The Arms Of Hercules Read online

  I felt an urge to contradict the dear girl on that point. But she was not the one with whom my disagreement lay. Instead I only said: "Your uncle must be a strong man if he can draw that bow."

  "He is indeed. And a dangerous one. Take my advice: forget your bow and leave as soon as possible." She turned her cameloid and rode away while we called our thanks to her back.

  As soon as we judged the hour had come, the two of us quietly left our wretched sleeping quarters. When we came to where we had a choice of paths, Enkidu hesitated. "What about the bow, Herc?"

  "Forget the bow, let's get away from here." I did not turn toward the house, but instead set out in the other direction. After turning this way and that several times, the path climbed to the top of the wall confining the great pond.

  No one now, in the middle of the night, was fishing in the pond or working on the waterwheel. The place was deserted by all human activity, but noisy with its frogs. There was a steady murmur of falling water from the dam on the other side, over which the big pond continually drained itself.

  "What're we doing?" Enkidu demanded eagerly. By now he was well aware, from my look and the sound of my voice, that I had something in mind more exciting than mere flight. But he had not yet discovered what it was.

  "This," I said, and only finally made up my mind even as I spoke the word. Having now confirmed for myself the structure of the dam that made the pond, I laid hands on one of the great stones in the topmost tier. The anger that I had suppressed was suddenly running fierce and high in my blood; at such a moment had Linus died. The rock I grasped was almost big enough to have filled the stall in the stable where we had been assigned to sleep. While the smaller stones above had doubtless been dragged into place by teams of powerful droms, struggling and suffering under the whip, this one looked as if it might have been here since the creation of the world.

  "You can't move that!" For once my nephew was seriously taken aback.

  I only grinned at him. As soon as I had found a satisfactory grip, I braced my feet on lower rocks and tugged. By all the gods, but it seemed to be stuck! I gritted my teeth and pulled harder. The softer rock on which my feet were braced began to crack, and I shifted my stance a little and tried again.

  Enkidu was making a little whining, whimpering sound, half protest and half amazement but then suddenly he fell silent.

  There was a heavy grating noise.

  Moments later, I could hear the water bubbling and laughing to itself, finding a new way out of the pond, this one right in front of me. Only a light gurgle first, but then as I moved a couple of additional rocks it deepened into a heavy rushing sound.

  Later, legend had it that I had diverted two entire rivers through the stables to flush them out. But in this case legend, as usual, overshot the mark. There was no need for any such complicated feat of engineering. One pond, of medium size, with a lively stream behind it, was quite sufficient. All I really had to do was to break through the wall, or dike, of the reservoir, which stood in effect holding back a river. There was only one key point that needed to be attacked.

  The flood, when it burst out, took me by surprise and came near to bearing me away, but I grabbed a nearby tree branch with one hand and hung on.

  The water poured violently down the narrow ravine, sweeping brush and small stones and fallen trees before it. But the full fury of the flood was not unleashed until about half an hour later, when a big section of the constructed wall, undermined by rushing water, suddenly gave way. By that time a watchman had discovered the leaking dam, and Augeus himself and several of his officials had been roused from bed to deal with a disastrous flood. They were gathered in the area of the stables, making plans for a new dam, when they were swept off their feet. The master and several others were borne downstream screaming and swearing, almost drowning in a torrent heavily flavored with liquid manure. Some stone walls were undermined and went down, too, and when, hours later, the flood finally subsided, the stables were smaller than before.

  But most of the stalls were practically clean.

  Naturally, none of the people who were so absorbed in dealing with the disaster had any reason to connect it with a couple of itinerant laborers. Stone blocks that ought to have taken a team of droms to move had been flipped about like small mud bricks, and the explanations put forward varied from earthquakes to the sudden displeasure of some god.

  For a brief time Enkidu and I watched the fun from a high place near the broken dam. Then we moved on. My blood was still up, and this time I chose the path leading to the big house without particularly caring whether anyone tried to get in my way or not; as it happened, no one did. Two big dogs came running out from somewhere, but the beasts that might under other circumstances have been fierce defenders seemed too upset by the general turmoil to care if strangers approached, and only bounded past us howling.

  The two of us marched on, and moments later entered the house through a back door carelessly left open. A cook fire burned low in the hearth, giving light enough to see that there was no one else in the kitchen.

  "Look at this, Herc." Enkidu's nose had led him to some almost-fresh baked bread.

  There was other good food available as well, all of it much better than the stuff Augeus fed his workers on. We helped ourselves.

  Curious Enkidu, half-eaten sandwich in hand, pushed open the door to an adjoining room, which proved to be almost entirely filled with sporting weapons. Evidently Augeus, or someone in his household, fancied himself as quite a hunter. There was my bow, leaning against a wall, and I thought that I was entitled to a new bowstring as part of my payment for days of hard work. I bent the bow of Amphitryon easily enough, between my two hands, while Enkidu slipped on the heavy cord.

  Then I saw him stiffen, and I looked up. The girl, whose name I still had not learned, stood in the doorway. This time she was wearing a thin, fine wrap she must have grabbed up on leaving her bed, a scanty costume that made her look even younger than before.

