The Trials of Hercules: Book One of The Osteria Chronicles

by Tammie Painter

  Herc doesn’t pause. As the deer flies through the air, he shoots the arrow. What I thought was a cord, spreads into a net that arcs over the stag then drapes onto him. The animal staggers onto the far shore. Herc runs toward it. The creature struggles, confusedly lashing its head and kicking out with his lean legs. His efforts only make the netting tangle worse around him.

  Herc splashes across the stream. The stag collapses letting out a pitiful cry that resonates through the clearing. My heart wrenches at the sound. Herc slows his movements, taking small steps toward the deer and talking quietly to it the entire time. He pulls a strip of cloth from his tunic belt and wraps it around the creature’s head to cover its eyes. The animal, its perfect white fur now muddied from the stream bank, calms but its breathing is still panicked.

  “Help me get the netting off,” Herc says as he strokes the deer whose breaths slow under his touch.

  Being careful not to nick the animal underneath, we work to cut the netting away. As I free the final pieces, Herc crouches, grabs the stag to hold the two front legs in one hand and the two hind legs in the other hand. Using a shimmying motion, he hefts the animal up over his head, then stands with the deer resting across his shoulders.

  “I hope those permits say we’re transporting unusual cargo,” Herc says as we cross the stream to the clearing. I can’t help but look about. At every moment I expect one of Artemis’s arrows to come hurtling in our direction. As quick as I can, I gather our things and take both our travel packs despite Herc’s insistence that he can carry them as well as the stag.

  As we hurry through the woods, the breeze picks up. The rustling in the tree limbs sounds unnervingly similar to the whoosh of an arrow flying toward its target.

  Suddenly, a burning sting shoots through my shoulder blade. I gasp more from the shock than the pain. Herc turns, his face creased either with worry or the strain of carrying the deer.

  “What is it?”

  “An arrow,” I say. My voice is filled with panic and I’m afraid to move, afraid I’ll drive the shaft in deeper. “I think I’ve been shot.” Herc comes back, looks me over, and then stands in front of me. I hate the look on his face—everything about it says the injury is serious.

  “This is quite bad,” he says. I groan. “I’m going to have to repair the fletching on that arrow.” And then he starts laughing.

  “What?” I ask, confused and uncertain why he finds my approaching death so funny.

  “You’ve got the quiver too low on your shoulder. He nods his head to indicate the strap on my shoulder. “The non-pointy end of one of the arrows has been jabbing into your shoulder blade. You’ve completely ruined the feathers on it.” He starts laughing again. I want to be angry with him for teasing me, but seeing the deer jostling on his shoulders as Herc enjoys himself lightens my mood. I scold him with my eyes that have caught the smile started on my lips, hitch up the quiver, and tell him to get moving.

  The weight of the stag doesn’t slow him and by midday we can see the city beyond the edge of the wood. I’m washed with amazement that good luck has stayed with us. I’m about to say something when the forest fills with a blinding blaze of red. My first thought is fire, but there is no heat. When my eyes clear, a woman stands before us with bow in hand. Dressed in leggings and a man’s short tunic belted at the waist, her clothes are similar to my traveling attire, but whereas I feel awkward out of my usual ankle-length dress, Artemis carries the look with spry confidence. Close-cropped brown hair frames her triangular face that is attractive even though it’s flaming with anger.

  “How dare you touch Cery.” The trees shake with the fury in her voice. In the blink of an eye she flicks an arrow into her bow and aims it at Herc’s chest. “Who are you?”

  I fall to my knees and bow my head at her soft leather shoes.

  “Goddess Artemis, please forgive us.”

  I glance up. She still points the arrow at Herc’s chest, but is watching me with dark brown eyes that remind me of the deer’s. I have no doubt that if Herc flinches a hair’s breadth, she will be swift enough to shoot the arrow through him without taking her eyes off me. After a moment during which I don’t dare breathe, her face changes from rash anger to worried shock.

  “Iole,” she says in awe as she lowers her weapon and bows low to me. She holds out her hand to help me up. “What are you doing with Cery?”

  Herc speaks, “Forgive us, Artemis. We’ve been sent to capture your stag for Portaceae. If we don’t bring it back both of us will die.”

  She looks to me, a question on her lips, but I give my head the slightest shake to stop the words. She shifts her gaze back to Herc. This time when she looks at him her face brightens with recognition. It makes no sense, she doesn’t come into Portaceae and Herc himself said he has never traveled.

