name?” asked Heracles.
“Philoctetes,” answered the boy.
“Then listen to me, Philoctetes,” said Heracles.
“Light the pyre, and I will give you a great gift. You may have my bow and my poisoned arrows. They are the deadliest weapons in the world. The boy who owns them will grow up to be a hero. Would you like that, Philoctetes? To grow up a hero? Or are you content to remain a goatherd all your life?”
The boy paused, but not for long. He scrambled to the top of the pyre and looked down at the dying hero. He saw how Heracles’s flesh boiled and bubbled like a lava pool. He looked at the bow and arrows and saw how the great bow curved, how the tips of the deadly arrows glinted in the sun. He reached down and picked up the bow and arrows. He carried them with him as he clambered back down the mountain of wood and stood by its side. Then he took his lighting flints out of his pouch and struck a spark. Flames licked and curled around the wood of Heracles’s funeral fire.
Within minutes, the blaze was raging. Philoctetes stepped back. The heat was holding him back like a wind. He could not make out the body of Heracles through the smoke but he heard a cry. It soared and echoed, then fell away. As it stilled to silence, Philoctetes saw the smoke form into the silver outline of a chariot. Ten prancing horses made of fire rose into the sky, and standing in the chariot was Heracles. His limbs were healed. His body was repaired. Light like a crown blazed from his head. He shook the reins of his chariot and the horses pawed at the sky. Up they soared, then wheeled and sped on their way to Olympus. Eventually they vanished, leaving only the black smoke. The flames coiled and raged. Sparks flew.
Philoctetes, watching until only ashes were left, smoothed his fingers up and down the bow, and knew that it was his.
ELEVEN
He did not stay a goatherd for long. Just as Heracles had promised it would, the great bow made him famous. The poisoned arrows continued to kill many monsters, and Philoctetes became the greatest archer of his day. He was adopted by his city’s king, and named a prince. When the King died, Philoctetes took the crown. The boy who had been a goatherd now sat on a royal throne.
One day, he was paid a visit by the king of a nearby city called Sparta. He had his daughter with him. Her name was Helen. Philoctetes thought that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was so perfect that he couldn’t speak. At last, he found his tongue, but he remained too shy to make any sense. Fortunately, Helen was not the only princess to have travelled with her father. Her cousin, Penelope, had also come to visit Philoctetes. She was beautiful, too, although not as beautiful as Helen. Philoctetes found it much easier to talk to her, and when she left to return to Sparta he missed her terribly.
A few months later, strange news reached him. It was reported that princes from all over Greece were travelling to Sparta. They were all madly in love with Helen and wanted her as their bride. They were camped out in her father’s palace, refusing to leave. Philoctetes decided that he would travel to Sparta as well. But he did not want Helen as his queen. His heart was set on Penelope.
When he arrived at Sparta, however, he found to his horror that there was another prince with the same idea. His name was Odysseus. He came from Ithaca, an island as tiny as it was poor. Philoctetes assumed that such a lowly prince was little threat to him, but he was wrong. Odysseus may not have been rich, but he was clever. Indeed, no one in the world was more cunning or ruthless.
Odysseus was determined to remove Philoctetes as a rival, so he went to see Helen’s father. The King of Sparta was in a nervous state. He was upset to find himself with so many rival princes in his palace, thinking that the rejected suitors might cause trouble if he were forced to choose one of them as Helen’s husband. Odysseus claimed to
“Philoctetes,” answered the boy.
“Then listen to me, Philoctetes,” said Heracles.
“Light the pyre, and I will give you a great gift. You may have my bow and my poisoned arrows. They are the deadliest weapons in the world. The boy who owns them will grow up to be a hero. Would you like that, Philoctetes? To grow up a hero? Or are you content to remain a goatherd all your life?”
The boy paused, but not for long. He scrambled to the top of the pyre and looked down at the dying hero. He saw how Heracles’s flesh boiled and bubbled like a lava pool. He looked at the bow and arrows and saw how the great bow curved, how the tips of the deadly arrows glinted in the sun. He reached down and picked up the bow and arrows. He carried them with him as he clambered back down the mountain of wood and stood by its side. Then he took his lighting flints out of his pouch and struck a spark. Flames licked and curled around the wood of Heracles’s funeral fire.
Within minutes, the blaze was raging. Philoctetes stepped back. The heat was holding him back like a wind. He could not make out the body of Heracles through the smoke but he heard a cry. It soared and echoed, then fell away. As it stilled to silence, Philoctetes saw the smoke form into the silver outline of a chariot. Ten prancing horses made of fire rose into the sky, and standing in the chariot was Heracles. His limbs were healed. His body was repaired. Light like a crown blazed from his head. He shook the reins of his chariot and the horses pawed at the sky. Up they soared, then wheeled and sped on their way to Olympus. Eventually they vanished, leaving only the black smoke. The flames coiled and raged. Sparks flew.
Philoctetes, watching until only ashes were left, smoothed his fingers up and down the bow, and knew that it was his.
ELEVEN
He did not stay a goatherd for long. Just as Heracles had promised it would, the great bow made him famous. The poisoned arrows continued to kill many monsters, and Philoctetes became the greatest archer of his day. He was adopted by his city’s king, and named a prince. When the King died, Philoctetes took the crown. The boy who had been a goatherd now sat on a royal throne.
One day, he was paid a visit by the king of a nearby city called Sparta. He had his daughter with him. Her name was Helen. Philoctetes thought that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was so perfect that he couldn’t speak. At last, he found his tongue, but he remained too shy to make any sense. Fortunately, Helen was not the only princess to have travelled with her father. Her cousin, Penelope, had also come to visit Philoctetes. She was beautiful, too, although not as beautiful as Helen. Philoctetes found it much easier to talk to her, and when she left to return to Sparta he missed her terribly.
A few months later, strange news reached him. It was reported that princes from all over Greece were travelling to Sparta. They were all madly in love with Helen and wanted her as their bride. They were camped out in her father’s palace, refusing to leave. Philoctetes decided that he would travel to Sparta as well. But he did not want Helen as his queen. His heart was set on Penelope.
When he arrived at Sparta, however, he found to his horror that there was another prince with the same idea. His name was Odysseus. He came from Ithaca, an island as tiny as it was poor. Philoctetes assumed that such a lowly prince was little threat to him, but he was wrong. Odysseus may not have been rich, but he was clever. Indeed, no one in the world was more cunning or ruthless.
Odysseus was determined to remove Philoctetes as a rival, so he went to see Helen’s father. The King of Sparta was in a nervous state. He was upset to find himself with so many rival princes in his palace, thinking that the rejected suitors might cause trouble if he were forced to choose one of them as Helen’s husband. Odysseus claimed to
Similar Books
Gossip Can Be Murder
Connie Shelton
Los cañones del atardecer
Rick Atkinson
New Species 09 Shadow
Laurann Dohner
Teleporter (a Hyllis family story #2)
Laurence Dahners
Camellia
Lesley Pearse
Bank Job
James Heneghan
The Traveller
John Katzenbach
Horse Sense
Bonnie Bryant
Drive-By
Lynne Ewing