The Arms Of Hercules Read online

  Still lying on the ground, he tried to use what I had to assume was the magic weapon described by Prince Asterion—pointing all ten extended fingers of both hands at me and glaring. The gods had planned well, and the Giant's deadly instrument had no effect on me. Stepping close to the enormous body, I kicked it hard in the ribs, lifting it from the ground and spinning it over, so that a sound like a drumbeat issued from the Giant's mouth.

  If I cannot describe the voice of my first Giant, how can I even attempt to convey the effect produced by a first close look into his face? Here the appearance of graininess was more pronounced. In that brief moment it seemed to me that his countenance might have been carved from clay, or perhaps sandstone, with two hard, dark pebbles set into it for eyes.

  While still sprawled on the ground, he persisted in his gesture of unleashing magic. Somewhat unnerving, as you may imagine. But in practical terms, all his finger pointing and glaring had no discernible effect upon my memory or any other faculty.

  Though I felt no ill effects, I still retreated, something I had not done while fighting any of the other monsters. Now I wanted to gain a better understanding of my enemy before I tried to utterly destroy him.

  As I moved back, the Giant clambered to his feet, an awkward-looking, stiff-bodied series of movements. He swayed on his huge feet and clutched his middle awkwardly, as if my kick had broken a rib or two and now they hurt.

  Meanwhile, Enkidu was hurling fist-sized stones from a point of vantage he had gained among high rocks. The boy's aim was not bad, and I saw one missile bounce high from the Giant's shaggy skull, but I do not think Antaeus even noticed it.

  Now my antagonist and I were stalking each other once again.

  The huge body proved able not only to move, but to change directions, with surprising speed. My club was too far away for me to reach it handily, and so I simply waited. In the next moment my opponent's hands had closed on me and grabbed me up into the air.

  My earlier success in twisting him off his feet ought to have prepared him somewhat for my strength. But still, there followed a few moments in which he seemed almost paralyzed by surprise. After exerting what he must have thought would be a crushing grip, Antaeus tried to dash me down upon the rocks. But he quickly discovered that my smaller grasp, which I had fastened on one of his great arms, was quite unbreakable. Next he attempted to crush me in a hug, but the heel of my right hand under his chin forced his arms straight and his head back.

  The Giant dropped me to the ground, stepped back, and uttered a few more words of peculiar speech, which I could understand no better than his earlier remarks. Then he threw himself prone on the ground, in what I first thought was a gesture of submission. But in the space of a few heartbeats he had sprung to his feet again and hurled himself upon me. To my amazement, his strength seemed even greater than before.

  Never had I felt anything like his grip. His strength was truly enormous, compared to that of any human wrestler. I was still not afraid of being overpowered, but the brief struggle had left me gasping with exertion.

  Meanwhile, keeping track of Enkidu as best I could from the corner of my eye, I saw that he had now scrambled from one pinnacle of rock to another even taller. He also maintained a steady barrage of rocks and kept on shrilling insults at Antaeus, who paid no attention to either. Some of the rocks came close to hitting me, but I thought I would probably not be hurt if one did land.

  In the intervals between acts of attempted violence, the Giant barked words at me, phrases that somehow had the sound of questions, though they came in a language I had never heard before.

  Again we broke apart, and again we closed with each other. I made no attempt to kill him quickly, because I was rapidly becoming convinced that I ought to ask him some questions, and insist on some answers, before he died.

  The hands of Antaeus that would have crushed me were instead broken themselves when I pounded them on rocks. The bellow he let out when his knuckles were smashed seemed more of astonishment than pain. But I was staggered by his strangeness. His skin did not feel like skin, but more like the hard surface of bone, or even rock, with flexibility only at the very joints, where it was essential.

  And for a second time during our wrestling match, the Giant flung himself down of his own accord, not waiting to be thrown. Fearing that when he sprang up again he would be even stronger than before, I seized him by the seat and collar of his shapeless garment, lifted him as high as I could into the air, and held him aloft, meaning to keep him well above the earth until he died.

  Antaeus was not too strong for me to manage. But he was too big for me to keep him from the earth—my arms would not stretch far enough to let me maintain a grip on more than two of his limbs at once. Stretching and thrashing in my grip, he managed to get one foot on the ground, and when I lifted that away, one of his hands came down to grasp the earth.

  Simply holding him aloft was not going to work. Shaking my head, I hit him with my fist once or twice, seeking to diminish his boisterous energy. His flesh did not seem to yield and bruise, so much as it simply crumbled. I followed with a good kick that had the same effect.

  I might say that he screamed and bellowed with pain and rage—but those are not really the right words to describe the sounds he made. He seemed to fall on me as if he meant to smother me, and once more we were grappling. Of course he was so large that I had to fold him, almost like a parchment scroll, in order to hold him in a position where no part of his body dragged on the ground. When I exerted myself strongly, part of his body burst open under the stress, spilling out versions of muddy-looking blood and wormlike guts, for which my mind was unprepared.

  I was so astonishing that for a long moment I could not move but only stood and stared.

