Heroes: Volume II of Mythos

T HE S HIRT OF N ESSUS Exactly as he did at the end of his Labours, Heracles now turned his thoughts to marriage. This time he called to mind his encounter in the kingdom of Hades with the shade of Meleager and the promise he had made to wed his old friend’s sister Deianira.fn70 Accordingly, he made his way to Deianira’s home of Calydon to win her hand, only to discover that she was being wooed, against her will, by the river god ACHELOUS. He had presented himself to her in three different guises:fn71 a bull, a snake and a creature that was half bull and half man. Achelous might have thought this a seductive courting ritual and one guaranteed to win a girl’s heart, but it filled Deianira with dread and disgust.fn72 Next to this shape-shifting river monster Heracles seemed a sweet, normal and eligible candidate for marriage and she welcomed his suit with relief. But to win her Heracles had first to defeat his rival. Achelous was immortal, of course, so Heracles couldn’t kill him, but he easily wrestled him into submission, breaking off one of the god’s horns in the process. To get it back, the defeated Achelous offered in exchange the fabled Horn of Plenty, which the Romans called the CORNUCOPIA. The young Zeus had accidentally snapped this off the head of his beloved AMALTHEA, the nanny-goat who suckled him during his infancy and childhood on Crete. fn73 To compensate, Zeus had magically filled it with food and drink. No matter how many times it was emptied, it always replenished itself. From then on Heracles carried it in his belt and never went hungry. Marriage to Deianira suited him. He hadn’t been happier or calmer since his life with Megara all those years ago in Thebes. They lived together in Calydon and had four sons, HYLLUS, GLENUS, CTESIPPUSfn74 and ONITES, and a daughter, MACARIA. All would have been harmony and bliss had not Heracles once again lost his temper with fatal results. One night, at a feast, the cupbearer of his father-in-law OENEUS accidentally spilled wine all down Heracles and he lashed out at the unfortunate youth, knocking him dead to the ground with one blow of his fist. Despairing at his own clumsiness Heracles decided to leave Calydon for a spell. Along with Deianira he headed for Trachis, which was ruled over by his friend CEYX and his wife ALCYONE.fn75 It was while they were on their way there that something happened which would, in the end, cause Heracles to die a terrible death. To reach Trachis, Heracles and Deianira had to cross the fast-flowing waters of the River Euinos. As they approached, they saw a centaur in a bright purple shirt standing on the near bank who kindly offered to ferry Deianira across. Heracles did not recognise him, but he recognised Heracles. For the centaur was Nessus, one of the herd Heracles had attacked while staying in the cave of Pholus on his way to hunt the Erymanthian Boar. Nessus and Deianira were halfway over when he attempted to molest her. Heracles heard her cries, saw what was happening and fired one of his arrows into the centaur’s back. It staggered through the water to the riverbank and deposited Deianira on the grass. Nessus had evaded the lethal arrows before, but now their poison was spreading through him. Even in his mortal agony, the outlines of a diabolical plan of revenge came to him. He did not admit to Deianira that he knew Heracles. Tender-hearted and compassionate, she was horrified that her husband had reacted so violently. She knelt by Nessus’s side, stroking his flanks and begging forgiveness. ‘No, no …’ he panted. ‘It was all my fault … I was just so captivated by your beauty. Your husband was right to punish me … Now listen … if I were married to you I would never leave your side, but you know what men are like. Take my shirt from me; it is charmed. Keep it with you always. Should the day come when you feel your husband has started to grow weary of you, make him wear it … You will find that his love for you will come flooding back …’ ‘Oh, you sweet thing!’ cried Deianira, filled with sympathy and very touched by his compliments. ‘So … little … time … Quick, take the shirt …’ She tenderly removed it from Nessus’s back, sodden with blood as it was, folded it up and was just tucking it into her satchel when Heracles came splashing across the river to join her. He aimed a kick at the dying centaur. ‘Damned brute. Laying hands on you like that.’ Deianira and Heracles settled at the court of King Ceyx, but after a year or so Heracles marched out to Oechalia to settle his final grudge. Despite his happy marriage to Deianira he had still not forgiven his old archery tutor Eurytus for denying him the right to compete for the hand of his daughter Iole. An insult was an insult and had to be paid for. He laid waste to Oechalia, slaughtered Eurytus and all his family save Iole, whom he decided to keep as a slave. He dragged her off home in triumph to Trachis along with the rest of his booty. When Deianira caught sight of her she was overcome with fear and jealousy. ‘This is the girl he always wanted to wed. She is so much younger and more beautiful than me. What chance do I have?’ She thought of the enchanted shirt that Nessus had given her. That was the way to win back Heracles’ affection. ‘Welcome home, my darling,’ she cried embracing him fondly. ‘You won another great battle, I hear?’ ‘Oh, you know. It was nothing really.’ ‘I have a present for you. A reward for your famous victory.’ ‘Really? What is it?’ Heracles loved presents. ‘Something for you to wear this evening. A shirt.’ ‘A shirt? Oh. A shirt. Thank you.’ Heracles tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice. ‘I’ll send Lichas to your room with it. You promise to come down to dinner wearing it?’ ‘If it pleases you,’ said Heracles, tickling her under the chin. Women were so funny. The smallest things upset them and the littlest things gave them pleasure. Half an hour later, Heracles’ servant Lichas came to his room carrying the shirt and helped him into it. For perhaps five or six seconds Heracles felt nothing. Then the skin on his back started to tingle and he idly scratched it. The tingling turned to fire and he leapt, twisting and bucking, as he tried to pull the shirt off. But the Hydra poison in the dried blood had been reactivated by his body heat and was already beginning to eat into his flesh and bones, burning and corroding as it went. No one had ever heard Heracles scream before. No one who heard him now would ever forget the sound. He lashed out in fury at Lichas, killing him instantly. His son Hyllus ran in. ‘Deianira … her shirt …’ yelled Heracles, tears streaming from his eyes as he stamped and threw himself around the room before staggering out into the garden and running around like a wild animal. Hyllus watched in horror as his father, all the while yelling in mortal pain, now started to uproot trees. Heracles’ nephew Iolaus and dozens of other friends and followers dashed outside, drawn by the appalling shrieks. They had all seen Heracles lose his temper before, they had witnessed his fits and foaming tantrums, but this was something new. Deianira too now rushed from the house and added her own screams. What had she done? The uprooting of the trees seemed to everyone to be a sign of madness, but even in his death agony Heracles was undertaking a labour. It became apparent that he was constructing a funeral pyre. He clambered on top of it and lay back. ‘Light it!’ he screamed. ‘Light it!’ No one moved. No one wanted to be remembered by history as the one who set fire to Heracles. ‘I’m begging you!’ Finally Philoctetes, trusted friend and comrade on many adventures, took a torch from its bracket on the wall of the house and stepped forward. ‘Do it, old friend,’ gasped Heracles. Philoctetes was weeping. ‘If you love me, do it for me.’ ‘But …’ ‘It’s my time. I know it.’ Philoctetes touched the flames of the torch to the pyre. ‘Now quickly,’ said Heracles, ‘take my bow and my arrows.’ Philoctetes took them and bowed his head. ‘They are … powerful’ panted Heracles. ‘Guard them with your life.’fn76 He arched his back as another spasm of pain went through him. The flames rose up. ‘The fire …’ he whispered, as they all came forward to make their farewells, ‘is not as painful as the poison … In fact … it is a blessed relief …’ ‘Oh, my friend …’ ‘Oh, my uncle …’ ‘Oh, my father …’ ‘Oh, my husband …’ With a shudder and a sigh the soul fled from Heracles. The great hero was finally at peace, freed from his life of almost unendurable torment and toil. Hyllus turned on his mother with a snarl. ‘You killed him. How could you do it? How?’ Deianira ran wailing back into the house and stabbed herself to death.