Titan's Voyage

Atlas shifted the burden of the cosmos on his shoulders as he beheld the bearded man striding across the plains towards him. Amongst mortals, the man would probably have been considered a fearsome sight: near seven foot tall, a staggering combination of muscle and sinew rippling under his tunic. To mighty Atlas though, one mortal looked much the same as another. They were scrawny little things with high-pitched voices, always in a hurry. This one was certainly that, making straight for the titan with an untiring speed. Soon he stood at Atlas’s feet and yelled up at the nine foot titan.

‘Well met, Atlas!’ he said in what other mortals might have considered a bellow. ‘I am Heracles, come in search of the golden apples of the Hesperides.’

‘Is that so?’ said Atlas. ‘The Hesperides are my daughters and they watch the apples closely. If anyone should dare to take them, they would set the dragon Ladon upon them.’

‘This I know,’ said Heracles. ‘This is why I come to you, to beg that you would ask your daughters if they would spare some of the apples for their father.’

‘I would love to help. But I hold the heavens themselves upon my shoulders. Were I to leave my post they would crash into the earth and seas, bringing rack and ruin upon mankind.’

‘Also this I know. But I possess supernatural strength inherited from my divine father Zeus. I believe I am strong enough to shoulder your burden temporarily. It would give you a chance to obtain the apples and also enjoy a much deserved rest. I am sure the cosmos is no light load.’

‘Aye, that it is not.’ Atlas shifted slightly and a star tumbled from the heavens, singeing a blade of glass by Heracles’ sandal. ‘Yes, a spot of rest and relaxation does sound good. Alright, Son of Zeus, we have a bargain.’

Heracles braced himself as Atlas shifted the massive weight of the cosmos from his own shoulders to that of the demigod. Several planets tumbled into the blackness of chaos and the odd pairs of stars collided with one another, but for the most part, the heavens stayed in alignment as Heracles took the weight, a bead of sweat on his brow the only sign of discomfort. Atlas stretched his thick arms and cracked his knuckles.

‘Right. Time for that spot of rest and relaxation you suggested,’ he said.

‘And then to ask your daughters for the golden apples?’

‘Oh yes. I am a titan of my word. But still, no sense rushing these things. I’ll be back with the apples soon enough, don’t you worry. But for now, I fancy a cruise. One where they really pamper you. But what’s a cruise without friends?’

Atlas winked then walked away over the green hills, his long strides soon taking him out of sight of the burdened demigod.

Atlas walked over hills and through forests, trudged through swamps and leaped over streams. He passed by farmsteads where he smiled warmly at open-mouthed labourers and through vineyards where he helped himself to the grapes. At last he came to the foot of Mount Elbrus at the edge of the northern wastes. Few mountaineers have ever reached the fiery peak, but the mighty titan managed it with little effort. Soon, he arrived at a great rock just below the crater, upon which a figure almost as muscular as himself lay chained. An eagle pecked at the chained figure’s liver with an apparent lack of interest.

‘Prometheus!’ Atlas hailed.

‘Why Atlas! It’s been a millennium or two since last I saw you. Zeus finally relived you from holding up the heavens?’

‘No, but his son was kind enough to give me a holiday. Speaking of which, how would you fancy coming along with me for a cruise?’

‘It’s mighty tempting,’ said Prometheus, ‘but you can see I’m in a bit of a bind.’

Atlas gazed at the chains and the eagle whose beak was lodged deep within his fellow titan’s innards. ‘Is that painful?’

‘It was at first,’ sighed Prometheus. ‘But I got used to it after five hundred years or so. It’s now more just like a faint tickle.’

The eagle popped it’s bloodied head from the titan’s guts. ‘It’s me who has the harder time of it,’ it croaked. ‘Can you imagine eating the same thing every day for thousands of years? I never even liked liver much to begin with.’

‘Well, it seem like the two of you are definitely due a holiday too,’ said Atlas. ‘I reckon between us we could get you free.’

So saying, he gasped Prometheus’ chains in his thick hands. The eagle grasped another part of the chains in its talons and flapped its wings while Prometheus puffed out his chest. The iron of the chains strained, then one link started to buckle and then the whole things exploded, lumps of metal flying from the mountainside to crash to the plains below, surprising a passing donkey. Atlas helped the grateful Promethus to his feet.

‘But won’t Zeus be angry?’ asked the eagle.

‘Well, what was it that he decreed of you?’ asked Prometheus.

‘That I consume your liver every day that you are captive.’

‘And as I’m no longer captive, you no longer have to consume my liver. You can eat whatever you want from now on.’

‘Really?’ cooed the eagle happily, flapping its wings with delight.

‘Sure,’ chimed in Atlas. ‘Why don’t you come with us on our cruise. We’re going first class, all the sweet meats you could eat and not a bit of offal.’

‘Oh that sounds wonderful,’ sighed the eagle.

‘Indeed! But first we need to bring another friend along. Say, Prometheus, do you know where Cronus hangs out these days?’

Helios had dragged the sun below the horizon and the skies atop Heracles’ shoulders fell dark, the lazy twinking of the stars the only illumination. The demi-god was beginning to regret his bargain, but he didn’t really see what he could do about it now. What he really regretted was not answering a call of nature before taking the burden on.