  “I understand, brother,” she says. “If you’re willing to take my advice, you’ll not only complete this silly chore, but I won’t have to lose my Cery.” She pets the deer who lets out a purring rumble as she strokes its muzzle.

  She tells Herc her plan, but I can only focus on why she has called Herc “brother.”

  I’m forced back to attention when she touches my arm.

  “And you, Iole, give my regards to your mother.”

  “We don’t speak much these days.”

  “A shame. Family should stick together.” She looks to Herc, but he is busy shifting Cery on his shoulders. When she sees him, she seems to remember something and reaches into the satchel slung across her back. From it, she pulls out a golden bridle that she slips onto the stag’s head. Holding onto the lead she tells Herc to set the deer down. Once the animal’s feet touch the ground, it sways slightly but quickly regains its balance. Artemis hands Herc the lead. “It’s a much more dignified way for him to travel.”

  She hugs the deer who produces another of his purrs. To my shock, she hugs Herc calling him brother again. To me, she kneels and kisses my hand naming me as Herene of the Herenes, then dashes off into her woods without making a sound.

  This time we draw more than curious glances as we pass along Cedonia City’s streets. People stare at us openly, some drop cups that crash to the sidewalk of the café they’ve been frequenting, and others hurry back from us probably fearful one of Artemis’s arrows is heading our direction at any moment.

  Herc refuses to give Cery over to the cargo hold and no one argues with the stern man who leads Artemis’s stag like a pet dog. Once we’ve settled into a free compartment I ask him, “Why did Artemis call you brother?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it was just a polite term like how the Herenes sometimes call each other sister.”

  “No, not that I’m aware of.”

  We sit side by side, as Cery settles onto the bench seat across from us. We ride in silence for a while and I drift off to sleep. When I wake, my head is resting on Herc’s shoulder. I jerk up, but he makes no comment.

  “Who is your mother? Are you estranged from her?” he asks after a while.

  “My mother gave me a choice when I was young. I chose not to live with her and she left me with the people you rescued in the fire. They are my family. I’d rather not discuss it further.” I move to sit with Cery and pet him. I remain there staring out the window with the deer resting his head on my lap until it is too dark to see anything outside. As the station gates have already closed for the night, the train wheezes to a full stop outside the walls. It holds there, its engine grumbling as if snoring. At dawn this and the main gates of Portaceae City are cranked open and the train pulls up to the platform.

  If I thought the stag drew attention in Cedonia, it was nothing compared to the excitement he brings in Portaceae City. From the station and on up the hill to Eury’s home an ever-growing crowd follows us, surrounds us, and precedes us. Iolalus slips in beside us and I hope his presence will be enough to keep Eury’s attention away from me. In hindsight, I should have gone back to the House to change, but I’m too caught up in the excitement to not see the ta
sk to its completion. I also need my curiosity satisfied as to how Herc plans to pull off getting the deer to his cousin without reigniting Artemis’s fury.

  We enter the grounds of Eury’s estate. Or try to. The main road is crowded with people hoping to catch the end of the show they missed seeing on the screen. Guards shout for them to stay back, allowing only Herc, Cery, Iolalus, and me to squeeze through. In the bright morning light, I can see Eury on the wide, rounded porch at the front of his house which is as large as two of the wings of the House of Hera put together.

  All for two people, a handful of servants and several guards. And he wonders why the people hate him.

  Adneta, standing beside Eury, squeals with delight and gives a few rapid claps with her hands when she sees Cery. I stop. I have hold of the lead, and Cery halts when he reaches the end of the tether. Herc looks back.

  “I won’t let her have this animal,” I say thinking of the peacock she’d had dipped in gold. “She’s a cruel woman with a vile husband who sees to her every whim without thought of its consequence.”

  “She won’t have him. Didn’t you listen to Artemis?”

  “I—no, I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “It will be okay,” he says taking the stag’s lead.

  “We’re taking those antlers,” Adneta says. “Baruch, fetch a hacksaw and get me those antlers.”

  I grab Herc’s arm, pulling him back. He looks down at me, giving me a comforting smile. “Trust me.”

  We continue forward. Eury has locked Adneta into a slobbering kiss with his hand on her breast. He breaks away when we reach the foot of the stairs that lead up to the porch.

  “So, success again,” Eury says triumphantly as he lumbers down the stairs to us.

  “You gave orders to bring you the golden stag from Cedonia. Here he is.”

