Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One (53 page)

a BEAR
.

Indeed, instead of the bearded bandit, a big black bear now stood in the grove. He dropped to all fours and came toward Circe, growling. She snapped her fingers. He stood on his hind legs and began to dance. He danced up to her. She put her hand on his shoulder and danced a few steps with him, then patted his head and shoved him away. He dropped to all fours and shambled back into the forest.

Athena made herself visible and stepped into the clearing. Circe saw a very tall, stern-looking maiden, wearing helmet and breastplate, bearing spear and shield. “You are Athena,” she said.

“And you are Circe. I am pleased that you recognize me, though we've never met.”

“My father, Helios, described you all to me.” She smiled. “And your appearance is quite distinctive, you know.”

“So is yours, my dear, so is yours. It is your father I've come to speak to you about, among other things.”

“He didn't have much good to say about your family,” said Circe. “They treated him cruelly.”

“Not me,” said Athena. “I didn't have anything to do with all that. I always admired him, as a matter of fact.”

“Well, no, he didn't have anything really bad to say about you. Or Hermes.”

“You know,” said Athena, “our family is not a single loving unit. We all certainly do not hold the same opinion about things, and can quarrel very fiercely among ourselves. For example, I loathe my father's brother, Poseidon. For years we've been feuding with each other.”

“Poseidon,” murmured Circe. “Tell me more.”

Athena then told her how she had been attacking the sea god, trying to rob him of worshipers. How she had dropped rocks and reefs and whirlpools into the Middle Sea to wreck shipping. And how, on various islands, she had planted monsters as a menace to navigation. “But,” she said, “all this is not sufficient. Word gets about very quickly among seamen, and they are learning to avoid these perils. I need someone like you to dwell upon an island and provide such enchantments as will draw fleets and their crews to that place, where you will make sure they stay. Will you do it? Will you serve me? The rewards will be great.”

“I'd like to help you,” said Circe. “I, too, hate Poseidon. It was he who complained to Zeus about my father, just because we rode low and cooked a few fish. I'd enjoy doing mischief to his mildewed majesty.”

“Then it's settled!” cried Athena. “Splendid!”

“Not quite settled,” said Circe. “I can't take on any duties yet. I must search for my father. I've vowed to find him if he's still alive, and I don't even know if he is.”

“Perhaps I can help you there,” said Athena.

“How?”

“Hearken. Helios is not the only Titan who has been made to disappear but not to die. Uranus, the First One, was beheaded by his son, Cronos, who then cut him to pieces and buried him in a thousand different places. And each one of these thousand graves swarms with life. From the vital mud of the god's decay sprang a rich grass whose seeds fed worms into giant size. And these worms put on leather hide, sprouted wings and spiked tails, and became dragons. From other sites of the First One's burial grew fruit trees of magical nourishment. Then Cronos himself was deposed by Zeus and no one knows what happened to him. Some say that he, like his father, was chopped up and the pieces scattered. Others say that he escaped intact, hid somewhere, and is gathering forces to counterattack. None of us really knows, but my guess is that he's very much alive and still as dangerous as his name, which means time. The point of all this is that I'm sure that your father, who was once so hotly alive, is still smouldering somewhere. Perhaps not in his own form, but still Helios, still casting unique heat. Well, these are deep mysteries, perilous questions. The heirs of murdered kings don't like those who meddle in their secrets. But someone somewhere must have a clue about the whereabouts of Helios. None go to as many places as seamen. And if you catch sailors and take them to your island you will be able to learn all they know before you do other things to them. And I shall help you. I'll make it a point to learn what I can and tell you what I know.”

“Will you help me against the Furies?”

“If they threaten you, yes.”

“Suppose I want to threaten them?”

“You are a cool one. Well, we'll see. Now go to your isle, which lies off the huge island of Trinacia. The name of yours is the sound the wind makes—
Aiee
. It's a beautiful place, hilly, rich in oaks, abounding in herbs. You will be able to practice a special sorcery there.”

“Let our pact be made, O Goddess,” said Circe, bowing before Athena.

“Arise, young friend. The pact shall be observed. And we shall both prosper.”

She vanished. And Circe laughed with pleasure.

12

Final Enchantments

For many centuries, then, Circe dwelt on the island of Aiee and served Athena well. She taught herself a spell that allowed her to shift the winds about her island, blowing Trinacia-bound ships into her harbor. Hungry crews disembarked and were drawn by the savors of roasting meat to her courtyard. There a spitted ox was turning over a fire, crackling, sending out a smell that made the sailors slaver with greed.

A beautiful, golden-haired woman then appeared and invited them all into dinner—where they glutted themselves and drank heavily of spiced wine. They fell asleep at the table; when they awoke, they were animals. She had read their natures and turned them into the various beasts they resembled: lion, bear, wolf. Pig, weasel, monkey. Some into birds and fish.

Among the ships that came was that of the great war chief, Ulysses, who had fought in Troy for ten years and had been wandering the sea for ten more, trying to get home but meeting disaster after disaster. This crew, half-starving, had rushed to Circe's castle while their captain followed more slowly.

