The Arms Of Hercules

by Fred Saberhagen

  Danni was not yet certain, either. But the question was answered by one of the minor court officials when he realized we did not know. "Woe to us all! Our lovely queen is dead!"

  Any coherent information on the cause of death was hard to come by, and details were impossible. Contradictory reports were circulating. Yet the main point was inescapable: The beloved young queen was dead. Tragedy had struck the royal family less than a full day ago, and the news was only now being carried by the outlying portions of the realm. Yet tradition, as inflexible here as in many other places, decreed that an appointment made with foreign visitors must be kept.

  When the king at last made his appearance, the look on the face of our royal host was so lost, so doomed, that I could not keep from bursting out: "My lord king—my greatest sympathy!"

  Admetus turned his gaze in my direction, but he seemed to be looking through me—not out of rudeness, but in pain. He was young. I suppose no older than his wife had been, and seldom have I seen anyone so nearly bereft of his wits by grief. Now I could see that tears were glistening on his bearded cheeks. It was hard for him to choke out even a few words.

  "My wife, my queen—is dead."

  We all hastened to offer such condolences as we were able. I said to him again: "Majesty, my heartfelt sympathy! Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?"

  But the king could say no more at the moment, and abandoned himself once more to quiet weeping.

  The traditional feast of welcome, a form required by rigid local custom, was of course no feast at all. Indeed it was a meal in name only, as a succession of elaborate dishes came to the table and were taken away again untouched by any who sat there. Dancers and musicians there were none, but only the harsh sound of the distant gongs at random intervals.

  As soon as custom and courtesy allowed, the king arose, murmured a few indistinguishable words, and retreated to his quarters.

  At that the gathering broke up. Moments later, I, too, had risen from my chair. We were told that the king would see us again, later in the evening; meanwhile, we were free to move about the palace.

  Having located the room where I was to spend the night, I joined the other guests in wandering, and fell in with Danni and a young girl serving as her attendant.

  At any other time, the royal art collection would have made a considerable impression, but now our minds were too absorbed in tragedy. As we traversed a hallway, I was able to see, from two or three rooms away, where the dead body of the beloved queen lay in state, gowned in black on a bier of carven ebony. Around her a circle of armed attendants was standing motionless to form a guard of honor. Her comely face looked marvelously pale against the darkness of cloth and wood. Yet her body did not seem shrunken or wasted, or otherwise damaged in any way that I could see.

  The official to whom I had spoken earlier, and a court physician to whom I was also introduced, told me in response to my questions that a strange illness had come upon her very suddenly.

  Danni was moved again to tears.

  I tried to imagine what it would be like to hear that my own beloved Megan had been seized by death; but I soon shuddered inwardly and gave the effort up.

  "What was the nature of Her Majesty's illness?" I inquired when next I saw the court physician, no more than an hour later.

  "Nothing contagious," he answered shortly. Somewhere in the background, voices quavered in shrill mourning.

  "That was not my concern."

  He looked at me again and seemed to relax a little. "It was no disease, good Hercules. Nor was it violence, in the ordinary sense."

  The physician paused a moment and looked behind him over his shoulder before continuing in a lower voice. "The truth is that she fell victim to a visit from the God of Death himself."

  Still I did not quite understand. "I suppose we all do that, Doctor, sooner or later. But—?"

  He was shaking his head. "I am not speaking figuratively. I mean that an avatar of Thanatos was here, within these walls—may still be nearby, for all I know—as an active enemy of our king."

  "Ah. The king and the god had some dispute?"

  "It is a long story, and a tragic one. Suffice it to say that our good king has made an enemy against whom no mere mortal can have any defense." He shuddered slightly. "I don't know if you can understand. Few people have ever actually confronted any god, face-to-face."

  "I have," I said. And from the corner of my eye saw Danni turn her face toward me.

  "I see." It seemed that my informant believed my claim, and that had made me rise somewhat in his estimation. "Then perhaps you can understand. But this god . . ."

  Other people were approaching, and our conversation died away.

  * * *

  I might have retired early to my room, except for the king's promise that he would see his guests again, later in the evening. As matters fell out, I never learned precisely what was planned, perhaps some ritual of mourning that would have required the presence of us all at midnight. I was standing in a courtyard of the palace, in the presence of the king himself and several others, guests and members of the household, waiting to be told more, when to the surprise of us all, Thanatos actually appeared.

  The God of Death manifested himself, bearing in his arms the queen's dead body. He had emerged from one of the dark doorways leading into the far wing of the palace, looking as if he had every right to be where he was—and I am sure it is the same with any home he enters.

  I saw before me a human figure, that of a strong man somewhat taller than myself, draped in a long cloak of black and red. An unkempt dark beard rimmed the lower half of a fierce countenance. And there was just a hint, gone again before I could focus my mortal vision on them, of red and ghostly wings sprouting from broad shoulders. And I understood that once more I was looking at a god. At the same time, the figure before me was thoroughly human. In some way, that made it more frightening, but it was not nearly as overwhelming in its presence as Apollo, or even Hermes.

