop. His servants didn’t know if he had gone insane or if this were some kind of joke. Their master cried out that he was crossing the Isthmus of Corinth and was nearing his goal. He then jumped on the ground and began running around the altar looking for his enemies. His children were now terrified and cried out, catching the attention of their father. He drew his bow on his eldest son, thinking he was a child of Eurystheus.

“Stop!” cried Megara as she threw herself in front of her son. “You gave this child life. Will you now take it away?”

But Hercules was in a world of his own and could not hear her. He chased the boy around the yard and caught him at last, then stabbed him through the heart with the sacrificial knife. The blood of the young child spurted from his small body as he collapsed into his mother’s arms.

“That’s one of your brood, Eurystheus,” cried Hercules. “Now for the rest!”

His second son tried to hide behind the altar, but his father found him there and dragged him away. As Hercules raised his club to crush his head, the boy grasped his father’s knees and begged him, “Daddy, please, don’t kill me! I’m your own little boy.”

But like a blacksmith at the forge, Hercules brought down his club on the boy’s fair hair and crushed his skull.

Megara grabbed her last child and ran into their house, barring the door. But Hercules burst through and drew his bow on mother and child crouched in the corner. Without a word, he shot them both through with a single arrow.

He would have killed everyone present, but Athena suddenly appeared before him and tossed a huge stone at his chest, knocking the breath from his body and driving away Hera’s madness. Hercules slowly rose from the ground and gazed in horror at the scene before him. Then he sank to his knees and wept.

For weeks Hercules was beyond consolation. He had murdered his own wife and children—madness or not, he could not forgive himself. Friends and family came to sit with him, but he wanted nothing to do with anyone. His grief consumed him until he was a shell of his former self.

Although time cannot heal all wounds, as the months passed Hercules realized he would have to move on or die alone in a dark and empty house. At last he roused himself and left Thebes behind to seek the counsel of the oracle at Delphi. He made his way west over the mountains until he came to the temple of Apollo beneath Mount Parnassus. Sacrifices performed, he entered the sanctuary and asked the priestess what he must do to be healed of his pain and find forgiveness. The message she gave him was not pleasing. He must return to his ancestral home in Argos and there serve his young uncle Eurystheus, performing whatever twelve labors this hated king would assign him. This was a bitter pill for Hercules to swallow and a powerful lesson in humility. Not only would he be reduced to the level of a slave, but his master would be the very man who had stolen the rightful throne of Argos from him. Still, there was nothing he could do except follow the will of the god. He left the slopes of Parnassus and walked slowly down the road to Argos.

The cowardly Eurystheus was terrified when he heard that Hercules was on his way to Mycenae. He thought that his nephew was planning to kill him and steal the throne. As Hercules entered the massive gates of the citadel with stone lions on each side, Eurystheus hid himself in a large bronze jar buried in the ground and hoped that his nephew wouldn’t find him. But Hercules marched into the palace grounds and tore the lid off the jar, hauling Eurystheus to his feet. The king begged for mercy with his hands raised in supplication, but finally calmed down when Hercules explained his mission. The ruler of Argos then determined to assign his nephew the most dangerous tasks he could think of, hoping that he would be killed quickly and never enter Mycenae again.

Seated on his throne but still shaking, Eurystheus commanded Hercules to seek out and slay a great lion that was ravaging the country around Nemea, to the north of Mycenae. Hercules did not think this first labor would be difficult. He had already killed a fierce lion on Mount Cithaeron and supposed this animal would be no different. He began a leisurely stroll toward Nemea and arrived at the little town of Cleone along the way. A poor man named Molorchus invited him to spend the night in his house and served him the best food his humble means allowed. He was so impressed by his mighty guest that when he was leaving the next morning, Molorchus asked if he might sacrifice to him. Hercules laughed and told him to wait thirty days. If he returned having slain the lion, he advised his host to make an offering to Zeus as savior. If he didn’t return, then he might make a small sacrifice to his spirit as a hero.

Hercules arrived in the region of Nemea and found the lair of the beast. The lion made its home in a cave stretching through the rock to the other side of the mountain. He found the lion lounging outside the entrance and notched his arrow for an easy kill. The shaft flew straight at the heart of the animal, but it merely bounced off his hide. The lion yawned as Hercules let fly another arrow, but the result was the same, for this was no ordinary lion. It was none other than a child of the ancient monsters Typhon and Echidna. The skin of the Nemean lion could not be pierced by any shaft or blade.

Hercules considered his options and came up with a plan. He went to the far side of the mountain and blocked the exit to the cave, then he returned to the entrance where the lion slept. He cut a huge club from a nearby tree and rushed the animal, yelling and making such a racket that the lion made its way into the cave to get away from the noisy intruder. Hercules followed the lion and grabbed it around the throat. By now the beast was angry and tried to tear him apart, but Hercules was so strong that he choked the lion to death with his bare hands. Since no blade could cut its hide, he used one of the razor-sharp claws of the lion itself to skin the animal. He then draped it across his shoulders as a cloak with the lion’s scalp serving as a kind of helmet. This skin and the club Hercules carved at Nemea became his emblems thereafter.

