Written by Heracles descended into the realm of the dead and conquered Cerberus.
From the rising to the setting sun, Heracles had traversed the earth—battling, laboring, slaying monsters and wicked men. He carved paths up mountain peaks, sailed the ocean with the Sun itself, journeyed to the edge of the world… and returned victorious.
Now, in desperation, Eurystheus resolved to send him where no mortal had ever returned: the land of the dead, the underworld of Hades.
At the bronze gates of Tartarus, where the realm of shadows begins, the dread three-headed hound Cerberus stood watch. Serpents writhed about his neck, his tail was a living dragon, and from each gaping maw flickered tongues of flame. When the gates creaked open to admit another pale shade, Cerberus would wag his tail in savage glee, straining to lick the newcomer with fiery tongues. But woe to any who sought to leave!
Summoning Heracles one final time, Eurystheus commanded:
“Bring me Cerberus from Hades’ domain, and your service to me ends!”
Without a word, Heracles set forth.
He found the cave at Tainaron, where an underground river’s course plunged into the earth’s depths. How terrible for a living man to willingly enter death’s kingdom! Pausing at the threshold, Heracles gazed upon the sunlit world—the blossoming earth, the azure sea—and shuddered. But mastering his dread, he stepped into the darkness… only to hear light footsteps behind him. It was Hermes, the winged messenger of Zeus, sent to guide him. Taking the hero’s hand, they descended together.
Through the gloom loomed a towering cliff, beneath which the river Lethe murmured sleepily, choked with scentless, colorless grass. As Heracles bent to drink:
“Stop,” warned Hermes. “These are the Waters of Oblivion. One sip, and all memory fades.”
Deeper they went. Shadows flitted past—among them, Heracles recognized his old teacher and a fallen comrade. Though he reached for them, their lifeless eyes slid over him, unseeing.
“They drank from Lethe,” said Hermes. “They remember nothing.”
Yet one shade approached: Meleager, king of Calydon.
“Heracles,” the ghost whispered, “I beg you—protect my sister Deianeira. Take her as your wife, and I shall rest.”
Heracles swore to honor this vow.
Further still, they witnessed Sisyphus of Corinth, forever straining to roll his boulder uphill, only for it to crash down anew. Then Tantalus, parched beneath receding waters and fruit-laden boughs—punished for his hubris.
At last, they reached the shores of the Acheron. Charon, the gaunt ferryman, recoiled at the living intruder but obeyed Hermes’ command. As the boat crossed the black river, shades wept for the world they’d lost.
Before Hades’ bronze gates, Cerberus lounged, lazily waving his draconic tail.
“He does not yet know your purpose,” murmured Hermes.
In the judgment hall, where Rhadamanthus, Aeacus, and Minos weighed each soul, Hades granted Heracles’ request—on one condition:
“Take Cerberus—if you can subdue him without weapons, using only your hands.”
Returning to the gates, Heracles found them shut, the hound now alert. As Cerberus lunged, the hero seized his throat, throttling him through the serpentine strikes and fiery licks. Dragging the half-choked beast to the surface, Heracles blinded him with sunlight—where the hound’s drool struck the earth, poisonous plants sprouted.
In Mycenae, Eurystheus shrieked at the sight of Cerberus, begging Heracles to return him. With a laugh, the hero released the hound, watching him vanish into the underworld like smoke.
Thus ended Heracles’ servitude.