‘Hello?’ came a voice from above.

‘Um, hello?’

‘Ah, I thought that was someone different down there! Who are you, young man?’

‘I’m Heracles, son of Zeus.’

‘Zeus? Wow, I didn’t realise he was at an age to be begetting sons!’

‘Oh yes, he has several in fact.’ Heracles shifted uncomfortably, causing the rings of a planet to fly off and shear the top off a nearby hedge. ‘And um, who might I be speaking to?’

‘How terribly rude of me! I’m Uranos. You know. The sky you’re holding up.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know you were a person.’

‘Very much so,’ said Uranus. ‘In fact if Zeus is your father, that would make me your great grandfather I believe.’

‘Well, um, pleased to meet you I suppose. And who would be my great grandmother?’

‘Oh, that would be Gaea. You’re standing on her.’

Heracles tried to lift a sandal off the ground, muttering an apology to the earth. A deluge of meteors tumbled down, creating a crater the size of a small city.

‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Uranos. ‘She’s used to people treading on her. Plus it leaves me feeling a bit woozy when you do that.’

‘Oh. Sorry.’

‘Don’t mention it. How are you, Gaea?’

The earth was silent.

‘Ah, she doesn’t talk much these days. Doesn’t really like that we don’t get physical any more. But then it’s difficult after your son castrates you.’

‘Your son castrated you?!’

‘Yes, indeed. I’m surprised your father never told you the tale. Then again, maybe he didn’t want to give you any ideas. Us divine beings have a bit of a habit of doing awful things to our forbears. Zeus would be only wise to take precautions.’

‘I know he did try to eat my sister before she could supplant him,’ ventured Heracles.

‘Ah, very wise. Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but I’m getting old and can’t stay awake as long as I’d like these days. Good night.’

The skies went silent, the stars continuing to twinkle gently in the darkness. Heracles gritted his teeth and tried not to think about peeing.

Atlas, Prometheus and the eagle had a great time descending into the underworld. Charon the ferryman of the dead was only too pleased to row them over the River Styx, regaling them of all who had died over the past few millenia. The titans listened attentively while the eagle swooped to the black waters every now and again to pull forth a pale fish which it swallowed whole.

They drew up to the grey shores and the bony-faced ferryman pointed them to the entrance to Tartarus, realm of the damned. There were lots of interesting sights: a man reaching in vain for a succulent piece of fruit forever tantalisingly out of reach; another tied to a spinning wheel of fire; a third weaving a rope, the other end of which was being eaten by a donkey. Screams and cries of despair filled the brimstone-scented air. However, one fellow pushing a large boulder up a mound greeted them with a broad smile.

‘What are you at?’ asked Atlas.

‘Oh, just pushing this boulder up the hill. Whenever it gets near the top, it always rolls out of my grasp and comes crashing down again.’

‘Doesn’t that get tedious?’ asked Prometheus’

‘Do you know I used to think so too? But then I realised that getting the boulder to the top would have no meaning anyway except that which I chose to give it. Realising the absurdity of it all allowed me to find purpose in just the pushing itself. In fact I am the happiest I’ve ever been.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Atlas. ‘Let me help.’

Pushing the man out of the way, the titan heaved the boulder up the hill with ease, leaving it steady on the summit

The man dropped to his knees, wailing. ‘My purpose!’ he cried. ‘You have robbed me of my purpose!’

‘Some people are never happy,’ muttered Atlas to Prometheus as the two continued to search the dark underworld for Cronus, the eagle soaring happily above them.

They found Cronus surrounded by a circle of flame and picking dirt out from his fingernails.

‘Alright, gents?’ he grunted. ‘What brings you down to these parts?’

‘We fancied a bit of a booze cruise round the Mediterranean. Up for it?’

‘Sure. Except that no good son of mine has left me imprisoned by flame until the end of time so I’m a bit stuck.’

Atlas took a step towards the flames before retreating from the intense heat. ‘Damn, that’s hot!’

‘Yup. So hot it could burn a god or titan to ash in seconds.’

‘I have an idea,’ said Prometheus. ‘The eagle can carry you safely over the flames!’

Cronus eyed the bird dubiously. ‘Are you sure he’d be strong enough for that?’

‘You bet! He’s been on a steady diet of divine liver for the best part of an aeon.’

Sure enough, the eagle glided over the flames and, seizing the titan’s shoulders in his claws, lifted him towards the cavernous ceiling before gently setting him down on the far side of the flames.

‘Cheers for that,’ said Cronus, dusting his shoulders. ‘Right, now let’s get some booze.’

Hades blinked, the marble ceiling of his inner sanctum slowly coming into focus. Groggily, he turned his head to stare at the feet of his wife, Persephone. One foot was tapping on the ground, the sound reverberating in his skull. He lifted his eyes to gaze upon the his wife’s unimpressed scowl.

‘Hades! Have you been on a binge?!’