As he walked back to Mycenae, he passed through Cleone and saw Molorchus about to sacrifice to him as a dead hero. Instead, Molorchus made an offering of thanksgiving to Zeus. Hercules then continued to Mycenae, where Eurystheus was once again hiding in his jar. He was more terrified of Hercules than ever and forbade him to enter the city gates in the future. From now on he would convey his royal orders through a herald named Copreus—a calculated insult on the part of the king since his name in Greek meant “manure man.”

Eurystheus quickly sent Hercules away on his second labor, to kill the enormous Hydra that lived in the swamps of Lerna south of Mycenae. This monster had a hundred heads and a wicked temper. On certain nights it would crawl out of its swamp and ravage the farms and fields around Lerna with the help of its sidekick, a giant crab. Hercules, along with his nephew Iolaus, made his way to the Lernean swamp, but the muck and mire were so thick that the he had to use burning arrows to drive the Hydra from its hiding place. It was huge and as mean as any monster could be, but Hercules believed he could easily kill it. He rushed it with sword drawn and sliced off one of its heads in a single stroke. Proud of himself, he stood looking at the poisonous blood dripping from the beast when suddenly he saw two new heads burst from the severed neck. He attacked the Hydra again and cut off more heads, but from each stump came two additional heads, all raging against him. He then discovered that its central head was immortal and could not be destroyed by any means. To add injury to insult, the giant crab that was the Hydra’s best friend crawled out of the swamp and began biting his foot.

A strategic retreat seemed in order. Hercules ran from the marsh and found Iolaus standing by his chariot. He ordered the young man to grab a torch and follow him. The pair made their way to the Hydra, which by now was fully recovered with more angry heads than ever. Hercules first killed the giant crab nipping at his heels, then told Iolaus to stand by with the torch. He cut off one of the Hydra’s heads and yelled at his nephew to cauterize the wound quickly with fire. This had the desired effect—no new heads grew from the burned stumps. One by one Hercules cut at the monster until only the immortal head remained. He chopped this cleanly off at its vulnerable neck and buried it alive under a large rock. He then collected the poisonous blood of the Hydra and dipped all his arrows into the black liquid for future use.

The third labor Eurystheus assigned to Hercules was to track down and bring back alive the deer of Mount Ceryneia. This animal had horns of gold and was sacred to the goddess Artemis. Since he was not allowed to kill or wound the deer, Hercules spent a full year chasing it over the mountains of the Peloponnesus. At last he wore it down near a beautiful stream called the Ladon in Arcadia. He crept up on the deer while it slept and grabbed it, then threw it over his shoulders for the journey back to Mycenae.

As Hercules was making his way to Eurystheus, Artemis suddenly appeared before him. The goddess was furious that he had caught her sacred deer and was ready to kill Hercules, but he quickly explained that he had no wish to harm the animal and that he was acting under orders of the king. Artemis finally calmed down and let him continue on his way with a stern warning that he was to release her deer as soon as he reached Mycenae. Hercules agreed and made his way to the city, where he showed the deer to the herald Copreus and then let it go.

For the fourth labor, Eurystheus ordered Hercules to return to Arcadia and bring another living animal back to him, this time the terrible boar of Mount Erymanthus. This huge beast was ravaging the countryside, killing anyone who dared approach him.

Hercules followed the mountain paths to the southwest until he came to the cave of the friendly centaur Pholus, who welcomed him for the night. His host customarily ate his own meat raw, but he cooked a fine meal for his guest. Hercules asked for wine, but Pholus said the only wine available was in a jar hidden in his cave that belonged to all centaurs in common. It wasn’t really his to open and if he did, the other centaurs would smell it and go wild because of their craving for the drink. Hercules assured Pholus everything would be fine, so out of hospitality the centaur broke the seal on the jar.

The fragrant smell of the ancient vintage filled the cave and spread throughout the countryside. Soon centaurs descended on the home of Pholus from all directions. They were armed for war and ready to kill anyone who stood between them and the wine. Hercules shot any who dared to enter the cave, then ran out to chase the rest away. But the centaurs were not easily intimidated. They were fearsome creatures of great strength who tore up whole trees from their roots to use as clubs. It was a tremendous battle that lasted for hours until the hero finally killed the last of the wine-crazed centaurs and returned to the cave of his host.

Hercules found Pholus burying the bodies of the centaurs who had fallen around his home. Pholus pulled an arrow from one of the creatures and marveled at how such a small thing could have killed his companions. Then he accidentally let the point fall on his bare foot. Kindly Pholus died in agony, after which Hercules buried him beside his kinsmen and continued his hunt for the boar.

He found the beast at last in its mountain hideout and chased it until it fled into a deep snowbank and became stuck. Hercules then wrestled it into submission and carried it back to Eurystheus alive, just as he had been ordered. The king could not believe Hercules had survived yet another dangerous mission. As he hid in his jar, he tried to think of a different kind of task, one that would be both impossible and humiliating. If Hercules was unable to accomplish such a labor or too embarrassed to carry it out, the trials would be over and Eurystheus would be rid of him forever.

