Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two Read Online Free PDF Page A

including members of their own family.”
    â€œYes, indeed,” said Hermes. “To be a king’s brother these days is almost fatal, particularly if you’re the one next in line to the throne.”
    â€œIt’s getting monotonous, this mayhem,” said Zeus. “How do you propose that I deal with it?”
    â€œBlood price,” said Hermes.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œHonored Sire, I propose that you pass an edict forbidding murder within a family and impose a heavy fine upon anyone breaking that law.”
    â€œFine? For a king?” exclaimed Zeus. “They have vast treasuries, and if they run short of funds, they simply rob their subjects through new taxes. No fine will discourage any king from braining his brother with a scepter.”
    â€œMake the penalty heavier then. Make your law say that anyone killing any member of his family within the second degree of cousinship must place himself in servitude to the head of that family for an entire year.”
    â€œBut,” said Zeus, “suppose a king, who is automatically head of his family, does the killing. Whom would he serve?”
    â€œA neighboring king,” said Hermes. “Which, by the nature of things, would put him at considerable risk.”
    Zeus guffawed. “There’s a lot of meat in your idea, Son. I can see trouble administering such a law, but we’ll work things out as we go along.”
    Hera was pleased by this new edict. Not that she had any distaste for killing, but she saw how the provisions of this law might help to solve her most urgent problem.
    For she fully expected that one of the monsters proposed by Hecate would put an end to Hercules. His death, however, would cause a great sensation on earth, and in heaven. And she, Hera, known by all to have sworn vengeance against Hercules, would surely be suspected by Zeus, whose suspicions always hardened into certainty, and such certainties always turned into violence.
    What she needed then was to contrive the young hero’s death in a way that would absolve her of blame. And the new law suggested such a way.
    She followed Hercules one day when he went out into the woods. For she had studied his habits and knew that he spent part of each morning practicing archery and spear throwing. She guided him over the Theban frontier into Mycenae, a realm ruled by his cousin, King Eurystheus. She hovered invisibly as he shot arrows at a tree, bending the bow only halfway, for his full-armed pull would send an arrow through the tree. His hand flashed from quiver to bowstring, notching each shaft and letting it fly … each one planting itself exactly above the other so that a line of arrows, precisely one inch apart, climbed the tree.
    While he was doing this, Hera had been misdirecting a party of young Mycenaeans out hunting. Princes they were, brothers and cousins of Eurystheus, the king. The merry youths were riding with a loose rein, laughing and chatting as their horses picked their way among the trees. Hera guided the horses toward Hercules, brought them within bowshot, and, as the archer shot his last arrow, Hera deflected it in midflight. It sailed past the tree and into the chest of a young prince, killing him instantly.
    Hercules was horrified. He had no way of knowing that Hera had deflected his arrow; the idea never occurred to him. Innocently, he thought that he had missed his aim, that his own poorly shot arrow had killed the prince. Roaring with grief, he burst out of the brush and rushed to where the man lay, tore open his tunic, and examined the wound. But the man was dead.
    The others sat their horses in utter shock, staring at the gigantic young stranger, who was shouting and sobbing, accusing himself of criminal carelessness, and offering to pay the blood price.
    Hera, still hovering invisibly, uttered a snarling laugh. “Now,” she said to herself, “I’ll visit King Eurystheus in a dream