by Joe Corcoran
field. The bull, however, was not happy to have its peace disturbed. It turned on the newcomer, eyes flashing red and smoke rising from its nostrils. Hercules continued to move steadily forward as the bull pawed the ground with its hoof, then suddenly launched itself into a full-blooded charge. Man and beast met in a cloud of dust, which blocked Iolaus’ view for what seemed like an age. When it cleared, he saw that Hercules had hold of both the bull’s horns, and had brought it to a halt. Iolaus was sure that he would have forced it to the ground there and then, except that the bull opened its mouth and sent a jet of flame crashing against Hercules’ body. The hero held on for a few moments, his lion skin cloak protecting him from the flame, but then he let go of the horns and sprinted back to the stream. As he dived into the shallow waters, rolling this way and that, clouds of steam rose all around him. Clearly the cloak could block the flames, but did nothing to stop the heat.
Having soaked his lion skin with water, Hercules was ready to try again. He advanced on the bull, who had been staring at the hero’s antics without concern, but now dipped its head and prepared to charge again. This time Hercules was faster, he sprinted forwards, so that he reached the bull before it had got up its full speed. Grabbing both horns he was already twisting the beast’s head down towards the ground when it let forth another stream of fire. Steam rose around the pair, and a bellow reached Iolaus’ ears, whether from the man or the bull he could not tell. Soon it was all over. The steam cleared to reveal that the bull was on the ground and Hercules was lying across its neck, stopping it from getting back to its feet. At once, Iolaus ran forward and held the shell to the bull’s ear. When it heard the song of the sea, the bull became calm, and with a glance to make sure his friend was ready to run if need be, Hercules let the animal get back to its feet. Just as Poseidon had said, it was now as docile as a dairy cow, and it stood waiting for instructions.
That night Hercules, Iolaus and the bull slept, hidden in a small wood near the harbour where they had arrived only the day before. Iolaus was up before dawn, and went down to the docks to find a ship to take them home. The plan was simple. He would try and find the sailors with whom they had travelled to Crete, and see if they could be persuaded to take them back to Greece. It was not long before he arrived back, and the news was not good.
“I’ve asked everyone, and they all give the same story,” Iolaus explained, “no Cretan ship will dare risk displeasing Minos by taking us aboard.” Hercules’ face fell, “But not all the ships in the harbour are Cretan. There is one Greek ship, a trading galley, and the captain is willing to give us passage … for a fee.”
For a few seconds Hercules had looked hopeful, but now his face again became a mask of despair.
“We have no money,” he grumbled, “and nothing of value. We are going to be stuck on this island forever, unless we grow flippers!”
“You forget,” continued Iolaus calmly, “we have a rich patron at Troezen, waiting for our return. He will pay our fare, and if we lie? Well then, the captain can seize our cargo, this fine prize cow!” Hercules looked at Iolaus as if he were mad, then smiled and shook his head. The young man was either brilliant or lucky, but either way they had no other transport off the island, so he simply asked for the details of the plan.
Not long after, an odd trio of travellers approached the harbour. There was a young man, naked except for a loin cloth and a pair of sandals. Next to him shuffled an older man. He looked sturdy, but walked stooped over with his face turned to the ground. A simple woollen cloak covered his head and body. The third traveller was an enormous brown bull. It seemed healthy, but its skin was cracked and blistered, and on its back it carried a mangy pile of furs. The three headed straight for the harbour wharfs, where a Greek trading vessel was moored, and many eyes followed them as they passed.
The disguise had seemed quite good when they had set out, and without the bull it might have worked, but Iolaus could tell that they were attracting too much attention. The beast was just too huge to pass unnoticed, and the mud they had used to turn it from white to brown was quickly drying in the hot sun, dropping away in big flakes at every step the bull took. Still, they were almost at the ship now, and soon they would be out to sea and away from danger.
“You said it was a cow,” called an angry voice, and Iolaus looked up to see the captain of the trading galley standing by the gangplank.
“It’s a big cow,” said Iolaus, defensively.
“It’s an enormous cow, with horns,” replied the captain, “and it’s going to be extra.”
