Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two (41 page)

“Obviously,” said the high priest. “We must have. For any other notion is intolerable.”

So they all publicly agreed, and secretly knew better. And the words of the Sphinx rankled in them, filling them with fresh fear every time they remembered. And when little Nisus, their new prince, began to speak fluent Egyptian before he was a week old, their terror turned to hatred.

Feeling as they did, they would surely have killed the babe, except that they really believed he was descended from the Hawk and the Cow, from Isis and Osiris, and Set, the Destroyer … and that whoever dared harm such an infant would, himself, be snatched up by a beast-god and torn to pieces.

Nisus grew into a beautiful boy, lithe, gentle mannered, with a clear fearless gaze. His hair was as black as a night-hawk's plumage—except for a single lock that turned golden when he was about to utter a prophecy. He would be chatting of this or that, or be listening quietly, perhaps, when all at once a strand of hair would begin to glow like an ember in the middle of his head. And he would say something that horrified his elders. He would speak a simple devastating truth with no trace of impudence or of jeering—but wearing an expression almost of wonder, as if listening to what another person was saying. And indeed, it was as if something else were speaking through him.

One scribe employed by the priesthood wrote down all the child said. “I'll need a complete record of this heresy,” the high priest had said. “We may find it useful one day.”

One short sentence spoken by the prince was written upon a separate scroll by the scribe, and marked for special notice. It was an utterance that had aroused special hatred.

Standing on a balcony of the palace with his father, watching a victory procession, the boy felt a heat striping his head, and knew that the prophetic strand was turning to hot gold. He heard himself saying to his father:

Our triumphs are disasters …

Slaves shall be our masters.

The pharaoh was not pleased to hear this, but let the displeasure slide from his mind. He was a dying man and knew that he was dying, and had resolved to let absolutely nothing trouble him.

But the high priest heard, and the scribe, and the words of Nisus were written down on a special scroll, to be saved until the hour of vengeance.

The pharaoh died soon afterward. His eldest son was too young to take the throne, so the pharaoh's brother, a silent brooding man, was named regent, or temporary king, to serve until the crown prince was old enough to rule.

This heir to the throne, whose name was Ahmet, took Nisus aside and said, “Do you have any idea what's going to happen to you when I become pharaoh?”

“If you were to become pharaoh, dear Brother, I should expect dreadful things to happen to me. But since you shall never occupy the golden chair, my future is wide open.”

“What do you mean I shall never be pharaoh? Are you plotting against me, you little cur? Are you forming a cabal? Fomenting sedition? I'll have your tongue torn out by the roots, your hands cut off, your eyes gouged out …”

“Poor Ahmet,” murmured Nisus. “I'm afraid you'll have to postpone your brotherly intentions. You're in no position to command the Royal Torturers to do anything. And my prophetic insight tells me you shall never be.”

Ahmet raised his ivory and ebony staff and tried to smash his brother's skull. Nisus dodged easily. “You'd be better advised to save your own life instead of trying to take mine,” said Nisus. “What you should do, Prince, is bribe a shipmaster to smuggle you aboard and bear you overseas to another place.”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you,” cried Ahmet. “You'd like me to run off and leave you a clear road to the throne.”

“You poor simpleton,” said Nisus. “Neither of us is destined to rule. Do you think that sullen brute, our uncle, having held the scepter, will ever let it go? Haven't you seen the way he looks at you, hatred smoldering in his eyes? Why, he hardly bothers to conceal it. Why should he? He's used the Royal Treasury to buy half the priesthood and as much of the nobility as he needs. He's ready to make his move. Inside a week, he will instruct a shocked populace to observe a month of mourning because their crown prince has accidentally died. To demonstrate his grief he may even build a little pyramid just for you. After that, it'll be my turn because I'll be heir, but he won't find me. Brother, Brother, listen to me. You'd better dig into your treasure chest and bribe that captain.”

“You're raving,” snarled Ahmet. “I'm going to tell my uncle, the regent, what you've been saying.”

“I'd stay away from him if I were you,” said Nisus softly, but his brother was stomping away.

