‘Who are you?’ she demanded. ‘What do you want here?’
‘I am Iolaus, son of Iphicles. I came here with my uncle to find the Garden of the Hesperides.’
‘You’re a mortal,’ Aegle said, coming out from behind her sister, her pale-blue eyes fixed on him with sudden fascination. ‘I’ve never spoken with a mortal before.’
‘Men are forbidden to come to Mount Atlas,’ Arethusa said, her voice hard. ‘The gods will punish your audacity.’
‘But it was the gods that sent us.’
A twig cracked to his left. He drew his sword and turned to see a third woman stepping out from behind a tree, a short bow in her hand. The string was pulled back, with an arrow fitted.
‘Which gods?’ she asked.
‘Hera.’
‘You’re lying!’
‘No, Hesperie, he’s not,’ Aegle said, leaving Arethusa’s side and entering the small clearing beside the riverbank. ‘I sense his honesty – he means us no harm. But why would Hera send you to find our garden?’
‘Then you’re the Hesperides, the daughters of Atlas?’
‘Put away your sword and come forward,’ Arethusa said, joining her sister at the edge of the trees. ‘Hesperie, lower your weapon. If Aegle says he won’t hurt us, then I trust her.’
Iolaus returned his sword to its scabbard, then unbuckled it and tossed it aside into the grass. The archer lowered her bow to reveal a beautiful face surrounded by a tangle of brown tresses. She wore a grey tunic and was a little taller than her sisters, though her expression was hostile and aggressive. She slipped her bow over her shoulder and walked up to him, staring him in the eye before barging past him with her shoulder and joining her sisters.
‘I don’t trust him,’ she announced to the others. ‘He’s a law breaker – he shouldn’t be here. And if he lays a finger on any of our goats, I’ll kill him.’
‘I won’t,’ Iolaus replied.
‘Answer Aegle’s question,’ Arethusa ordered. ‘Why did the Queen of the Gods send you here?’
‘Because my uncle committed a terrible crime, and the only way he can be absolved of it is to complete ten tasks, set by Hera herself. She despises him because he is a son of Zeus by a mortal woman, a constant reminder of her husband’s infidelity—’
‘Do not speak disrespectfully of the gods!’ Hesperie spat.
Iolaus conceded with a nod.
‘Nevertheless, it was she who ordered him to seek out the Garden of the Hesperides and pluck three apples from the tree at its centre.’
The sisters reacted differently. Aegle’s cheerful expression turned to one of concern; Hesperie gasped with angry indignation, while Arethusa simply shook her head.
‘Ladon will never surrender the fruit, as we know to our own cost,’ she said. ‘Your uncle’s only hope is to answer the serpent’s questions – and that is impossible.’
Iolaus remembered Phorcys saying the same thing, and the look in his eye that had revealed so much more than words alone could ever do. Where strength or courage were key, Heracles would prevail, but he lacked the patience for intellectual sparring – despite being intelligent and well educated – and somehow Iolaus knew Ladon’s questions would, indeed, prove impossible to answer. But he had not forgotten Phorcys’s other words.
‘Then there has to be another way. It’s said your father placed the serpent there to guard the tree. Maybe he would know another way to persuade Ladon to give up the apples.’
‘Even if there was a way, our father would not give the secret to a mortal,’ Hesperie said. ‘He led the Titans in revolt against the Olympians because they loved men more than the rest of creation. The only thing he hates more than mortals is his punisher, Zeus himself.’
‘But if you could just tell me how to find Atlas?’
‘No, Iolaus,’ Arethusa said. ‘We will not add to our father’s torment by allowing mortals to annoy him with questions. The golden apples were never meant to leave the garden; and that, I believe, is why your uncle was given the task. You’ve said Hera loathes him, and I believe her hatred will be satisfied. Come, sisters, our animals have sated their thirst; it’s time we drove them back up to pasture.’
