As for Megara, he had no idea where she might be or how to find her. Had Copreus told Hippolyte that the woman he had left in her care was Heracles’s wife? If so, then the queen might already suspect he had come to Themiscyra to rescue her. But that problem, too, he would have to trust to the gods.
‘I have come to ask for your golden belt,’ he said, looking the queen in the eye. ‘If you’re wise, you’ll give it to me as a gift. If not, then I will have to take it by force.’
The assembly exploded with anger. Many of the Amazons rose to their feet, shouting and gesturing with their weapons. Some called out, demanding that both men be killed at once and their heads placed on spears before the city walls. Their appeals were directed to Hippolyte, who remained seated, looking at Heracles with a strange half-smile. After a while, she raised both hands for silence. Reluctantly, the warriors fell silent and resumed their seats.
‘First, you ask me to give you Ares’s belt,’ she said. ‘Then you threaten to take it if I refuse. Bold words, and foolish – especially when you are surrounded by a hundred armed Amazons. But your insolence has won my ear. If I give you the belt, what do you have to offer in return?’
‘My lady,’ said the grey-haired woman Heracles had first noticed on the beach, who was sitting at the queen’s right hand. ‘Where is this going? Nothing is worth as much to you as your father’s belt. Kill the savage and be done with it.’
‘Althaia is right,’ said the warrior with the broken nose, rising to her feet. ‘Stop toying with these fools and put them to death. Give the command, my queen, and I will kill them here and now.’
Several voices were raised in agreement. Heracles’s hand drifted to the handle of his club.
‘Sit down, Dynamene,’ Hippolyte ordered her. ‘If I choose to give Heracles my belt, what is it to you? Besides,’ she added, standing and walking up to Heracles, circling him slowly as she glided her fingers over his lion skin and across the contours of his hardened muscles, ‘he has things that I want. This cloak, for instance—’
‘The mouldering pelt of a lion?’ Dynamene protested. ‘I could go into the hills tomorrow morning and bring you back five such cloaks.’
‘Not like this one,’ Hippolyte replied. ‘If this really is the skin of the Nemean Lion, then no weapon can penetrate it.’
‘But your belt makes its wearer invincible in battle.’
‘Silence!’ the queen snapped. She turned to Heracles and looked him in the eye, not caring to hide her attraction to him. ‘Will you give me your cloak?’
He removed his bow and quiver and handed them to Iolaus, then shrugged off the black lion skin.
‘It is yours, my lady,’ he said, offering it to her.
Iolaus stared at his uncle, alarmed that he should remove his only protection in the midst of a crowd of hostile warriors. Heracles ignored him and watched Hippolyte position the lion’s head over her own and cross its huge paws over her chest. Though she was tall, the bottom of the cloak reached down to the ground and lay crumpled in the dust. Strangely, the lion’s upper jaw did not look out of place over her stern features, throwing them into shadow and making her appear even more formidable. The Amazons did not share her pleasure at the cloak and began to protest loudly, until Althaia stood and commanded silence.
Hippolyte removed the skin and tossed it back to Heracles.
‘Keep your lion’s pelt. There is a greater gift you can give me.’
‘What is it?’
‘I want a child. You’ve seen the miserable examples of manhood that inhabit this land; why should I, a queen, tolerate their pathetic seed inside me? But you are tall and strong, and you have the blood of Zeus in your veins. A daughter born from our union would grow up to be a powerful warrior, a great leader of my people. I am in season now, Heracles: come to my bed tonight and lay with me, and the belt will be yours.’
‘It is not our custom, my lady,’ Althaia said, echoing the discontent of the others. ‘When an Amazon desires a child, she sleeps with many men in a single evening so none can claim paternity over her offspring. To have a daughter who knows the identity of her father is against our ways.’
‘Yet I know the identity of my father,’ Hippolyte retorted. ‘Ares was my sire, and it is not a weakness to know you have the blood of a god running in your veins. I want my daughter to claim descent from Zeus.’