  Danni was outraged, and she clenched her small fists. "Ah, gods, this is unbearable!" Her voice was not loud, but in the silence clearly audible. Death seemed to pay it no attention.

  In the next moment she had fastened an appealing gaze on me.

  "Oh, if only we could do something! Ah, if my brother was only here! But no, Mel is only human, as mortal as you and I."

  I tried to find some words of comfort, but there were none. Meanwhile, Death was carrying the dead queen easily in his arms. So, it is said, Death conveys all whom he harvests to the Underworld; but we all stared, for none of us had ever seen the like before, and I hope I never see it again.

  We all, as I say, were standing as if paralyzed, and Thanatos would almost certainly have borne away his prey unchallenged, had he not chosen to delay. But as he walked across the terrace toward the open garden, his eye fell upon me. It was obvious that he recognized me and was not going to let the occasion pass unmarked.

  When I saw the way he looked at me, I wondered why such enmity. Was this avatar of Death perhaps a friend of Hera? A question crossed my mind as to whether the God of Death might have defected to the Giants' side, in hopes of being placed in some position of authority when they had finally broken the power of the Olympians on earth. Or was he simply, cravenly, hoping that the Giants would allow him to survive, when all the other Olympians had been wiped out? I had known for some time that Zeus had enemies among the gods, though I doubted that any of them were going to try to strike at him directly.

  On the other hand, I supposed it might be possible that Thanatos really cared little, one way or the other, about what Zeus might think. And that this was simply some feud of his with the local king and had nothing to do directly with the great war on which all of my attention had been focused.

  He let the black-draped body of the queen slide casually from his grip, as if it had been no more than a slaughtered sheep or deer. Then the God of Death, keeping his smiling gaze fixed on me, assumed a negligent pose with folded arms and e
mpty hands, leaning against one of the columns supporting the roof of a cloister. It was a gesture of leisurely arrogance that seemed to say he wanted to establish himself in a position from which he could give me his full attention.

  A tomblike hush had fallen over the entire courtyard; all was so quiet that I could hear the very faint crackling noise of one of the torches in its wall sconce. But more and more people were gathering, and it seemed that with every heartbeat a new face appeared in one of the windows on the upper level, or on the open side of the courtyard, where terrace sloped and blended gradually into a formal garden.

  The god allowed the pause to build dramatically before he finally spoke, in a cracked and grating voice.

  "You are Hercules." He seemed to make the mere statement of my name a kind of accusation. Somewhere in the distance, one of the gongs of mourning made its random, crashing sound.

  "I am," I replied. About then it crossed my mind to wonder whether the Death God was perhaps upset that I had slain Antaeus, with whom Thanatos might have formed some kind of alliance.

  Thanatos nodded with the air of a judge confirming a verdict; it was as if I had pleaded guilty, and he now prepared to pronounce the appropriate sentence.

  "You are a mortal who has grand ideas about himself," the god went on. "I understand that you are trying to find your way to the Underworld?"

  Nothing had ever been further from my thoughts. But I had no intention of meekly submitting for Death's approval any itinerary I might decide on. "And if I am?"

  "I can arrange swift passage there for you." And Thanatos smiled an evil smile.

  My anger was growing rapidly, driving my own fear before it, and I said: "Before I decide whether to accept your invitation, God of Death, there is a question that I wish you would answer for me."

  The dark head bowed. An emanation of cold seemed to proceed from the powerful, twisted figure. "Out of courtesy to your father, I allow you to ask it."

  "It is this. What kind of human would deliberately put on that Face that you are wearing? What sort of man are you, who wanted to become Death? What kind of—of creature—would pick up that ghastly thing, the Face of Death, and press it against his own eyes and nose and mouth, eager to have that sink into his brain?"

  Even before I had finished speaking, a very faint hushed gasp went up from the still-growing crowd.

  My contempt and defiance were harsh and plain in my voice, and Death was almost gaping at me, as if he could hardly believe either his eyes or ears.

  I had one more good look at Danni, and even from the corner of my eye I could see that her eyes were wide, whether in fright or exhilaration I could not tell.

  Presently my antagonist recovered himself sufficiently to speak. "You do indeed have grand ideas. You think that you are strong, young mortal Hercules. It is time you learned something about real strength." Having got over his moment of shock at my defiance, he was as smug, self-satisfied, and certain as any Linus or any lion had ever been.

  After a pause he added: "One touch of my hand and you will die."

  "I do not think so," my anger answered him.

  "I am a god," the slayer said.

  "And I, the son of a far greater god than you."

  Death's eyes glittered, and I saw the fingers of his right hand working, as if they hungered to grasp and smother. "That may be so, but your father is not here now to save you. I have seen a thousand sons and daughters of Zeus, and gathered them all in. Whether or not he will think you worth trying to ransom, we will discover. Now come along." And he reached out his hand toward me, the gesture of a parent commanding a reluctant child.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A Brawl with Death

  I stepped forward and walked toward Thanatos, not in obedience but with a purpose of my own.

  Death abandoned his lounging pose, stood up straight, and fastened his grip upon my left arm. Cold fear struck through me, but I was determined not to yield.