Nisus never saw him again. The next day, a terrible rumor flashed from mouth to ear: Ahmet was dead! Sure enough, the Grand Council was convened, and the regent solemnly announced that his beloved nephew, the pharaoh-to-be, had been bitten by a rabid monkey and had expired within the hour in a foaming fit. After decreeing a month of heavy mourning and ordering a magnificent state funeral, the regent made two other announcements: He would spend his personal fortune to build a tomb for his nephew, and he was taking immediate steps to provide for the safety of his younger nephew, Nisus, who, of course, was now heir to the throne.

But when the king's men went to search for Nisus, they found that he had vanished. The regent ordered them to ransack every corner of the kingdom, and they searched all Egypt from the Forbidden Mountain to the Red Sea but found no trace of the strange young prince.

4

Cobra and Cat

On the third night out, while sleeping on the deck, Nisus was visited by a pair of winged creatures with elongated women's bodies. Their hands and feet were talons; one had the face of a cobra, the other of a cat. They crouched on either side of him, their claws clicking on the wooden deck. He coughed and gasped in the stench of their breath, which smelled like a slaughterhouse floor. The cobra-woman spoke. Strangely, her voice was beautiful, like the wind seething among the reeds that grow on the Nile shore.

“You know us, Nisus. You have met us in your childhood, for you were prone to nightmare.”

“And still am, I guess.”

“No,” she said. “This is not a dream. We are real, painfully real, as you shall learn.”

“You are Buto,” he said, “Cobra of the Lower Nile. And you, oh silent one, are Bast.”

Cat-face yawned, flexing her talons.

“And you, oh failed Prince, belong to a branch of the family we detest,” said Buto. “And since you are a mortal, we can safely torment you. But we shall refrain on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You are a favorite disciple of Thoth. He has taught you the secret of the mandrake.”

The mandrake was a plant with a forked root. When pulled from the ground, it uttered a thin cry like a newborn babe. The Delta folk believed that each plant harbored the soul of an infant born dead, and that mandrake, made into a broth and eaten by a pregnant woman, would make her bear triplets and quadruplets. So mandrake was eagerly sought by slave traders who would contract with new husbands for all the extra babes their brides could produce.

But the plant was very rare and exceedingly difficult to find without the aid of magic. And the god Thoth, he of the ibis-head, one of the few kindly gods in the Egyptian pantheon, had taught Nisus that magic. But possession of this knowledge was supposed to be a secret, and Nisus was appalled to learn that these fiends had found out.

Now, in the royal court of Egypt criminals were routinely tortured—a criminal being defined as anyone who had happened to offend the pharaoh or one of his favorites. This practice was not confined to Egypt, but it was recognized that this most ancient kingdom could boast of the world's most talented torturers, who had perfected abominations still unknown in less developed lands.… So Nisus, who had grown up at court, was perfectly aware of the variety of agonies that could be inflicted upon the human body. Nevertheless, he did not fear what any mortal could do to him. He knew that if the pain became unbearable he could blank himself out, cast himself into a deep coma, and slip through the portals of death where he would be safe from any man's malice.

But, for all his bravery, Nisus now found himself frozen by terror before the menace of cobra-headed Buto and cat-headed Bast. For these were gods; he could not escape them by dying. They could follow him into the cool glades of death and torment his ghost through eternity.

“Well?” hissed Buto. “Will you do as we wish?”

“Or should
we
begin doing things?” purred Bast, unsheathing her talons.

“I submit to your wishes,” said Nisus. “But I must beg you to be patient. Even with the skills taught me by great Thoth, I cannot find mandrakes that aren't there. But I promise you to hunt as diligently as I can.”

“We are not very patient by nature,” said Buto. “But we shall grant you a certain amount of time to accomplish your task.”

“No tricks!” snarled Bast. “We'll know immediately if you try to deceive us, and you will feel the full weight of our displeasure.”

Hissing and yowling, they lifted themselves into the air, and the sweep of their great wings pressed a deeper darkness upon the ship as they flew away.

Nisus didn't know what to do. His whole nature forbade him to obey the beast-gods. He simply could not bring himself to produce more slaves to sate their greed. But, if he didn't … It was a hot night but he shuddered at the thought of what they could do to him.

