Singling out one of the bodies, Megara began stripping it of its fur tunic and greaves. She raised her hands to unclasp her cloak, then paused and glanced at Heracles and Iolaus. Both men turned their gaze to the open door while she stripped off her rags and put on the garb of an Amazon. As he averted his eyes, Heracles recalled the glimpses he had caught of her pale skin between the two halves of the cloak as she had attended to him. He was reminded of how intimately he had once known her body, and of how much he wanted to know her again.
‘If I look like an Amazon, anyone who sees us will think I’m escorting you through the palace,’ she said. They turned to see that she not only wore the Amazon’s clothes, but also held a shield over her right arm to cover the breast and carried a spear in her other hand. ‘Perhaps if you pretended to be slaves—’
‘I’ve had enough of disguises,’ Iolaus said. ‘Especially ones that involve me wearing nothing but a cloak. Besides, nobody is going to mistake Heracles for a slave, with or without his clothes.’
‘We have to chance it,’ Heracles said. ‘We’ll steal some horses and find our way to the breach in the eastern walls that Calus spoke of.’
‘Calus should already be there, with horses for all of us,’ Iolaus said. ‘I told the Amazons I’d forced him to lead me to the dungeons, so they let him go.’
Heracles nodded his approval.
‘Good, but we’re still going to have a fight on our hands. Find a sword and a shield, and gather as many arrows as you can. My bow and club should be outside the door.’
He looked at the bloodied furs that carpeted the floor and saw the golden belt, lying close to Hippolyte’s corpse. Stepping over the dead women, he picked it up and stuffed it unceremoniously into his satchel. Then he crossed to the door and peered out into the corridor. The torches guttered gently, making the shadows in the corners and doorways flicker. On the bench beside the door were his bow, quiver and club. He recognized Iolaus’s sword, too, which the Amazons must have brought with them. Picking it up, he passed it to his nephew. Iolaus kissed the scabbard affectionately, then strapped it to his back. Megara passed Heracles two quivers filled with arrows, which he hung over his shoulder. Retrieving his own weapons from the bench, he gripped his club and a torch and – with Megara and Iolaus following – moved carefully off along the passageway.
He took several turns in the dark, narrow corridors, and though he had tried to remember the route by which Althaia had brought him to the queen’s bedchamber, he quickly became lost. Then he heard female voices ahead and followed the sound to the top of a wide flight of steps. Seeing two guards at the bottom – one on either side of the stair – he signalled to Iolaus to draw his sword, then descended quickly. Warned by the light of his torch and the scuff of his sandals on the stone, the guards turned. A blow from his club broke the skull and neck of the first, killing her instantly. The other only had time to take her spear in both hands before he pushed the torch into her face. Her scream was cut short by Iolaus’s sword, slicing open her throat and almost severing her head. She dropped the spear with a clatter and fell backwards.
They were in a large antechamber, its walls hung with a strange variety of weaponry and armour. Concerned they had been overheard, they ran along the worn and cracked flagstones to the double doors at the end. But before Heracles could pull them open, Megara laid her hand on his to stop him.
‘Wait either side of the doors. I’ll see if they’re guarded.’
She pulled one of the heavy portals open and peered out. Heracles glimpsed a broad step, almost white in the moonlight, but no shadow of a portico. Then Megara stood up straight, raised her shield over her right breast and stepped out.
‘Come quickly! The men have escaped and the queen’s life is threatened.’
She ran back in, followed by two tall, heavily built Amazons. In the comparative gloom of the antechamber, they did not see their attackers until it was too late. Heracles’s club slammed into the chest of the first, throwing her back against the wall. She slumped to the floor with blood oozing from her mouth, and lay still. Iolaus swung his sword high into the other’s head, slicing through the ear and into the skull. Her body fell at Megara’s feet, who stared at it in horror. Heracles grabbed her by the elbow and quickly pulled her outside.