No job in ancient Greece was lower than cleaning up the excrement of farm animals. Only slaves and the poorest laborers shoveled dung from a barn. For his fifth labor, therefore, Eurystheus ordered Hercules to clean the infamous stables of King Augeas, son of the god Helios. This ruler was a mighty cattle lord with vast herds, but he cared little that the animal excrement in his huge barn had been building up for years. The piles of dung were deeper than a man’s knees and the stench was unimaginable. Eurystheus also stipulated that Hercules had to accomplish this humiliating labor all by himself.

Hercules was no stranger to farm life, but he recoiled at the thought of shoveling dung. He also knew it was impossible for him to cleanse the stables of Augeas alone by this method. But as he was under the command of the oracle at Delphi, he dared not offend the god by refusing to try. He made his way to the palace of Augeas to offer his services to the king. As he passed the swift Alpheus River along the way, he had a marvelous idea.

When he reached the palace, he was so confident he could accomplish the task that he told Augeas he would clean his stables in a single day if Augeas would give him a tenth of his cattle when the deed was complete. The king knew this was impossible, but he decided to let the young fool try. Hercules conveniently forgot to tell Augeas that he was acting under the orders of Eurystheus and had to clean the stables even with no payment. He made Phyleus, son of Augeas, witness the agreement and then set to work.

The next morning Hercules went to one wall of the stables and knocked a large hole in the side. Then he strolled through the muck to the other end and made another opening. After this, he went to the nearby banks of the Alpheus and diverted the stream into a channel he had dug into the barn. Thousands of gallons of fresh river water poured through the stables and washed away years of dung in a matter of minutes. Hercules then closed the channel, patched up the holes in the barn, and demanded his payment.

Augeas was incredulous, especially as he had discovered in the meantime that Hercules had come to him under orders of Eurystheus. The king refused to give him a single cow as he claimed to have been deceived. Hercules called on Phyleus as witness, with the king’s son confirming that his father should pay. Augeas angrily ordered both Hercules and Phyleus to leave his kingdom forever.

Hercules made his way back to Mycenae without any cattle. In a bad mood, he stopped at the home of a local king named Dexamenus. This ruler had been bullied into promising his daughter in marriage to a centaur named Eurytion, who was coming that very day to claim her. Hercules had no use for centaurs after his encounter with them during the hunt for the Erymanthian Boar, so he killed Eurytion on the spot and then made his way back to Mycenae.

The sixth labor of Hercules was again not particularly dangerous, but Eurystheus considered it impossible. In Arcadia, in a dense forest near the town of Stymphalus, a flock of birds countless in number had settled on a lake and fouled it beyond use. Some say the birds shot their feathers like deadly arrows at anyone who approached, but most stories agree they were simply an enormous nuisance. The inhabitants of the region had tried many times to drive them away, but to no avail. The king therefore ordered Hercules to clear the lake, believing he would surely fail.

Hercules made his way back to Arcadia and gazed in wonder at the number of birds before him. He knew he could never kill them all, so he sat down on the shore and came up with a clever plan. He carefully fashioned a pair of bronze rattles that made a horrendous noise when he shook them. With these he ran around the lake causing such a ruckus that the birds took to the sky and never came back.

By now Eurystheus must have thought he would never get rid of Hercules, so for his seventh labor the king decided to send him on a mission across the sea to Crete, far from Mycenae, where the king hoped Hercules would be killed. His task was to capture alive the bull that had once emerged from the sea at the prayer of Minos to Poseidon. When the Cretan king refused to sacrifice it as he had promised, the god made Minos’ queen, Pasiphae, fall in love with it and mate with the animal, producing the murderous Minotaur. After knowing the queen intimately, the bull had escaped the fields of Minos and was terrorizing the island.

Hercules found the bull without much difficulty and wrestled it to the ground, but getting the wild creature back to the mainland would not be easy. However, Hercules borrowed a trick that his father Zeus had used with Europa and rode the swimming bull all the way across the sea. Once he had shown it to the herald Copreus, he released it to wander around Greece until it eventually settled on the plain of Marathon near Athens and was slain by Theseus.

Eurystheus had failed to kill Hercules by sending him south to Crete, so Hercules’ eighth labor was to go north to the wild land of Thrace and bring back alive the man-eating mares of King Diomedes. These ravenous horses had been reared on human flesh by the king and would eat nothing else. They were so fierce that their feeding troughs were made of bronze and so strong they were held in their stables by iron chains. Eurystheus hoped that Hercules would be their next meal.

On his way to Thrace, Hercules passed through the kingdom of Admetus who ruled over Thessaly. He noticed that the whole palace was in mourning. When he inquired why, he was told only that a woman not of the king’s blood had passed away. Hercules couldn’t understand why there should be such a fuss over someone not even related to the royal family. He therefore demanded wine and food be brought to him, then spent the evening laughing and joking with the tearful king.

Finally Admetus explained to his guest that it was indeed his own wife, Alcestis, who had

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