He tried to cast himself into a sleep, something he could usually do. But the terror was biting too deeply; he could not sleep. So he prayed: “Oh great Thoth, wise and kindly ibis-god, instruct me now. For terrible visions have come out of the night. Buto and Bast bid me abet their crimes, and I cannot obey, and dare not refuse.”

Again, Nisus heard the sweep of great wings. He cowered to the deck, thinking that Buto and Bast had heard his prayer and were returning to punish him. Whiteness split the night, perched atop the mast. To his delight Nisus saw that it was no flying cobra or cat but an ibis, royal bird of the Nile, favorite incarnation of the great Thoth. The voice of the ibis was like the rich chuckle of the river when it ran swiftly in a narrow place. It shed peace.

“Close your eyes, Nisus,” said the voice. “Sink into the realm of deeper knowledge, for I come with a countervision.”

Nisus felt himself not sinking but rising into sleep. He seemed to float above the deck. A panel slid open in the profound darkness. He looked upon a radiant sward in a place he had never been. Upon that meadow grazed a herd of enormous cows, big as hippos, and graceful as horses. Their hide was pale gold, their eyes were pools of molten gold, their hooves and horns were gilded. Toward the herd over the shining grass slithered two shapes—a cobra, long as the ship's anchor line, and a cat the size of a tiger. Nisus knew that they were Buto and Bast, but wingless now.

Two cows raised their head, swished their tail, and galloped toward the invaders. The cobra rose upon its coils, its hooded head weaving, its tongue darting. The cat crouched to spring. The cows were blurs of gold as they leaped into the air. One landed upon the cobra, one upon the cat, their sharp hooves chopping. The cobra wriggled free; it was bleeding. And the cat was limping. Hissing and snarling they returned to the attack. Now the cows met them with lowered horns. They used those horns as a fencer uses his sword. One cow impaled the cobra and lifted it, writhing, into the air. The other cow drove her gilded horns straight into the cat and pinned it to the grass.

Nisus watched as the snake and the cat died. The cows withdrew their bloody horns, wiped them clean upon the grass, trotted back to the others, and began again to graze. Snake and cat vanished, then the meadow vanished. The gold slowly faded.

Nisus was standing on the deck. A cool night wind bathed his fevered face. He stretched his arms to the ibis. “What does it mean?” he cried.

“It means,” said the ibis, “that golden cattle are your only bulwark against Buto and Bast.”

“And what does that mean?” said Nisus.

“Buto and Bast recognize no law save their own desires,” said the ibis. “They fear but one power, that of Hathor, the great mother, the golden cow that rides the sky at night and whose milk is rain. Therefore you must go to Crete and raid the unique herds of King Minos, taking three golden cows and one golden bull. That is the meaning of your dream. And you must take cows and bull to the Isthmus of Corinth, for there alone grows grass rich enough to pasture the golden cattle. You shall abide in Corinth. Your bull will be a bull; the cows will calve; your herd will grow. And Buto and Bast, who dread only Hathor, will view the golden cattle as a sign of her favor, and will refrain from harming you even though you defy them in the matter of the mandrake. Do you understand?”

“Not completely, my lord.”

“Well, you shall learn by doing. Change the course of this vessel and sail for Crete.”

“I thank you, great Thoth,” cried Nisus.

The white bird uttered a rich chuckle, and his white shape split the darkness again as he flew away.

5

The Bronze Giant

When morning came, Nisus asked the captain to put about and sail for Crete. This captain, who was also the owner of ship and cargo, refused. Nisus gently repeated his wish to visit Crete.

The captain, remembering that this difficult passenger was a prince, after all, tried to bridle his temper and explained that he had no intention of changing course for the pirate-infested waters to the west. What he meant to do, he said, was skirt the coast and sail north to Phoenicia where he would trade his holdful of Egyptian cotton for Phoenician dye and cedar planks and cedar oil from Lebanon.

Even more gently, Nisus stated that it behooved the captain to change his course. For he, Nisus, promised to protect ship and cargo from all pirates, and would lead the entire company to splendid adventure and fabulous wealth.