by Joe Corcoran
ambush.”
It seemed like they had to wait a long time, crouching in the darkness on either side of the doorway. Every now and again, Iolaus would poke Hercules to make sure that he was still awake, and every now and again Hercules would poke Iolaus - just to get his own back.
Eventually they heard soft footsteps in the corridor outside the room, and in crept three men - dressed all in black and carrying long, cruel looking knives that seemed to shine in the darkness. Seeing the figures in the beds, and thinking that their prey would be fast asleep after the drugged wine, the men crept forwards - two towards where Hercules should have been sleeping, and one towards Iolaus’ bed. They did not reach their destinations. With one bound, Hercules leapt from where he had been crouching, to land behind the two men advancing on his bed. Before they knew what was happening, his great hands were on their heads, which he brought together with a crack. At the same time Iolaus brought a bronze water jug crashing down on the head of the third man. All three fell to the ground. The battle lasted no longer than a heartbeat, and now stage two of the plan could begin.
Quietly they made their way down to the stables. It was dark now and the palace was as big as ever, so they took several wrong turns before arriving at the wide corridor that smelt of horses. Once there, they just had to follow their noses, and soon came out into a wide room with stalls on either side. There were many horses here, not just the ones that they were trying to find, but the four favourite mares of Diomedes were unmistakable. They did not sleep in stalls of their own, instead they had a whole section of the stables dedicated to them. There they lay, and now that they were asleep, they were as calm as any other horses - only their huge size betraying that they were special. Their size and the fact that they were all bound with iron chains to a huge bronze trough. Quickly and gently, Iolaus bound their mouths with rope, shuddering as he looked at the trough in which he was sure the horses were used to eating their gruesome meals. Then he turned his attention to the chains. They were thick and strong, but maybe with Hercules’ strength and a bar or lever, they could break the links.
“See if you can find something we can use to force these links apart,” he whispered to Hercules, but as they both started to look, shouts of alarm came echoing down the corridor from the palace. Clearly the fact that they had made it out of the bedroom alive had been discovered and now it sounded like everyone was being woken to hunt them down.
“No time for the subtle approach,” Hercules said, and strode over to the huge bronze trough, next to which the mares were now stirring. Bending low, he wrapped his arms around it, and with a huge roar, lifted the massive weight onto his shoulder. The horses were now fully awake. Their eyes were red with the flames of madness, but they did not seem to know how to react to such a superhuman display of strength. For a moment they were confused and Iolaus, who had grabbed a whip from its hook on the wall, took the opportunity to get behind them and drive them, as if they were pulling a chariot. With Hercules running in front, carrying the trough, they left the stables and headed back to the ship. Behind them more and more lights were being lit in the palace, and the unmistakable sounds of men readying their arms came drifting through the night.
It was a long way back to the galley, and it felt even longer to Hercules. His arms ached from carrying the trough, which was now biting cruelly into his shoulder with every stride he took. Bravely he ignored the pain, trying to keep up the pace, his muscles bulging and the veins standing out all over his body. They had made it half way before Iolaus saw anyone emerge from the palace. At first it was men on foot, which didn’t worry him too much, but then a group of men on horseback burst through the stable doors, and the giant figure of Diomedes was unmistakable among them. On the flat plain the horses moved quickly. Diomedes and his men started to close the gap, and Iolaus realised that they would not make it to the galley before they were overtaken. Hercules seemed to sense this too, but he was going as fast as he could already and there was no more that he could do … they were sure to be caught.