She tucked her fingers into the sides of her mouth and gave a piercing whistle. The goats lifted their heads and immediately began to move away from the riverbank, jostling against each other and the legs of the horses. Arethusa turned her back on Iolaus and began walking with the flock, her red hair shining in the patches of sunlight that penetrated the canopy of leaves above. Hesperie gave him a last, cynical glare, then followed her sister. The goats swarmed up the slope after them, leaving the solitary figure of Aegle among the ferns and moss-covered boulders. She looked up at her sisters, their whistles fading with distance, then walked to the nearest horse and began stroking its mane.
‘My father can’t help you, you know,’ she said, without looking at him.
He crossed the clearing and stood at arm’s length from her, fascinated by the colour of her hair and the beauty of her pale skin, flushed pink like a cloud caught in a winter sunset.
‘Then will you not tell me where to find him?’
‘I will tell you, for a kiss.’
She looked at him and her full lips spread into a smile. Her beauty was astonishing, beyond the looks of any mortal woman. Yet he shook his head.
‘I cannot.’
‘You have a woman that you love?’
‘I do.’
‘I have never seen a mortal before, and now that I have I understand why the other gods take you to their beds. But all I ask is a kiss. Nothing more, I promise.’
He shook his head. In response, she reached out and touched his arm. The sudden warmth of her skin against his thrilled him, and he looked into her eyes.
‘Not only will I show you the way to find my father, I will tell you the secret of the fruit – why the gods guard it so jealously.’
‘Then kiss me,’ he said.
He did not know whether he was being noble in his uncle’s cause, or simply surrendering to his desire for her beauty. She laid her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes, her mouth skewed into a slightly amused smile. Then she leaned towards him and their lips met. And immediately, he understood everything.
Chapter Nine
THE PILLAR OF THE HEAVENS
The journey back from the garden was difficult in the darkness. Heracles struggled to keep to the path, and what moonlight there was was little use in the forest. Eventually, he heard the roar of the river and was soon standing on its banks, looking down at the fast-flowing surface churning around the black boulders. A part of him had been tempted lean over the edge and plunge to his death. It would have been easier than facing the new reality Ladon’s questions had revealed to him. But death was the coward’s way out, and he refused to take that course. Despair was not his conqueror, but his enemy – a new labour to battle against and overcome. And it would take all his spirit to defeat it.
He stumbled back down the path in a whirl of confusion. One moment, his mind was filled with furious thoughts of revenge against his traitorous nephew; the next he wondered despondently about how to obtain the golden apples, now that he had failed to answer the serpent’s questions. And underlying everything was the newest revelation – that Copreus had not acted alone in inducing Heracles’s madness. What little peace he had gained from killing the herald had been lost, and once again his thoughts were on who had driven him to such a terrible act, and why.
Before long, he spotted the orange glow of a campfire through the trees below. He knew at once that Iolaus was warming himself in front of the flames as he awaited his uncle’s return. Suddenly, his chaotic thoughts and emotions were swept away, and a calm fury descended on him.
Iolaus looked up as Heracles reached the edge of the small clearing, surprised at first by his sudden appearance, then relieved. He smiled and stood.
‘Did you find the tree?’
‘Yes, I found it,’ Heracles replied, fixing his ga
ze on Iolaus’s young, handsome face.
‘And did you get the apples?’ Iolaus asked, hopefully.
‘The serpent asked me three questions. I answered two, but the third was beyond me.’
Iolaus’s disappointment was obvious, but Heracles did not care for his concern. As he looked at his nephew, it amazed him that he could still look him in the eye. Where was the guilt? Where was the deceiver’s flicker – the wavering look of a man with a secret? His boldness struck a spark into the waiting tinder of Heracles’s wrath.
‘What was the third question?’ Iolaus urged.
‘Who plotted the murder of my sons.’
‘But that’s obvious. Copreus gave your housekeeper the mushrooms – he was the one. Wasn’t he?’
‘Do you see any golden apples?’
Iolaus’s mouth opened in disbelief.
‘Then… then who?’
‘Ask me what else the serpent wanted to know.’
