The Arms Of Hercules Page 8

  I had killed one head, but three more instantly came snapping and lunging for me. Fangs ripped at me from two sides at once, but a moment later I felt justified in my confidence that they would be no more than a distraction. Their sharp points could find no purchase on my body, but caught a grip on my tunic, a substantial garment I had recently acquired to see me through the chill nights, and immediately tore it away.

  Equal strangeness I was willing to concede this enemy, though I still felt confident that it would not be as strong as me. My belief in my own general superiority was somewhat shaken when, while sparring with the remaining necks, I saw the first head that I destroyed begin to grow back. At first I could not believe my eyes, but it was so. In a matter of seconds the neck stump had healed itself into a scaly, swelling lump, and in no more than a minute new eyes were glowing a sharp red, and a mouth full of new teeth was snapping.

  One blow had settled the lion, but I quickly learned that now I was competing on an entirely different level. Not until the fight had lasted for several minutes did I begin to keep count of heads as I destroyed them, and when I got to eight there still seemed as many glaring eyes and slashing jaws in front of me as ever.

  I raised my club and advanced a little farther, splashing knee-deep in the slimy water. Somewhere deep inside, I was beginning to grow frightened, and it was a strange and unpleasant sensation, not least because it was so unfamiliar.

  Again and again the Hydra struck at me with its claws, which were larger than the lion's and just as sharp. But the power of Zeus still flowed in my nerves and veins, and the beast could not break or bruise my skin, or even knock me down. My swinging arms brushed out of the way more lunging heads and the thick necks that tried to entangle me like tentacles.

  So far I had remained unhurt, but still there were moments when I feared that I might have met my match. Despite what I was doing to it, the Hydra was not at all disposed to flee. I stood my ground and kept on flailing with my club, but this creature was capable of harmlessly absorbing, on its necks and body, blows even harder than the one that had killed the lion.

  The trees rang back with echoes, as if someone were pounding a giant drum. This monster seemed to shrug off the impacts, and kept on coming. Not only that, but the heads continued to grow back as fast as I mashed them. Even faster. On some of the long necks two heads were now growing where only one had been originally.

  Changing tactics, I directed my attack at the body, but the springy necks, each as thick as my own body, kept coming in between, carrying their inexhaustible supply of heads to the unavailing slaughter. The great legs pawed at me, pushing me off balance.

  Calling upon reserves of power, I added yet more force to my blows. (Later, Enkidu, indulging his chronic curiosity, discovered one of the beast's long fangs embedded in a tree by the energy of the stroke that had smashed its head.)

  But still the damned monster was growing new parts, restoring itself by some odylic magic, as fast as I did damage.

  I was becoming winded, all my clothing gone in shreds, and my swings with the club grew wild. At last I retreated, backing out of the swamp, naked except for my lashed-on sandals. Part of me wanted to turn and run, and keep on running; but I fought down the urge.

  When he observed my withdrawal, my small ally was disappointed. "We're not giving up, are we?" Enkidu panted. When he was not dashing back and forth along the shoreline, shouting encouragement, he had been gathering more wood and building up our fire.

  "Flames of the Underworld, no!" I got out between gasps. "But I need to take a breather. And I have to think. There's got to be some better way to go about this."

  Heaps of dry, fallen timber lay nearby, on small islands of high land adjoining the marsh. Taking a break in the combat, we withdrew a few yards to one of the larger islands. There I stood guard on shore, leaning on my club and trying to catch my breath, while the Hydra, writhing and hissing, seemed to be debating among its assortment of heads whether to follow me onto firm ground or let me get away. I could have sworn that there were now more heads than when the fight started; and as far as I could tell at that point, the monster was little the worse for all the pounding it had taken, or all the blood that it had lost that was now spattered up and down the shoreline. Now I could well believe that the thing I had challenged in its lair was capable of feeding on lions as well as cattle.

