To Tiresias I said: "But there was no reason to think I'd be a king anyway, was there? Amphitryon's not royalty, nor is there any such thing on my mother's side. I've never been in line for the throne, or anywhere near it."
The blind man shrugged. He seemed gently amused. "I only said there was a prophecy—certainly that was not one of mine. You know what prophecies in general are like—or perhaps you are still too young to have heard very many of them. The less sense they make, the more people are impressed by them. And the harder it is to tell whether they are fulfilled or not."
"But, I repeat, I don't want to be a king. I wouldn't have his throne or his crown if you gave them to me."
"I know that." A pause. "The truth is that you were destined for greater things."
"Such as what?"
"Time will tell."
Now we were walking on again. I thought that in any case the old man would tell me what he wanted to tell me, no more and no less, so I did not bother to press him.
I said: "So, let His Majesty hide himself in a bronze pot, if it makes it easier for him to talk with me. Very likely I will want to talk to him again." At the time I fully expected there to be some opposition to the marriage I planned.
And on that day I left the palace wondering whether the bronze casket did not simply represent a great joke by the blind prophet, who had chosen this means of making the king look ridiculous, and thus getting even with him for something.
Before leaving home again, I took care to make Megan legally my wife, in a full public ceremony, so both she and my son would have such social standing and protection as my name could give them.
The loss of one slave could hardly make much practical difference in the vast royal household. And the young king must have been pleased to see me taking a wife who could not, according to any rational calculation, be of the slightest help to me in any dynastic struggle.
Meanwhile Amphitryon and Iphicles, though they raised mild formal objections to the wedding, I think were secretly relieved to see me marrying so far below my station. What could have been a thorny problem for my foster father, of negotiating alliances by arranging a marriage for me, was thus taken out of his hands. But I knew that my mother, if she still could watch me from the Underworld, would be sad to see me united with one who had worn the collar of a slave. The gods alone knew what dreams of greatness, as she understood greatness, she had still been cherishing for me.
On the night after the ceremony, when my bride and I were in bed together, the one I loved, who I had thought for a time was sleeping, suddenly turned over and whispered to me.
"You are so gentle, Hercules. As you always were."
The gods knew I had tried to be gentle, with her especially. "You do not fear me, then? My strength?"
"Fear you?" she seemed astonished. "No."
And the baby in his nearby cradle cried, a tiny whimper first, swiftly building to a lusty yell. And Megan caught him up and began to nurse him at her breast, which brought quick silence; and in that peaceful bed I slowly drifted off to sleep, in what seemed the most perfect rest that I had ever known.
Chapter Seventeen
Apollo
I was happy to enjoy a week of dalliance with my new bride and to amuse myself with speculation about what happy achievements my son might someday be able to attain. But of course I was not going to remain peacefully at home in Cadmia for any considerable length of time. Even had no summons come from great Zeus himself, still I doubtless would soon have found some other quest to carry me away from the peace and security of home.
Attached to the house, which had been a wedding gift from King Eurystheus, was a small staff of servants, none of whom were slaves; no doubt some were the king's spies, but that did not worry me, as I had nothing to conceal. It was no less luxurious than the manor in which I had grown up, even if it was smaller than I would have liked. Actually I felt somewhat reassured because it was not too close to the palace. The upper strata of Cadmian society would never be really open to this former servant girl and slave, I supposed. I expected that they would be for my son, someday. But that was a matter he would have to work out for himself when he was grown.
Enkidu had dropped in for a visit, and stood frowning thoughtfully at the baby I was holding. Then he asked me: "What will he be, do you suppose? A warrior?"
"I hope not," I said, without thinking. My nephew gave me a puzzled look.
So far he had not enjoyed his stay at home nearly as much as I had. Enkidu chafed under the close attention of his father, and on the day after our arrival was already suggesting to me that it was time to be off again on some new adventure.
But then in succeeding days I heard no more suggestions from him along that line—being busy with my own new family affairs, I gave the matter little thought at the time.
Our visitor had only just departed when a shadow fell across a window, and I thought for a moment that he had come back. Megan, peering out of the house, was tremendously impressed when she caught a glimpse of the one who had come calling.
Her mouth and eyes were round with astonishment, and she pointed toward the outside with one finger, seemingly almost unable to speak. "Hercules! It is . . . it is . . ."
I had been trying to estimate the strength with which my son could grip my finger. But now I came to the window and caught a glimpse as well. "I know who it is, my love." Gently I put her aside. "Wait here, while I go out and talk to him."
"Hercules—?"
"It's all right." I patted my wife's arm. "No harm will come to me. The Messenger and I are required to have these little conversations every now and then."
But my jaunty attitude began to drain away when I stepped out into our small rear courtyard and beheld the somber expression on the face of Hermes.
"Daedalus and Vulcan," Hermes assured me when we were quite alone, "both send their thanks for the sample of Apple you provided them. And of course for the other objects also."
"That's good." I had hoped that the other objects would be more than mere jars of mud when they reached their destination. "They are quite welcome. . . . Lord Hermes, did you say Vulcan? Do you mean the god Hephaestus? The Smith himself?"
