by Glyn Iliffe
She frowned, mystified by the change of subject.
‘There’ve always been monsters there.’
‘I’ve heard there’s something else there now, a many-headed serpent that has attacked some of the fishing villages.’
‘Then you’ve heard more than I have, my lord. And there’s only one serpent I’m interested in.’
She looked knowingly into his eyes, but he shook his head. He needed to focus his thoughts on the task ahead.
‘Another time, maybe.’
She gave a little shrug and smiled, revealing the missing tooth once more.
‘Shame. I should have liked to have a man like you in my bed.’
She reached out and ran her fingers ruefully over his shoulder and arm muscles, then turned and went off to answer shouts from another table. Heracles watched her go, partly regretting his decision. When she had gone, one of the men at the other end of the table turned to look at him. He had a mop of scruffy black hair and thin beard that covered pockmarked cheeks. His eyes were dull and unburdened by intelligence.
‘Are you insane?’ he asked. ‘I heard her – she was begging for it.’
‘I’ve more important things on my mind tonight.’
‘Can’t think of anything more important than a good woman. Can you, Ormenos?’
He elbowed the man beside him, who leaned over to stare at Heracles. His features were identical to the first man’s, though his cheeks had not been ravaged by smallpox.
‘More important than sharing a bed with her? Not with the way she’s built!’
He cupped his hands before his chest and elbowed his brother back. Both men laughed out loud.
‘Perhaps you’re concerned about that monster in the swamp?’ said the third man. He wore an expensive cloak of red wool over a grey tunic, and his hair and beard were neatly cropped. Unlike the two men he had fallen in with, his gaze was sober and shrewd. ‘Isn’t that what you asked the girl?’
‘What do you know about it?’
‘I’ve heard some things.’
‘They say it’s bigger than a house,’ said Ormenos. ‘And it has a hundred heads.’
‘Each one of them breathing fire!’ added his brother.
‘And what have you heard?’ Heracles asked, looking at the man in the red cloak, who he guessed was a merchant.
‘Enough to stay clear of Lernea and its swamp. I’d advise you to do the same, if you’re thinking of heading that way.’
‘I have no choice in the matter.’
The merchant shook his head and took a swallow of wine.
‘I won’t ask why, but I’ll tell you what I know. My wife’s brother lived in one of the fishing villages near the mouth of the Amymone. One morning – before dawn, when the village was shrouded in a mist from the sea – the fishermen were preparing their boats for the day’s work. Out of nowhere, they heard a cry like a dozen trumpets sounding all at once. Then this black shape came stomping out of the fog, the long necks of its many heads swaying this way and that. The men froze in horror, and the monster lowered its heads towards them, breathing on them.’
‘Like I said – fire!’
‘No, not fire,’ the merchant said, frowning dismissively at the twin’s interruption. ‘More like a green spray, or a mist. And every man it touched fell dead.’
‘Dead?’ Heracles said. ‘How?’
‘No one knows. A poison, maybe. The rest ran in terror, calling to their families in the houses at the top of the beach. My brother-in-law had already launched his boat and was out at sea. He said it was horrible to watch. He and his crewmates tried to row back to save their own families, but the monster was quick. It caught several of the men as they ran, breathing its poison on them or just snapping them up in its jaws – killing them as men might hunt animals for sport. But it did not eat them. It simply left their bodies in the sand and chased after more. And when it saw the women and children running from their homes, it turned its attention on them, killing dozens before stamping on their wooden huts with its clawed feet, or smashing them out of existence with a swipe of its tail. My sister escaped, by the grace of the gods. But by the time my brother-in-law and his friends reached the beach, the monster had disappeared back into the mist, and the village and most of its inhabitants had been wiped out.’
The merchant sat back in his chair and looked at Heracles.
‘Do you really have to go, my friend? It’s almost certain you won’t come back.’
‘Surely you’re not going to fight this creature?’ Ormenos asked.
