Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two (5 page)

Hera, still hovering invisibly, uttered a snarling laugh. “Now,” she said to herself, “I'll visit King Eurystheus in a dream and instruct him to extort the blood price from Hercules—to become, in fact, his taskmaster for the space of a year. But it won't take a year, not even a month. For the first task I'll make him give the lout will be to slay the Nemean Lion. And we know who'll slay whom. Yes, Hercules will die now, and his death will be entirely legal. No one will be able to blame me.”

8

New Girl at the Palace

Iris and Iole perched on the rainbow, gazing down at a drenched meadow sparkling in the slanting rays of the sun. The daughter looked excited; her mother was trying to look cheerful.

“It won't do,” said Iris. “You're simply too vivid to pass unnoticed in the Mycenaean court. We'll have to tone you down, my girl.”

“How?”

“Can't do much about your eyes or your skin. But we'll have to darken your hair.”

“Whatever you say, Mother.”

“You'll be able to wash the dye out when you come home …”

“Don't worry about it. I'm not.”

“Let's slide down and get you attended to by the nymphs.”

They slid down the arch of colors, but neither of them sang joyously this time. When they reached the meadow and were greeted by the nymphs, Iris spoke privately to Numa, who listened earnestly and then took Iole's arm and led her to the far end of the glade where the dyeing vats stood.

The nymph dropped a handful of roots into clear boiling water. The water thickened, foamed, went black. Numa took a pair of silver shears and began to cut Iole's hair. It was a glorious red-gold mane, hanging down to her waist. Numa cut it so that it barely reached the girl's shoulders, then cut bangs. Finally, when the dye had cooled, she blackened Iole's hair.

Iole dashed to a stream, knelt, and looked at herself. She squealed in excitement and raced across the meadow to Iris. “Mother, Mother, look!”

Iris took her daughter by the shoulders and gazed down at her, winking back a tear.

“How do I look, Mother?”

“Like a cat, my dear. With those black bangs and jade-green eyes you look exactly like an Egyptian temple cat.”

“But quite unnoticeable, don't you think? I'll be able to slink around the Mycenaean court like a shadow and help Hercules all I please without anyone knowing. Don't you think so, Mother? Who pays much attention to a black cat, after all?”

“But you will be very careful, won't you, my child? Eurystheus is an exceedingly cruel king. And while he's very stupid himself, he's surrounded by crafty councillors. So take no unnecessary chances.”

“I won't, Mother. I'll go there, find Hercules and do what I have to do. Then I'll come right back. I swear.”

“Farewell then, dear girl … brave darling girl …” Iris ran off then so that Iole would not see her weep.

The girl then shed her rainbow draperies, and donned a plain brown tunic. She bade farewell to the nymphs and set off for the court of Eurystheus.

Iole had no experience of the mortal world, no idea of how anything worked … and when she wanted something, she went after it with utter simplicity.

On reaching Mycenae, she went directly to the royal palace, melted into the shadows, and observed things for a while. It was midmorning; the king had not yet awakened, and seven maids with seven mops were swabbing a flight of marble stairs. Every so often, one of them would take the bucket of dirty water away and return with clean water. This meant carrying the heavy wooden bucket out to a well in the courtyard and drawing water. While she was gone, the other maids leaned on their mops and chatted, and slowly, with many groans and sighs, began to mop again when she came back. For these servants were not young, and it was a very broad, long stairway, and extremely dirty. Because the king often rode his horse up the stairs to his bedchamber.

The next time the water needed changing, Iole flashed out of the shadows, swung the bucket up, and ran out. She took her time about drawing water from the well, for the sun was shining brightly and the birds were singing … and she knew that the moppers would welcome a rest. Then she trotted back, swinging the bucket lightly, took a mop from the eldest servant and joined the others. Since she was very strong and quick and did as much work by herself as the other six together, she was made welcome and no one questioned her presence. They all thought she was simply another servant girl taken on by the majordomo.