Hermes seemed faintly pleased that he had managed to startle and impress me. "That is who I mean. Hephaestus vouches that all the samples you have furnished them have been of inestimable help."
"I rejoice to hear it, even if I don't begin to understand just what Vulcan and Daedalus are doing. Now, Lord Messenger, will you answer another question for me?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps you can also guess what it is: When will my father see me?"
"Before he does, Hercules, there is one more task you must perform."
"Ah." I put my hand on the branch of a fruit tree but restrained myself from breaking it off. "Does it surprise you, Lord Hermes, that I am not astonished by your answer?"
As usual, Mercury remained imperturbable. "What Zeus asks of you now is a mission more important than any you have previously undertaken—I am quoting your father's very words. And he solemnly assured me that he is ready to see you as soon as you have completed this next assignment."
I had been perfectly prepared for any kind of an indefinite answer. This sudden acceptance of my demand, even qualified as it was, left me not knowing what to say.
Again Hermes seemed to be smiling faintly. At last I got out: "I promise to undertake any task that my father may set, if he will promise to meet me immediately afterward."
The Messenger raised an aristocratic eyebrow. "Do you not want to hear first what the task is?"
I could feel my face reddening. "I have said what I have said."
Mercury nodded slowly. He turned his head this way and that, studying our surroundings, eyeing the open windows of the house. Then he said: "Let us find a place where we can be comfortable while we talk. It is not a matter that can be spelled out in a dozen words."
Turning out of the courtyard, we moved through a small passage, scree
ned by arbors and grapevines, leading to the small orchard in the rear of the house. There my distinguished visitor adopted a thoughtful attitude, strolling with his hands clasped behind his back.
Hermes said: "You have of course heard of Mount Olympus, home of the gods from ancient times. It was long the favorite dwelling place of Zeus."
"Yes, of course I've heard of it. But do I understand you to say that Zeus lives there no longer?"
"Sadly that is true—but where Zeus dwells now is not our immediate concern. I mention Mount Olympus because somewhere in the vicinity of that place there lives—I should say exists—a man called Prometheus."
I shook my head: No, I had never heard of him.
Mercury went on. "This Prometheus has for a long time suffered a strange and terrible punishment, of which confinement is only the lesser part. Your father sets you the task of locating this sufferer, ending his torment, and setting him free. In the process—and this is the most important part—you must learn from Prometheus whatever he knows about the nature and whereabouts of a Giant named Atlas."
"I see," I said slowly. "And then, having done that much, I am supposed to find Atlas. And then—?"
Hermes held up a restraining hand. "Your father may want you to look for Atlas also. But that will come later. I meant what I said, Hercules. Zeus will see you, face-to-face, as soon as you have found Prometheus and gained his knowledge. Your father will want to hear from you directly what you have learned."
Briefly I considered this, while the god and I kept walking. Then I stopped in my tracks. "I have said I'll do it and I will, whatever it takes. But tell me more about this Prometheus. How is he confined, and what are the other parts of his strange punishment?"
The Messenger picked some fruit from a tree and tasted it with appreciation. For a moment or two he looked no more than human.
Then he said: "Long ago—no need to worry about exactly how long ago, or why—Prometheus was an enemy of Zeus. Of some earlier avatar of the god, I mean, long before your father's time."
"I see. And the nature of the man's punishment?"
"I believe he is chained to a rock." Mercury suddenly seemed oddly uncertain and, I thought, uncomfortable. "There is also, I think, a large and ugly bird involved. Or maybe several of them. Kill the birds if they get in your way. Now I have told you all I really know. You are going to have to deal with the details as best you can."
But then the great god suddenly recalled one detail that he wanted to convey. "Oh, and one more thing. When you set the man free, Zeus wants you to leave some small fragment of the chain attached to him. That way, a certain oath once sworn by an earlier avatar of Zeus need not be broken."
We had resumed our pacing under the fruited trees. I said: "And oaths, of course, are tremendously important."
"Of course."
"All right. I can do all that." The story of the oath and the strange punishment intrigued me, but I was not going to pursue it now. "Tell me where I can find Prometheus."
"That I cannot do."
Once more my feet stopped moving in the grass. For the space of several deep breaths the Messenger and I studied each other in silence. Then I said: "Lord Hermes, I have promised to perform this task. Now, tell me, are you playing some kind of game with me? Or giving me a test? Do you have some reason to want to make the job more difficult?"
"Not at all, Hercules. I will answer any other questions you may have, if I can."
I drew a deep breath and let it out.
"Very well, I do have several. To begin with, why send me, or anyone? Either you or my mighty father could reach this Prometheus much more swiftly than I can, even if I use the Skyboat. Especially if you really do know where to find this chained man, which I suppose you must. Either of you gods, I am sure, would make short work of any difficulties the man may be having with rocks and chains and birds."
Hermes was silent, staring gloomily at nothing.
"The chief reason we are sending you instead of a god," he said at last, "is that there are probably Giants in his vicinity."
"I see. And Giants really do pose that much of a danger to you, or to Zeus, that you are not going to risk your necks by going near them."