It was fortunate that Hercules and Iolaus were not alone. Ahead, where the plain ended, they could see the captain peering out from his hiding place, waiting for the right time. The arrangement had been to wait until Hercules and Iolaus had made it to the slightly higher ground near the ship, but with Diomedes so close behind that would no longer be possible. Iolaus was just close enough to see the look of apology in the captain’s eyes as he gave the signal to his men, and then he heard the smashing of wooden barricades and the rushing of water. From either side, huge rivers of sea water flowed onto the flat plain. They met, with a crashing of waves, just as Diomedes and his soldiers were passing, knocking the men from their horses and causing great confusion. Iolaus had planted his feet firmly and braced himself against the flood, but Hercules had kept going, forcing his way through the waters that twisted and turned around his knees. Now a group of sailors waded out to meet him. They handed him his weapons and took the trough from him. With a look of grim determination, Hercules turned and headed towards where Diomedes was getting back on his feet.
“Get to the ship,” said Hercules as he passed Iolaus, “make ready to sail if things go badly.”
Then he strode onwards.
Diomedes had now recovered himself and was also moving forward. He was so tall that the water only reached his calves, so it caused him no difficulties. His men, however, were not so lucky. All of the soldiers following on foot had turned round and headed back to the palace, with some of the horsemen copying them. Others of the horsemen had tried to reach higher ground - only to find that the sailors were hiding there, with bow and arrows, forcing them to retreat. A small group of the bravest men now stood in the centre of the flood, swords drawn, waiting to see if their king would beat Hercules.
The king was tall and had a long sword, which made it difficult for Hercules to get in close enough to land a blow with his club. Although the sailors had brought his weapons, they had forgotten his lion skin cloak, so he had to be careful of the sharp edges of Diomede’s sword. It seemed like stalemate, and all who watched wondered who would get the upper hand. All except the four horses. The sight of their cruel and hated master had driven them to a frenzy and they strained against their chains. The thin ropes that bound their mouths had already snapped, and one of the horses had bitten a sailor who got too close - he was grabbed by the arm and would have been dragged in and eaten if his crewmates hadn’t pulled him out of the mare’s grip. Hercules stepped under the king’s blade and swung at his knees, but he was too slow and the king stepped back, slashing at Hercules’ arm and drawing blood. This was too much for the four mares. They dug in their hooves and pulled against the chains until, with a snap, the brittle iron gave way and the horses plunged into the water.
The huge splashing and whinnying of the crazed horses made Diomedes look round, and Hercules saw his chance. He leapt high into the air, springing forward to bring his club crashing down on the king’s helmet. Amazingly, the blow did not kill Diomedes, although it certainly made him dizzy, but when he went to attack Hercules - to get his revenge - he found he couldn’t move. The sea water had turned the solid ground of the plain into thick mud, and Hercules’ blow had driven him down into the earth like a tent peg.
“Farewell, King Diomedes,” said Hercules, retreating towards the higher ground, “I leave you to suffer the same fate as many others have suffered at your hands.”
“No,” cried Diomedes, all his bravery now gone, “please, anything but that. I’ll give you anything, just save me from the horses.”
These cowardly words were his last, as the four mares arrived and surrounded him, gobbling him up - right to the last morsel.
With their tormentor gone, a great change came over the horses. The red glow in their eyes dimmed to nothing, and the foam around their mouths dropped away. Hercules approached them, cautiously at first, reaching out gingerly to stroke their noses. Finding them friendly and calm, he led them back up to the dry ground, where one of t
he sailors set about freeing them from the broken remains of the iron chains.
“Should I release them?” he asked when he was finished.
“No,” replied Iolaus, “this place will only remind them of unhappy times. Let’s take them a little further east. We need to go that way anyway to find a caravan.”
So that’s what they did, sailing a little way down the coast until they found a likely looking spot. The horses were released, and immediately headed off into the hills to start their new lives. Meanwhile, the sailors spread out into the surrounding country and soon found a wide trail that was clearly a trading route. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before a caravan approached from the east, its many camels and donkeys loaded with exotic spices from far away. At first, the caravan owner took them for robbers and called for his guards, but he became much more friendly when he saw the colour of their gold. A deal was soon struck, which secretly delighted both the captain and the caravan owner, although they were each too experienced to let this show on their faces. Hercules loaded the galley with the new cargo, and it was a happy crew that set sail again for