‘Somebody has to,’ Heracles replied. ‘Nowhere is safe while that monster lives – no village, no town. Not even the walled cities of the kings could stand for long against such a fiend. And it won’t stay in its swamp forever. It will venture further out, and then further still, developing a taste for murder and destruction, banishing order and justice and replacing it with chaos and tyranny. Somebody has to fight it. And it might as well be me.’
The four men sat in silence for a moment, then Ormenos sat back and sighed.
‘In your position, I wouldn’t be thinking much about sex either,’ he said.
The serving girl returned with the wine. As she reached for Heracles’s cup, he placed his hand over it and stood.
‘I have to leave.’
She looked into his eyes, but seeing his hard expression did not renew her earlier offer. After she had moved to another table, Heracles pulled his lion-skin over his head and picked up his bow and quiver.
‘May the gods protect you,’ Ormenos said.
His brother nodded his agreement, though both men’s eyes showed only pity over the fate that awaited him.
‘Wait,’ the merchant said. ‘There’s one more thing you should know. You aren’t the only one asking questions about the monster.’
He nodded towards a hooded figure sitting alone in a corner. Heracles had seen the man enter the room earlier, and noticed his gaze wandering often towards his table. Being used to the stares of others, he had thought nothing of it, but now he stared hard at the stranger, wondering who he was and what he wanted. The tip of his nose and the base of his bearded chin were all that were visible of him beneath the shadow of his hood. Catching Heracles’s eyes on him, he turned away to face the hearth in the centre of the room.
‘When I went for a piss earlier, I heard him questioning one of his neighbours about the monster,’ the merchant continued. ‘I didn’t stay to eavesdrop, but now I think of it, it’s possible he’s hoping to kill the monster too. They say the king of Argos has offered a large reward in gold for any man who can slay it. If you’re determined to go into that swamp looking for it, maybe you can fight it together?’
Heracles shook his head.
‘No. The task was given to me alone. I could not accept help, even if it was offered to me.’
He bade his companions farewell and left the inn. It was late evening and the road through the village was dark and quiet. The moon had not yet risen, but the sky was filled with stars that shed a faint light over the countryside. Away to the south and west were a few modest farmsteads, and a small wood close to the road. Deciding that was where he would make his camp, he wrapped his cloak tightly about himself and set off.
As he reached the last few buildings in the village, he heard a sudden burst of conversation from the inn behind him, followed by the thump of the door shutting again. He laid his hand on the dagger in his belt and carried on. The sound of footsteps grew louder behind him. Heracles continued walking until they were almost upon him, then turned. The hooded stranger was just a few paces away. Heracles seized him by the throat and lifted him against the wall of the nearest house. The man choked and gripped Heracles’s hand with both his own, trying to prise his fingers away. Relaxing his grip a little, Heracles slipped the dagger from his belt and held the point to the man’s chest.
‘Why are you following me?’
‘I want to help you,’ he gasped.
Heracles pulled the man’
s cloak aside and saw the naked dagger gleaming in his belt.
‘Help me? Or maybe you meant to stab me in the back, so you didn’t have to share the reward for killing the monster? Either way, I don’t want your help or need it.’
‘In the names of all the gods, Heracles,’ the man rasped, his voice hoarse and yet familiar. ‘Don’t you know me yet?’
Heracles seized his hood and pulled it back, revealing the face of a young man. His fair hair was tied back behind his head, and his beard was not yet fully grown. His blue eyes glared angrily at Heracles, though more out of annoyance than evil intent. Heracles released his grip from around his throat and stepped back.
‘Iolaus ?’
Iolaus rubbed his neck and coughed.
‘Yes, it’s me,’ he said, huskily.
‘But…I thought…’
The young man stepped forward and embraced his uncle. For a moment Heracles was too shocked to react, then he folded his arms about his nephew’s back and held him tight. Eventually, they pulled apart and placed their hands on each other’s shoulders, smiling broadly. Heracles stared disbelievingly into Iolaus’s eyes.
