Athena the Wise Read online

  “Yeah, the one about how you got your lion cape,” prompted Poseidon.

  Heracles shrugged. “They don’t want to hear about that.”

  “I do,” said Artemis, “as long as you stick to the facts.” Orion, her disastrous crush, had often exaggerated his abilities in the stories he told. Heracles glanced around the table at the other goddessgirls. They nodded.

  “Go on, tell us,” said Athena. It was a story she really wanted to hear.

  “Okay, but I hope you aren’t squeamish,” said Heracles, looking a little worried. “Truth is that I had to kill this lion because it was a big problem for the people of Nemea. Afterward I skinned it, and now I wear its pelt.” He smiled at Artemis. “And those are the facts.”

  Poseidon thumped his trident on the floor. “You left out all the good stuff. Tell them about the lion’s impenetrable skin!”

  “Impene-what?” asked Persephone.

  “Heracles’ arrows weren’t any good against the lion,” Hades explained. “Its skin was so thick and tough, the arrows just bounced off.”

  Picking up the story, Apollo began miming the actions as he described them. “So he chased the lion into its lair, wrestled it to the ground, and snapped its neck with his bare hands.”

  “Godness!” Aphrodite exclaimed. “How gruesome! I can’t help feeling sorry for the lion.”

  “Don’t,” said Poseidon, shaking his head. “That lion was a menace. It got its kicks out of terrorizing the Nemean people, killing their farm animals, and—” He paused as if unsure whether to go on.

  “And worse,” Heracles finished.

  Athena wasn’t sure what worse meant, but she thought it was nice of Heracles to want to spare them the grisly details. Still, there was one thing that mystified her. “If the lion’s hide was impenetrable, how did you manage to skin it?”

  Heracles ran his hand down the side of his pelt. “I puzzled over that for the longest time,” he admitted. “It could have come back to life if I hadn’t, so I had to find a way. Can you guess?”

  Athena thought for a moment. Then in a flash, the answer came to her. She snapped her fingers. “The claws!” she exclaimed. “You cut the pelt with the lion’s own claws.”

  “Wow,” said Heracles. He looked at her admiringly. “You sure figured that out fast. It would have saved me some time if you’d been with me.”

  The other godboys laughed, but Athena felt sure Heracles had meant his comment to be serious, not funny.

  “Why couldn’t the Nemeans kill the lion themselves?” asked Pandora. “Why did you have to kill it for them?”

  “Um, well,” said Heracles, looking a little secretive. “I just did.” Then he abruptly changed the subject, asking Apollo and Artemis about a new archery competition they were practicing for.

  Was Heracles hiding something? Athena wondered. His answer to Pandora’s question had been pretty vague. And then there was his cousin turning up so unexpectedly. Heracles hadn’t seemed to want to talk about that, either. Hmm. Maybe, just maybe, Zeus was right to be concerned about him.

  When it was almost time for dinner, everyone started back to the Academy. The godboys clowned around, mimicking some of their teachers and throwing fake punches, as they walked ahead of the goddessgirls. Athena kept an eye on Heracles as the girls chatted among themselves. As they crossed the courtyard, he broke away from the other boys.

  Athena watched him head for the trail that led down to Earth. She followed her friends into MOA’s main hall, but when they began to climb the stairs to the dorms, she called out, “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

  Artemis, Aphrodite, and Persephone paused a few steps above her. “Please don’t tell us you’re going to go study at the library again,” said Artemis. “It’s Friday night, for godness sake.”

  Athena laughed. “Okay, I won’t tell you that. And anyway, that’s not it. There’s just something I need to do.” Dashing outside before they could question her, she headed for the trail Heracles had taken. Once she reached it, ash, olive, and date palm trees as well as clusters of grapevines, ivy, and hyacinth shielded her from view.

  Quickly she concentrated on bringing into her mind an image of her favorite bird. As she held on to that image, her body became smaller and lighter, and she began to sprout feathers. Her arms became wings, and her eyes grew rounder and wider until she had shape-shifted into a big brown owl! With a carefree hoot, she flapped her wings and rose into the air.

