“Labor XI,” read Cee, after Eury had handed him yet another piece of parchment. “Bring me the golden apples from the garden of the Hesperides.”

“Let’s go apple picking!” said Hercules.

With the addition of Orthus, there were four in the party now. It was a formidable-looking crew: a larger-than-life muscle-bound hero, a lion, a nine-headed monster, and a two-headed, shark-toothed, barbed-wrecking-ball-tailed dog. Off they went to find the garden of the Hesperides.

“Hercules,” I said as I walked invisibly out of the city with them. “It’s winter again. I must return home to my Underworld kingdom. Just a few words before I go.”

“Okay, Uncle Hades,” said Hercules. “Whatever.”

“Not ‘whatever,’ Hercules,” I said. “Pay attention! This is important. Very important. The garden of the Hesperides is a long way from here, on the slope of Mount Atlas. The Titan Atlas is the only one around who knows the exact location of the garden. You’ll have to go to him, and ask him to tell you. Now, here’s the tricky part. The tree that bears the golden apples belongs to Hera.”

“Figures,” said Hercules.

“Our Granny Gaia, Mother Earth, gave the tree to Hera as a wedding present when she married Zeus,” I went on. “Hera loves this tree so dearly that she’s set a huge hundred-headed dragon to guard her precious apples.”

“No problem,” said Hercules.

“Hercules!” I said. “This won’t be easy.” I turned to Cee and Hydra. “Whatever he does, he must not pick the apples himself. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Cee.

“You have my phone number,” I said.

“Got it,” said Cee again. “Don’t worry about us. Have a good winter, Hades!”

I headed back down to the Underworld. To tell you the truth, I’d had enough of Hercules and his labors by now. All I wanted was to spend the winter sitting beside Persephone in front of a roaring fire with Cerbie at our feet.

I was a week late getting home. Persephone was already there. And she was all upset.

“Thank Mount Olympus you’re here!” she exclaimed.

“What’s wrong, P-phone?” I’d never seen her so rattled.

“Two mortal heroes are here in the Underworld, Hades.”

“Mortals? Impossible! They’re not allowed in my kingdom. Cerberus would never let them in. Would you, Cerbie?” I eyed my guard dog of the Underworld. But he was suddenly very busy licking his flank.

Persephone folded her arms across her chest. “They’re here, Hades. And what’s more, they sing under my window every night. Then one of them recites love poems!”

My mouth dropped open. I was shocked. I couldn’t speak! Persephone wasn’t much of a kidder. But surely she was joking.

“It’s true, Hades,” said Persephone, a twinkle in her eye now. “I have suitors. Wait until tonight. You’ll hear from them yourself.”

That night, Persephone climbed into bed. I sat in a chair beside the bed, waiting. Sure enough, I heard a rustling in the bushes below the bedroom window. Then two male voices began to sing:

“My love for you is like goat cheese,
darling mine!

It grows better with age and goes well
with red wine!”

That was all I needed to hear.

I stuck my head out the window. “Suitors!” I called. “What fine singing. Persephone is overjoyed to hear it.”

“Hades!” Persephone whispered. “I am not!”

“Uh . . . Hades?” said one of the suitors.

“Oh, no!” said the other. “You said he was up on earth!”

I peered into the night. “Theseus?” I exclaimed. “Is that you?”

“Mmm . . .” said Theseus. “Yeah.”

“Come!” I told him. “You and your friend, meet me around the back of the palace, on the porch. We need to talk.”

I met them and ushered them onto the porch. I seldom sit there. But it was just right for this occasion. The porch ceiling is made of braided asphodel vines. Leaves hang down from it. Everything is moist and very mossy. I sat down on my old wooden throne. I motioned for Theseus and his friend to sit opposite me in a big double-size chair.

“Sorry, Hades,” muttered Theseus.

“Oh, you were just having fun,” I said. “Who’s your friend?”

The other mortal spoke up. “I’m Peirithous,” he said. “You are the dreaded Ruler of the Dead. I know you could kill me in an instant. But danger does not frighten me. I am in love with Lady Persephone.”

“That makes two of us,” I said. It was hard not to laugh. Who did this little pipsqueak mortal think he was, anyway?

“Theseus,” I said shaking my head. “After all I did to help you.”

“Did you?” said Theseus. “I can’t remember.” Theseus always was the world’s most forgetful hero. When I was traveling with him, he’d forget his sandals if they weren’t strapped onto his feet. But he was about to bring new meaning to the words I forget.

“I’ll bet Hermes told you about the shortcut down to my kingdom.”

“Uh . . . that sounds right, Hades,” said Theseus. “But I’m not sure.”

“And did you think you could help your friend lure Persephone away from me?”

Theseus thought hard. At last he said, “I forget.”

I turned to Peirithous. “What about you?” I said. “Did you think your love songs would win Persephone’s heart?”

“I—I can’t say,” said Peirithous. He looked terribly confused.

I stood up from my throne. “Sit there, and think about it for a while.”

“No!” said Theseus. “I have deeds to do!”

“What deeds?” I asked.

He wrinkled his brow. “I, uh, I can’t remember exactly what they are right now.”

“But there are deeds!” said Peirithous. “We must be at them!”

I watched them struggle to rise from their stone chair. But they were stuck fast.

“You are sitting in the Chair of Forgetfulness,” I told them. “You can never rise without my permission. The longer you sit there, the less you will remember. In fact, ten minutes from now, you won’t remember that I told you this.” I turned to go.

“Come back!” called Theseus. “Whoever you are.”

But I left them there with their muddled thoughts.

Persephone was sitting up in bed when I got back to our room.

“Your suitors are out on the porch,” I told her. I sat down on the side of the bed and unbuckled my godly sandals. “I don’t think they’ll bother you with their love songs again.”

Persephone smiled. “Thank you, Hades. You’re all the suitor I need. Oh, I almost forgot. You had a phone call. From Hydra.”

I’d told her to call, day or night. She’d picked night. “What did she say?”

“She needs you to come to the base of Mount Atlas, on the double.”

I buckled up my sandals again. “I’ll take care of this fast, Persephone. Then I’ll come back here for the whole winter. No interruptions. I promise.”

“Oh, sure, Hades,” Persephone said. As I hurried away, she called, “Good luck!”

Mount Atlas was on earth. But I knew a way to get to its base through a remote part of my kingdom. I hitched up my steeds and quickly drove to it. By the time I got there, rosy dawn had dawned. I could see the Titan Atlas. He was bent way over under the weight of the sky, which he held on his broad shoulders. Holding up the sky was Atlas’s punishment for being the captain of the Titan’s kickstone team in the long-ago match against the gods. The game had gotten rough enough to wreck the earth and crack one of the four pillars that held up the sky. That’s why Atlas had to hold it.

I hadn’t seen Atlas in a long time. As I approached him now, he looked smaller than I remembered. I guessed all that weight pressing down on him had taken its toll. But as I drew closer, I saw that I’d been wrong. It wasn’t Atlas holding the sky on his shoulders. It was Hercules!