Gray eyes turned on me with such a look that at last I began to be a little frightened. Mercury said: "We would not pretend that it is so, if it were not. I thought that on Corycus they had explained these matters to you." At last the god was starting to grow angry. "Hercules, you take grave risks! Remember you are mortal. There are gods who would crush you like an insect if you spoke to them with such insolence."
"I see," I said again, and briefly bowed my head. "Very well, Lord Messenger, I dispute with you no more. I have sworn I will do this service for my father, and I will. Where is Olympus? Tell me that much at least, and I'll be on my way."
This time I really did expect a simple answer. But instead of giving me one, Hermes only seemed to grow even more uncomfortable. He hurled the fruit core from him, only a casual motion of his arm, but the soft missile went ripping like a slung stone through the leaves of another tree.
Turning back to me at last, he said, "That is another thing I cannot tell you."
"The location of Mount Olympus?" I was incredulous. "Cannot or will not?"
The Messenger now looked more ill at ease than I had ever seen him, though it seemed he had reasoned himself out of his anger, or got rid of it some other way. He said: "I can give you a rough idea of where it is, and Prometheus, too. But I cannot reveal to you his precise location, or that of Mount Olympus, either, because I no longer know. The truth is, I have forgotten both. I had forgotten the very existence of Prometheus until Zeus reminded me."
There was silence for a little while, and I could feel a cold chill creeping down my spine. Eventually I nerved myself to ask: "Lord Hermes, is one of us mad?"
"You are not mad, Hercules. As for myself, the question is not so simply answered—but yes, I am partially deranged, at least when it comes to memory. And so is every god I know."
I sat there for what seemed a long time, not knowing what to say. For the first time I began to realize how grim was our situation regarding the Giants.
Eventually Hermes began to speak again. It came out that all the gods, or all of them with whom he had had any recent contact, had fought skirmishes with Giants who used their secret weapon, or had been attacked by their great enemies from ambush, and all the gods, or almost all, had forgotten pretty much the same things.
I was under more than ordinary strain, and my temper got the best of me. Also I was very young and had not yet been much pounded by my world. I said: "So, your brains have all more or less gone rotten."
That got me glared at again, and for a moment I was afraid that I had indeed gone too far. In a voice that made me wince and recoil, despite myself, he barked out: "Hear me, mortal! We who appeal for your help are the wounded veterans of a great war!"
I apologized for my rudeness. But presently I had taken up the argument again, though on a considerably lower key. "You, a god, expect me, a mortal, to find Olympus for you, as well as this fellow who is somehow bound to a rock?"
Hermes tried to be reassuring. "The search may occupy you for some time, Hercules. But there is every reason to believe you will succeed."
Most of the citizens of Cadmia were really pleased to see me looking for my club and making other preparations to leave home again, though of course they expressed their regrets when I told them I was going. Young king Eurystheus was especially two-faced. As he peered out from under his bronze lid during my farewell audience, I could see in his eye a glint of self-satisfaction at how cleverly he was blocking my plans to seize his throne. Meanwhile he halfheartedly offered me an escort of warriors on the expedition I was about to undertake. I courteously declined, not wanting to be burdened with a squadron of mouths to somehow feed, of minds to argue with, and of bodies to keep out of trouble
Before leaving, I made sure that Megan and little Hyllus were established comfor
tably in our new house.
After telling Megan that I was ready to push on, I informed Enkidu before telling anyone else, more or less assuming that he would choose to accompany me again.
But when my nephew heard the news, his eyes did not light up as I had expected. He briefly hesitated, and then told me: "I'm not going with you this time. Herc."
"Ah." For a moment I was astonished, but as soon as I took thought on the matter, surprise vanished. My nephew was now almost fourteen years old and he told me he wanted to stay home and marry the girl who had grown to be attractive in his eyes. Once my mother and Amphitryon had intended that I should marry her, but there was no longer any hope of that. Also the wealth that would come with the wedding was beginning to loom up real and solid in Enkidu's eyes.
I reminded my old comrade that if he settled down and stayed home, the army, and the chronic war, were waiting for him in a year or two, as soon as his father thought him old enough to fight.
But Enkidu had already taken these matters into consideration. "I know, but it sounds like the war's about over. At last. And by the Underworld, Unc, you don't need me. You can get anyone you want to come with you now. You're really getting to be famous."
When it came time for me to depart from the happy cottage where Megan and I had enjoyed a sort of honeymoon, I took my leave with some regret, made sharper by the tears of my young wife. But in my heart I had never abandoned my quest to learn all I could about my father and finally to confront him face-to-face. And however attractive home and hearth might be, particularly after a long wandering, it was a man's business to be out and active in the world.
Getting back to the place where we had left the Skyboat, and where I hoped to find it waiting for me, would entail a long overland journey. But this time I was riding a good cameloid from the start. On the eve of my departure, a number of people offered various gifts, all calculated, as I thought, to speed me on my way. A few others, would-be adventurers, had volunteered to accompany me, though I had told no one where I was going or on what mission. None seemed desirable as companions, and firmly I told them that I preferred to go alone.
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