  Too Many Heads

  FLYING OVER THE TRAIL, ATHENA SOON spotted Heracles dressed in his lion skin and swinging his club. She followed him through forests and valleys, past several small towns to a place called Lerna. According to rumor—no doubt Pheme was the source—a Hydra who was a distant cousin of Zeus’s administrative assistant lived here. Only this Hydra was the black sheep of the Hydra family. Like Ms. Hydra at school, it was a serpent with nine heads, but unlike her, it ravaged fields and devoured livestock, creating no end of trouble for the poor people who lived in this area.

  Heracles skirted the edge of town and scaled a small cliff, to arrive at the edge of a desolate swamp that was bordered by a few straggly, fire-blackened trees. With his club raised high, he approached a cave in the cliff.

  Athena flew down to perch in a tree a short distance away.

  “Come on out, Nineheads!” Heracles shouted. “I know you’re in there!”

  Moments later all nine of the dreadful Hydra’s heads popped out of the cave door that was the entrance to its lair. “Just who do you think you are, disturbing me here?” it roared, fire shooting out of its mouths.

  Heracles wrinkled his nose. “P.U.! That’s some bad breath you’ve got. Is that how you kill your prey? You just knock ’em dead?”

  “Very funny,” said the Hydra. Its wings fanned the air as it advanced toward Heracles on scaly legs that ended in long, pointy claws.

  Heracles held his club out in front of him as if it were a shield. “Don’t come any closer!” he yelled.

  The Hydra just cackled. “You think that knobby wooden stick’s gonna save you? Go ahead, big guy. I dare you to try to knock off one of my heads. Just see what happens!”

  “All right, then, I will!” Heracles brought his club up to his shoulder. His arm muscles rippled as he swung it hard at the Hydra’s closest head. Thwack!

  Ye gods! Athena’s owl eyes blinked in dismay as the Hydra’s head flew through the air. It landed on the ground near her tree and rolled down the hill. But when she glanced back up at the Hydra, she saw that two more heads had popped up to replace the head that Heracles had knocked off. Now it was technically more of a Tenheads.

  “Ha-ha!” chortled the Hydra. “You’ll have to do better than that. Come on, big guy, do your worst!”

  Heracles swung again. This time he managed to knock off two heads, but immediately four more heads sprouted up.

  Make that a Twelveheads, thought Athena. This was turning into a math lesson.

  The Hydra laughed. “Ho-ho-ho! Surprised you, didn’t I?” It whipped its tail around, almost sweeping Heracles off his feet with it. But at the last moment he dodged out of the way, and the Hydra’s tail slammed the ground. “Oops, missed!”

  Red with fury, Heracles swung his club again and again, but only succeeded in multiplying the Hydra’s heads.

  As much as Athena admired Heracles’ courage and strength, she couldn’t help fearing for his life. He was mortal after all. He could die! Couldn’t he see that this strategy wasn’t working?

  “Okay, you . . . you buttheads!” blustered Heracles.

  “Ignoramus! You’ve got about as much smarts as that club of yours!” taunted the Hydra as its heads continued to sprout.

  Heracles tried to hide it, but he looked a little hurt and embarrassed. Had he been teased like this before? Athena wondered. Still, right at that moment, she was inclined to agree with the Hydra. Heracles was so busy taking action that he wasn’t thinking straight.

  Just then the Hydra’s tail lashed out agai
n. Heracles jumped back, but not far enough. The tail coiled around his ankles. In an instant, he was whisked into the air. Held upside down, he dangled in front of the Hydra’s many dragonlike heads. Its mouths opened wide to reveal dozens and dozens of dagger-sharp teeth.

  Alarmed into action, Athena dropped down from the tree. Shedding her owl disguise for her goddess form, she settled at the Hydra’s feet. “Hey!” she shouted. “Let my friend go!”

  Still hanging upside down, Heracles twisted around to peer at her. “Where did you come from?”

  The Hydra’s many heads looked from Heracles to Athena. “Lovely,” they chorused, smacking their many lips. “A main course and dessert!”

  “I’ve always heard that two heads are better than one,” Athena called out quickly. “But you must have, what, thirty now?”