  When at last I had broken the great figure into complete helplessness, I stood over it, panting, while it lay impotent on the ground. What remained was not yet still, you understand, but writhed and heaved. The lower half of the face was gone by then, and the staring eyes above seemed to have turned into mere glassy pebbles.

  By this time Enkidu, unable to restrain his curiosity any longer, had come scrambling down from his high rock. One knee was bleeding where he had scraped it in his jumping about, but he was otherwise unhurt.

  Surveying the ghastly ruin that had once looked almost like a man, my nephew sounded even more shaken than I felt.

  "Herc, what is all this? What does it mean?" Now that the practical danger was over, he sounded almost tearful, really frightened for the first time.

  I could only shake my head in wonder.

  "For one thing," I told him, "It means that the world is stranger than I ever imagined it might be."

  "This is stranger even than the Hydra. Because—because it's almost like a man."

  "If only Daedalus were here," I muttered.

  "He's not here," said Enkidu. "But we'd better take him some of—some of this."

  "Nephew, I think that is one of the better ideas that you have ever had."

  The Giant's rude garment had come loose in the course of the fight, and when I turned the body over again, we saw that he lacked pubic hair but that his male organs were, as might be expected, of a size for a centaur. Immediately an image sprang to mind of Antaeus ravaging human women.

  For what seemed a long time we stood there marveling, unable to decide just what to do next. At last I said: "It is as if a sculptor wished to copy the proper outward form of humanity—but didn't bother to get it completely right. Close enough was good enough for this designer."

  "Yes, that's it." Enkidu nodded. "What this creature looks like. But what it really is . . ." He shook his head.

  "But why a clumsy imitation?" I went on. "And who was the designer?"

  I doubted that even Daedalus could give me answers to such questions. Perhaps my father could.

  When I examined the ruin of Antaeus's dead mouth, looking at the teeth with which he had chewed up the sheep, I could see that they, too, were rocklike. His tongue was
small and, by human standards, deformed.

  "Herc. I think I'm going to be sick." And indeed my nephew looked pale under his tan.

  This was worse than dealing with dead centaurs. I could feel the same impulse lurching in my belly, but grimly fought it off. "No, you're not. We don't have time for that, we have too much to do."

  Now that I had time to think, questions came swarming, like the flies that had already gathered. Were all the Giants in the world built on this same plan? Or was Antaeus a kind of dwarfish monster, an odd shape and strange material even for his race?

  Feeling dizzy with a mixture of horror and relief, and with my own stomach on the verge of rebellion, I backed away and sat down on a rock to think.

  I would now be able to make a serious report to those who had sent me to discover the truth about Giants. One part of the report ought to make them happy, I thought—I had been exposed to the weapon that somehow scrambled the brains of gods, and it seemed to have had no effect on me at all.

  "Enkidu, whether you are going to be sick or not, take a close look at our friend here, so you can confirm what I say when I report back to Hermes and Daedalus."

  "I saw you beat him up and kill him, Uncle. I can see what he looks like now, not much more than a pile of clods of dirt. I don't know if I'd believe it if someone else had told me. Can all Giants be like this?"

  "I think it must be so."

  Seeking to gather all the information that we possibly could about Anateus, Enkidu and I searched his cave as soon as we were sure that he was dead.

  "Suppose his mate is hiding in the cave?" Enkidu suddenly piped up, looking over his shoulder toward that dark mouth in the rocks.

  "How could a thing like that have a mate?" I demanded. But then I thought better of my answer; the situation was already alive with what seemed impossibilities, so why not one more? And where did Giants come from, if they did not breed?

  "No one said anything to us about a mate. But we'd better find her, or it, if such a creature exists." And I hefted a rock and held it ready to employ as either club or missile.

  But there was no living thing inside the cave—except the Apples, which I suppose must be counted as alive. Without much trouble we found, in a kind of chest or locker at one side of his cave, a true sample of what had to be one of the Apples of the Hesperides. It was a dried fruit that when fresh must have been fully the size of a human head. The stump of a stem protruded from the amplexicaul curve at the top, as if it had been a real apple.

  Also the cave held almost nothing in the way of ordinary furnishings, as if its occupant preferred the dry, bare rock of its floor to sit or lie upon.

  In a dark corner we found more Apples. Antaeus had been keeping ten or a dozen of the fruits in all.

  Holding up one of the bulbous, yellow, almost head-sized shapes, Enkidu commented: "I wouldn't call this thing an apple, Herc. If it is, it's like no apple that I have ever seen before."

  "I'll call it that," I said. "Until I learn some better word." And it did look more like an ordinary apple than like any other fruit or vegetable with which I was familiar.

  We slept that night in the Skyboat, rocked and lulled by a sea that was almost calm, pulled out a little distance from the shore. I dozed off feeling that I was at last making some real progress in my great quest, and when I awoke in the morning, I found I had somehow come to an unexpected decision while I was asleep. If dreams had played a role in it, I had forgotten them.

  "Little nephew, I think this would be a good time for us to return home for a visit."