‘I…I thought I’d never see you again. After everything that happened, everything I did, I thought you’d turned your back on me forever. And who could blame you? I don’t deserve to have you here.’
He released his hold on Iolaus’s shoulders and stepped back, lowering his gaze to his feet. What would his nephew want with the man who murdered his young cousins? He felt his skin crawl with sudden fear. Had he brought bad news from Thebes? Had Megara succumbed to her grief?
‘So why are you here?’
‘I’ve had a long time to think about things, Uncle,’ Iolaus answered. ‘About what you did and how it made me feel about you. And Zeus knows I haven’t found the answers yet. Part of me will never understand, and perhaps that same part will always feel angry with you. But that’s not the real me. The real me still loves you as if you were my own father – enough to forgive you and to try to work out some answers. And I certainly won’t work them out back in Thebes. So I’ve come to find you and follow you again – if you’ll have me.’
Heracles looked at his nephew, not knowing how to respond.
‘Do you forgive me?’ Iolaus asked. ‘For turning my back on you?’
‘There’s nothing to forgive. You reacted as any man would – with revulsion at what I had done. And I’m not sure I can give you the answers you’re looking for, because I don’t know what happened that night either. I’m still trying to find out the truth for myself. All I know is that it’s good to see you, Iolaus. I’ve missed you.’
‘We have a lot to catch up on, and I can see you have a few stories to tell.’ He pointed to the lion-skin that he wore. ‘Where did you find that ?’
‘On the back of the monster I slew. It was the first of the labours I have to complete.’
‘Labours?’
Heracles explained the oracle he had been given, and the route he had been told he must take if he was to find release from his crimes.
‘I heard a man say you’d become a slave to Eurystheus,’ Iolaus said. ‘I didn’t believe him, though. I even fought him over it. But do you really think completing these ten tasks will absolve your guilt?’
‘The gods have said it’s the only course, and who am I to question them? But in my heart I know it won’t be that simple, not like crossing the finish line in a race and receiving a crown of laurels. Whatever these different tasks turn out to be, I know that one god at least intends for them to destroy me. But if I survive the labours, I think they are also meant to reveal something to me. Something about what I did, something about who I really am – I don’t know yet. But I think they will change me too. They have to, because I can’t live with the man I am now.’
‘And this monster that lives in the Lernean Swamp, is that another of these labours?’
Heracles nodded.
‘The third. The other two nearly defeated me, and they tell me this one will be harder.’
‘Then I will help you.’
‘No, you won’t. This monster – this Hydra – is deadly. This is not a labour for children.’
Iolaus gave an uneasy laugh.
‘I did not come after you to be insulted, Uncle. I’m not a child any more.’
‘Yes, you are,’ Heracles said. He took his nephew by the chin, pulling at the thin beard. ‘Look at this. Do you think a few whiskers make a man of you? No, it’s too dangerous. I have enough on my conscience already; I don’t want to add your death to that burden.’
Iolaus pulled away, angrily.
‘I used to be your squire, and want to be again. Did you take me under your tutelage just to patronize me and keep me back from battle? No! A squire enters the fight beside his lord. He watches him and learns from him. And if he comes out alive, then the experience has made him into a man. Do you want me to remain a boy forever, Heracles? Or perhaps you’d have me become like my father: someone who has always shied away from the ordeals and hardships that make a true man. I don’t want that! I want to be a man like you, and if I die trying, then so what? At least no one can call me a coward.’
‘How do you know that you aren’t?’ Heracles challenged him. ‘Until he has been tested in battle – until he has faced the likelihood of his own death – no man can say what his mettle is made of.’
‘But at least I am willing to face the test.’
Heracles looked at him and knew that he meant what he said. And if he tried to shield his nephew from danger, he would only seek it somewhere else. It was better to be there at his side, guiding and protecting him.
‘Very well, then. You can walk with me some of the way while I decide what to do with you.’
