If at Faust You Don't Succeed

by Roger Zelazny

  Odysseus would have liked something a little more definite. But Tiresias had said his last word. So Odysseus agreed. Tiresias vanished. Odysseus reached into the horsehide bag and separated one spell from where it lay coiled around the others. He brought it out and hastily tied up the sack again. The spell writhed and squirmed, but Odysseus held it firmly and muttered the necessary words. The spell quivered, and then gave a mighty lunge. Odysseus held on, and Achilles held on to him. With classical simplicity, and no baroque nonsense about fire and brimstone, Odysseus and Achilles found themselves in the anteroom of the Kingdom of Dark.

  CHAPTER 3

  The door to Belial's office burst open. Belial gave a jump of startlement. The fat, toad-bodied demon with the blue-gray complexion and the bulging orange eyes had been gazing into a mirror of illusion, lost in contemplation of his own cleverness and beauty, since in hell self-love replaces self-respect, and he hadn't heard the knock. In strode two brawny figures in pleated white kilts and tunics.

  "Who are you people?"

  "I am Odysseus," Odysseus said, "and this is Achilles."

  "Achilles and Odysseus," Belial said. "I've heard about you, of course, but I never expected to actually see you."

  "They don't let us out of Tartaros," Odysseus said. "We were too strong for them once. Now they won't permit us any manifestation except the archetypal one, which doesn't affect us anyway except in the form of publicity."

  "Oh, really. Too bad! It's a pity that you're not real. Some of our younger devils would enjoy hearing a lecture or breakfast meeting discussion with you. I'm sure you could teach us a great deal that would be useful."

  "We can discuss that some other time," Odysseus said. "A lecture tour is not completely out of the question. But now I'm here speaking on behalf of my friend, Achilles. A wrong has been done to him by one of your people."

  "You're representing Achilles, eh? Can't he speak for himself?"

  "Of course I can," Achilles said, piping up abruptly. "The trouble is, my speech is impetuous, like my nature. I tend to speak hastily and get myself into weird situations. They often end up in a fight, which I win, of course. But people don't usually like me. Everyone likes Odysseus, though."

  "That's enough, Achilles," Odysseus said. "Remember, I was going to do all the talking."

  "Sorry, Odysseus," Achilles said.

  "That's all right. If I am well liked it's because I'm sort of a demigod, interested in customs and ways, unlike you, Achilles, who thinks of nothing but war and killing."

  "I sure wish I could kill something now," Achilles said. "I'm nervous."

  "Calm yourself," Odysseus said. He turned again to Belial. "We have it on good authority that a demon of your command named Azzie captured one of our people, Helen of Troy, grabbed her out of Hades and away from her husband without so much as a by-your-leave. He gave her to a magician named Faust, who is having her engage in un-Greek adventures."

  "This surely can't be true," Belial said. "We servants of Darkness don't just grab dead people without their permission."

  "Perhaps you should check on it," Odysseus said.

  "Indeed I will." Belial pressed a button on his intercom. "Miss Siggs?"

  "Yes, Your Excellency."

  "Did you listen in on this conversation?"

  "Well, sort of, but it was purely accidental."

  "Never mind. Check into it and get back to me at once."

  "I don't have to check, Your Excellency. What those Greeks say is quite true. People are already making up stories about Azzie's abduction of Helen. It ought to make a very popular myth."

  "But damn it, he had no authorization to take her! There are rules, you know!"

  "Yes, Your Excellency. But no one seems to know quite what they are."

  "It's clear enough in this case," Belial said, for he was not about to give up an opportunity to get even with Azzie, who had been rude to him several times in self-criticism meetings.

  He shut off the intercom and turned to Odysseus and Achilles. "There seems to be some basis to your claim. I had nothing to do with it myself, however, and there's nothing I can do about it. You'd better talk to Mephistopheles, or to Azzie himself."

  "Where do we find them?" Achilles asked.

  "Actually, right now they're both busy with the contest."

  "What contest?"

  "It is the great Millennial contest between Dark and Light to decide who will rule mankind for the next thousand years."

