feel it. I know what I am capable of. To deny it would be a betrayal. I would end my days hating myself.’ ‘You see?’ said Prometheus. ‘It is your fate to be Heracles the hero, burdened with labours, yet it is also your choice. You choose to submit to it. Such is the paradox of living. We willingly accept that we have no will.’ This was all a touch too profound for Heracles. He saw, but did not see. In this he shared the same bemusement on the subject of free will and destiny that befuddles us all. ‘Yes, well, never mind all that, I have a job to do.’ ‘Ah yes. The eleventh of these tests that your cousin is setting you. The Golden Apples. You will not be able to pick them from the tree, no mortal can. My brother Atlas holds up the sky there. That was his punishment for his part in the war of the Titans against the Olympians.fn43 You must persuade Atlas to help you. The Garden of the Hesperides lies in the far west. You have a long journey ahead of you. Plenty of time to dream up a plan of action. Now …’ The Titan stood and stretched his legs. ‘I think I should go and find Zeus. I shall bow my head and beg his forgiveness. I am confident that he has softened in his anger against me. He may even realise that he needs me.’ ‘But you see the future, you know what happens next.’ ‘I think ahead. I consider and I imagine. It is not entirely the same thing. Go well, Heracles, and accept my blessing.’ As Heracles was making his way to the Hesperides, Prometheus turned his feet towards Olympus and Zeus’s throne. ‘Remind me,’ said Zeus. ‘Prothemus? Promedes? It’s Pro-something, I’m sure of it.’ ‘Funny,’ said Prometheus. ‘Very, very funny.’ ‘Your betrayal tore my heart out every day. A liver grows back more easily than a heart. I never loved a friend as much as I loved you.’ ‘I know that,’ said Prometheus, ‘and I’m sorry. Necessity is a hard …’ ‘Oh yes. Hide behind Necessity.’ ‘I’m not hiding behind anything, Zeus. I’m standing before your throne and offering my services.’ ‘Your services? I already have a cupbearer.’ Athena had been listening and came forward from behind a rock. ‘Come on, father. Let’s get this over with. Embrace him.’ There was a silence. Zeus stood up with a sigh. The pair edged towards each other. Prometheus opened his arms. ‘You’ve lost weight,’ said Zeus. ‘I wonder why. Is that a flash of white I see in that beard of yours?’ ‘The cares of office.’ ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Athena, ‘get on with it.’ ‘Athena, as ever, is wise,’ said Prometheus as the two extricated themselves from an unbearably awkward, unbearably male hug. ‘Never was the phrase “for heaven’s sake” more apt. The Giants are coming. You know they are coming?’ Zeus nodded. Some say Heracles, as he crossed the Black Sea and Mediterranean, once again sailed in the Cup of Helios. Whichever means of travel he chose, he did at last find the Garden of the Hesperides. Peering over the wall, he saw the tree with its gleaming crop of golden apples. Around its trunk was coiled the great serpent dragon Ladon. At the sight of a mortal peeping over the wall it raised its head and hissed. Heracles fired his arrow, the dragon screamed in pain and the coils slid slowly down the trunk. Another child of Echidna and Typhon lay dead. Heracles climbed over the wall and went to the trees. He found, as Prometheus had warned him, that being mortal he could not pick the apples. It was not that he lacked the strength, it was that every time he reached out to touch one it would vanish. After an hour of trying and failing, he left the garden and made towards the coast in search of Atlas. ‘The attempt,’ said Heracles to himself, with a rare stab at wit, ‘was fruitless.’ He found Atlas hunched, bunched and straining in the heat of the noonday sun. ‘Go away, sir. Go away. I hate being stared at.’ The sight of that great figure carrying such a burden on his shoulders was worth looking at. You will have seen versions of it in early maps of the world, which took the name of ‘atlas’ from him. The sea to the west of him, too, is still known as the ‘Atlantic’ Ocean in his honour. ‘I do apologise,’ said Heracles. ‘I send greetings from your brother Prometheus.’ ‘Ha!’ grunted Atlas. ‘That fool. He has learned the bitter lesson that to be a friend of Zeus is even more dangerous than to be his enemy.’ ‘He has told me that you could secure for me the golden apples that grow in the Garden of the Hesperides.’ ‘Go and fetch them yourselves, see where it gets you.’ ‘There was a dragon, but I killed it.’ ‘My, aren’t you clever? So why haven’t you got the apples?’ ‘Every time I tried to pick one, it disappeared.’ ‘Ha! That was the Hesperides. They are only visible in the evenings. They are my friends. They come and talk to me. They bathe my brow in the heat of the afternoon. Why should I help you steal from them? What would you do for me in return?’ Heracles explained the nature of his quest. ‘See, if I don’t return to Tiryns with those apples for my cousin Eurystheus, I will never be washed clean of my terrible crime. So your assistance would be of the greatest possible value to me. But I can do something for you too. For generations you have groaned under the weight of the heavens. I could relieve you of that burden while you fetch me the apples. I would have what I need and you would experience a blessed interlude without the sky bearing down upon you.’ ‘You? Carry the sky? But you’re a mortal. A well-muscled one, I grant you,’ he added, looking Heracles up and down. ‘Oh, I’m strong enough, I’m sure of it.’ Atlas considered. ‘Very well. If you think that you can hold up the heavens without being crushed, come alongside me and let’s give it a try.’ Heracles had performed many feats of superhuman strength in his time, but nothing to match this. When Atlas transferred the sky to his shoulders he staggered and fought for balance. ‘For heaven’s sake, man, do you want to cripple yourself? Your legs should take the weight, not your back. Don’t you know anything about lifting?’ Heracles did as he was told and let his thighs take the incredible strain. ‘I’ve got it,’ he gasped, ‘I’ve got it!’ ‘Not bad,’ said Atlas. He straightened himself up and arched his back. ‘Never thought I’d stand upright ever again. All the apples?’ ‘Bring me the Apples of the … Hesperides’ … that is what … I was … told …’ said Heracles. ‘So … yes, I suppose … all …’ ‘And the dragon is dead?’ ‘Couldn’t be deader.’ ‘Right. Well. Back in a tick.’ Atlas departed and Heracles concentrated on his breathing. Whatever happens, he told himself, I will be able to tell my children that I once carried the sky on my back. When he thought of his children, it was not the scores of sons and daughters he had fathered all round the world over many years which came to mind, but only the two that he had killed when under Hera’s spell. Having the weight of the heavens on your back, he thought, is nothing like so terrible a burden as having the blood of your children on your hands. What a long time Atlas was taking. Helios passed low overhead, dipping down into the redness of his western palace. Finally Atlas arrived carrying a basket crammed with golden apples. ‘Thank you, Atlas! Thank you. You are good and kind to do this.’ ‘Not at all,’ said Atlas, a crafty look coming into his eye. ‘It’s a pleasure to be of assistance. In fact, I can help you further by going to Tiryns and giving these to your cousin Eurystheus for you myself. Wouldn’t be any trouble at all …’ Heracles knew exactly what was in the Titan’s mind. But Heracles, as we have discovered, while not the subtlest man in the world, was far from a fool. He preferred to be direct and uncomplicated in his dealings but had learned over the years the hard lesson that simulation and deceit can be greater weapons than honest strength and raw courage. ‘Really?’ he said, in a tone of grateful excitement. ‘That would be most marvellously kind. But you will come back?’ ‘Of course, of course,’ Atlas assured him. ‘I’ll deliver the apples to Eurystheus and return directly – without so much as staying a single night at his palace. How’s that?’ ‘I can’t thank you enough! But before you go, I really need some padding for my neck … If you just take the weight for a second time, I can fold up my cloak and put it across my shoulders.’ ‘Yes, really can chafe around the upper back, can’t it?’ said Atlas, cheerfully relieving Heracles of the burden. ‘Even my calluses have got calluses … Wait! Where are you going? Come back! You traitor! Cheat! Liar! I’ll kill you! I’ll grind you into a thousand pieces! I’ll … I’ll …’ It was a full night and day before Heracles no longer heard the roaring, howling and cursing Titan. Many years later, when the days of the gods were coming to an end, Zeus relented and turned Atlas into the mountains that still bear his name. They shoulder the sky in Morocco to this day. Eurystheus knew that he could not keep the apples. The priestesses of Hera and of Athena all insisted they be returned. They were left in Athena’s temple overnight and in the morning they were gone. Athena herself restored them to the Garden of the Hesperides. But desirable golden apples had not yet finished with human history. Meanwhile, an unpleasant smile was curling on Eurystheus’s lips as he considered what the twelfth and final task should be. The twelfth and very final task. ‘Bring me … now, let me see … yes. Bring me …’ Eurystheus relished the tense silence that fell over the court as he stretched out his dramatic pause. ‘Bring me …’ he said, inspecting his fingernails, ‘bring me Cerberus.’ The gasp from his courtiers exceeded his expectations. Trust Heracles to ruin the moment. ‘Oh, Cerberus?’ he said, and if he had added ‘Is that all?’ he could hardly have punctured the drama of Eurystheus’s big reveal more completely. ‘Very well. Loose, or on a leash?’ ‘Either will suffice!’ snapped Eurystheus. Then, with a curt flick of the hand, ‘Now, out of my sight.’