  At the moment when Thanatos touched me, I felt a great drain of power and strength, of the very force of life itself. Yet so deep was the reservoir with which Zeus had endowed me that my life stayed in my body, and my body retained its strength. Instead of standing meekly in the grip of Death, I raised my right fist high and struck at him. It was no skilled boxer's blow, but still a solid punch, one that would have killed a mortal man. It grazed his bearded chin and hit him in the chest, and his grip on my arm was broken and he fell back awkwardly, his cloak of red and black swirling about him.

  Briefly I had the feeling that I was once more grappling with the Giant Antaeus, but that image did not last. The force arrayed against me now was far greater, though of course Thanatos was not nearly so large as the Giant had been. He was tougher than the Hydra, and I was handicapped by not having my club immediately available.

  I had to pummel my opponent with my fists for some time to do him any damage. Meanwhile he struck no real blows, nor did he even attempt any common wrestling holds. Instead he continued to paw and grapple, in the way that only Death can do, trying to draw my life out of my body; but the power of life in me was too great.

  Without taking my gaze from my opponent for a moment, I could see from the rim of my vision that the courtyard had become a kind of informal boxing or wrestling ring, surrounded by what must have been half the population of the palace, the other half having precipitately fled.

  I bombarded pawing Death with another flurry of punches, and again he went stumbling backward, circling slowly in retreat. From his mouth there came a keening wail of astonishment and rage, along with a trickle of blood, and now I heard the first, soft, unbelieving murmur from the watching crowd, who earlier must have been too shocked to breathe.

  Death stepped back, and I advanced.

  I was awkward and unskilled in fighting, but so, as I soon realized, was my opponent. Again and again I landed awkward, untaught, swinging blows, any one of which would have pulped the skull or crushed the ribs of any mere human, mangled any natural beast that walked the earth. They did not kill the God of Death, or even break his bones, but again and again they staggered him and knocked him down. Now I saw in his eyes the beginning of understanding that it was truly my father's power that lived in my blood and muscles.

  Yet so strong were pride and hatred in my enemy that again and again he leaped to his feet, his cloak flying and the shadowy images of his wings, and hurled himself at me once more.

  My own pride, and my anger, were now at full tide. I sent my right fist deep into my charging enemy's midsection, as hard as I could throw it, so that the god gasped and stood for a moment paralyzed, bent almost double. In that moment I drove my left fist down against his head, directly overhand, as if I were pounding a spike through iron. The stone of the patio cracked beneath my victim's feet.

  Thus the Death God fell, for the fourth or fifth time. Even under such an impact, Thanatos still did not lose consciousness. But he, and I, and everyone who watched us, knew that he was hopelessly beaten.

  I stepped back, like a sportsmanlike boxer, waiting for my opponent to try to rise again.

  He raised his face, forehead all smeared with divine blood, and gave me a strange and desperate look, in which terror and disbelief were mingled. Then he began to crawl away. After crawling a few yards Thanatos regained his feet, but kept his back to me and did not pause in his limping, staggering retreat. The circle of watchers, silent again in awe, parted rapidly at his approach. This avatar of Death was not yet dead, but it seemed that his vitality was dangerously low.

  At first he hobbled toward the spot where he had set down the pale queen, as if still determined to take her; but I moved quickly to stand in his way, and the God of Death shuddered and reversed himself again.

  Thanatos abandoned to me not only the field, but his victim as well, and it seemed he had all that he could do to drag himself away. Before his creeping progress had brought him to the edge of the terrace beside the garden, where anxious onlookers went scurrying ever farther at his
approach, his body briefly became transparent and then disappeared. The last I saw of him was the malignant look he turned at me, over his shoulder, just before he vanished.

  I turned to look for Danni, but could not immediately locate her in the suddenly milling crowd.

  Alcestis the queen, her face as pale as the fate that she had just escaped, still lay where Death had set her down. Her eyes were closed, but we all saw with a shock of joy that she was breathing now. Thanatos had drained her life force away almost to the dregs, but when he was punished, his own existence threatened, what he had drained flowed back to her. Her loving family and her attendants flocked around her with cries of rapture. Soon, in the arms of her rejoicing husband, she had recovered fully from her seeming death.

  All the crowd who had watched the fight were awestricken by the power I had demonstrated. Some were already prostrating themselves before me, as if in worship of a god; but I made known my displeasure, and they quickly got to their feet again.

  When King Admetus could finally tear himself away from his young wife, he came to me and swore his eternal gratitude, and made extravagant promises of the rewards he was going to give me; and I was very young, and I admit that I believed him for a time.

  His cheeks still streamed, but now his tears expressed his joy.

  "Half my kingdom, Hercules! I swear by Zeus and by Apollo, that half of everything I own is yours!"

  Perhaps I am unjust, and he would really have honored his promise, had I not declined the offer.

  "I have no need of kingdoms, Majesty. To give me charge of such immense and complicated matters would only inflict on me an enormous burden."

  Then Admetus changed his offer, to endless amounts of jewels and gold and slaves, and swore that he would hear no refusal on my part. But when the promises later turned out to be empty, I was not much upset. The truth was that there was really nothing I needed that was in his power to give.