  "Why are you here in the house?" she demanded in an urgent whisper. "He might whip you to death if he finds you here, but luckily there's been some kind of flood. You should be on the road. Take this lucky chance the gods have given you."

  "We are going," I said. "Right away. We're practically out the door."

  "Actually," Enkidu added, "we left two minutes ago."

  I hesitated briefly and then, swept by an irresistible impulse, burst out with an offer: "Do you want to come with us?"

  Something lighted in the girl's eyes, and for a moment it seemed that she was actually on the point of accepting my impudent overture. But then she shook her head.

  "It wouldn't work. They'd come after you and kill you for sure if I did that. Go, quickly; I'll be all right. I'll soon be going back to my own home anyway."

  Yielding to a sudden impulse, I cross the space between us in two swift strides. Before she could try to avoid me, I had taken her in my arms and kissed her. She stiffened and turned her head at the last moment, so my lips fell on her cheek.

  A minute after that, Enkidu and I were once more on the road, well fed for once and unmolested.

  Chapter Six

  Swamp Games

  The threatened dogs never materialized, nor did any other kind of pursuit; I assumed that the noble Augeus had his hands too full with more urgent problems to give any thought to two missing laborers, or to connect them with the ruin of his dam, or even the disappearance of his fine new bow.

  Another couple of weeks on the road carried us well into autumn. The heat of summer faded swiftly, and the colors of the trees were changing, it seemed even as we watched.

  Sometimes Enkidu and I tried to count up how many miles we had walked since leaving home. But there was no sense of urgency about the calculation, and the only time it caused me uneasiness was when the memory of Megan crossed my mind. I thought of her clear eyes, her soft voice, her warm and generous body, and I regretted the fact that I had come out into the world adventuring without havin
g one more chance to lie with her, or to speak to her at least.

  The more closely Enkidu and I approached the great swamp where the Hydra was supposed to have its lair, the more extravagant were the stories we heard regarding its appetite and ferocity. We were told that the monster was quite capable of devouring whole herds of sheep and cattle at a sitting, along with anyone who was rash enough to try to defend his livestock. What impressed me most was the intensity of the terror the creature had inflicted upon many who had not even seen it—some of the locals were ready to swear that even the smell of the monster could be fatal.

  It was said to be the size of an elephant or greater—I nodded wisely when someone told me that, though at the time I had no idea of what an elephant might be. The smallest number of heads that anyone was willing to credit the Hydra with was nine. All agreed that the central head was perfectly immortal, though it struck me that that would be a hard claim to prove, short of cutting the head off and then seeing if it died.

  Our strange visitor at the herders' camp had told us, and a number of local informants had confirmed, that the great beast we were seeking was indeed the offspring of Typhon, an awesome Giant, and Echidna, who was said to have the torso of a woman, along with a serpent's tail.

  Not that we believed very much of this. We were young, but not that young. Probably, I told Enkidu, about a third of it may be true. The difficulty lay in knowing which two-thirds were false. We were still eager to press on.

  The nights were growing cold, and since my companion and I had been so generously rewarded for our few days' work as stable hands, we sometimes paid our way into an inn or private household, and slept indoors.

  During an evening at one such inn, it happened that tales regarding the Hydra and its parentage were being told in the common room when we came in. I was just in time to hear one of the locals say: "What I want to know is this—at what point on her anatomy does the woman skin stop and the serpent scales begin? Or vice versa. Must be right around her crotch somewhere, and this could be an important question, if you see what I mean. From ol' Typhon's point of view."

  As always, when there seemed even a slight chance of gaining information, I asked questions. "Have you seen the monster, then? Where? How long ago?"

  "Seen it? Oh, aye. I have. If you'd seen yon Hydra, you'd not be looking to see it again."

  And that was about the best we could do in gaining any serious information.

  We took it as a good indication that we were getting near our goal when we passed through first one village, and then another, that had been totally abandoned for no apparent cause. All of the forsaken houses stood intact, with most of their furnishings inside, undamaged. This, when I thought about it, was a grimmer warning than any tales of monstrous depredations.

  After spending a comparatively comfortable night in one of these deserted dwellings, we came out on a brisk morning to meet a well-dressed, substantial citizen of the district, trundling a barrow along a road. He was accompanied by a woman who could hardly be other than his wife, and two small children. It seemed obvious that they were abandoning their home, bringing with them such remnant of their flocks as they had been able to save, one or two animals.

  When the crofter saw us, he set the handles of his barrow down and wiped his face. "You're not from these parts, are you?" he demanded as we came up. His speech sounded strange in our ears, for though he spoke the common language, by now we were what we considered a long way from our homeland.

  "No sir," I admitted. "We are not."

  The man went on: "I must warn you, lads, you've chosen a perilous road. If you ever want to see your homes and families again, go elsewhere."

  I shook my head. "If this road leads to the Hydra," I said, "it's the one we want."

  The man's eyebrows went up. "And just what do you plan to do when you've located the monster?"

  I paused to give the question due consideration. "I think I'll milk it," I decided at last. "I've heard that Hydra cheese fetches a great price with the city traders."

