violently they moved, the less they could go. Enraged, the bodies fell upon each other. The six legs began to kick at each other’s bodies. The six hands closed into fists and began to pound at the next face. The three mouths tried to fasten their fangs in each other’s necks.
And, as Hercules watched from behind a tree, the three bodies of the single giant, ravaged by hunger, confused by wrath, fought savagely with themselves, and did Geryon the harm that no enemy could do. They battered faces to a pulp, kicked ribs in, and strangled themselves to death.
Geryon fell like a squashed spider and twitched in the dust.
“That was the joker in the prophecy,” said Hercules. “He could be killed by no one else, as some god or demon had promised for some reason we’ll never know. But split by wrath, each self hating the next self, he could be torn by a terrible inner war, and destroy himself. And I’m very happy to have thought of a way to make it happen. Now, all I have to do is swim a herd of bulls ten miles across the sea to the mainland and drive them a hundred miles to Mycenae. But that will seem easy after the work I did this afternoon … and I’m about ready for a swim.”
THE SPEAR-BIRDS OF THE MARSH
O F ALL THE THINGS with wings in the world of long ago, the Spear-birds of the Marsh were the most dangerous. There were those who said that dragons—which also have wings—were worse, but these people were mistaken, because dragons always hunted alone, while the Spear-birds did their killing in flocks.
They were very big birds, larger than eagles, with stiltlike legs and an enormous wingspread. Their long sharp iron beaks could break rock or pierce the strongest shield. They were always hungry and ate everything that moved. But their favorite food was a nice juicy human being.
To get rid of these deadly creatures was Hercules’ next task. What made it even harder was that the Spear-birds lived in a marsh that sucked like quicksand. Its mud swallowed everything that touched it; not even a crocodile could live there. In fact, the only creatures that could dwell in the marsh were water snakes and the Spear-birds themselves, who fed on the water snakes. Their stilt legs held them safely above the sucking mud, and their powerful wings could lift them clear when they wanted to fly away.
When Hercules came near the marsh he knew he was approaching a place of death. The edge of the swamp was littered with bones: shoulder bones and leg bones, spools of spine, rib cages, and skulls. So many kinds of skulls. Cow skulls, sheep skulls, and many human skulls with their terrible smiles. Skeleton hands held rusty shields.
Hercules studied everything very carefully. The Spear-birds were feeding. He watched them drive their long beaks deep into the mud and come out with long wriggling water snakes, which they killed by snapping them in the air like whips. He watched a bird toss the limp body in the air, catch it as it came down, and swallow it whole. He tossed a stick into the marsh to test the sucking power of the mud, and the mud swallowed the stick just as the bird had swallowed the snake.
“I can’t go in there after them,” he thought. “I’ll have to make them come to me. But how shall I fight them? What weapons shall I use? The best way would be to make them rise in a flock and shoot my poison arrows into their midst. Yes, that’s how I could kill the most of them with least danger to myself. But I would be endangering others. I would be threatening the whole countryside, for the dead birds would fall back into the marsh and their bodies, poisoned by my arrows, would poison the marsh. This huge marsh feeds a whole river system by underground streams, and the rivers would be poisoned. Cattle drinking out of these rivers would sicken and die, and people, too. No, I will not use my poison arrows, even though it would be convenient. I must think of another way. But what? If I fling a lance among them, I might hit
And, as Hercules watched from behind a tree, the three bodies of the single giant, ravaged by hunger, confused by wrath, fought savagely with themselves, and did Geryon the harm that no enemy could do. They battered faces to a pulp, kicked ribs in, and strangled themselves to death.
Geryon fell like a squashed spider and twitched in the dust.
“That was the joker in the prophecy,” said Hercules. “He could be killed by no one else, as some god or demon had promised for some reason we’ll never know. But split by wrath, each self hating the next self, he could be torn by a terrible inner war, and destroy himself. And I’m very happy to have thought of a way to make it happen. Now, all I have to do is swim a herd of bulls ten miles across the sea to the mainland and drive them a hundred miles to Mycenae. But that will seem easy after the work I did this afternoon … and I’m about ready for a swim.”
THE SPEAR-BIRDS OF THE MARSH
O F ALL THE THINGS with wings in the world of long ago, the Spear-birds of the Marsh were the most dangerous. There were those who said that dragons—which also have wings—were worse, but these people were mistaken, because dragons always hunted alone, while the Spear-birds did their killing in flocks.
They were very big birds, larger than eagles, with stiltlike legs and an enormous wingspread. Their long sharp iron beaks could break rock or pierce the strongest shield. They were always hungry and ate everything that moved. But their favorite food was a nice juicy human being.
To get rid of these deadly creatures was Hercules’ next task. What made it even harder was that the Spear-birds lived in a marsh that sucked like quicksand. Its mud swallowed everything that touched it; not even a crocodile could live there. In fact, the only creatures that could dwell in the marsh were water snakes and the Spear-birds themselves, who fed on the water snakes. Their stilt legs held them safely above the sucking mud, and their powerful wings could lift them clear when they wanted to fly away.
When Hercules came near the marsh he knew he was approaching a place of death. The edge of the swamp was littered with bones: shoulder bones and leg bones, spools of spine, rib cages, and skulls. So many kinds of skulls. Cow skulls, sheep skulls, and many human skulls with their terrible smiles. Skeleton hands held rusty shields.
Hercules studied everything very carefully. The Spear-birds were feeding. He watched them drive their long beaks deep into the mud and come out with long wriggling water snakes, which they killed by snapping them in the air like whips. He watched a bird toss the limp body in the air, catch it as it came down, and swallow it whole. He tossed a stick into the marsh to test the sucking power of the mud, and the mud swallowed the stick just as the bird had swallowed the snake.
“I can’t go in there after them,” he thought. “I’ll have to make them come to me. But how shall I fight them? What weapons shall I use? The best way would be to make them rise in a flock and shoot my poison arrows into their midst. Yes, that’s how I could kill the most of them with least danger to myself. But I would be endangering others. I would be threatening the whole countryside, for the dead birds would fall back into the marsh and their bodies, poisoned by my arrows, would poison the marsh. This huge marsh feeds a whole river system by underground streams, and the rivers would be poisoned. Cattle drinking out of these rivers would sicken and die, and people, too. No, I will not use my poison arrows, even though it would be convenient. I must think of another way. But what? If I fling a lance among them, I might hit
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