Hercules (12 page)

“I barely reach to his kneecap,” thought Hercules. “What can I possibly do? Well, when in doubt, charge!”

And the audience was amazed to see the man hurtle straight toward the giant. Anteus stood, waiting. Then he swung his leg in a terrific kick. His foot, traveling at enormous speed, hit the top of Hercules’ head, which was hard as a rock. The small bones of instep and ankle shattered like glass. Anteus hopped in agony. Hercules thrust his shoulder against that leg, pushing it out from under the giant, who went crashing to the ground. People sitting on the slopes felt the hills tremble as Anteus fell full length on the ground, cracking his head on a tree stump.

Hercules heard the ugly dry sound of that head splitting open. He saw the giant’s blood soaking into the ground, heard the rattling gasp of his breath. He stood over his enemy, watching him die, and was amazed to see the ashy face flush with life. He saw the giant’s eyes snap open, blazing with hatred, and the great chest swell. Before he could dodge away, Anteus shot his arm out, and the huge fingers caught Hercules by the throat and began to strangle him.

The air darkened. The earth tilted. Hercules struggled, trying to tear those baling-hook fingers from his throat. In all his battles he had never felt a force equal to that of Anteus who, lying at ease on the ground, was calmly throttling Hercules to death with one hand. And, as his sight faded, he heard again the thin sneering voice of Nereus: “To prove the giant’s worth,/stretch him flat on earth,” and he knew suddenly the power of that lie. He knew that he should have done the opposite, for Anteus was the favorite son of Mother Earth and drew new strength from her touch. Felled to earth, the giant must rise again, stronger than before, and destroy the one who had laid him in his mother’s lap.

This truth glimmered in the young man’s darkening mind; it flared brightly, as truth does even when things are worst. And the strangling Hercules felt his tortured breathing ease a bit as the new idea cast a light that became strength beyond the strength of muscles.

He swung his arm in a desperate arc, knocking away the hand that was choking him. Taking a huge breath, he stooped swiftly, grasped the giant about the waist, and tried to pull him off the ground. But Anteus kicked and flailed and clung to the earth. And his mother, knowing he was in danger, pulled with all her strength—called gravity—trying to hug her son to her and keep him safe. Hercules couldn’t pull him up, and he knew that if he couldn’t, he was lost. He pulled and tugged. Anteus clung to the earth, which hugged him close.

“Father Zeus, help me now,” whispered Hercules. And with those words, he felt the lightning energy that belonged to the Lord of the Sky fill his veins with a voltage of strength that allowed him to tear the struggling giant from the clutch of earth and lift him slowly toward the sky. His split head began to bleed again, and his life drained out as Hercules held him to the brassy sun.

Hercules kept holding the giant even after he was dead. He didn’t dare let him touch earth again. He carried the enormous body to the beach and cast it into the sea and watched as the triangular fins of sharks began to cut the water.

F
RIGHTENING NEWS CAME TO
the king: Hercules had killed the Serpent of the Orchard and the giant Anteus; he had escaped Atlas and was coming to Mycenae with golden apples. The king was so terrified that he immediately climbed down into the pit that had been dug in his courtyard and hid there, shivering.

This time, Hercules refused to wait outside the walls. He knocked open the locked gate with one blow of his fist, marched into the courtyard, and tossed a golden apple into the pit. Leaving the city, he tore the gates from their hinges, twisted them into a tall spiral grille, and planted it outside the walls, where it became a roost for birds.

Then he went to see Dienera. But someone had gone before him into Calydon. His old enemy, Hera, realizing now that he could not be killed by force, had decided on treachery.

“He’s never used the arrows he dipped into the Hydra’s blood,” she said to herself. “Even when he desperately needed to kill some monster, he didn’t take that easy way because he was afraid the poison might spread. Well, I’ll see to it that he does use one, and I’ll make sure the poison spreads—right through his own accursed body.”

Now, there was a young warrior of Calydon, named Nessus, who was a marvelous horseman. He rode so well that his body seemed to grow out of the horse’s body, and people called him “the centaur,” for centaurs, remember, were half man, half horse. And Nessus loved Dienera and was very jealous of anyone who came near her. Hera walked into his sleep, and said, “Oh, Nessus, I am the goddess Hera. I have come to give you what you most want.”

