In ancient times, so it was said, the greatest of all Greek heroes had visited Italy.

The story was a favourite one among the Romans.

Hercules was the son of Jupiter, a paterncy that had thrown Juno the Queen of the Gods into

a towering rage.

So irate was she at her husband's adultery that she had sent a mist of madness down

upon Hercules.

His insanity had driven him to commit a terrible crime, the murder of his wife and children.

To expiate this, he had been sentenced by the gods to complete a series of supposedly

impossible labors, which, being a hero and the strongest man of all time, he had duly

completed.

One of these labors, the tenth, had required him to travel to a distant island beyond

the setting of the sun to kill a three-headed giant and then to drive the monster's cattle

all the way back to Greece.

It was in the course of completing this feat that Hercules had arrived in Italy.

Reaching what would one day be Rome, he had built a bridge over the Tiber and slain

the local giant.

In addition, heading southwards, he had arrived in Campania, the rich and fertile land which

stretches inland from the Bay of Naples.

Here he had found himself confronted, not by one giant, but by an entire nation of them.

Never a man to duck a challenge, he had fought the whole lot at once.

The clash had made the earth shake, but Hercules, aided by his divine father, had finally

emerged triumphant from the battle.

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