‘No!’ Dynamene shouted, standing and slamming the butt of her spear on the ground. ‘No, Hippolyte. As queen, you must respect our laws. And I will not see you give the belt to a man!’
‘Sit down!’ Hippolyte warned her. ‘You’ve always been too quick to challenge my authority, Dynamene: don’t make this a challenge too many.’
‘If this was just about me, I would gladly obey you,’ the warrior replied. ‘But this is about preserving who we are. If you break our code by sleeping with this man, then you put us all at risk. I will not allow it.’
She drew her spear up to her shoulder and levelled it at Heracles’s chest. But before she could throw it, Hippolyte snatched the sword from Althaia’s belt and leaped forward, sweeping the blade through the shaft of the spear. Dynamene cried out in anger and swung the remaining half of her weapon into the queen’s face. Hippolyte was thrown back onto the benches, scattering the seated Amazons. Cries of Kill her! rang out across the stone circle as the queen was pushed back to her feet. Setting her legs apart, she wiped the blood from her nose and lips with the back of her hand, and stared at her opponent. Dynamene’s ugly face spread into a wide grin as she slid the shield from her back and drew her sword from its scabbard. Heracles and Iolaus retreated to the ring of benches, where this time their presence was overlooked amid the unrest.
‘You’re not wearing your belt now, my queen,’ she said with a sneer.
‘I don’t need it, Dynamene. Not against you.’
Hippolyte lunged. Dynamene turned the thrust aside with the edge of her blade, then lashed out at the queen’s face with the rim of her half-moon shield. Hippolyte ducked beneath the blow and staggered back, tightening her grip on her sword and blinking as a bead of sweat ran down from her forehead.
‘You’re weak,’ Dynamene mocked. ‘You always have been. But when I wear your crown and your golden belt, the Amazons will have a strong queen again. One worthy of their loyalty and—’
Hippolyte attacked. Dynamene met the blow with her shield, turning it aside and stabbing with her sword at the queen’s exposed torso. Twisting her body so that the point slipped past her stomach, Hippolyte lashed out with her sword hand. The knuckles caught Dynamene on her misshapen nose, snapping her head back and sending her reeling against the ring of cheering Amazons. Seizing her arms, they pushed her back into the fight.
The queen rushed towards her, but Dynamene recovered quickly. With a hate-filled grimace, she turned aside her attacker’s weapon and threw a punch with her sword hand. Her knuckles connected hard with the side of the queen’s head, leaving a red gash across her cheekbone as she tumbled backwards and landed at Heracles’s feet. Dynamene gave an exultant cry and charged forward, raising her sword high over her head to deliver the killing blow. But as she opened her guard, Hippolyte pulled her knees back to her chest and kicked out with all her strength. She caught Dynamene in the stomach and threw her backwards.
Regaining her feet swiftly, she pursued her opponent with a vicious slash of her sword. It would have spilled Dynamene’s innards in the dust, had she not seen it in time and blocked the blow with her shield. But the second sweep of the queen’s sword was higher and quicker, and this time the warrior did not see it coming. It cleaved her head from her shoulders so that it hit the floor with a thump and rolled beneath the benches. Blood spurted from the stump of her neck as her heart slowed to a halt. Then the knees folded and the body flopped onto its front in the dust.
Hippolyte kept her feet firmly apart and her knees bent, holding her sword ready as she scanned the faces of the other Amazons. But there were no more challengers to her authority, and one
by one they bowed their heads before her. Reaching down, she took the edge of Dynamene’s cloak and wiped the blood from the blade, before returning it to Althaia.
‘You know what to do,’ she said to her lieutenant, before striding out of the stone circle.
Althaia barked a few orders and the crowd of Amazons began to disperse. A few remained to pick up Dynamene’s remains and weapons, which they carried to the palace. Heracles expected her head would be found the next morning, hanging from the walls with her weapons and armour on iron spikes.
‘What now?’ Iolaus asked, as they stood alone in the stone circle.
‘We wait,’ Heracles replied, sitting on one of the benches.