  The Hydra peered down at her, a look of confusion in its many eyes.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know how many heads you have?” Athena said in pretend amazement.

  “Well, of course we know,” said the middle head. “Just a sec. I’ll count. One, two, three . . .” It got up to twelve, and then faltered.

  Another head took over. “Wait a second, I think you skipped one.” It started over again. “One, two, three, four . . .”

  Heracles, though upside-down, still had his club. Thinking quick, he swung it in a high arc and knocked off three heads.

  “Stop that!” the Hydra’s middle head scolded as six heads popped up to take their places. “You’re messing up our count.”

  “Set me down, then,” Heracles demanded.

  “Oh, all right,” the Hydra said grumpily.

  Heracles winked at Athena as the Hydra lowered him to the ground. “Don’t forget to count the head that’s counting,” he said as soon as he was upright again.

  “Huh?” said the head that was currently going at it.

  “Oh, let me do the head count,” groused yet another head, possibly number thirty-two. “You’re lousy at math.”

  “You’re not much better,” groused head number eighteen.

  “Am too.”

  “Are not.”

  As the heads began to argue, Athena moved closer to the Hydra. She motioned for Heracles to do the same. The monster automatically stepped backward toward the narrow entrance to its lair. It didn’t seem to notice that, gradually, Athena and Heracles were herding it back inside.

  “If anyone should do the counting, it’s me,” said a head on the far left. “I’m the one with a head for numbers!”

  “Ha!” said the head beside him. “Two days ago you told me that five is four plus one, but then yesterday you said that five is three plus two! You can’t even get your story straight!”

  The left head rolled its eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well, you said it’s seven minus two, and I happen to know it’s ten divided by two. What’s that about?”

  Heracles and Athena grinned at each other. “I think we’re finally making some headway in all this,” Athena joked as they slowly but surely corralled the Hydra. Fitting its countless heads through the narrow cave entrance in the cliff was a tight squeeze, but finally, it was completely inside its lair again!

  By now all of the heads were either trying to count, or arguing about who was best at math. Some began to head-butt others so forcefully that more heads popped off, only to be replaced by still more. Soon there was hardly any headroom in the lair at all. Though it hadn’t realized it yet, the Hydra was trapped!

  “Success!” cheered Heracles, punching his fist in the air.

  Athena grinned. “So what do you think? Should we head back to school now?”

  Heracles returned her grin. “Yup.” He pointed the tip of his club toward the Hydra. “I guess you won’t be bothering the people of Lerna again!” he called.

  “Huh?” chorused a hundred or more heads. When the Hydra realized the two of them were getting away, it lunged toward the cave’s entrance, trying to get out. But with so many heads now, it couldn’t fit through the narrow opening, no matter how closely the heads rearranged themselves. Athena and Heracles could still hear the Hydra head-banging and arguing with itself after they’d climbed up the cliff and started toward MOA.

  “You were great back there,” Heracles told her admiringly. “Thanks for your help.”

  Score! thought Athena. She’d done what Zeus had asked, and Heracles had actually thanked her. She was pleased with herself for showing him that violence wasn’t the only way to solve a problem.

  Heracles took a rolled-up sheet of papyrus from his pelt and unrolled it.

  Athena could see that the sheet had something written on it. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “My to-do list,” he told her. Frowning slightly, he ran his finger down it. “Two down, ten to go.”

  Under her breath, Athena said a little spell, whipping up a breeze. The papyrus sheet went flying, and she caught it. “Hmm,” she said, glancing at it. “#1 Kill lion. #2 Fight Hydra. #3 Capture—”

  “Give that back!” yelled Heracles. He lunged toward her, trying to grab the list, but she sidestepped him and whipped it behind her.

  “What’ll you do if I keep it?” she teased. “Knock off my head?” He looked so frustrated, though, that she took pity on him and handed the list back. Scowling, Heracles rolled it up tightly and stuck it back in his pelt.

  They walked on in silence for a few minutes. It was evening by now. Their shadows lengthened as they started through a meadow filled with lovely wildflowers whose names Athena didn’t know, but which Persephone could have ticked off without a pause. Finally she said, “Sorry I teased you. But can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “No,” said Heracles.

