Philoctetes looked sad. “Here stands the statue of Herakles.”
“ Herakles?” said Hercules, surprised at the similarity of that name with his name.
“Yes, no doubt similar t o your name,” said Philoctetes.
“ Herakles,” said Hercules again, sounding confused.
“Yes, Herakles…you see I did not mention Herakles before because I felt that you didn’t need to know about him—or more specifically—that you didn’t need to know that your mother and father named you, at least in a way, after him.”
“So, what of it?” asked Hercules.
“You should know that it resembles a name of an old hero. You see Hercules, Herakles, was a great hero, but a hero, nevertheless with great flaws. He did great things, no doubt, and had great abilities. He slew a Nemean Lion. He slew a Nine-Headed Hydra. He cleaned the Augean stables in one day. He did a great many amazing feats, more than I even have time to say. However, his heart could never settle for one woman. And there was more weakness in Herakles than that. He killed some of his own children and ended up siding with Hades. Most people thought that he shed his mortal side and his immortal side went gloriously up to Olympus.”
“Is that not good?” asked Hercules.
“People need more than made-up good endings Hercules. Herakles is a God people here worship, but he is a fake—a God that cannot provide true peace to these people.”
“Why do you still let people believe in him?”
“Because who else are these people going to believe? Zeus or Hera? We haven’t seen them in this land for over thirty years. Poseidon or Artemis? No, they stay in their own lands and have come to care nothing for mortals. What people have now, and all that they have now, is myth, but myth will not long sustain them. No, they need a real hero, a living hero to come back to them and help them—a hero who is just as much a God as any God, but just as mortal as any mortal. And, if my heart is correct, you are that hero.”
Hercules suddenly felt a great burden on him. He had always wanted to be a hero, a great savior to many people, but now it seemed so difficult.
“I have great strength, speed, and skill in fighting, but how will that help me become a hero?”
Philoctetes sighed and pulled out a large, sleek sword, the same sword that Hercules saw in his cave, except now it was shiny and sharp. “Now it is time that you have a weapon. Once you arrive on the Greek mainland you are to never let this weapon leave your side. To Herakles of old I gave a club, but a club is a ruthless weapon, a weapon that meant to show your great strength, but is very unrefined. No, to you Hercules I give a far grander weapon—a sword.” Philoctetes handed him the sword. Hercules began swinging it quickly through the air. “A sword is much more refined and civilized than a club. It is lighter and far quicker. It is not a lightning bolt like Zeus, a trident like Poseidon, or a staff like Hades, but a sword. I found this weapon while on this island and feel that it holds great value to the one who possesses it. Who possessed it before me I do not know, but it will serve you well as you go about your hero’s quest. But let me tell you now that being a hero means much more than swinging your sword. In reality a sword will do very little. Being a hero will take all of you.”
Philoctetes looked off to the west and noticed dark clouds forming in the distance. “ I will have to tell you more later…come quickly…a great storm is coming from the east. This must be a sign from the Gods…we must leave this island soon. We must make west, to Sparta, on the Greek mainland. There you will face your next test.”
“Why not ride Pegasus?” asked Hercules.
“I will trust no beast,” replied Philoctetes. “No, instead we must journey by boat.”
Philoctetes led Hercules and Pegasus to a small boat Philoctetes had stationed in a small, secluded grotto on the
“ Herakles?” said Hercules, surprised at the similarity of that name with his name.
“Yes, no doubt similar t o your name,” said Philoctetes.
“ Herakles,” said Hercules again, sounding confused.
“Yes, Herakles…you see I did not mention Herakles before because I felt that you didn’t need to know about him—or more specifically—that you didn’t need to know that your mother and father named you, at least in a way, after him.”
“So, what of it?” asked Hercules.
“You should know that it resembles a name of an old hero. You see Hercules, Herakles, was a great hero, but a hero, nevertheless with great flaws. He did great things, no doubt, and had great abilities. He slew a Nemean Lion. He slew a Nine-Headed Hydra. He cleaned the Augean stables in one day. He did a great many amazing feats, more than I even have time to say. However, his heart could never settle for one woman. And there was more weakness in Herakles than that. He killed some of his own children and ended up siding with Hades. Most people thought that he shed his mortal side and his immortal side went gloriously up to Olympus.”
“Is that not good?” asked Hercules.
“People need more than made-up good endings Hercules. Herakles is a God people here worship, but he is a fake—a God that cannot provide true peace to these people.”
“Why do you still let people believe in him?”
“Because who else are these people going to believe? Zeus or Hera? We haven’t seen them in this land for over thirty years. Poseidon or Artemis? No, they stay in their own lands and have come to care nothing for mortals. What people have now, and all that they have now, is myth, but myth will not long sustain them. No, they need a real hero, a living hero to come back to them and help them—a hero who is just as much a God as any God, but just as mortal as any mortal. And, if my heart is correct, you are that hero.”
Hercules suddenly felt a great burden on him. He had always wanted to be a hero, a great savior to many people, but now it seemed so difficult.
“I have great strength, speed, and skill in fighting, but how will that help me become a hero?”
Philoctetes sighed and pulled out a large, sleek sword, the same sword that Hercules saw in his cave, except now it was shiny and sharp. “Now it is time that you have a weapon. Once you arrive on the Greek mainland you are to never let this weapon leave your side. To Herakles of old I gave a club, but a club is a ruthless weapon, a weapon that meant to show your great strength, but is very unrefined. No, to you Hercules I give a far grander weapon—a sword.” Philoctetes handed him the sword. Hercules began swinging it quickly through the air. “A sword is much more refined and civilized than a club. It is lighter and far quicker. It is not a lightning bolt like Zeus, a trident like Poseidon, or a staff like Hades, but a sword. I found this weapon while on this island and feel that it holds great value to the one who possesses it. Who possessed it before me I do not know, but it will serve you well as you go about your hero’s quest. But let me tell you now that being a hero means much more than swinging your sword. In reality a sword will do very little. Being a hero will take all of you.”
Philoctetes looked off to the west and noticed dark clouds forming in the distance. “ I will have to tell you more later…come quickly…a great storm is coming from the east. This must be a sign from the Gods…we must leave this island soon. We must make west, to Sparta, on the Greek mainland. There you will face your next test.”
“Why not ride Pegasus?” asked Hercules.
“I will trust no beast,” replied Philoctetes. “No, instead we must journey by boat.”
Philoctetes led Hercules and Pegasus to a small boat Philoctetes had stationed in a small, secluded grotto on the
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