by Glyn Iliffe
He hit it hard. Pushing back against the pain, he rolled over and snatched up the torch from the fetid mess on the cave floor. The lion had already turned and was launching a fresh attack. Jumping up, he ran to meet it as it dashed towards him, its jaws snapping with rage. It threw itself forward, filling the shadowy air with a deeper blackness as it soared towards him. Heracles swung his club up to meet it, putting all his strength into the blow. The weapon splintered and broke as it connected with the monster’s flesh. The lion gave a howl of pain and twisted aside, crashing into Heracles. They fell together, their bodies momentarily interlocked as he took hold of the lion’s black mane and tried to slip his arm around its neck. But it scuttled back to its feet and leaped away, its back leg catching him a powerful blow to the face.
For a moment, his vision swam with tiny sparks of light. He felt the blackness of the cave press down on him, as if he were sinking through the mess of bones and flesh into the earth below. The pain and tension in his body began to ease and he felt his mind relaxing. Then he remembered the lion and the terrible peril that he was in, and suddenly he was jolted back into consciousness. The energy returned to his muscles and he forced himself up onto his hands and knees.
His eyes swept the cavern through the hanging locks of his hair. The torch blazed up from the floor a short distance away, and by its orange glow he was able to catch the faintest impression of the cavern roof above him, and a hint of the distant walls on either side. And then he saw the lion, standing at the far edge of the circle of light. Its eyes flashed green in the shadows, filled with an intense hatred, and yet reluctant to attack. It had learned that its latest enemy was not like the others who had come before – that this man had extraordinary strength, and the skill to use it.
Knowing the creature was observing him for signs of injury or weakness, Heracles pushed himself to his feet and scanned the floor around him for a weapon. He saw the broken halves of his club, awed that the lion could take such a blow and live. Then he spotted the dull gleam of a double-headed axe and stooped to pick it up. The lion’s lip curled back over its teeth, then it opened its jaws and filled the cave with a defiant roar, before slipping invisibly back into the darkness. But before it disappeared, Heracles saw that it limped, unable to take its weight on its left forepaw.
He stepped carefully across the mess of bone and gore and picked up the stuttering torch. Opening the bag he had found in the tunnel, he took out each of the three torches in turn, lit them, and tossed them across the cave floor to form a triangle of light, with his own at the centre. The hissing flames punched holes in the blackness to reveal the size of the creature’s lair. Their light flickered back from arching walls of wet rock and ceilings hung with stalactites that glistened with hanging droplets of water, which would occasionally fall and with each splash send a small echo around the vast chamber. In one corner of the cave he could see the surface of a small pool, and in another a pile of boulders reached up to the ceiling, where untold years before part of the roof must have caved in.
But there was no sign of the lion, and for a dread moment he wondered whether it had escaped back down the tunnel, taking his chances of completing his first labour with it. And yet his instincts told him the monster was still there, lurking in the deepest shadows and biding its time while it calculated a new way to attack. Heracles looked down at the axe in his hand, touching his thumb to the edge of the blade. It had been sharpened recently, but there were no signs that it had been used in anger. The monster must have torn the previous owner’s throat out before he had had the chance to wield it.
‘Who’s there?’
The fight with the lion had driven the girl from his mind. He turned towards the sound of her voice, which had come from a corner of the cave. But he could not see her in the shadows.
‘Please, is anybody there? Please!’
Her words were choked with tears and her voice trembled with fear, but still he could not see her.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m here. I’ve come to save you.’
‘But the lion,’ she began, her words seeming to come from beneath the fall of rocks. ‘I heard its roar. I thought… I was afraid it had…’
‘The monster has gone, for now. Where are you? I can’t see you.’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen light for days, though I can see the glow of a torch above me now.’
‘Above you?’