‘For you to be summoned to her bed? Do you trust her?’
‘No, but what choice do I have? I have to have that belt, and I intend to find out where they’re keeping Megara.’
‘What if it’s a trap?’
‘Of course it’s a trap. Hippolyte’s not going to let me just walk out of Themiscyra with her most treasured heirloom.’
Iolaus dropped down on the bench beside his uncle and said no more, staring across the square as the sun sank into the line of distant mountain peaks. Heracles sensed his confusion and anger. His nephew loved Megara, and had struggled to come to terms with the events that had torn her and Heracles apart. In his young, idealistic mind, he still believed they could overcome what had happened and be reunited. Indeed, he thought it was the only way they could come to terms with the deaths of their children – by rediscovering their once powerful love for each other. For Heracles to sleep with Hippolyte, then, would be a betrayal of his wife. Iolaus was incapable of understanding how he could do such a thing.
Heracles shared his nephew’s hopes, if not his ideals. After he had murdered his three sons and tried to kill Megara, she had turned her back on him forever. But when she discovered his madness had been deliberately induced, she travelled to Tiryns to tell him she no longer blamed him for the deaths of their children. That act of forgiveness had restored his self-belief, and encouraged the thought that there was still a hope they could be together again, however slim. But if he had to sleep with Hippolyte to rescue Megara from the Amazons, he would do it without hesitation.
A door opened on one side of the palace. A man stepped out and limped towards the stone circle. He was tall, lean and completely naked, except for a short cloak. He stopped by one of the stones and stared at the two foreigners.
‘Are all men in your country so big?’ he asked.
‘Not as big as him,’ Iolaus replied, indicating Heracles. ‘Do all the men in your country have a limp?’
‘Of course,’ the man replied, without emotion. ‘They break the right leg and right arm of every male child. That way, we can never run away or bear arms against them.’
‘That’s barbaric!’
The man shrugged, as if to acknowledge there was nothing he could do about the fact.
‘I’ve come to take you to your room. Food and drink have been provided, and mattresses if you wish to rest.’
Without waiting, he turned and headed back the way he had come. Heracles and Iolaus followed.
‘Tell me something, friend,’ Heracles said.
‘Calus,’ the man replied over his shoulder. ‘My name is Calus. What do you want to know?’
‘Will we be allowed to leave Themiscyra?’
Calus paused to look up at the windows of the palace, then lowered his head and continued hobbling towards the door he had exited from.
‘How would I know? I’m not privy to the queen’s thoughts.’ He reached the door and turned to face Heracles. ‘You were fools to come here,’ he said, in a low voice. ‘I don’t know why they’ve let you live this long, but you can’t trust them. It’s not too late if you still wish to leave. Part of the eastern wall collapsed during an earthquake and they still haven’t repaired it; if you steal some horses—’
‘We’re not leaving,’ Heracles said. ‘Not until we have what we came for.’
‘Then may the gods help you,’ Calus said. ‘Follow me and don’t say a word. Don’t touch anything either, or anybody!’
He opened the door and they entered a long, dimly lit passageway. He led them down a confusing series of corridors, turning left and right seemingly at random. All the usual smells filled the semi-darkness: of storerooms filled with grain and wine; of kitchens with bread ovens and fires for boiling water; of cold stone and rat droppings. They passed shuffling slaves who stared at the newcomers with awe, and stood aside for tall, broad-shouldered Amazons, whose scornful looks also carried a hint of lustful desire.
Finally, Calus led them between two guards and up a flight of steps. After another couple of turns, he stopped and opened a door, ushering them into the gloom inside. The room had rough walls and contained a pair of straw mattresses and a single table. This held a bowl of water, two small cups and a basket of flatbread and fruit. A small window at the top of one wall let in the last of the failing light.
‘Wait here until they send for you,’ Calus said, and turned back to the door.
Heracles leaned across and closed it before he could leave.
‘Sit down,’ he said, pointing to a mattress.
‘I must go, my lord.’
‘I said sit down. We want to talk with you.’
‘Then may I stand?’