  "What does Helen have to do with all that?" Odysseus asked.

  "I believe Azzie seized her to give to Faust as a prize."

  Achilles suddenly said, "We don't want any more talk. We want Helen back!"

  "Yes, that's right," Odysseus said. "That's the bottom line."

  "My dear fellow," Belial said, "I understand your position. But what can I do?"

  "Let us go do something ourselves," Odysseus said. "We don't need your help to rescue Helen."

  "You're fine upstanding fellows," Belial said. "But you have no power in this construct."

  "Perhaps not. But we have some important friends."

  "And who might they be?"

  Odysseus laid a finger along the side of his nose in a gesture of caution. "Don't speak their names unless you want them in the office here with you."

  Then Belial got it. Odysseus was talking about the Eumenides! Also know as Erinnyes, and as Furies! Some of those ancient constructs still had power, like Ananke herself. Belial decided this was not a good line for him to pursue.

  "If you think you can handle it," Belial said, "you go right ahead. You've got my permission." He frowned. "I don't want to seem critical, but you two don't have much in the way of bodies."

  "This is the best we could do," Odysseus said. "We're dead, you know."

  Tell you what," Belial said. "Here are two free passes to the Witches' Kitchen. Tell them to fix you up with bodies. Not all of us in Hell are as bad as some I could name."

  The hulking Arabian demon who stood guard at the door had seen some strange sights in his years of working at the Witches' Kitchen. But this was the first time this flabby, sloe-eyed, former citizen of Gehenna had seen two Greek heroes straight out of Homer come walking into his beauty salon. The demon knew at once who they were, because he had been a classical scholar before becoming doorman to an afterlife beautification service.

  "We never had any Greek heroes in before," he muttered. "Do you spirits have a certificate of reality?"

  Odysseus showed the certificate of temporary reality which Dis had given them. The senior witch put down her branding iron and came over and looked at the certificate, and at the passes Belial had given the heroes.

  She said, "It's all right, Tony, let them in."

  In the corporealizing treatment that followed, the big question was how much heroic musculature to give them. The witches decided not to go in too heavy for bulk, since speed and agility were necessary in most demigodlike pursuits.

  Several hours later, Achilles and Odysseus finished the beauty treatment that made them men again. They had used another spell from Odysseus' horsehide bag to take them back to Earth. They were resting under a tree now, not entirely sure of their exact whereabouts. But that didn't worry them. They had brought several days' provisions with them from the Witches' Kitchen. At least, it should have lasted for several days. But overcome by the novelty of corporeal food again, they had devoured it all for lunch.

  After dreaming about food for all those centuries, they hadn't known when to stop.

  "I'm full," Achilles said.

  "Me too," Odysseus said, "This is one day in which the wise Odysseus didn't eat too wisely. The pickled herring was delicious, though, wasn't it?"

  "I preferred the pate," Achilles said. "I think chopped liver is probably the greatest discovery of the world since our time. Remember how it used to be back in classical times? We always had to eat our liver grilled, with onions on the side. There wasn't even soy sauce in those days. Odysseus, how did we stand it
?"

  "We didn't know any better," Odysseus told him. "It would be hard to go back to the Trojan War and army provisions now, though, wouldn't it? Not that there's any chance."

  "I suppose not," Achilles said. "That was a good war, wasn't it, Odysseus?"

  "The best," Odysseus said. "There'll never be another like it. Remember when I defeated Ajax?"

  "I never got to see it," Achilles said. "I was already dead then, remember? You were fighting him for my armor." "Yes, and I won," Odysseus said.

  "It was a really great suit of armor," Achilles said wistfully. "With armor like that it was hard to lose.

  Wearing it I killed Cycnus and Troilus. But my greatest hit, of course, the one I'll always be known for in the record books, was killing Hector." "I know all about it," Odysseus told him. "I was just reminiscing. It was later that Paris got me with that sneaky arrow shot… In the heel, yet! Oh, well." He sighed and rubbed his belly. "That pate… Odysseus, about these bodies we have now…"

  "Yes?"

  "They're supposed to be good ones, aren't they?"

  "Yes, as I understand it, the best."