  Athena shot him a glance. “No, you can’t? Or no, you won’t?”

  “Both.” Then almost to himself, he said, “Well, I guess he never said I couldn’t tell anyone.”

  “Who’s he?” she asked. “Your cousin? Does he have some kind of hold over you? Or is that list just an elaborate dare?”

  “No,” said Heracles, shaking his head. “Cousin Eurystheus gets to come up with the tasks, but it was the oracle that told me what I needed to do.”

  Athena wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Needed to do?” she echoed. “For what reason? I don’t get it.”

  Heracles sighed. “Look, MOA is a much better school than the one I went to on earth. I mean, my school was ba-ad. To give you an idea, I was the smartest kid in it. Obviously I wanted to switch schools, so I consulted an oracle at one of your dad’s temples.” He paused. “She told me that I could earn a permanent place at the Academy—and even a chance at future immortality—if I completed twelve tasks she called “labors.”

  “I didn’t think that sounded so hard until I found out Eurystheus would get to decide what the labors would be.” He frowned. “That weaselly runt has had it in for me ever since we were kids. He hates me because even though I’m younger than him, I’ve always been bigger and stronger.”

  “Hmm,” said Athena. Suddenly suspicious, she asked, “Does Principal Zeus know about these twelve labors?”

  “Dunno,” said Heracles. “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that the first part of the oracle’s prediction came true. I got a letter from your dad inviting me to the Academy. You can’t imagine how excited I was!”

  Athena smiled. “Yes, I can.” After all, the very same thing had happened to her.

  “The thing is the oracle said I’d only have until the end of the school day on Friday to complete the labors. If I don’t, she predicted I’ll lose my chance at immortality and be kicked out of the Academy.”

  “I see,” said Athena, her mind spinning. It was a secret among the gods that oracles were mere portals through which the gods spoke to mortals. And the oracle in question belonged to one of Zeus’s temples. So that meant the labors had to be Zeus’s idea! But he probably hadn’t realized at first that Heracles’ cousin was going to make them. Now that her dad did know, it was no surprise he’d asked her to keep an
eye on Heracles. Pleaded with her to do it, actually. Practically warned her not to let him down! He probably felt a little guilty. And poor Heracles had no idea the whole thing was Zeus’s idea.

  Athena opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. She was dying to tell Heracles that Principal Zeus was on his side, but she couldn’t, of course, without admitting that her dad thought Heracles needed help to succeed. He seemed like the kind of boy who’d be embarrassed by that. “Let me think,” she said instead. “Today’s Friday. So that gives you what? Seven days to complete ten more tasks?”

  “Exactly,” said Heracles.

  “Why, that’s less than one day per task!” Athena exclaimed worriedly. “What’s next on your list?”

  Heracles glanced away from her. “I don’t want to tell you,” he said. “You’re her friend, and you probably won’t like it.”

  Athena’s heart leaped into her throat. What could he mean by that?

  Third Labor

  WHEN THEY BROKE THROUGH THE CLOUDS at the top of Mount Olympus, the Academy loomed before them. It was a majestic sight—one that Athena never tired of. Five stories high and built of polished white stone, MOA was surrounded on all sides by dozens of Ionic columns. Sculpted below its peaked rooftop were expertly chiseled low-relief friezes depicting famous scholarly feats of the gods and goddesses.

  “Awesome, isn’t it?” said Heracles.

  Athena nodded. “Yes, it is.” Soon they’d be going inside and she’d lose her chance to find out about his next labor. She decided to try again. “You’ve got to tell me what your next task is! I promise I won’t get mad, no matter what it is.”

  Heracles hesitated for several long seconds, but at last he gave in. “Oh, all right. I have to capture one of Artemis’s deer and show it to Eurystheus.”

  “Ye gods!” Athena exclaimed. Like her three dogs, the white deer were special to Artemis. She’d had them as pets ever since second grade. Zeus allowed the four golden-horned deer to stay on the school grounds, and sometimes they pulled Artemis’s chariot.

  Athena thought carefully. “You only have to capture one deer, right?”