  Before replying, Enkidu, who had been poised for a refreshing morning dip, dove off into the water with a splash. When he surfaced, shaking wet hair from his eyes, he did not seem much surprised at my suggestion. "What about Lord Hermes, Unc? He'll be wanting a report about this Giant. And there's the bone from the sea monster that we ought to take to Master Daedalus. And these Apples, too; our clients will want to get a look at them."

  "Lord Hermes has never had any trouble finding me. I think he'll catch up with us again whenever he is ready, whether we're in Cadmia or anywhere else. Besides, he'll probably send me on some new adventure, and I'd like to get in a visit home before that happens. I'd like to see my mother."

  All that was quite true. What I did not fully admit to myself at the time was that in the back of my mind was the idea of another one who lived in our house, whom I also yearned to see—and you are quite right; I was not thinking of Amphityron.

  Enkidu and I had made our decision, and he was doing his best to enjoin an image of Cadmia upon the compass-pyx, when Hermes came, this time materializing out of thin air to perch on Skyboat's small stern seat.

  We showed him the materials we had gathered, and told him of the fight with Antaeus, and its outcome.

  Hermes came ashore with us to view the body, but when I first pointed out the spot to him, I thought for a moment that I was mistaken. The remains of the fallen Antaeus now resembled a mound of earth more than a rotting corpse.

  The Messenger was much pleased and expressed to us the thanks of great Zeus himself for collecting the samples we had gathered. He also relieved us of the burden of responsibility and carried them on to Daedalus himself.

  Besides the Apples, the collection we were carrying included samples of the hair of Antaeus (more human-looking than any other component of his body), and fragments of his strange skin and flesh. I would have liked to pack the latter in salt, to preserve them during what I expected would be a long voyage, but the best I could manage was a kind of pickling in jars of sea water, which shortly reduced the specimens to the appearance and consistency of thin mud. I could only hope they would still be of some use to Daedalus and the gods.

  Hermes praised us for our discovery and for the proof we had provided that Zeus's secret plan was so far successful—I was immune to the Giants' most terrible weapon.

  And as he was about to depart, he added one important statement to his congratulations.

  "Your true father is greatly pleased in you, Hercules."

  Almost despite myself I felt a thrill of pride rising against my chronic anger.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Megan

  Having been relieved of responsibility for our collected trophies, my companion and I rearranged our meager store of other belongings securely inside Skyboat's tiny cabin, and hoisted sail. Enkidu crouched before the binnacle, laying his forehead against the ivory side of the compass-pyx, and directed it to lead us home.

  The course it chose for us turned out to be quite roundabout. We first spent days traversing a thousand miles or so of open ocean, in a great curved path. This was followed by an intricate, time-consuming passage through a number of streams and lakes—some broad, some narrow—and one canal. The latter was an adventure in itself, of which I may have more to say some other time. Then we were guided out into the open sea again. But the gift of Hermes had so far served us so well that I did not hesitate to put my trust in it. For all I knew, our compass-pyx might be avoiding great storms or other dangers in its choice of routes.

  Finally, it directed us up a large river, then a tributary, and then a tributary of that again, at last running the boat gently aground when we were still, by my best estimate, more than a hundred miles from homes and families.

  I stepped ashore and stretched, shouldered my club and a sack containing some food and an extra pair of sandals, and looked about me. "Well. It seems we walk from here."

  "All right, Herc, but my feet are tired. Let's see if we can find some way to ride."

  We abandoned the boat only with reluctance, though we assumed that it would once more be invisible to any eyes but ours and would be waiting when we came back. No immortal messengers appeared, and our attendant sprite seemed to have deserted us. For the time being at least, the gods seemed content to leave me alone, and now, having just gone to the trouble of providing them with trophies from a Giant, I found this irritating.

  We had to walk only a few miles before co
ming to a large village, where it was possible to buy cameloids. We were carrying money, gifts and rewards from those who had wished to show their gratitude, and we purchased two animals, along with a little extra gear, and so were no longer forced to walk.

  From there our journey overland, occupying several more days, took us past the margin of Nemea, where lay the grazing lands where I had slain a lion—by all the gods, but that seemed a long time ago! Counting up the months, I realized that nearly a year had passed since then. The herds had evidently been moved to a different grazing ground this summer, and Tarn and his colleagues, if they still followed the herdsman's calling, must have gone with them.

  The closer I got to home, the more impatient I was to encounter its familiar scenes and people. Still, by the time my nephew and I once more came in sight of the walls of Cadmia, full summer had come around again. From a distance, so little about the city appeared to have changed that it seemed we might have been gone only a day.

  But we soon discovered that very much had changed. For one thing, something of my new reputation had preceded me. Everyone who had known me before looked at me now in a different way, and some were glad to see me again, and some were not.

  But at first I paid little attention to such matters, for I was shocked by the unexpected news that my mother was dead.

  There had been some attempt to send me word of her death, some six months earlier, but as no one at home had any idea where I was, it was little wonder that the message had never reached me. I supposed Hermes might have told me, but he had not. And I was long past expecting any communication from my father. The period of formal mourning had now expired, and there was little required of me in the way of ritual. Such real grieving as I did was very private.