  Enkidu soon had an even bigger fire going, up on the high ground where there was a plentiful supply of wood. By this time it was necessary for me to fashion a new club, having worn out my original one. And this took time, prowling among the live trees and the dead, then hacking and shaving at the wood.

  Now it was Enkidu who, in a sense, came to my rescue. It was he who had the key inspiration: "Let's try fire, Uncle!"

  "You mean more burning arrows?"

  "No. I mean, when you mash a head, if I had a good-sized torch, maybe I could get close enough to sear the neck stump. Then maybe the head wouldn't grow back."

  So far no better idea had occurred to me. "All right, it's certainly worth a try. Be sure you stay clear of my swings when you come dancing in with your torch." And I practiced a few swirls of my new club.

  "You don't have to tell me that." Fortunately some of the available wood was naturally oily enough to burn with some intensity, and a search produced a few good torches.

  I suppose Enkidu's chances of surviving the next phase of combat would have been small indeed were it not for the fact that the beating the monster had already taken had actually slowed it down considerably. That became apparent in the next round. Wading into the marsh again, I pummeled and pounded my antagonist some more. I suppose that each of my blows falling on the monster's body, rather than the springy necks, had done some internal damage, and the Hydra's movements steadily grew weaker. The end of the fight was at last in sight, and we no longer felt any temptation to retreat. Doggedly I smashed more heads, while Enkidu, a burning brand in each hand, darted in and out, scorching and searing the raw neck stumps. As we had hoped, this proved an effective means of keeping the heads from growing back.

  Time passed, and as the bright daylight of afternoon began to wane toward sunset, even the monstrous vitality of the Hydra was exhausted. The creature was down, sprawled all but flat in the mud and all but helpless, right on the shoreline, barely able to hold up one or two of its remaining heads, while others dragged in the ooze. The process of regrowth had entirely stopped, and most of its necks now ended in charred stumps. Feebly it tried to drag itself entirely into the water, but that we were not going to allow.

  And now the eyes of all the heads, save one, were dulled with death. At last, when my great antagonist was almost motionless, I threw down my club. Then, exerting strength behind the blade of one of our poor knives, I severed the last head from the body. Enkidu with his torch was quick to scorch the stump. Then he threw back his head and let out a long, yodeling scream of triumph.

  Moments later I posed with one foot on the scaly body, holding up the severed head. It had been the central one, supposed to be immortal, and indeed its eyes still held life, and its jaws still tried to snap. There came a faint cheer from the distant watchers, and then awed silence.

  I found their voiceless scrutiny somehow unsettling. "What's wrong with them? The monster that they feared so horribly is dead; you'd think they'd be jumping up and down with joy. Why don't they at least come over for a close look? Don't tell me the thing's mate is still around here somewhere."

  For a time Enkidu gazed in the direction of the silent watchers. At last he said: "They're not coming over here, but they're not going home, either. It's almost like they're afraid to leave. I don't think it's another Hydra they're worried about, Uncle. I think it's you."

  "What do you mean, me?"

  "They've been watching; they saw what you just did. They could hear the sound of the blows. Now they're almost as scared of you as they were of it."

  "But I mean them no harm."

  "You can be scary, Herc
," my nephew said. Not knowing how to answer that, I mumbled something.

  A few minutes later we buried the head, still hissing weak, lung-less gulps of air, on solid ground, under an enormous rock. Later, it was said by many that arrows, when dipped in the creature's poisonous blood or gall, inflicted wounds that were invariably fatal. Possibly so, but they were never my arrows; from that day when the lion survived my shots, I have rarely used any bow.

  Just as I finished working the big rock into position, Enkidu called to me again, this time in a different, quieter voice. "Look, Hercules."

  It seemed that, after all, one of the onlookers was not too timid to approach. The man was standing in a second boat, and where he and his craft had come from exactly, I could not have said. One moment it seemed that he did not exist, and the next he was right there, no more than thirty yards away, much closer than the other onlookers, a tall, solitary figure poling a small, narrow boat in our direction.

