Location: The Pillars of Herakles, Western Mediterranean Sea
Time Remaining: 10 Months, 3 Days
The Aegis of Wisdom continued her voyage west with the men in good spirits. After the run in with the automaton, no one wanted to return for more loot than Odysseus had taken, but everyone was excited that they’d encountered an adversary straight out of mythology and had left with a trophy of its defeat. Many of Jason’s exploits had been taken to be tall tales, but now the men chattered excitedly about what might be real and what might not.
Odysseus had been concerned about Alecto, but fortunately Acrysius was a better surgeon than he was a mathematician, and once he had finished patching the man up, the wounded sailor had asked only one thing of his captain – that he take him as part of his retinue to the celebration in Larissa. Odysseus had happily agreed, and promised him that once they showed off the metal beast’s severed head, there’d be many women eager to hear the story of how Alecto had gotten his scars.
They reached the strait connecting the Mediterranean to Oceanus three weeks after leaving the mysterious island. Odysseus had initially estimated no more than a week to cross the Mediterranean with their exceptional ship and wondrous maps, but two weeks had proven the more accurate number, and not being under a pressing time constraint, he'd seen no reason not to explore every curiosity they came upon.
When they reached the end of the Mediterranean, all hands rushed on deck to marvel at the sight. Decades ago, Heracles had sailed to this same destination on a quest to raid the Garden of the Hesperides, and had found it marked by two peaks, one in Europe and one in Africa, no more than eight miles apart – both easily visible on a clear day. The two continents very nearly connected here, with a strait only a few miles wide preventing the Mediterranean from being cut off from Oceanus.
The crew was divided as to the next course of action. Many among them wanted to sail through the rocks and down the west coast of Africa to the garden, to see if it still stood as Heracles and his men had described it. Others, however, were very fearful of sailing out of the Mediterranean into the ancient and vast unknown that was Oceanus. The men believed that, in the Mediterranean, the mighty Poseidon could protect them, but any number of terrors might be waiting for them in Oceanus. Many, many miles from home, Odysseus knew he was only captain so long as the majority agreed he was captain, so he couldn’t very well dictate one course or another.
He discretely conferred with Adresteia, and correctly guessed that the garden was their ultimate destination. Athena wanted a golden apple from the same tree that Heracles had raided decades earlier – and it needed to be the biggest, shiniest apple Odysseus could get his hands on.
Odysseus did consider sending Adresteia to simply fly to the garden, snatch one from the tree, and fly back, but Adresteia voiced skepticism about the practicality of that plan. Odysseus had finally cracked open a barrel of apples they’d gathered along the way, measured a number of them, and done the math. Approximating a sphere, the average apple was about a hundred cubic centimeters in volume. One hundred cubic centimeters of gold would weigh roughly two kilograms, and – based on the prey animals he’d seen Adresteia carry back to the ship for her meals – as an eagle Adresteia would struggle to carry more than two and a quarter kilograms. While that put it in the realm of possibility, Athena apparently wanted a large apple, not an average one, and he’d be asking his accomplice to carry the weight over a long distance. He finally ruled it out altogether when Adresteia pointed out that her talons would not be able to grip the metal apple like they could an ordinary piece of fruit.
After some time studying their maps of Africa, Odysseus decided to play the game cautiously. They would find a place to moor their ship on the Mediterranean side of the pillars, and trek the rest of the way on foot. They could easily cross the peninsula, and then follow the coastline the rest of the way to Hera’s orchard, which grew where the Atlas Mountains reached the sea. The mountains would be south of them, the entire way, making it a relatively easy trip. If they hiked for even eight hours a day, they should be able to make it to their destination within the week. Odysseus rounded up the men who were most eager to see the garden, but this time was sure to leave enough men behind that the Aegis would still be operable. While it made him nervous to do so, in the event that this excursion went very badly, he didn’t want the survivors waiting back here at the ship to be unable to return home.
Although Acrysius was eager to go, Odysseus asked him and his most trusted friends to stay with the ship, and gave them standing orders – explore the coast line on the eastern side of the strait as they pleased, but be back here to pick them up in two weeks. If, after four weeks total, they had not returned, Acrysius was to follow the northern coast-line back to Greece. The journey would be long without Odysseus to operate their navigation device, but it would get them home eventually.