‘What does it matter? If Copreus didn’t plot—’
‘It matters to me!’
The fire of his anger was spreading. A sudden silence descended on the clearing. Iolaus stared at him wide-eyed, shocked by the vicious snap in his tone. Was there also a suspicion of fear – a realization his secret was no longer safe?
‘Very well. What did it ask you?’
‘By whose hands were my children killed. An easy enough question to start with – even I couldn’t fail with that one. But I excelled myself with the next. A question I should never have been able to answer; a question I should never have had to!’
Iolaus edged back, putting more of the fire between himself and Heracles. He glanced across at where his sword hung inside the unyoked chariot.
‘Why?’ Heracles asked. ‘Why did you betray me?’
‘We never intended to—’
‘Then why did you?’ he growled. ‘Was it lust? Love?’
Iolaus looked at him, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.
‘Don’t you know? Did you never know, Heracles? I’ve loved Megara since I was a boy.’
‘You still are a boy!’
‘The first moment I saw her, I loved her. I didn’t ask to, and I never intended to… to do anything about it. I was happy to be near her, to be near you both. I loved you, both of you, and the last thing I ever wanted was to come between what you had together. But in the end, it wasn’t me – it was Copreus, or whoever it was planned to send you mad. Even then, all I wanted was for you to be reunited.’
‘But we weren’t, and we never will be now. Did she encourage you? Was it Megara that came to your bed, or you to hers? Tell me!’
But Iolaus did not respond. At least he is loyal to her, Heracles thought.
‘Then why did you come to Tiryns? Why come here with me? Did you hope to cut my throat in my sleep so you could claim Megara for your own?’
‘If I wanted to murder you, uncle, I could have done it by now. The truth is I wanted – I want – to help you complete the labour, so you can be free of that night forever. I’m still your squire, and you are still my master. But I also want to earn your favour.’
‘My favour? By sleeping with my wife?’
He took a step towards the fire. Iolaus moved back, but any further retreat was blocked by the bole of a large tree.
‘By convincing you that I’m still your friend,’ he replied. ‘What happened between Megara and me was fate, not betrayal. But you’re right, I do want her for my own. And that can only be right if you allow it.’
Heracles leaped across the flames, seizing Iolaus and throwing him to the ground. Kneeling over him, he grabbed him by the throat and began to squeeze. Iolaus tried to lift himself from the ground, pushing up with his legs and back, but Heracles’s weight forced him back down. His nephew gave a harsh rasping cry, and through the haze of his wrath, Heracles could see his eyes bulge and his face grow darker.
‘Uncle,’ he gasped, as his efforts to resist grew weaker. ‘Father!’
To Heracles’s horror, he looked down to see the face of his oldest son staring up at him, his eyes pleading as his tiny fingers tried to prise his hand from his neck. Was it a trick of the light?
‘Father!’ Therimachus cried again.
He released his grip and fell back on his elbows, staring through sudden tears at the child before him. But it was no longer a child. Iolaus threw his hands up to his neck and rolled away, retching and coughing as he lay on his side.
‘Gods! What have I done?’
Heracles crawled forward and laid his hand on Iolaus’s arm, pulling him onto his back
‘Iolaus, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!’
Seeing the water skin in the grass, he pulled out the stopper and held it to his nephew’s lips. Iolaus tore it from his hands and took a swallow, choking as the liquid poured down his throat, so that it welled back up over his chin and neck.
‘Leave me alone,’ he croaked.
Heracles pushed himself away, then stumbled to his feet and staggered to the nearest tree, pressing his forehead against the bark until the pain became too much. Yet he could not get the image of Therimachus’s face from his mind, or rid himself of the terrible shame he felt. Was it a memory of that awful night? Had the intensity of his fury dislodged the protective seal his mind had placed over those events? The thought that they might return to him filled him with fear. And the thought that he could commit such an act again, against the nephew he loved, terrified him even more. He fell to his knees and sank his face into his hands, feeling the tears stinging his tired eyes.