The broad space that fronted the palace lay open before them, brilliantly lit by the full moon that dominated the skies above. The stone circle where Hippolyte had slain Dynamene was to their right, while away to their left was the collection of long stone buildings where the horses were kept. The simple houses in which the Amazons lived – regardless of rank of ability – were clustered around the edges of the square, their monotony broken only by the broad, straight thoroughfares that led to different sections of the city walls. Every window and doorway was black and lifeless, and the open space and the streets that led from it were empty.
‘Walk behind us, Megara, with your spear levelled at our backs,’ he said, tossing his torch back through the door. ‘If anyone sees us, they might not notice our weapons and will think you’re escorting us.’
They began crossing the wide space between themselves and the stables, towards a street that led directly east. Heracles felt horribly exposed, as if they were being watched. The corpses they had left behind would be discovered at any moment, and then hundreds of Amazons would come swarming out of the palace and the city around it, bent on vengeance for their queen. And if Calus had failed to take horses to the eastern walls, or had let his fear get the better of him and decided to leave them to their fate, then they were doomed.
He prayed silently to Zeus, that he would protect them and bring them far from the city walls before their escape was discovered. He suspected, however, that his father would not help him. Zeus had only appeared to him once, when, as a baby, he had blessed him with supernatural strength. It was a gift that he had relied on often during his labours, even if the courage and endurance that had driven him on to victory had come from within himself, not from Olympus. But his father had never interceded directly in his affairs, and he doubted he would aid him now.
If Zeus would not interfere, though, there were other gods who would. His presence in Themiscyra had brought about the death of Hippolyte, Ares’s daughter, and the God of War would surely support the Amazons against him. Then there was Hera, who hated Heracles with all the fury of a goddess spurned. He was the progeny of another of Zeus’s love affairs – a living reminder of her husband’s infidelity – and she would not simply stand by and watch him walk out of the trap she had set for him.
His thoughts were disturbed by the hoot of an owl. Like a lost soul, he saw its white form glide above the rooftops ahead of them. An ill omen, he wondered? He glanced over his shoulder and increased his pace, walking as fast as he dared. They passed the stables, where, to his relief, he could not see any guards standing in the shadows of the large doorways. The only sounds coming from inside were the restless movements of the horses. And then he heard a cry – a drawn-out scream of unrestrained grief.
It had come from the palace. He glanced over his shoulder. The ugly bulk of the building was black against the backdrop of the distant mountains, and its few windows were dark. The cry rang out again and was followed by a shout. Other voices followed – some angry, others urgent or enquiring. The light of a torch was glimpsed in one of the upper windows, before disappearing again. The massacre in the queen’s bedroom had been discovered.
‘Run!’ he said. ‘As quickly as you can.’
Megara threw away her spear and shield and ran. Iolaus was close beside her, his sword drawn. Heracles considered running into the largest stable block and freeing the horses to delay any pursuit by the Amazons, but there was not enough time. After a last glance at the palace, he followed the others.
They reached the street and ran between the houses full of sleeping Amazons. Behind them, the noise from the palace was growing louder, like the angry droning of hornets whose hive has been disturbed. He could see the
battlements ahead of him, pale grey in the moonlight. Part of the parapet had crumbled and there was a gap in the stone walkway, which had been bridged by two planks of wood; but there was no sign of any breach. Had Calus lied to them, he wondered? Had he been loyal to his mistresses all along? After all, they were his sisters and cousins, even his daughters.
A figure emerged from a side alley ahead of them. Heracles raised his club and Iolaus his sword, before realizing it was a man.
‘Calus!’ Iolaus said. ‘Where are the horses?’
‘Quiet,’ he hissed, raising his finger to his lips. ‘The horses are here, in the alley. But there are guards on the walls. I didn’t dare take the horses out through the breach until you got here. You were a long time. What happened?’
‘Hippolyte’s dead,’ Heracles informed him, bluntly. ‘Any moment now, every Amazon in Themiscyra will be after us. Where’s this breach?’
