by Joe Corcoran
but they were too far away. One or two had the strength to reach the ship, but these bounced harmlessly off the wooden sides, falling down to be lost in the water. Then the trading vessel was in the open sea, where no normal horse could follow, and the sailors were cheering.
“Are we safe?” asked Iolaus.
Hearing the cheers he had emerged from below decks, where he had been looking after the bull. He looked around the galley and stopped, the smile fading from his face.
“Where’s Hercules?”.
The cheering faded away, and the captain laid a hand gently on Iolaus’ shoulder.
“Your friend stayed on the quay to launch the ship. Without him we’d not have got out of the harbour in time. He saved all our lives.”
Iolaus ran to the stern, shielding his eyes against the sun and scanning the harbour for any sign of Hercules. Seeing nothing, his body drooped like a rag doll and he sank his head into his hands.
“Hercules. Hercules,” he sobbed, “what should I do now?”
“You could – cough – start – splutter – by pulling me in!” came the unexpected reply from the sea behind the galley. Iolaus started, and looked down to see Hercules being dragged through the water in the wake of the ship. He had tight hold of the stern rope, and was slowly pulling himself, hand over hand, towards safety. Now that they saw him, Iolaus and the sailors also heaved on the rope. They were soon dragging the heavy man over the rail and onto the galley, where he fell to the deck, panting. Everyone was overjoyed to see him safe and well. Iolaus grinned broadly as the captain slapped him on the back, and the sailors raised another cheer, but the celebration was short lived.
“Sails!” called the lookout, “Sails to starboard.”
Sure enough, there were three ships emerging from behind a headland to their right. Each ship bore the symbol of the double headed axe on its sail. It was a squadron from the Minoan Navy, come to catch them. The captain ran to the steersman, and together they started to turn the rudder to head away from the enemy.
“Sails to port,” shouted the lookout again, as another squadron of ships appeared to their left.
Now there was no choice but to steer straight out to sea, and the Minoan ships closed in from either side. The captain and his crew were good sailors, but their vessel was built for trading not for speed, it would not be long before they were caught. Grimly the captain gave orders to trim the sails and to prepare for a fight. He watched left and right as the enemy ships closed in, concentrating so hard that they began to waver before his eyes. He blinked, but still the Minoans looked blurry, and he realised that a mist was descending.
“Captain,” cried the lookout, pointing forwards. Although the mist was now thickening fast, he could see the silhouette of a huge man in a chariot, floating on the waves close to the horizon. Seeing a way out, the captain began to bark orders.
“Head for the chariot. Tighten that sail, and everyone, from now on – silence.”
Then he stalked over to where Iolaus and Hercules were standing, “The Minoan Navy, Poseidon’s chariot, a sea mist with the wind blowing strong and that great white bull. If we live through this then you two have some explaining to do.”
Iolaus opened his mouth to reply, but the captain motioned him to be silent. The galley moved on through the water, with only the creak of wood and rope sounding out as it climbed over each new wave. The mist was thick now, and all aboard strained their ears for any sound from their pursuers. For a while there was nothing, then the familiar noises of ships at sea started to arrive, drifting to them over the water. Orders being given, sailors grumbling, the crack of canvas. It was certain that the Minoan ships were near, but the sounds seemed to bounce around inside the mist, making it impossible to tell how many there were or whether they were in front or behind. The sounds came nearer so that Iolaus, who was practically holding his breath in his efforts to be silent, could hear the conversations of the Minoan sailors.
“…could be anywhere in here … quiet, we have to listen for them … steady ahead everyone …”
Suddenly there was a shout, and this time it definitely came from behind them, “I see them, off the starboard bow. We have them, ram them, get alongside.”
Iolaus turned to look over the stern, where he was sure now that he could see dark shapes moving in the mist. Any moment, he expected to see the prow of an enemy ship burst out of the fog and crash into them, sending them all to the bottom of the ocean. Now he really did hold his breath, and his heart pounded louder and slower so that he could easily count the beats. One. Two. Three. Four. Before the fifth beat, a tremendous crash sounded from behind them, and a confusion of voices poured forth.