He did not know how long he had been there when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Slowly, he raised his head and turned to look at Iolaus. A vicious weal was visible through the beard on his neck, and he looked pale and weak.
‘Stay away.’
‘I want to help you, uncle.’
‘Stay away, I tell you,’ he shouted, standing and walking to the edge of the clearing, where he turned his back on his nephew. ‘Yoke the chariot and return to Thebes. I can’t account for myself any more; I’m too dangerous. And… and I don’t want to cause Megara any more unhappiness than I already have.’
‘But how will you get back to Tiryns without my chariot?’
‘Who says I will?’ Heracles replied, staring out at the dark forest. ‘If I’m to get these apples, I have to do what Phorcys told me to do in the first place – I have to find Atlas. But I don’t even know where Atlas is. Zeus made him carry the weight of the heavens on his shoulders, but where? And how is that even possible?’
He looked up at the stars, glimpsed through the branches in the darkness above.
‘Yet it’s the truth,’ Iolaus said. ‘And I can tell you where to find him, if you’ll accept help from someone who has caused you so much distress.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘From Aegle, a daughter of Atlas. Her father can be found in the heart of the mountain that bears his name. The path that will lead you to him starts right here,’ he said, pointing to the ground. ‘It’s abandoned and overgrown in several places, but it’ll take you up the mountainside to a hidden cave. It’s the only way in or out of the mountain – the only way to reach Atlas.’
Heracles gave a curt nod – an acknowledgement that he understood, rather than a gesture of thanks. He still felt too bitter to show gratitude to his nephew.
‘Aegle told me something else,’ Iolaus continued. ‘About the apples and why the gods protect them so closely.’
Heracles glanced over his shoulder. Iolaus’s familiar features were illuminated by the fire, but where before he had always delighted to see his nephew, now all he felt was a heartfelt sickness at his betrayal, and a simmering rage that would, inevitably, turn to hatred.
‘Go on.’
‘They are prophetic. If you were to eat of them, they would show you any event – past, present or future – that you could bend your will to.’
‘What of it?’
‘Well, if Copreus really was acting on the orders
of someone else, I thought that if you ate one of the apples, you might be able to see who sent him to your home. You might discover who was behind all that happened to you.’
* * *
Heracles woke to the sound of birdsong and flowing water. The forest had shrugged off the night and come alive around him. The impenetrable blackness had faded and a weak, pre-dawn light was filtering through the trees, awakening the browns of bark and soil, and instilling life into the greens of moss, fern and leaf. The fire had died out, but the aroma of smoke and ashes still lingered in the air, mingling with the fusty dampness of the undergrowth.
He raised his head, half expecting to see Iolaus curled up beneath his blanket and his horses still tethered at the edge of the clearing. Then he remembered his nephew yoking them to the chariot and driving off into the darkness, with his own curses following him. After nearly strangling him to death, his wrath had abated; but it had soon returned, despite Iolaus’s attempts to placate him, and he had almost chased his nephew away.
The memory brought a pang of regret, and was followed by the remembered realization that the two people he cared about most had betrayed him. His mood sank for a while, but he forced himself to get up and eat a breakfast of fruits and berries he had collected in the Garden of the Hesperides. Then he stripped naked and bathed in the nearby river, the cold water refreshing his body and driving the darkness from his mind.
With the rising of the sun, he was able to find the path Iolaus had spoken of. It was set with large, flat stones, a short stride apart from one to the next. Some were barely discernible beneath the clumps of fern that had grown over them; others were cracked by spreading tree roots or by the winter frosts, with grass taking hold in the gaps. Nevertheless, he was able to follow the path to the eaves of the forest and on, up the sides of Mount Atlas.
The mountain towered over him as he climbed, its peak invisible through the dense cloud that was wrapped around it. Behind him, he could see the forest canopy stretching into the distance, and beyond it, a land of low hills bathed in mist, with the pale sun rising over them. Whether he obtained the golden apples or not, it would be a long walk back without Iolaus’s chariot.
Hero of Olympus Page 18