He peered into the shadows, then back over his shoulder. The lion was nowhere to be seen, so he picked his way between the human remains to where the girl’s voice was coming from. A puddle of deeper blackness appeared in the ground ahead of him. Holding his torch out, he saw the mouth of a pit, with sheer sides that sank down through the floor of the cave. He moved to the edge of the opening and peered into the gloom. The torchlight gleamed from the damp stone walls, but failed to reach the bottom of the pit. And yet he thought he saw something small and pale – a face perhaps, peering back up at him from the shadows.
‘Thaleia? Are you down there? Can you see me?’
‘Yes, I see you. A giant you seem to me, but how do you know my name?’
‘Your father sent me.’
‘Father’s here?’ she exclaimed, her sudden excitement just as suddenly quenched by fear. ‘Oh no, he can’t be here. Not with the lion…’
‘Your father is waiting for you at the farm. I came here alone.’
‘Alone?’ she said. ‘But how can you hope to defeat the lion on your own? My mother tried to fight it, but it killed her with a single blow. If you try to take me it’ll kill you too.’
‘It has already tried once and failed. Doubtless it’s already pondering its next attack, but I’ll face that when it comes. For now, you must put your trust in me and pray to every god you know to help me defeat the monster.’
‘I will trust you, my lord – what choice do I have? But whatever you intend to do, do it quickly. I know the monster better than you do, and I fear it. Right now, its eyes are on you, waiting for the moment to attack. Please hurry.’
‘Can you climb out?’
‘I’ve tried, but the walls are too steep.’
‘Then I’ll throw you some rope.’
He cast another glance about himself, but the only movement was from the flickering shadows cast by the light of the torches. Opening his bag, he took out the coil of rope and knelt by a nearby boulder. Feeding out a length, he tied it securely about the rock then returned to the edge of the pit. He glanced down and saw the pale oval of Thaleia’s face looking back at him from the shadows. What sort of girl was she, he wondered? The horrors she had witnessed would have turned the minds of most men, and yet somehow she – a mere child – had endured them. And despite her tears and obvious fear, she still had wits enough to try and follow him out of that nightmarish cave.
‘Catch this,’ he said. ‘Tie it around your waist and I’ll pull you up.’
The rope hissed down into the darkness and he saw the white smudge of Thaleia’s hand reaching up for it.
‘It’s not long enough. I can’t reach it.’
A movement caught his eye. He looked at the shadows thrown by the torchlight, but there was no black figure crouching in the darkness, no glimmer of green eyes staring back at him. Reaching down, he tugged on the rope. The rock to which it was tied did not budge.
‘Stay there,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I’m coming down for you.’
‘Wait,’ Thaleia replied. He heard the sound of stone being dragged over stone and guessed she was moving a rock to stand on. ‘I’ve got it. But it won’t reach my waist.’
‘Then loop it around your wrist a couple of times. I’ll pull you up.’
The rope went tense with her weight. At the same moment, he felt his hackles rise. He dropped the torch and reached for the axe, staring out into the shadows. Still nothing. Tucking the axe into his belt, he spat on his palms and took hold of the rope.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes. Hurry, please. The monster’s there with
you, I can feel it.’
He scanned the shadows again, then pulled on the rope. One arm’s length, then a second, and a third. As he drew in the fourth, he heard a low growl behind and above him. Looping the rope around his left wrist, he snatched the axe from his belt and turned. The lion was halfway up the pile of fallen rocks, its hide absorbing the light of the torches so that it was almost invisible in the darkness. But its green eyes gleamed with vengeful malice. Somehow, one silent and meticulously placed paw after another, it had crept around the edges of the cave and onto the sloping mound of boulders. Drawing itself back onto its hind legs, it sprang, its right forepaw extended as before, its left tucked into its chest. Its black mane streamed out behind it, and its open jaws bristled with rows of sharp teeth.
Heracles swung the axe. The curved blade sank into the thick fur of the lion’s left shoulder, a blow strong enough to have severed the limb of any other animal and carried through into the chest. But the axe sprang back from the impenetrable hide, the force of the recoil snapping the neck of its wooden shaft and sending the head spinning off into the shadows.