“We got them … board them … “
“That’s us, you fools.”
“… Glannos, what are you doing on the enemy vessel?”
Clearly two of the Minoan ships had collided and, from the sounds of other crashes, bangs and cracks, some of the others might also have found each other in the mist. Best of all, this was happening behind the trading vessel, which now seemed to pick up speed, as if carried on an invisible current.
On they went, with the sounds of confusion among the Minoan squadrons growing fainter all the time, until they burst forth into the clear, evening light, the mist forming a solid wall behind them. Now it became clear why they were moving faster than the gentle wind should have allowed. On either side of the galley was an enormous fish. Together they held the traders’ vessel, pinched between their backs, pushing it forward with the smooth, rhythmic beating of their powerful tails.
“Hold fast, if you value your life,” Hercules shouted.
One of the sailors had taken a long spear, and was poised to thrust it down into one of the fish. Now he stopped and looked at Hercules in surprise.
“That fish is not here for you,” continued Hercules, “it is here for the ambassador of Poseidon, to speed him on his way.”
The man lowered his spear, but still looked confused.
“Iolaus,” Hercules sighed, “I think you had better explain.”
Iolaus told the traders everything - about Alcyoneus, about the challenges, about the white bull and about Poseidon. All the while, the fish carried them further away from Crete and closer to Greece, and the evening turned into night. Food and wine were handed around, making it a fine and merry gathering.
When the story finished, the captain slapped his thigh and chuckled, “Well, this must be the safest ship that ever sailed. We have Hercules on the crew, and we are carrying out a mission on behalf of Poseidon himself, we should all sleep soundly tonight.”
“But how does the story end?” asked one of the sailors, “You have told us only of seven challenges and that leaves,” he paused to count on his fingers, “five to go. Do the heroes succeed?”
The rest of the crew laughed at the man for not realising that Iolaus was not telling a story, but talking about what was happening then and there. All Iolaus could think was that the man had not said hero, but heroes. Did he, Iolaus, really count as anything alongside the son of a god?
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, the crew were woken by a bump. As they stretched and folded their bedding, they saw that the giant fish had gone, and also that they were now close to shore. One of the sailors noticed a landmark he recognised, and pronounced that they had arrived at Greece, just south of the city of Sparta.
“Those were fast fish,” said the captain, “usually the journey from Crete takes two days and we’ve only been travelling for one night. A shame they couldn’t have taken us all the way. I wonder why they stopped here?”
As if in answer to his question, there came a crashing sound from below, and after a few moments, the bull emerged onto the deck. Now it no longer looked quite so docile, and the sailors backed away as they got a glimpse of the ferocious beast it had been when Hercules had first met it. Iolaus stepped forward to calm the beast, but before he could reach it, the bull lowered its head and charged. Without stopping, it crashed right throu
gh the rail and landed with a huge splash in the sea. For a second it was lost under the waves, and then it broke the surface and started swimming strongly for the shore. They all watched as it arrived at the rocky beach, turned to face the galley and, as if to say thank you, blew a huge jet of flame from its mouth before disappearing into the trees that lined the shore.
“The men of Sparta are the fiercest warriors in all of Greece,” said Hercules, “I think our friend has made a wise choice for his new home. They will worship his strength and his spirit, he will make Poseidon proud.”
“That’s all well for him,” said the captain, “I have a business to run. We had better get to Troezen. Heroes, gods or whatever, I still expect to be paid.”
The Eighth Challenge: The Mares of Diomedes
On arrival at Troezen, the captain sent his crew off around the city, to arrange the sale of the goods they had brought from Crete. He himself insisted on going straight to the palace. Iolaus marvelled at the fact that every one of the traders knew their own business and were trusted by their colleagues to make the right decisions on behalf of them all. Yes, the captain seemed to be in charge, but only because the others accepted that he was the best man for that job. Something he demonstrated when they were admitted to the throne room, and he met Pittheus.
“Your majesty,” said the captain, bowing low,