“Thank you, goddess. Dienera is what I most want. But she doesn’t want me.”

“If you do exactly as I say, she shall be your wife.”

“But she says she’s going to marry this Hercules. How I hate him!”

“Yes, he’s hateful. You shall kill him and marry her.”

“I’m a good fighter, goddess. And certainly no coward. But Hercules is supposed to be the strongest man in the world.”

“He is still only a man, and I am a goddess. I intend to destroy him, and you shall be my helper. Your reward shall be Dienera.”

“Tell me what to do.”

“Hercules will visit her tomorrow. During his visit, they will quarrel, and she will run away from him, hoping that he will follow. But you will be hiding nearby. You will snatch her up into the saddle and gallop away.”

“She’ll never forgive me.”

“Yes she will. She likes to be kidnapped. She’ll be hoping that Hercules will rescue her. But when he doesn’t show up, she’ll be very angry at him and forgive you.”

“Why won’t he show up?”

“I’ll see to it that he gets himself killed chasing you.”

“Suppose he catches me first?”

“How can he? He’ll be on foot, and you’ll be on horseback. Besides, you’re not afraid of a little risk, are you?”

“I’ll be there tomorrow, goddess, on my fastest horse.”

The next day, Hercules came to the castle and gave Dienera one of his golden apples. She was delighted. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. Shall we get married today?”

“Not today, princess. I have to go somewhere.”

“You just got here.”

“I have a long way to go and must start.”

“Where?’

“To find the girl who gets my third golden apple.”

“You have another girl? Another apple? I want you to forget her and give it to me.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

“Who is this girl? Do you love her?”

“I guess so.”

“More than you love me?”

“Well, it’s different. She’s still a child, I guess, but she’s very brave and very clever. She saved my life twice. You’d like her if you knew her.”

“I hate her! And I hate you too.”

Blinded by tears, she ran away from him. She ran out of the garden and into a field. Then ran more slowly and peeked over her shoulder to see if he was following. She felt a hand clutching her arm, felt herself being whisked into the air. Nessus had galloped out of a grove of trees where he had been hiding and snatched her into the saddle.

“Help!” she screamed. “Hercules! Help!”

Nessus galloped away. Hercules heard her scream and saw a horseman speeding away with her. He ran after the horse. Now, Nessus was riding a great raw-boned stallion that was the fastest horse in Calydon. Its flying hooves ate up the miles. Hercules ran with all his might. He saw that he was gaining, but too slowly. If the horseman meant to harm Dienera, he would have time before Hercules could catch him.

Hercules thought quickly. “The only way I can get him is with an arrow,” he said to himself. “But it’s a long way, and he’s moving fast. I might hit her instead. I could kill the horse, but then they’d go flying off, and she might get hurt. I can’t use an ordinary arrow; it will have to be a poison one. Then I can aim at his foot, and a scratch will stop him.”

He knelt on the grass, searching in his quiver for a poison bolt. He notched the arrow. He pulled on the bowstring, drew it back, back, until the bow bent almost double and let fly. The arrow cut through the air and grazed the rider’s arm. Arm and shoulder immediately went blue. Poison ran through the man’s veins. He stiffened and fell out of the saddle. The horse planted its feet, and stood there, trembling. Dienera slid off, bewildered. She looked down at her kidnapper. His face was blue. There was a bloody froth on his lips. His breath rattled in his throat.

“Dienera,” he whispered, “I’m dying.”

She dropped to her knees and looked into his face. Hera, who had planned all this, hovered invisibly over them. She whispered to the dying Nessus, “I’m sorry this happened. But I’ll show you a way to avenge yourself on Hercules even after you’re dead. If your poisoned blood can touch him, he will die too.”

She kept whispering, telling Nessus exactly what to do. The dying man listened greedily. Dienera held him in her arms. She was sorry for him. She tried to cry, but couldn’t quite. She did squeeze out a tear or two, which proved to her that she was really tenderhearted. And she shed a few more tears. They splashed on his face.

“Princess dear,” whispered Nessus, “I’m sorry I kidnapped you. I know you’ll marry Hercules, and I want to give you a wedding gift. Take my tunic and cut away the part that is stained with my blood. Weave that bloody cloth into a shirt you will make for Hercules. The heart blood of one who has loved you so well will be a magic potion. If Hercules wears that shirt, he can never love anyone but you.”