The lion roared with pain and plunged to its right. The claws that had been reaching for Heracles’s throat missed their target and sliced a fourfold gash across his left arm. The pain shot through his body, searing the ends of his nerves like fire as the blow sent him tumbling down into the pit. He heard a scream from below as Thaleia fell to the floor. Then the rope around his wrist caught on the lip of rock above, arresting his descent with an abrupt jolt and causing him to cry out in agony as his shoulder was nearly torn from its joint.
He hung halfway down the wall of the pit, his body bouncing against the rock and scuffing the skin raw, adding to the cacophony of other hurts that racked his senses. He closed his eyes and felt his grip on consciousness relaxing. Then he saw his mother’s face emerging from the darkness, as clearly as if she were there in the pit beside him. Her mouth was moving and, quietly at first, he heard her speaking words he remembered from his childhood. Words that had changed everything he believed about himself.
‘You have something special, Heracles, something that the other children don’t have. You are a son of Zeus. Do you know what that means?’
His eyes blinked open onto blackness. His mother’s face was gone, but her words remained. What did it mean, to be a son of Zeus? What did it mean, when all he felt was agony, exhaustion and despair? Was it even possible for a son of Zeus to feel such things? Or had she lied? Was he nothing more than the son of Amphitryon, just like Iphicles, the brother he despised so much?
No, he protested. He was more than that. He had to be.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to clear his mind of the pain.
‘Thaleia, are you all right?’
The sound of his voice provoked a sob of helpless fear.
‘My leg hurts.’
‘Can you move it?’
He heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a gasp of pain.
‘A little. I don’t think it’s broken.’
‘Good. Pull yourself to one side if you can, away from the middle of the floor. I don’t want to fall on you if the rope snaps.’
He glanced up. The edge of the pit was outlined by the light from the torches, and as he looked he saw the shadow of the monster pass across it. He could hear its heavy breathing and the uneven padding of its paws as it limped around the periphery of the pit, ready to finish off the man who had dared enter its lair. Sooner or later, though, it would tire of waiting for him to show himself. It would slip down the side of the shaft – he could see the white claw marks on the rock where it had climbed up and down to terrorize the child below – and finish him off in the narrow confines of the pit. And he had to be ready for it when it came.
He reached out with his foot and felt along the wall. To his relief there was a small ledge further along to his left, wide enough to fit a man. Taking the rope in his right hand, he swung towards it and reached out with the fingers of his left. The movement sent new barbs of pain shooting down his arm from where the monster’s claws had torn through the skin and muscle. Fighting the agony of the wound, he seized hold of a jutting rock and pulled himself onto the ledge.
He placed his foot over the rope to free his hands and slipped the bow from his back. Clenching his teeth against the thrill of pain, he fitted an arrow and drew it back to his cheek.
‘Come on, damn you!’ he snarled, his voice taut with the hunger for battle.
A long, deep growl rolled out from the darkness above.
‘I’m still here!’ he called again, hoping the lion would take the bait. ‘What are you waiting for? Come and finish me off.’
The monster’s head and mane appeared at the rim of the pit, silhouetted by the glow from the torches. As its green eyes seized on Heracles, its lips drew back in a hate-filled grimace and trails of drool dripped from its fangs. It saw the bow and the grimace became a sneer, knowing the arrow aimed at its chest could not pierce its pelt; knowing that its prey was trapped at last, and that with one final leap it would pull him down into the pit and tear him to pieces. It placed its forepaws over the stone lip and drew in its hind legs, ready to pounce. Then Heracles raised his aim slightly and released the string.
The arrow plunged into the lion’s eye, extinguishing the green light as it drove itself deep into the flesh, piercing the only weak point in its otherwise invulnerable hide. The monster threw itself backwards, twisting and howling with pain. Casting his bow into the pit, Heracles grabbed the rope and heaved himself upwards. As he neared the top of the shaft, the creature let out a terrifying roar that shook the cave and released streams of dust and small stones from the roof. Knowing it had seen him and was preparing to spring, Heracles seized the rock shelf above and hauled himself up.