  "Well, I've got this pain right down here."

  He pointed to his abdomen.

  "That's nothing," Odysseus said. "It's a little muscle pull, or, more likely, overeating."

  "Are you sure it doesn't mean there's something wrong with me?"

  "They said these were sound bodies. You've had muscle pulls before."

  "I don't remember ever getting anything like this before. And my feet hurt."

  "That's because we've been running. Feet get sore when you run on them. Even when you walk on them."

  Achilles said, "Is this how it felt, back when we had bodies?"

  "I suppose it is," Odysseus said. "But we made much less of it then. We were in training. We were accustomed to the joys and sorrows of having bodies." "I don't mean to complain," Achilles said. "I'm stuffed, but I'm hungry again, too. And there doesn't seem to be anything to drink around here."

  "It's lucky there's not some chronicler around, listening to you," Odysseus said. "Imagine the great Achilles complaining about hunger and thirst!"

  "I must have said and felt those things back when we were living."

  "I don't remember you ever admitting you were hungry, Achilles. Mere food was beneath you. Your entire being was dedicated to glory." "It still is," Achilles said, standing up, wincing. "I think I'm developing a low back pain. Never mind, come on, let's go."

  "I'm quite ready," Odysseus said. "But the thing is, I don't know where we should go."

  Achilles looked around. He saw they were in a sunny meadow. There was a forest ahead, dark and verdant. Small birds flew overhead, singing their songs. A light breeze was blowing, and it had a fine clean scent about it. It was just past midday. The sun, now high in the sky, was golden and fine, warm but not hot. It was one of the better days either man could remember in a long time, and very unlike the typical days in Hades, where it is always on the verge of raining and the skies are the color of a really nasty bruise.

  "It's my old friends, the Eumenides," Odysseus said, walking up to the ladies, with Achilles following him.

  "Hello, Tisiphone, Alecto, hi, Megaera. You girls are a long way from dear old Hellas."

  "Hello, Odysseus," Alecto said. She was tall, with gray hair neatly marcelled. Her nose was a commanding beak, such as might have looked well on the prow of a man-of-war. "We expected you to come this way."

  "How could you have foreseen that?" Odysseus asked. "None but the witches know we are here."

  "We are sisters to the witches," Alecto said. "When we visited them in the Witches' Kitchen, they told us you'd be passing through here, which is the Meadow of the Interlude. In this place only good influences penetrate. That is why my sisters and I are not in our usual horrific form. That'll come later. Right now we can take a few minutes off and be nice."

  "I've always thought you were nice," Odysseus said. "And so has Achilles here. Come up here, Achilles.

  Do you know these ladies?"

  Achilles came up somewhat bashfully. "I believe I made their acquaintance briefly, once when I visited Orestes. Tell me, ladies, why do you search for Odysseus?"

  "It was our surest way of finding you!" Tisiphone cackled.

  Achilles turned pale. "And why did you wish to find me?"

  Alecto said, "It is our best way to find Faust and the stolen lady whom we seek. I refer, of course, to Helen, your wife."

  "Why do you want Helen?" Achilles asked.

  "We have nothing against her personally. She's booty, and she has to go back to Hades immediately. We are the enforcement arm of the Classical Construct Placement Division. Azzie Elbub, the demon who took her from Hades, had no right to do so. We do not approve of such things. We are going to return her to you. Are you not glad?"

  "Very glad," Achilles said, though now he was beginning to have his doubts. "It's what I'm here for myself."

  "Good," Alecto said. "We weren't entirely sure what you were up to. Too many heroes manage at last to get out of Hades and then spend all their time lollygagging around the Earth, forgetting their duty and just enjoying having a body again."

  MARLOWE

  CHAPTER 1

  It was a big day in London on that overcast but mild September 30, 1588 when the Rose Theater in Southwark reopened with the play Doctor Faustus, starring Edward Alleyn. Not only was this an important play, in view of its advance notices, but it was also the first play since the recent bout of plague had abated. This gave it a special panache, and ensured a full house. The people came early, before dawn even, long lines of them crawling from places even beyond the city, from Graveslines and Swiss Cottage and Hampton Court, from Shepherd's Mill and Reindeer's Head, from Baxby and Weltenshire, moving steadily in the steady rain. By ferry and by foot they crossed the Thames and London Bridge to await the trumpet that announced the beginning of the play.