  I expected the stranger to land directly in front of us, but instead he stopped his small craft just offshore, where he remained standing in it. Effortlessly he kept his body erect and the boat steady, with one hand holding the pole, its lower end stuck hard in the muddy bottom of the swamp.

  Ignoring Enkidu entirely, the tall man fixed his gray eyes on me. The light of the setting sun struck in under his hat's broad brim, creating there a curious appearance of small, folded wings above his forehead. But still something seemed to prevent my getting a clear look at his face.

  "Greetings, Hercules, son of Zeus." Our visitor's voice had a resonant, faintly echoing quality; I had never heard anything exactly like it. For a moment I recalled the bull-man's speech that echoed in my dreams, but this voice had a very different sound.

  "Greetings, sir," I replied after a moment. The man was wearing a long robe or cloak of some fine, smooth material—I remember thinking that I had never seen a garment exactly like it. It covered his broad-shouldered body almost entirely, but I had the impression he was vigorous. At first I assumed he was young, then old, then young again—and then I simply did not know.

  I had seen other men as tall as the figure before me, a few even taller. And yet I was somehow certain, before our visitor had been with us a full minute, that for the first time in my life I was looking at a god. Beside me, my nephew, reaching the same conclusion at practically the same time, had lost his accustomed boldness and was suddenly trying to hide behind me. Enkidu, more upset than I had ever seen him, was whimpering words I could not understand. I put my hand on his shoulder and made him face our visitor—wasted effort, I suppose, for the god was steadfastly ignoring my young colleague anyway.

  The resonant voice of the deity rang out across the swamp: "Hercules, I have a new task for you to undertake. Will you accept it?"

  For several moments I did not answer. I was naturally impressed by the fact that a god had come to talk to me, but I think it is only honest to say I was not overawed. Perhaps my pride was foolish, rooted as much in ignorance as in justifiable self-confidence, but whatever its cause it was substantial.

  I said: "You know my name, sir, but I do not know yours."

  Our visitor did not seem offended by my boldness. "Humans call me Hermes. Or sometimes Mercury, or the Messenger. Today I have come in that capacity."

  Now the pole with which Hermes had propelled his boat seemed to have turned into a long rod something like a herald's staff, except that it was entwined with two carven serpents, and I remembered that it should be called a caduceus. And the boat was closer to shore than it had been, though I had not really seen it move.

  Now I was more impressed, but I persisted. "Whose messenger are you, Lord Hermes?"

  Broad shoulders moved a little under the cape. "Again, I suppose you have the right to ask. Your father has sent me to you, Hercules." Suddenly most of the shadow had cleared from our visitor's face. The orange light of sunset showed me the countenance of a man who might have been thirty years old. Handsome, yes, but I had seen mortals who were at least equally so. A face perfectly human—and yet with something in it that was more.

  When I said nothing, the god added quietly: "Your payment, for accepting and performing this new task, will be something more magnificent than you can imagine."

  At this second mention of my father, a great anger welled up unexpectedly within me, confused with a surprising longing.

  All I could think of to say was: "My imagination has never been strong."

  "Will you accept the new task?" Hermes persevered, standing a little taller than before.

  "You must tell me what it is." I have no doubt that at that moment, in my ignorance, I was convinced I was invincible. I had just killed the Hydra, and I was my father's son. All things considered, I refused to be cowed by the mere presence of a god—not of this one, anyway.

  The Messenger was still patient. Letting go of the pole with one hand, so he could point, he said: "Hundreds of miles to the north and east of here, on the slopes of Mount Erymanthus, a monstrous boar is ravaging the land. The beast is as much a curse to the countryside around it as the Hydra has been around this swamp."

  "A boar?" I think my jaw dropped open. Whatever I had been expecting to hear, it was not news of yet another monster. "A giant pig?"

  Gravely our visitor inclined his head. "A boar like no other that has ever lived."

  "And I suppose you want me to kill it."

  Then Hermes surprised me again. "No!" His voice was suddenly commanding. "You are to capture the beast alive and carry it to a place that I will specify."