By the time the king descended, the enormous stairway was spotless. The servants stood with their face to the wall as the king passed. They had been trained to do that, because the king did not like to look at servants. This suited Iole, for she wished to attract as little attention as possible. But she did sneak a glance over her shoulder as he went by, and gasped with surprise. Eurystheus was not what she thought a king should look like. He was enormously fat, with a triple paunch and a multitude of chins. His face was red and bloated; his nose was a snout; he wheezed and grunted as he waddled down the stairs.

By this time a group of courtiers had gathered in the reception hall and followed the king into the great dining hall where breakfast was served. Iole slipped among the horde of servants who were busy bringing in the breakfast, bearing great platters of food from the kitchen to the dining hall. And again she proved herself so swift and graceful, and bore the heavy platters with such ease, that she was welcomed among the servants and no one challenged her right to be there.

After a few days Iole felt that she was fully accepted; it was as if she had worked in the palace all her life. And she began to plan her next move.

Now, the juiciest topic of gossip in the court was Hercules, who had come and gone a week before. How the king had feared his coming, and stationed soldiers beyond the castle walls so that he might be warned when Hercules approached. How a soldier had rushed into the throne room, crying, “I have seen him, oh King! He approaches the wall. And he's gigantic!” And how, when the king heard this, his red face had turned a ghastly purplish white, and he quivered like a great pudding. “Don't let him enter!” he bellowed. “Don't let him pass through the gate! Copreus! Copreus! Where the hell is Copreus? Oh, there you are. Copreus, you go and relay my wishes to Hercules. Tell him he must slay the Nemean Lion and bring me its hide. But meet him outside the walls. Run! Run!”

Copreus rushed way. Awaiting his return, the king had behaved like a madman, gnawing his knuckles, roaring at people, hurling his scepter at them, threatening this one and that one with execution before the day was out. He quieted down only when Copreus returned and described his meeting with Hercules.

“He
is
huge, Your Majesty,” Copreus had said. “About nine feet tall and with shoulders like a span of oxen. But very gentle. He greeted me courteously, and listened quietly as I told him what you wanted him to do. And received the news calmly. ‘Tell the king I thank him for his confidence in me,' he said. ‘And when I return with the lion's hide, I hope to meet him personally.' And he strode off.”

“That big, eh?” said the king. “You don't think he has a chance against the lion, do you?”

“Oh, my lord,” said Copreus. “No chance at all. A hunting party went out against that lion in Nemea, I'm told. Tested men, warriors all, the strongest archers and spearmen in the land. The lion stood under a shower of spears and arrows, and they were like a fall of dry leaves. The beast wasn't even scratched. Then he charged and killed the huntsmen, every one. Their bones lie bleaching in the Valley of Nemea.”

“Very well,” said the king. “But set the sentries. Station lookouts on the road to Nemea. When Hercules is killed I want the tidings of his death relayed to me without an instant's delay.”

And,” said the old woman who was pretending to dust a vase as she whispered to Iole, “he's been waiting several days, and going crazier each day.… Oh, my goodness, listen to that!”

For the king was shouting in the throne room: They could hear his scepter clattering on the marble floor. Copreus rushed out, pale and trembling. He looked about frantically, then beckoned to Iole. “You there—girl! Come here!”

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, you! Quickly, I say!”

Iole went to him. “You have long legs,” said Copreus. “You look like you can run fast. Can you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can't send a horseman; the way lies through thick brush. Do you know the hill that lies a mile to the east, beyond the oak called the Gallows Tree?”

“Yes.”

“Halfway up that hill you'll find a cave. Within that cave you'll see little people making clothes. Don't ask any questions now—run, run!”

“Just one question, sir. What shall I do when I get there?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. You are to tell the head tailor to come here as quickly as he can. Perhaps you'd better carry him because he has very short legs. Bring him back here. For the king wants new ceremonial robes by tomorrow afternoon. And if he doesn't get them my head will fall on the block. I've never seen him in such a state. Anxiety about Hercules, of course, but whatever it is, it means the axe for me if he doesn't get his damned robes by tomorrow. Run, girl, run!”