‘As you wish. Help yourself to some fruit.’
‘It isn’t permitted.’
‘It is now,’ Iolaus said forcefully, picking up some figs and pushing them into the slave’s hand.
Calus looked at the closed door, then slipped a fig into his mouth. He chewed it slowly, closing his eyes as he savoured the flavour and texture of the forbidden fruit.
‘You told us to leave Themiscyra,’ Heracles said, ‘and we will. But first we need to find something. Someone.’
‘A prisoner of the Amazons,’ Iolaus added. ‘She won’t have been here very long.’
Calus nodded.
‘There is a woman with two breasts, a foreigner like yourselves,’ he said. ‘Her name is Megara.’
Heracles looked at Iolaus, who was barely able to contain his joy.
‘Where is she?’
‘In the cells below the palace.’
‘Can you tell us how to find her?’
‘Not if you don’t know the palace. You’ll be lost within minutes.’
‘Then you must show us the way,’ Iolaus said.
‘But they’ll kill me. Even if you find her and somehow manage to escape, they’ll know you did it with my help.’
‘Then come with us to Greece,’ Heracles said. ‘You can be a free man there. Or do you want to spend the rest of your miserable life in Themiscyra, not allowed to eat fruit or even wear clothes?’
Calus’s expression was unreadable in the rapidly fading light.
‘She’s a good woman, who has suffered much,’ he said, after a moment’s silence. ‘She told me what happened to her children, and I’ve seen the way the Amazons have mistreated her. I wouldn’t want her to endure any more. I will do what I can for you.’
‘Good,’ Heracles said. He turned to his nephew. ‘Iolaus, you must free my wife. After they take me to Hippolyte, Calus will lead you to her. Get her out of her cell, find enough horses for us all and meet me by the breach in the eastern wall. Is that clear?’
‘So you are Heracles,’ Calus said. ‘I thought as much, by your size. You’re fortunate to have such a woman as your wife.’
‘She can barely be thought of as my wife any more, not after what I did.’
‘You were not yourself. She knows that, and as much as she can, she has forgiven you.’
They heard footsteps in the passage outside. Heracles pushed Calus against the wall, and a moment later the door opened, hiding him from sight. Althaia stood in the passage, holding a torch in one hand and a sword in the other. She was accompanied by two Amazons, carrying spears and with half-moon shields on their arms.
‘Come
with us,’ she said, staring at Heracles with undisguised contempt. ‘The queen awaits you in her chamber.’
Chapter Three
THE GOLDEN BELT OF HIPPOLYTE
Heracles left, closing the door behind him. Pressing his ear against the wood, Iolaus waited until the sound of footsteps had faded from earshot.
‘They’ve gone,’ he told Calus. ‘We should set off at once.’
Drawing his sword from the scabbard on his back, he eased the door open. But before he could peer out into the shadowy passage, Calus placed his hand over Iolaus’s and gently pushed the door shut again.
‘You can’t wander the corridors like that,’ he said, pointing at Iolaus’s sword. ‘There are too many guards. If the first one we meet doesn’t kill us, she’ll make enough noise to wake every other Amazon in the palace.’
‘What choice do we have? We’ll have to risk it.’
‘No. There’s another way. But you’ll have to leave your sword here.’
Iolaus frowned, but he knew the slave was right – to walk the corridors armed would only invite trouble. And time was pressing. The sky outside the small window was almost black, and he had an awful sense of imminent danger. If he did not leave the room soon, he might never leave it at all.
‘What’s your plan?’
‘Take off your scabbard and sandals,’ Calus said. ‘You’ll need to remove your tunic, too.’
‘What?’
‘If you want to move through the palace, then you have to look like a slave. You can keep your cloak, if you want to.’
Iolaus gave a sigh, but he realized there was no other way. He undressed quickly, stuffing his sandals and tunic into his satchel. Tying his belt back round his waist, he slid the satchel and his sheathed dagger behind him, then picked up his cloak and threw it around his shoulders.
Hero of Olympus Page 4