  Early in the day before the performance, Mack and Mephistopheles met in London at the Tavern of the Drowned Man.

  "Gentlemen!" the publican said. "I did not see you arrive!"

  "That is because you were fooling with the serving wench," Mephistopheles said.

  "Not so, sir! I was behind the bar all this time, polishing the brass and chatting with Mistress Henley, who provides our daily repast."

  "Well, so what if you didn't see us arrive?" Mephistopheles demanded. "Do you believe that my friend and I conjured ourselves into your low abode?"

  "Not at all, my lord!" the publican declared. "It takes no witchcraft to come into this place! The door is always open and I am always ready for business! What may I bring Your Worships?"

  "A bottle of your best Malmsey should do nicely," Mephistopheles said. "What do you think, Doctor?"

  Mack had been gathering his wits about him, for the transition from Florence to London had been swift enough, and his clothing, which Mephistopheles had changed for him in midflight, was still unsettled. But with Mephistopheles elbowing him into the booth and the publican looking at him openmouthed, he soon recovered his native alacrity.

  "Malmsey will be fine," Mack said. "And was that orlotan pie I noticed on the shelf?"

  "Indeed it is, sir," the publican said.

  "Then bring us a couple of slices of that," Mack said, glancing to Mephistopheles, because he wasn't entirely sure that food was included in his traveling allowance.

  "Yes, and half a loaf of your best wheaten bread," Mephistopheles said. He smiled ingratiatingly. "Has Dr. John Dee been in this morning, perchance?"

  "Perhaps Dame Rumor will also tell you that my friend and I are quick to chastise if we do not receive our provender promptly."

  "I will see to it that the provender is brought forthwith!" the publican declared. "Polly! Get the lead out of it and serve these gentlemen their fare!" And so saying, he hurried off, the bar rag flapping from the back pocket of his broad-backed pantaloons.

  "What is this placer Mack asked, as soon as t
hey were alone. "And what did you do with Marguerite?"

  "I've left her in my waiting room in Limbo," Mephistopheles said. "You need no woman along for the task that lies before you this day. As for the where of it, this is London, my dear Faust, and the year is 1588, an eventful year for England, and for you."

  "For me?" Mack said. "Wherefore sayest thou?"

  "It is the year and day of the premiere of the first showing of that famous play based upon your life. I refer, of course, to the Tragical History of Doctor Faustus as enacted by the players of the Earl of Nottingham and with the nonpareil Edward Alleyn in the title role. But you must have known of this in Cracow through your necromantic musings."

  "Oh, yes, of course," said Mack, ever eager to take upon his shoulders the mantle of learning. "The famous play about me! And you've brought me here to see it! It is good of you, my dear Mephistopheles."

  Mephistopheles frowned. "I haven't brought you all this way to sit in an audience and suck an orange and applaud the lies a poet tells. There's work for you to do here."

  "Well, of course," Mack said. "I thought not otherwise. What would you have me do?"

  "Hearken," Mephistopheles said, and then desisted, for Polly, the serving girl, had arrived with the orlotan pies, which were actually made of sparrows, the wheaten bread, which turned out to be oaten, and the Malmsey, which was no more than vin ordinaire from Bordeaux. Still, it was as good as you could expect from a riverside pub in the momentous year of the Spanish Armada, with plague raging in the city and the duke of Guise with his thirty thousand Spanish veterans penned up in Scheveningen and snarling across the Channel. Mephistopheles and Mack fell to with good appetite. Presently Mephistopheles pushed his plate aside and said, "Now hearken to me, Faust, for you have work to do upon this day."

  "I am all ears," Mack said, "and eager to do your bidding."

  "Christopher Marlowe is the author of this play," Mephistopheles said, "and he will be in the audience tonight. After the performance—which will have notable success—he will meet with a certain man, and have a conversation with him."