  "Alive!" I marveled, and felt Enkidu's shoulder move under my hand as he raised his head; evidently my nephew's wonder at this dialogue was getting the better of his fear.

  "Alive, Hercules," warned Hermes. "And when you have caught the Boar, you are to bring it—still alive, I emphasize, and if possible uninjured—to the port city, called lolcus, that lies on the northern shore of the Great Sea. Do you know the place?"

  "I have heard of the Great Sea but never seen it. Nor do I know any city called Iolcus. That will be totally strange to me."

  "But you will undertake the task?"

  "I would do much for my father," I surprised myself by saying. "I would do more than that, if he would only do a thing or two for me, in return."

  Mercury seemed to sigh, as if in relief that I had agreed to what he asked. "So much to be taught and learned, so little time," he mused aloud. Then, raising his voice again, he said to me: "You should have no trouble in finding people to tell you where Iolcus is, for it is also where the Argonauts are gathering."

  My mind was still engaged in trying to imagine the attributes of this monstrous Boar, and how I was to overcome it without doing it serious injury. So for the time being I ignored the puzzle of who or what in the world might be called Argonauts, why they were gathering, and what they might have to do with me. But in passing I seemed to remember that our talkative visitor at the herders' camp, he who had refused to be impressed by our dead lion, had also said something about Argonauts. That man had spoken of many things that none of his hearers understood.

  But Hermes/Mercury was still talking, and now I had to pay close attention to what he was telling me.

  "Before you hunt the Boar, Hercules, I strongly advise you to seek out the centaur named Pholus. He can tell you much that will be of use to you in the hunt."

  "Centaurs? I know nothing about any centaurs."

  "You will learn," said Mercury dryly. "I have told you there is much to learn." And he went on to give me some further details, including a geographical description of a place where centaurs were likely to be found. "Visiting the centaur first will require a detour of several days' travel, perhaps more. But it will be well worth the effort. Pholus can tell you the best way to go about capturing the beast. And he may have other information that you will find to your advantage." Hermes seemed to have finished with what he had to say, and a silence stretched out between us. My nephew at my side stirred slightly, probably, I
thought, trying to get up the nerve to leave the clutch of my protecting arm. Small waves lapped at the shore and at the sides of our visitor's boat, and in the distance the onlookers still gazed in our direction, as if they expected to witness some new marvel. I wondered if any of them were able to identify the tall man in the boat.

  At last, in my pride, I demanded to know: "If it is really my father who wants me to do all this, why doesn't he come and give me these instructions face-to-face?" As I dared to speak so boldly to the god, I felt Enkidu's shoulder twitch again.

  "You may ask your father about that when you see him," the Messenger responded imperturbably.

  And in the next moment Hermes surprised me. I had had the impression that he was ready to leave, but now it seemed he intended to accomplish one more small task first.

  He turned his head this way and that, for all the world like a man nervous about being seen (and who, or what, I wondered, might have the power to make a god so nervous?). Then, with a smooth thrust of the caduceus, which was also his boatman's pole, he brought his boat in closer to the shore, right beside the Hydra's huge corpse.

  He bent toward the silent mass, and a short, bright blade suddenly appeared in his immortal hand. He braced one foot upon the body, and with a faint shock I noted that his shoes were winged, like his hat. Neatly Hermes sliced off a fragment from one of the charred neck stumps, and then another from a Hydra head that, although stone dead, was still attached to the body. These ghastly souvenirs quickly vanished, along with the knife, somewhere into the god's pocket, or his sleeve.

  And in the next moment it was evident that Hermes, with divine assurance, had decided that our interview was at an end. If I was not overwhelmed by him, he did not appear all that much impressed with me. Gracefully he lifted the long pole out of the water, whose surface was blackening steadily with the approach of night. The last rays of the sun had faded now, and the god's face was all in darkness. But he was not yet quite done with me. "Remember, Hercules, what I have told you of the Boar. I will speak to you again after you have brought it to Iolcus. Do you swear that you will bring it there?"