  "I've come to kill it," put in Enkidu. He flexed his scrawny arm and frowned critically at the muscle that became barely visible in that position.

  On hearing our replies, the woman only gave us a weary look and trudged on ahead, tugging her two children with her. But the man kept staring at us. He said nothing at all for several seconds, and his eyes were wide. It seemed we had come across one of those folk who take all statements seriously, no matter how incredible. Finally he got out: "Oh? And how do you propose to accomplish that?"

  "We'll think of something," I assured him.

  "You are mad, children. Did your parents never tell you that you are both totally mad?"

  "They tell us that all the time," said my companion. "But we never listen."

  Enkidu would have been happy to stand for a long time debating earnestly with the wide-eyed man, but I was growing impatient, and we moved on. For the next couple of days the two of us kept poking around the edges of the swamp, accomplishing little, except that the deep mud irretrievably swallowed Enkidu's sandals, which were not buskined on like mine. Fortunately his soles were virtually as hard as leather.

  Eventually, by persistence and sheer luck, we stumbled across a trail that a blind man could scarcely have ignored. To my untutored eye, it looked like some body much bigger than a lion's had been dragged through the swamp by main force. Enkidu at once proclaimed that it could belong to no other creature under the sun or moon. "This is a Hydra's track!" he announced, and slapped one bare foot in the ooze for emphasis, spattering us both with mud.

  "How in the Underworld do you know?" I demanded. "You've never seen one before."

  "Never mind what I've never seen; I can see this plain enough. What else could it be?"

  My colleague had a point there, I had to admit, as we turned to follow our discovery. Whatever beast had left this giant spoor, it was easy to tell which way it had been traveling by the direction in which the trampled growth was bent. We advanced slowly, looking over the crushed underbrush and the deep ruts, and I was holding my club ready.

  This time no expert tracking was needed to locate our prey. In an hour or so we had come to the end of the trail, which led into the mouth of a low cave, a scooped-out cavity just at water level, big enough to accommodate a couple of Augean stable stalls. This, we were certain, could be nothing but the Hydra's lair.

  As we stood on the other side of the narrow, sluggish creek that separated us from the cave, gazing into the dimness and wondering what to do next, there came a heavy scraping sound from deep within the watery recess. Then I caught a glimpse of something moving, a huge thing, far back in shadow. Whatever it was gave an impression of dull scaliness like a fish's skin. But the part I could see was definitely above water level, and the creature seemed to be moving in ways I thought no fish could ever move.

  "It's in there, all right," I decided.

  We both shouted into the cave, hoping to provoke its tenant in to coming out, and Enkidu threw a flat stone hard, skipping it on the water across the little channel and right into the dark cavity. But there was no response.

  "It seems we must lay siege," I said.

  "Then let's get to work."

  The high ground nearby held a generous supply of dry wood, and with the aid of flint and steel we soon had a small fire going. And at last my great bow became useful, as I fired one burning arrow after another into the creature's lair.

  "Look there, Hercules," Enkidu said.

  Pausing in my labors, I turned in the direction where he was pointing. A couple of hundred yards away, a small audience was gathering to watch the struggle. Eight or ten people, all facing in our direction, stood on a kind of low bluff overlooking the marshes. Some of these onlookers, to judge by the variety and brightness of their clothing, were no mere peasants and herdsmen. A minute later I caught sight of a second group of watchers, observing us from a different angle. These last were in a fairly large boat. They were equipped with oars but at t
he moment neither rowing nor paddling, being evidently intent on maintaining their distance.

  "Where in the Underworld did all those people come from?" my companion marveled.

  "Well, we've been bragging to all the folk for miles around what we intend to do, and some of them must have believed us, enough to get their hopes up, anyway. We may not look like much, but they're probably desperate to get rid of the Hydra, and we're their only chance. And its trail sure isn't hard to find. Let's get on with the job."

  My next burning arrow might have hit a sensitive spot, for it seemed to cause the occupant of the cave considerable irritation. The Hydra came out in a rush, splashing muddy water about as if it meant business, and we got our first good look at the thing we had been hunting. It filled the mouth of the cave completely in its passage. At once I could feel the hair rising on the back of my neck. Here, I thought, is some magic power truly as strange as my own.

  And as the beast's monstrous body emerged into full view, any lingering idea that it might turn out to be purely natural had to be abandoned.

  It made a noise like steam, hissing and bubbling out from under the lid of some boiling, giant cauldron. Its skin was scaly, mottled in shades of gray and fishbelly white. A body as big as a full-grown mastodrom's, or an elephant's for that matter, came wading and swimming on four massive legs, with clawed feet of appropriate size.

  Moving straight in our direction, the Hyrda reared up its heads and towered over me. The number of necks, if not twenty, was certainly not less than half a dozen—I didn't try to count. Each neck ended in a head that would not have looked out of place on a good-sized alligator. More red eyes than I cared to total up were looking at me balefully.

  Stepping forward to the very edge of the swamp, I met my foe halfway, swinging my club with a good will, and now with something of a practiced aim. My first hit smashed a head into a spray of blood, with flying bits and pieces.