“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 wo
rk! 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.”
But the guardsman didn’t hear the last sentence. He had wheeled his horse and galloped out of the courtyard. This did not surprise Copreus. He knew that everyone feared the king. He went slowly toward the throne room, trying to prepare himself for the worst. For he fully expected to receive a skull-shattering blow from the king’s scepter before he finished his tale.
Eurystheus was staring at him as he approached the throne, bowing deeply. He couldn’t read the expression on the king’s fat face. “Sire,” he cried. “The people of Nemea are hailing you as their savior.”
“Are they?” asked Eurystheus. “Why?”
“Because of the young hero you sent them. He has slain the Nemean Lion that has been terrorizing the countryside.”
“I warned Hera,” muttered the king. “I advised her to let him fight the Hydra first because it is more deadly by far.”
“What’s the Hydra, Sire?”
“A monster that will be Hercules’ second task, and should have been his first. Listen carefully now because you are to meet this accursed hero outside the gates and give him his assignment.”
“But, Your Majesty, he’ll want to meet you personally. He told me before he left that he wished to receive your thanks when he returned with the lion’s hide.”
“I won’t see him! I won’t,” bellowed the king. “Make some excuse. Tell him anything, I don’t care. Meet him outside the walls and dispatch him immediately upon his next task. Be clever now. Try to use your head while it’s still on your shoulders. Convey to him my gratitude for his great deed, and assure him that I’ll thank him in person when he comes back after killing the Hydra. Which he won’t do, of course, if I can believe Hera.”
“What is this Hydra exactly? I’ll have to describe it to Hercules.”
“I’ll tell you what Hera told me.”
And Eurystheus described the Hydra to Copreus, who felt his bones turning to jelly as he listened. He didn’t linger in the throne room. He bowed his way out. By the time he reached his own chambers he was reeling with despair.
“Oh my,” he moaned. “When I try to tell Hercules about this horrible beast, he’ll take me between those big hands of his and twist my neck like a chicken. On the other hand, if I don’t tell him, I won’t have any head for him to twist off, because the king will cut it off. Woe is me … Woe … Woe …”
“Don’t be sad, sir,” said a voice.
He whirled around. It was Iole.
“How did you get here?” he cried.
“I followed you from the throne room. I wanted to tell you not to be sad because I’ll go tell Hercules about the Hydra.”
“You? What do you know about that monster?”
“I was in the throne room, hiding behind the throne. I heard what the king said to you.”
“What do you mean sneaking around, eavesdropping, you little fool? Do you know what will happen if the king catches you?”
“Oh, he’s too full of himself to notice anyone else. Besides, that old throne room is full of shadows. And it’s hard to see me when I’m hiding.”
“But Hercules is a very dangerous fellow. He’s liable to get furious when he hears what his next task is to be.”
“He won’t hurt me. He likes children.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“I know …”
When Hercules came to Mycenae bearing a huge bundle that was the hide of the Nemean Lion, he found the gates locked against him. He thought about ripping them off their hinges, but decided not to. Instead, he camped outside the city. He thrust his spear into the ground, draped the lion hide over it, making a big tent, and went to sleep.
When he awoke the next morning, he found a child waiting outside his tent—a curious cat-faced girl who stared at him with enormous green eyes. He stared back. He saw that she was trying to look very serious but couldn’t quite do it because her face was brimming with glee.
“Good morning, Missy,” he said.
“My name is Iole. And you are Hercules, prince of Thebes, champion of mortal against monster, and vanquisher of the Nemean Lion whose hide now serves as your tent.”
Hercules shook his head in wonder. “How old are you?”
“I’m not sure,” said Iole. “We don’t do that kind of counting where I come from. I’m supposed to be quite young though. Not old enough to be married yet, if that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t mean that at all,” said Hercules.
“But I’m ready to be betrothed.”
“Are you? To whom?”
“To you, of course,” said Iole.
“To me?”
“What you must do is ask me to marry you. And I’d say yes. And you’d tell me you know I’m too young but you’d gladly wait till I’m old enough. That’s how you do it.”
“You’re a
n amazing child. Very pretty, and almost too clever. But I’m in no position to ask anyone to wait for me. In this line of work, I don’t figure to last too long.”
“Oh, I’ll help you with your work.”
“How?”
“That’s what I’ve come to do now.”
“What do you mean?”
“First of all, I’m the one who comes from Eurystheus to tell you what your next task will be.”
“My dear girl, you have a very nimble imagination. The one who assigns me my tasks is the king’s doer of dirty jobs, one named Copreus.”
“I know, I know, but not this time. For what you must do next is so dreadful that Copreus was afraid you’d kill him on the spot when he told you about it. So he sent me instead.”
“Sent you? What kind of man is he?”
“Not bad in some ways. A coward, of course. But the king is worse. Don’t you want me to tell you about your next task?”
“I take it you’re not afraid of me?”
“Not a bit. Should I be?”
“No. Go ahead with your story. I’m prepared for the worst.”
“Oh, it’s as bad as can be all right,” said Iole cheerfully. “You are to go to Argos, to a river named Lerna, where dwells the Hydra.”
“And what may that be?”
“The last word in fearsomeness. A kind of dragon basically. Seems to have a hundred heads though, every one of them filled with teeth. And one flail of its spiked tail can mow down a phalanx of armored men. It eats a pastureful of cattle in one meal, plus any herdsmen who happen to be around. It spits out sheep because it doesn’t like the taste of wool, but leaves them dead, nevertheless. In fact, the people of Argos are in a very bad way because of this monster and have sent their bravest warriors against it. And not one of them came back.”
“This thing dwells in the river Lerna, you say?”
“It hunts during the day and sleeps in the river at night. And comes out again in the morning.”
“Very well. Thank you. I’m off.”
Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two Page 4