He forced himself to sit up, rubbing his stiff neck. ‘No, my love. Not a binge at all. Some titans and their pet bird called round and I felt my duty as host was to offer them a jar of ambrosia. Or two.’ He scratched under his chin. ‘It all gets a bit hazy after that.’

‘Ambrosia? Not from the store my mother gave me?’

‘Relax, like I said, we only had two. Maybe three.’

Persephone strode over the mosaicked floor and threw open an ebony cabinet. ‘Well. I see FOUR empty jars here. And that’s all I see because the rest is gone!’

Hades stumblingly rose to his feet. ‘Gone? Those sons of bitches stole our stash!’ And that was the last thing he said before a jar of ambrosia slammed into the side of his head and he collapsed once more into unconsciousness.’

‘This is the life!’ declared Atlas, chinking glasses with Prometheus and Cronus, the three of them lounging on the deck of a swift trireme which bounced merrily upon the waves. The eagle perched atop a nearby table, its head buried in a bowl of caviar.

‘I knew old Hades would have some good booze,’ said Cronus. ‘A bit wasted on him though. What a lightweight.’

The sun baked down upon the three titans, their eyes shaded by some dark glasses Prometheus had constructed while they waited on the beach for their ship. Every so often a bright-faced slave would bring them a tray of shrimp or similar delicacy. A golden-haired vision plucked at a harp at the far end of the deck, the sweet notes mingling with the roar of the sea and the cries of seagulls.

Atlas was just being lulled to sleep when the wind started to pick up, the waves drowning out the harp until the harpist stopped playing completely. Atlas opened one eye to see Prometheus on his feet and talking animatedly to the captain. Cronus snored drunkenly on his other side. Atlas rose to his feet to approach the captain. ‘What’s happening?’

‘A storm, Mr. Atlas, sir,’ said the captain. ‘Came out of nowhere! Will be on us soon. Not sure this ship can weather it!’

‘It does look to be of some force,’ says Prometheus, gazing upon the rapidly approaching broiling clouds.

‘Right, sorry folks, I’m off,’ squawked the eagle, taking wing and flying away from the approaching clouds with all his might.

‘Is there any way, we could reach shore before it hits us?’ asked Prometheus.

‘Doubtful, but we’ll try!’ declared the captain, taking the rudder. ‘I would suggest everyone get below deck bef- by the gods!’

A huge wave came roaring up, dwarfing the ship. Cronus sat up and stretched just as the wave crashed upon the deck, plunging them down into the depths, the ship turning over and over as it swept ever downward, the crew having no time to scream before the waters filled their lungs. Atlas was thrown from his feet, his head smacking into the mast before darkness took him.

Atlas came to, his face buried in soft sand, the weight of the waves and the ship pressed upon his back. Any mortal would have been crushed in seconds but titans are a hardy bunch. He tried to stand, but he was pinned by the ship. His fingers grasped at the sand but could find no purchase. Finally, he saw only one way to escape his predicament. He seized the waters themselves in his mighty hands and heaved, pulling them off the ship so that it flopped unto the sands. He rose to his feet, balancing the weight of the seas themselves upon his broad shoulders, his arms cradling the waters into a perfect sphere, the waters swirling around rather than spilling out. As he gathered the Mediterranean into a ball, the other seas and rivers flowed inwards and he scooped them up too: the Black Sea, the Red Sea, the Atlantic and the oceans of north, south, east and west. Soon Atlas stood upon the dry sea bed, the fallen ship lying by his feet, the waters of all the world perched atop his shoulders.

‘How do I always get in situations like this?’ he sighed.

‘Hello?’ came a voice from the bundle of water.

‘Hello,’ answered Atlas. ‘Who might you be?’

‘I am Oceanus,’ bubbled the seas. ‘I don’t usually chat much, but this is quite an odd situation for me. Usually I float along the earth. Would you mind putting me down?’

‘I would except if I put you down now you’d flood the whole world.’

‘Hmm. Well that is a predicament.’

Prometheus and Cronus emerged from the ship’s wreckage and staggered over to Atlas.

‘I say, now you’re in a bit of a bind,’ said Prometheus stroking his chin. ‘But I think I know what to do. You said you left that boy Heracles holding up the sky?’

It was quite a simple matter really. First, Cronus and Prometheus found Heracles and helped him carry the skies to the edge of the dry sea bed (only losing an asteroid belt or two in the process). Cronus and Heracles kept hold of the sky while Prometheus went to help Atlas with the seas. Then, on the count of three, the four of then flung their loads up high where they collided ten miles above the earth and burst into one another. Immediately rain fell upon the earth, running along the dry river beds, picking up flapping fish as it went before filling the sea bed. The water gradually carried the three titans and the demi-god to the shore where they collapsed on the golden sands, panting. Above their heads the rain continued to fall until eventually the seas and rivers were reborn. Helios brought the sun out in his chariot while Iris skated a rainbow across the sky.

‘It seems the sky is no longer a burden to be held,’ sighed Atlas. ‘I guess I’m on holiday permanently now. I wonder how I shall fill the time?’

‘Well,’ said Heracles. ‘ You could start by getting me those apples.

Atlas laughed and the four of them rose to their feet, starting towards the Garden of Hesperides.