The lion launched itself at him from the opposite side of the pit, its immense body blotting out the glow from the torches. Heracles rolled onto his back and grabbed hold of its great claws as the weight of the monster fell on him, flattening him against the cave floor and crushing the breath from his lungs. The stench of its fetid breath and gore-matted hide turned his stomach as he tried to push it away, but its size and strength overwhelmed him. It opened its jaws wide and lunged at his face.
He pulled aside and the lion’s snout crashed into the rock where a moment before his head had been. He felt its rough fur pressed against his ear and cheek, the saliva from its jowls wet against his beard, and the hot blast of its breath as it pulled itself back for a second lunge. Then he felt it. As he stared death in the face, he felt the something special his mother had spoken of: the quality that had made his father king of the gods – the refusal to acknowledge the supremacy of another, whether it be Hera, Eurystheus or the lion.
He thrust up with his arms, pushing the monster far enough away that its teeth snapped closed a finger’s breadth from his face, spraying him with spittle. The anger surged through his limbs, renewing his supernatural strength. He threw the lion on its side, rolling on top of it and pinning its chest with one knee, while scrambling for a hold with his other foot.
It fought back ferociously, filling the cavern with its roar. The power in its body was almost irresistible, but Heracles summoned his reserve of strength and thrust down against it with gritted teeth. Releasing its left forepaw – which had been weakened by the earlier blow from his club – he seized hold of the arrow protruding from the monster’s eye and tried to drive it further into the wound. The beast gave a howl of pain and twisted its head sideways, snapping the brittle shaft. Tossing it aside, Heracles drew back his fist and punched the hideous head as hard as it could.
It was like hitting rock. He cried out, and in the same instant the lion swung its forepaw at him, catching his shoulder with two of its claws and leaving a deep rent in the flesh. Heracles reeled back, his senses almost succumbing to the pain. The lion fell on him again, aiming a second swipe at his face. He seized its paw and tried desperately to force it back. Again, the monster thrust out it
s jaws, aiming this time for his chest and neck. He pushed back with all the might he could muster and turned his head away as the double rows of teeth closed with a deafening snap. A stab of pain and a hot dampness on the side of his jaw and neck told him the lion had bitten off a piece of his ear.
He turned to face the monster, fixing its remaining eye with his fierce gaze. Had his enemy been a man, by now he would have seen an ebbing of confidence and the beginnings of fear in his expression – the realization that victory would not be easy and defeat was still possible. But all he could see in that single green orb was a fanatical desire to tear him to pieces, at whatever cost to itself, and a total absence of any thought it might not do so.
So be it , he thought, and jerked his knee up into its exposed stomach. As the new wave of pain exploded through the lion’s body, he pushed it onto its right side. But as he tried to clamber on top, driving his knee deeper into its stomach, he saw his mistake. They were closer to the edge of the pit than he had thought.
The monster fell first. Knowing it was too late to release his grip on its forepaws, he fell with it, rolling over the edge and plunging into shadow. Deprived of his vision in the utter darkness of the pit, he was unsure as he clung on to his enemy whether they had turned as they plummeted downward; whether he would hit the floor first, breaking his back before being crushed by the weight of the lion. Briefly, he wondered whether Thaleia had obeyed his order to move to the side of the pit. Then they hit the bottom and everything went black.
When consciousness returned to him, he opened his eyes to complete darkness. He was aware of a low sobbing and the stinging pain of his wounds. Then his nostrils filled with the nauseous reek of the lion, and he felt its warm, soft bulk beneath him. Instinctively, he pushed himself upwards, afraid that it would use his momentary confusion to sink its teeth into his face or gouge his flesh with its claws. But it did not move.