Circe watched the men gorging themselves and turned them all to swine. When Ulysses came charging into the castle demanding that his men be restored to him, she was about to turn him into a fox. But she changed her mind. His fiery red-gold hair reminded her of Helios; his knotted bronzed arms gave off a musky heat like a ripe field awaiting the last harvest of the year. For the first time since she had lost her father she felt her cold heart thawing.

She undid her magic, restored his men to their own shapes, and begged him to stay with her. He agreed. Her beauty enchanted him. They had fallen under each other's spell, but she was the one most transformed—into a loving warm woman.

Although she offered to share her immortality with him, she could not keep him. For after ten years of war and ten years of wandering, he loved his wife Penelope more than ever, and knew he had to return to her.

So he sailed away and never came back. But they never forgot each other.

A
thena, always vigilant, soon learned what had happened and feared that a brokenhearted Circe might lose her magical powers. She decided, therefore, to bring her some information she had been saving for an emergency. The goddess visited the island of Aiee and appeared before Circe, who sat on a rock looking out to sea, toward where she had seen Ulysses' sail disappear.

“Greetings,” said Athena. “I bring you good news.”

“Thank you, Goddess, but there is only one piece of news that I would consider good, and that I shall never hear. For he has vowed never to return, and he keeps his vows.”

“Try this,” said Athena. “I know where your father can be found.”

Circe sprang to her feet. “Where?” she cried.

“In Tartarus. No, he's not dead. On the contrary, he has chosen a very safe hiding place, for who would think of seeking him there where no one goes voluntarily? But there he dwells in a great roasting pit, disguised as a working fire.”

“I want him here—with me! What can I do?”

“Gently, gently. I'm about to tell you what you can do. Although the risk is considerable. You many be torn to pieces doing it.”

“Tell me, tell me!”

“Well, you know that the Furies nurse a grudge against you.”

“Do they? They haven't bothered me. I haven't seen them since they carried off Dione.”

“No, they don't dare attack you while you're up here under my protection. But on their home grounds—that will be quite different.”

“Their home grounds? You mean Tartarus?”

“Yes. I know that now I have told you, you will make an attempt to rescue your father. If you rush down there without a plan you will end up in bloody fragments just as Dione did. But I am known as Mistress of Tactics, and will provide you with a plan. A very risky one, but it's your only chance. Now, listen well …”

W
hen she chose to, Circe could run so lightly over a field that she did not bend the grass. And she drifted lightly now over the hot ashes of Tartarus. She drifted slowly, offering herself as bait to the Furies. She had located the great roasting pit where her father hid but had not revealed herself to him. She was waiting for the Furies to attack.

Now, far off, she heard them screeching. She sprang into the air and floated whitely over the roasting pit, sheathing herself in her own coolness because the heat was terrible.

The screeching grew louder. She saw three black shapes diving at her, wings and claws glinting in the ruddy firelight. She floated there, waiting. Just as they were about to grasp her in their claws, she slipped away like a blown leaf. But they were hurtling so fast they couldn't quite stop their dive. They spread their wings, skidding in the air.

And Helios arose from the pit, and in a wild mimicry of affection took the hags into his fiery embrace. Black shapes threshed violently. There was a shrieking, a roaring. Flame wrestled with shadows.

The fire was broken, scattered, flared separately here and there. But the Furies had vanished. Scorched rags were all that was left of them. But the hags were immortal; the vital force was still in them. The black, scorched rags fledged into bats, thousands of bats, who immediately flew away to find caves in the upper world.

Helios divided into flame, and lived separate lives. He lives still, some say, as marsh fire, will-o'-the-wisp, wherever wandering fires are seen. Others say something worse: that Helios, vowing to avenge himself upon the world, has squeezed himself into a tiny space without losing his strength. For he knows that man, the questioner, the toolmaker, will one day search out his hiding place, will rudely force it open and release a compressed fire, hot as the sun—scorching earth and sky and all above, below, and between.

Circe, given new hope by the sight of her father and the destruction of the Furies, returned to her island and continued to weave spells in the service of Athena—until the old gods vanished and no one believed in magic anymore.

But Circe, as has been told, was immortal, which means that she is still alive somewhere, although no one knows where. She no longer turns people into beasts. She feels it's unnecessary; they're doing too good a job of it themselves. Besides, she chooses to live quietly and not draw attention to herself. But she is a sorceress still, and keeps in practice. What she does is change an occasional animal into a person.

So if you meet a girl with green eyes and feel you've met her somewhere before and want very much to meet her again, don't fight the feeling. She may have been a cat of yours who wandered away and never came back, one that you've never been able to forget. What you must do is look very carefully at her fingernails. If she can pull them in and stick them out again, then you can be sure that your lost cat is now a found girl.

But be careful. She scratches.

GERYON

For my grandson

NATHANIEL EVSLIN

who is less a monster than any child I've ever met.

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