The first day, Odysseus led a dozen men across the peninsula to the west coast and they camped on the beach, watching Oceanus beat against the rocks. Then they trekked south. Four days in, at a quiet inlet, Odysseus had the men draw lots – the four ‘losers’ of the draw were ordered to make a semi-permanent camp, and to wait there with a large portion of the group’s supplies. Odysseus did not know what sort of challenge they might encounter at the garden, and didn’t want all of his men – who were already burdened by the weight of weapons and armor – trying to fight with all the weight of the rations they’d brought for the return trip. On the sixth day, they crested a wooded hill into a clearing that offered a startling view of the mountains – at least, it might have been startling had everyone’s attention not been taken by the massive tree they could see in the distance.
Odysseus had believed that the Garden of the Hesperides contained an orchard that grew very pleasant looking yellow apples. Though he’d accommodated the possibility when making his plans, he’d sincerely doubted that there was a single tree as large as Herakles had described, let alone one that dropped metal fruit.
But, there it was. They were too far away to make out any fruit on the branches, but the tree itself towered above the surrounding forest, massive enough to be visible from nearly twenty miles away. By Odysseus’s estimate, the tree would have to be at least four hundred feet tall, and he felt that was likely a conservative guess. The men were ecstatic and wanted to press on, but having been making good time, Odysseus persuaded them to make camp for the evening, and then quietly asked Adresteia to return to her owl form and scout their destination. The trek that would take them most of the next day took Adresteia less than two hours on the wing, but when she returned she seemed notably disappointed. Odysseus slipped out of camp so they could talk face to face.
"What is that thing?" Odysseus asked, "Is it really a tree?"
"In a way; it's something between a plant and a machine. It converts sunlight into ambrosia, which it collects in the golden apples that drop from its branches."
"Ambrosia? The nectar of the gods? Do the gods tend other gardens like this?"
"No, this was a one-off," Adresteia said, "An attempt to free themselves of dependency on their primary source of ambrosia."
"What's their primary source?"
"Well, you. Humans."
"The gods eat people?"
"Not exactly..." Adresteia thought for a moment, "How much do you know about wolves? Or lions?"
"Very little," Odysseus admitted, "Ithaca does not have an abundance of wildlife."
"Wolf packs and lion prides are ruled by the strongest among the creatures."
"Might makes right. The strongest dominate the others."
"Essentially," Adresteia said, "But these 'alphas' do not simply dominate because they are strong, they also become strong because they are dominant."
"Oh... they get more food, better food and such, so they continue to grow in strength."
"Yes. Gods and titans are similar to that, but the relationship is more direct. Simply put, the more people a god holds power over, directly or indirectly, the stronger he or she becomes. When your people make personal sacrifices to show your devotion to Hermes, Hermes becomes stronger. Zeus does as well, because he controls Hermes in turn."
"What about you?" Odysseus asked.
"Zeus had all of my temples burned to the ground, so I have had to adjust to a slightly different diet. Anyway, there is a small monastery at the foot of the tree,” Adresteia explained, “Seven women of fair skin and golden hair lived there, tending to Hera’s garden, but I saw none of them, and the monastery itself is in disrepair.”
“Herakles supposedly killed the guardian of the tree, the great serpent Ladon, when he visited before. Perhaps in doing so he left the garden defenseless?”
“Perhaps,” Adresteia said, “Or perhaps he was not completely honest about how he acquired his apples.”
Odysseus had never met the demigod. Herakles was remarkable for having remained hale and healthy enough to adventure for many human generations. He’d performed countless quests, sailed with Jason’s Argonauts, and had fought to reinstate Penelope’s uncle Tyndareus as King of Sparta after her other uncle, Hippocoon, usurped him when she was a child. Penelope recalled being asked to praise the man and to be gracious for his help, but not especially liking him. Still, the man was a hero…
“Do you really think he could have killed those women?”
Adresteia scoffed, “Make no mistake, Odysseus, Herakles is a mercenary. If you see King Priam, at the gathering in Larissa, ask him what happened to his father and brothers.”
Odysseus nodded – he’d heard that Herakles and Telamon had attacked Troy after a business deal with Priam’s father, Laomedon, went sideways. Herakles, ever one of Greece’s favorite sons, had been praised for “teaching those filthy easterners in Troy a lesson,” but Odysseus could easily imagine Herakles and his men having put a self-flattering spin on their tale.
Time would tell what spin Odysseus put on his own story, if anyone ever even heard it.
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