Calus led him past the alley, where he glimpsed the silhouettes of the horses in the shadows. As they neared the top of the street, he pointed left to where a few houses had collapsed and not been repaired. Further on a section of the wall had split apart and was leaning outwards. Atop the broken ramparts, two Amazons were staring across the low rooftops towards the palace. One of them spotted Heracles and Calus.
‘Men aren’t allowed out after dark! What’re your names? Who do you belong to?’
She strode along the parapet, followed by her comrade. Too late, she saw the bow in Heracles’s hands. The string sang and the arrow found its mark. The Amazon flopped from the top of the wall and hit the ground below with a thud. Her companion only had time to pull her bow from her shoulder before Heracles’s second arrow sank into her chest, sending her tumbling over the wall behind.
They ran back to the end of the alley, where Iolaus and Megara had untied the horses and were leading them out.
‘The breach is narrow,’ Heracles told them. ‘We’ll have to take the horses through one at a time and mount on the other side. Then it’ll be a race to the ship.’
As he spoke, ram’s horns began blowing in the square. A little further down the street, a door opened and a woman stepped out. She looked at the group leading the horses, then turned and ran towards the square, calling out at the top of her voice. Heracles notched an arrow and shot her between the shoulder blades. As she fell, an Amazon scout appeared on horseback, riding up to investigate the commotion. Heracles loosed an arrow at her, but she turned her mount at the last moment and it flew past her arm. She gave several loud cries and rode away.
‘Go quickly,’ he ordered the others. ‘Iolaus, lead my horse through the breach and wait for me on the other side.’
‘I’ll stay with you. The Amazons’ll know the streets and alleys and will come round behind you – you’ll need me to watch your back.’
‘Do as I say!’ Heracles snapped. ‘Protect Megara, and if I shout for you to go – or if you think I’ve fallen – then ride back to the ship as quickly as you can. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, uncle.’
Heracles glanced at Megara, who seemed as reluctant to leave as Iolaus. He took her hand in his and looked her in the eye.
‘I won’t be long,’ he said.
He wanted to say more, to tell her that he needed her back and that his life was a misery without her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, knowing he had never told her that before. But the right words would not come to him; and even if they had, he doubted he could have said them. To face her rejection now, when his hope had never been so high, would destroy him. Then she slipped her hand from his and gave him a last, rueful glance, before following Calus to the battlements.
Heracles turned and knelt by the corner of a house, giving him a clear view of the street. Removing one of the Amazon quivers from his shoulders, he stood it against the wall and fitted an arrow to his bow. A glance over his shoulder showed him that Calus and Megara had already led their mounts through the breach, and that Iolaus had sent Heracles’s through and was returning for his own. Then he heard the sound he had been waiting for: the clamour of hooves and the shouts of riders.
He raised his bow. A troop of several dozen cavalry were galloping up the street, the Amazons yelling their grief and rage at the tops of their voices. They did not know that Althaia had murdered their queen, or that Hippolyte had planned to betray them all by making Heracles their king. In their minds, he had killed her, and for that he had to die.
He released the bowstring and a rider fell, thrown back with flailing arms from her horse, to be trampled by those following. The first rank of Amazons rose up in their saddles, peering nervously at the moonlit street ahead. Then another was ripped from the back of her horse by an arrow in her shoulder. The rest suddenly threw themselves down behind the necks of their mounts and urged them forward.
Already they were halfway up the street, spreading out six or seven abreast and filling the chill night air with their battle cries. He rose to his feet and shot the foremost rider, hitting her in the thigh. She threw her arms about her horse’s neck, desperately trying to cling on as the grip of her legs on its flanks weakened. She slid off with a scream and was ridden over. Then one of the others spotted him and cried out. Without slowing the pace of her horse, she slipped the bow from her shoulder, fitted an arrow and fired. The missile clipped the wall he was hiding behind, shearing off a piece of stone that hit him in the cheek.