“Thank you,” said Dienera. “That’s just what I need.”

“Farewell, dear princess.”

Nessus died. Dienera quickly tore away the bloody part of the garment and hid it in her tunic just before Hercules reached her. Hercules gazed down at the fallen horseman. He couldn’t bear the look of him, lying there so blue-faced and rigid. He couldn’t bear the thought that he had poisoned him.

“Go back to the castle,” he said to Dienera. “I’ll gather wood and make a fire and burn his body, so that his blood won’t soak into the ground and poison the grass. I’ll come to you when I’m finished.”

Dienera returned to the castle. She went to a loom and wove a shirt for Hercules. She had never woven anything before; she had left that to her slaves. But now Hera hovered invisibly, guiding her hands. And the shirt she wove was a gorgeous thing, decorated with pictures of the battles fought by Hercules … the Nemean Lion, the Hydra, Anteus … pictures of all his adventures woven into the shirt with colored threads. In the very middle of its back, she inserted the patch that was taken from the shirt of Nessus and steeped in poison blood. Hera kept helping her, and her fingers flew with magical speed. She was finished by the time Hercules returned to the castle. She went to him and said:

“Hercules, dear, I’m sorry I was so mean before. But I won’t be jealous, I swear. Go have a nice visit with Iole. And to show that you love me too, take this shirt that I have woven and promise me that you’ll wear it when you see her—so that I’ll know you’re thinking of me.”

“Thank you,” said Hercules. “I’ll wear it with pleasure.”

Hercules ran along the shore toward the driftwood shack where Iole lived with the Blind Man. Iole, with her keen eyes, spotted him while he was still a long way off. She ran to meet him. It was a sunny day, too hot for a heavy embroidered shirt, but Hercules had promised Dienera that he would be wearing it when he met Iole, so he had put it on.

He was so eager to see Iole that he was running fast and was hotter than ever, so hot that the clot of Hydra blood began to melt, and the wet shirt clung to his back. The girl came running to him and leaped into his arms. He set her on his shoulders, and gave her a golden apple. She rode his shoulders, laughing with joy, and tossing the apple into the air.

“Why are you wearing this tapestry?” she said. “Some girl made it for you—that weepy princess, I’ll bet.”

She heard a curious gasping sound and thought he was laughing. She felt him stagger and just managed to slide off his shoulders before he fell. She thought he had stumbled. He climbed to his feet and stood there swaying.

The Blind Man came limping up. “Greetings, Hercules,” he said.

Hercules didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He tried to speak, but no words came. Iole screamed as she saw his face turning blue. The Hydra venom melted the inside of the shirt, turning each of its fibers into a thorn, which pierced his back and shoulders. The thorns wove themselves into the fibers of his flesh, fusing them into one mat of nettles. He felt himself scorching. The pain was worse than anything he had ever known. It burned through his flesh, into his marrow. For the first time in his life, he screamed.

Iole saw his face twist in agony, saw his hands lift and claw his face. She saw those hands grasping the shirt at the shoulders, trying to tear it off. The shirt stuck. It was part of his skin now. Hercules pulled at the shirt. He pulled with all his might, and tore the shirt off his back, tearing his own flesh away, peeling himself to the bone.

Pain killed him before the poison could reach his heart. His legs folded. He fell in a puddle of hissing blood. Iole’s face was white as bone. With him gone, she didn’t want to stay in the world for one second. She knelt to him and kissed his lips, drinking the poison froth, and fell dead with her head on his chest.

Tyresias raised his blind face to the sky and howled like a wolf. “O Zeus,” he cried. “Father Zeus, hear me now, I pray. Hear me as I bear witness to this man, the best of his kind. He killed a monster once, and that monster was the Hydra. He cut off a hundred dragon heads and buried them under rocks, for they kept snapping after death. And each of those poison heads became a stream. The streams mingled and became a river, the river Hydra, clear and pure, and very beautiful in the tumbling of its waters. For in your wisdom, O Zeus, you have made the earth use everything it is given, even monstrous matter. So now I call upon you, O mighty and mysterious one, whose shadow is justice, and ask that the same Hydra blood which this man’s courage made into a river of singing waters, that this same poison running in his body now, shall run pure again, restoring him to the wholeness of his flesh.”