Iolaus thought about arguing, but decided it would be better just to get the bull aboard quietly, so he simply nodded and headed for the gangplank.
“And where do you think you’re going?” asked the captain, blocking his way.
Iolaus looked at him blankly, before answering, “To get the cow safely below decks so we can set sail.”
The captain shook his head, “We’ll not be going anywhere today. There’s all the cargo to load, and we’ll not do that before the evening tide. Don’t worry, we’ll be off first thing in the morning.”
Hearing this, Iolaus couldn’t help but glance up towards the palace, fearing that soldiers might already be on the way to capture them. Being a shrewd man, the captain guessed what that glance meant.
“I’m no friend of that King Minos,” he said, “and I’d like to help a fellow Greek, but business is business and I’m not leaving without my cargo.”
“Maybe I can help,” rumbled Hercules, speaking for the first time. He threw off the cloak that he’d borrowed from Iolaus and revealed his bulging muscles. Straightening now to his full height, he walked to where four sailors were struggling to lift one of the boxes stacked on the quay. Lifting it easily out of their hands, he jogged up the gangplank to deposit the box in the hold. All those around stopped and stared, their jaws dropping open in amazement … all except one. A small man with a pointy face like a rat, slunk away and began to run up the hill to the palace. No-one noticed him, they were all too busy watching and cheering as Hercules performed ever more improbable feats of strength, loading the cargo in double quick time. Soon everything was aboard, including Iolaus with the bull, and the captain gave the orders to begin final preparations for departure. There was still plenty of time to catch the evening tide - unless something else caught them first. Down from the palace on the hill came a troop of horsemen, stirring up a cloud of dust as they came. Iolaus saw them first and shouted a warning, then the sound of thundering hooves reached the harbour, growing louder by the second.
“Everyone aboard the ship,” shouted Hercules. The sailors hesitated at first, then at a signal from the captain they obeyed.
“We’re facing the wrong way,” said the captain to Hercules, as they passed on the gangplank, “you must turn the ship to point at the harbour entrance, then we’ll have a chance with the oars.”
Hercules nodded, then stepped onto the quayside and finished untying the ropes that held the boat in place.
The captain paused and looked back before continuing, “You know you won’t be able to get aboard after you’ve pushed us off?”
Hercules nodded again, and the captain ran up onto the deck of the boat just before his men pulled up the gangplank.
Now Hercules was the only man left on the quay. He threw the rope aboard and gave the bows an almighty shove. Slowly the front of the boat drifted away from the side, and Hercules worked his way to the stern, pushing with all his might whenever he found the side of the galley within reach. On board, he could see the sailors rushing to fetch the oars and finding their seats, so as to be ready to row. The hoof beats sounded louder now. Although the horsemen had not yet reached the bottom of the hill, it seemed like the galley was turning with agonising slowness. When the bows were almost pointing to the harbour mouth, Hercules decided that he could wait no longer. He undid the stern rope, placed his hands against the back of the boat, braced his feet against the quay, and pushed with all his strength. Slowly at first the boa
t inched forwards. The oarsmen were almost ready now, and the captain was poised to give the command for the first stroke. The gap between the ship and the land started to widen more quickly, so that Hercules was left horizontal, his toes on the quay and his fingertips on the stern. He paused in this impossible position for only a moment before, with a splash, he fell into the sea.
“Row!” shouted the captain, looking behind and seeing the horsemen approaching the harbour, “Row for your lives.”
The sailors pulled on their oars, and the galley leapt forward. Hercules had given them the best possible start, and now the race was between oarsmen and horsemen. The oarsmen had the shorter distance, as they headed directly across the water to the entrance of the harbour. The horsemen had to ride around the harbour wall, and the stones were too slippery for the horses to go at full speed. Their leader seemed to sense that the race was too close to call.
“Halt. Halt in the name of King Minos,” he shouted, but the sailors took no notice and maintained their pace, propelling the galley faster and faster towards the open sea. In a last act of desperation, the horsemen flung their javelins towards the ship, which was even now passing through the harbour mouth,