“I'm off, sir.”

Iole dashed away.

9

The Little Tailors

Iole stood at the mouth of the cave, trying to see inside. The light was tricky. Rush torches stood in niches in the wall and cast flickering shadows. The sounds were confusing, too. A busy, scolding hubbub: She couldn't distinguish any words, nor could she see who was uttering the sounds.

She moved farther into the cave. There was a rush, a rustling—then a deep pulsing silence. Iole stared in amazement. The place seemed to be inhabited by headless statues. She went among them. They weren't statues; they were stuffed cloth figures, male and female. They were draped with scraps of tunics, gowns, hunting costumes, court robes. In a space all its own stood an enormously fat figure, clad in a half-finished cloak of royal purple.

“The king!” whispered Iole to herself, and realized what she was seeing. These figures were tailors' dummies, representing all the nobles of the Mycenaean court. The fat one was the king.

She heard another rushing sound, the patter of footsteps, a thin babble of voices. Something clutched her tunic. She looked down. She was surrounded by a swarm of tiny people. Men and women alike wore leather aprons. The men were bearded, the women wore their hair very long. The tallest of them didn't quite reach to her waist.

This one was jumping up and down in a fury, shouting at Iole. “Who are you? Why have you come here?”

He turned to the others. “To work! To work!”

Iole paid no attention to the raging little fellow but gazed in wonder as the others began to work. It was a most curious sight. The men plucked long hairs out of their beard and wound them on a kind of bobbin. The women pulled hairs out of their head and did the same thing. And Iole realized that their hair was thread. They cut cloth with their teeth, which were seemingly as sharp as scissor blades. Click, click, click, they bit the cloth, shearing it cleanly to the shapes they wanted as they clambered up onto the dummies. Perching there, they draped cloth over the figures, cut with their teeth, and sewed with both hands and feet. For they were barefooted and clutched long needles with their toes as well as with their hands …

The little head tailor was still hopping and shouting, and pushing now at Iole's legs, trying to shove her out of the cave. “Get out, get out, get out! You see how busy we are. And we don't welcome strangers.”

Iole made her voice as deep as she could. “I come by order of the king,” she said. “Copreus sent me. You are to come to the palace immediately and make ceremonial robes for the king. He wants them by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tomorrow afternoon? Impossible! Besides, we just made him ceremonial robes—just last week.”

“They don't fit,” said Iole. “It seems he's gained twenty pounds this week. I have no time to argue with you. Come on.”

“Impossible I tell you.”

“Tell it to Copreus,” she said.

She scooped him up, tucked him under her arm, and ran out of the cave.

“Stop!” he cried. “Stop!” He kicked and waved his arms.

“Hush—or I'll smack you!”

“Don't you dare, you wicked bullying girl. I can't stand pain.”

“Well, you'll have to stand it if you don't hush. But I'm afraid you won't be able to sit for a while.”

He must have believed she meant what she said because he stopped kicking and uttered no sound. She giggled and ran faster. She was feeling very happy, very lucky. For she suddenly saw how these magical little tailor folk might fit right into her plans for helping Hercules—if he only helped himself first by vanquishing the terrible lion.

10

The Lion's Hide

The little tailors had indeed finished the king's garments by the next afternoon, and Copreus felt his head resting more securely on his shoulders. But not for long.

The next day a horseman came thundering into the courtyard. He reined up when he saw Copreus, and cried, “He's done it, sir!”

“Who's done what?”

“Hercules! He's killed the Nemean Lion.”

“Are you sure?”

“Shepherds brought us word. They were pasturing their flocks on the Nemean hills and saw six vultures feasting on a carcass. It had no head or hide, but it was so enormous that it had to be that lion. It's good news, isn't it, sir? Just what the king wanted, isn't it?”

“Yes, of course,” said Copreus. “And I'm about to do you a great favor, young man, one that will advance your career considerably. I'm going to let
you
bear this good news to the king. He'll probably promote you on the spot, and give you a rich bonus.”