He shot another from her saddle, before the others fired a disjointed volley, forcing him back behind the wall. Fitting a new arrow, he leaned out and took aim at the nearest rider. She fell to the ground, his arrow sticking up from her breast. In that same instant, an arrow thumped into the head of his lion skin and another cut a channel along the side of his calf.
He ignored the sting of the wound and sank back against the wall. He could hear the approaching thunder of the hooves, and slipping his bow over his shoulder, took the club from his belt and ran to the breach in the wall. The first horsewoman appeared behind him and he felt the whack of her arrow between his shoulders. Two more followed, one bouncing from his shoulder and the other hitting the back of the lion’s head. He climbed into the narrow fissure where the battlements had been split. More arrows clattered from the stones above and beside him, and one found its mark in his ribs. Though the impenetrable skin of the lion turned its bronze tip, it was like a hammer blow against the wound he had received in Hippolyte’s bedchamber. He stumbled, gashing his knees against the broken stones of the wall. Behind him, the Amazons screamed with vengeful delight and leaped from their horses, desperate to capture him alive. Then he felt hands on his wrists and, looking up, saw Iolaus and Calus pulling him through to the other side.
He fell onto dry grass. The slave helped him to his feet, while Iolaus drew his sword and drove it through the heart of a pursuing Amazon. A second thrust her spear at him, but he brought his blade down on her arm, severing it below the elbow. She howled with pain and fell back against her comrades, temporarily blocking their way through.
‘Run!’ Iolaus shouted, as an arrow shot through the gap in the walls and flicked the edge of his cloak.
Heracles leaped the shallow ditch and sprinted as fast as his wounds would allow him towards the horses. Megara was already mounted, holding the reins of the other three. He leaped on the back of one of the animals and took the strap, pulling its head round. Iolaus helped the crippled Calus onto his mount, then jumped onto the back of the last horse.
They dug their heels back and sent their mounts along the top of the hill, parallel with the battlements. The Amazons now pushed their way through the gap in the wall, but too late to stop them escaping. Their furious shouts were followed by a smattering of arrows that whipped past the ears of the riders. But the distance was already too great and the shadow from the city ramparts too dark for accurate shooting.
Like an angered bear, the whole of Themiscyra was rising from its slumber. Shouts and the rattle of hooves filled the unseen streets beyond the walls, while
torches were moving on the parapets and arrows hissed out of the darkness, forcing the fugitives wide of the defences. They passed the tower on the north-eastern corner of the battlements and rode towards the bottom of the hill. Then Heracles heard the city gates thrown open behind them, followed by the screams of riders, jubilant as they spotted their prey. He glanced back and counted a dozen in the moonlight. These had been quickest to mount, but more would surely follow.
He spurred his mare onwards. Megara, who had always been an excellent horsewoman, was ahead of him, with Iolaus close behind her, ready to defend her if attacked. But Calus had no skill with horses, and was already lagging.
‘Ride harder, man!’ Heracles shouted at him.
They reached a village on the road and suddenly three or four men hobbled out from the ramshackle huts, waving their arms above their heads in an attempt to stop them. Megara and Iolaus galloped between them, but another threw himself recklessly before Heracles’s horse and was knocked aside into the mud. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Heracles saw a man grab at Calus’s reins, only for the slave to kick out at him and catch him in the chest, knocking him back against the wall of one of the huts. The closeness of his escape seemed to put new life into him, and he dug his heels back hard, giving his horse renewed speed.
But the Amazons were gaining. An arrow whistled past Heracles’s ear as he reached the open road beyond the village. He saw the gleam of the River Thermodon to his left – silver in the moonlight – and the darkened farmsteads in the fields all around, but the stillness was an illusion. His ears were filled with the pounding of horse’s hooves, and his heart was beating fast in his chest. A second arrow sailed over his head, and a third thumped against his lion skin as it billowed out behind him.
Hero of Olympus Page 7