Iolaus smiled broadly.
‘Thank you, Uncle. But we don’t have to walk – my chariot’s in the stables at the inn.’
‘A chariot’s no good where we’re going. Besides,’ he added, playfully ruffling Iolaus’s hair, ‘I’ve seen the way you drive. There’s no point killing ourselves before we even find this monster.’
Laughing, they set off together down the road towards Lernea.
Chapter Fifteen
The Lernean Swamp
Heracles and Iolaus reached the swamp by the evening of the next day. Countless trees, their roots lost beneath the oily surface of the waters, stretched away on either side of them, the far reaches lost to sight in the twilight. Somewhere on the other side was the sea, but they could neither hear it nor smell it. Indeed, their nostrils were filled with the unpleasant reek of the bog, which had dominated their senses from the moment they had first detected it. It seemed to cling to them, making them feel filthy long before they had set foot in the greasy waters.
Finding a small, dry hillock at the edge of the swamp, they made a fire and rolled out their beds. They had restocked their provisions in the last inhabited village on the road to Lernea – having passed others that had been abandoned for fear of the Hydra – and made a thick porridge to drive away their hunger before they slept. But if there was any flavour to the porridge, then the stench from the swamp swallowed it up and left them feeling neither hungry nor satisfied.
Heracles woke first. He cooked a broth, adding a few pieces of goat’s meat and some salt to give it flavour, though the taste was little different to the previous night’s meal. Their spirits were subdued as they packed up their things and entered the trees. Dawn had not yet broken and the swamp was gloomy. The air was cold and there was a thin mist creeping over the waters as they waded into them. Heracles’s sandals sank into the slime beneath and he was repulsed by the feel of it on his feet, though he was glad to sense firm ground beneath it.
They had made staves the night before, and used these to probe the dark waters as they made their cautious advance. After a while, they felt the sun rising behind them. It struggled to brighten the dense woods, though, lending the air a greenish hue that only served to further dampen their spirits. The mist thicke
ned around them, and soon they were waist deep in the vile-smelling swamp.
Heracles glanced over his shoulder at Iolaus. His nephew’s cloak was tucked up into his belt, where the blade of his dagger shone dully in the gloom. He had not brought a shield with him, or a bow and arrows, though he carried a long sword in a sheath upon his back. Why he had put it there, Heracles could not think. It was less of a bother, perhaps, than having it knocking against his thigh as he walked, but it would be clumsy to deploy if they were attacked suddenly. He would probably also slice off his own ear in the process. Heracles decided to mention it to him the next time they stopped.
Yet he was happy to have Iolaus with him. He was likely to prove a burden when they finally found the Hydra’s lair, for Heracles knew he would be watching out for the boy’s life as well as his own. But his mere presence was worth ten trained warriors. It restored his sense of worth. For too long he had been alone, hating himself and believing everyone hated him – especially those for whom he cared the most. But even if that were true of everyone else, it was not for his nephew.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘how are things at home? Thebes, I mean.’
‘Dull, mostly. When you were there it felt like the centre of the world, as if it didn’t matter what was happening elsewhere. But when you left, it became like just another insignificant city, scratching out its existence without any good reason to do so. And it feels anxious too.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘People are worried. At first I think Creon was happy to see you gone. He felt he was in charge again.’
‘Wasn’t he anyway?’
‘He was king in name, but everyone knew who had saved them from Erginus and his army. And now all eyes are on Orchomenus again. Creon’s worried that Erginus’s sons will want revenge, now that you’re not there to defend the city.’
Heracles beat aside a branch with his new club, which he had made from the limb of an olive tree. The stench from the swamp was, if anything, even more unbearable now that they had entered its outer edges. And though he had seen two or three snakes and other creatures swimming across the surface of the stagnant waters, the place seemed eerily lifeless. There were no birds in the trees, and no indications of other creatures from deeper within the swamp. The only sounds were their own voices, and they seemed to carry a long way on the chill air.