  Herc unclasps the lead. Eury reaches up to grab the ring that hangs down from the bridle, but just as his hand nears it, a high-pitched whistle breaks through the morning air. Cery pricks his ears, turning them forward, back, then to the side. It’s as if the sky itself whistles with the sound coming from every direction until finally the call settles to the east. Once the sound has a direction, Cery twists his head at the same moment that Eury closes his hand. Eury misses the bridle’s ring by only a fraction. As he lunges for the ring again, the forward motion sends the Solon staggering over his own feet. Unaware of the falter, the stag turns and bounds off toward the sound moving faster than even the House’s chariot horses.

  “Stop him before he crashes into the hedge,” Eury yells as the stag charges toward the high, squared-off laurel hedge that surrounds the property.

  Cery continues his race to the barrier. Once to it, he gives only the slightest pause. Then, with a quick twitch of his legs, he bounds over the hedge. Eury’s face changes from fear to fury faster than Cery’s leap over the laurel.

  “Get him. Go get him,” he shouts to anyone who will listen.

  “He’s gone,” Herc says. “Back home to Artemis where he belongs.”

  “You failed,” Eury screams. His cheeks flush red. “Guards, take him and the Herene as well since it’s quite obvious she was his companion in this. Honestly, Priestess, it’s bad enough you make no effort to hide your shameful behavior by showing up in traveling clothes, but you could have at least cleaned the dirt from your face if you intended to fool me.” The guards already have Herc’s arms in their grip. He doesn’t struggle and keeps his head held high. “You will die, Cousin. And this time there will be no delays.” Two more guards hover around me, but hesitate. Despite their thuggish appearance, these two must respect the gods and fear to lay hands on a Herene. “Take her, she’s only a woman,” Eury commands.

  At the order, the men grab me, squeezing my arms in their large hands. This stirs Herc who jerks, trying to shake off his guards. Two more guards run up with spears in hand. They pull to a stop in front of us and aim their weapons at the underside of our chins. The tip presses into my skin. I don’t breathe for fear of driving the point into my flesh.

  A flash blinds me and I hear people hitting the ground. The cold metal point of the spear falls away from my throat. My only thought is the people have revolted. They’ve fashioned a bomb and detonated it. But as my eyes come into focus, I see her standing behind Eury, her face filled with anger.

  I drop to my knees as the others have done. All except for Eury who still stands looking annoyed and confused at our subservience. Does he think we’re bowing to him?

  “Hera,” I mutter.

  When I say her name, realization fills Eury’s face. He turns to the goddess and stares her in the eye refusing to bow down to her.

  “Let them go,” she demands.

  “No, he failed. He must pay the blood crime punishment in full. And since he took her instead of Iolalus. She pays too.”

  “They met your demand. You were the one who failed to take control of the deer. It was in your grasp. It is not their fault you let it go.”

  “But I—”

  “Enough. He must be sent on another labor and you will never set men on my daughter again. Ever.”

  Without looking back to me, my mother disappears in a flash as brilliant as the one that brought her.

  14

  HERA

  An exasperated huff escapes my lips as I drop into the chaise lounge. Hermes turns from looking out over the valley below Mount Olympus and sends me a questioning glance.

  “Problem?” he asks, arching his left eyebrow.

  “Where to begin? Eury—” I let out an angry grunt—not a very god-like noise, but I’m too frustrated to even begin to detail my annoyance with Portaceae’s Solon. How dare he threaten my daughter? How dare he allow his monsters to touch her?

  “You ought to know by now nothing good comes of meddling in human affairs.” The wings at his feet and on his helmet flutter to raise him up from the marble floor and fly him over to me. Silly really, it’s only ten paces across the temple we Olympians use as a common area. He could have walked the distance, but oh, how Hermes loves to show off his wings. He lands and pushes my legs aside to make room for himself as he sits down beside me.

  “If only they were human affairs I was meddling in,” I say. “Why can’t the Fates just cooperate and let this bastard die?”

  “Hercules?”

  “Please.” I wave my hand as if shooing away a fly. “Don’t mention his name. It gives me a headache. And yes, him.”

  “But I thought his father granted him the gift of the gods? If the Fates step in and ‘let him die’ as you say, he’ll only end up here. With you. For eternity,” he says with a grin that appears innocent and sardonic at the same time.

  “Please, Hermes, you’re about to make me retch. Zeus did grant the gift, but I tricked him into a deal that this bastard had to meet certain criteria to earn the gift. Criteria I thought impossible at the time.” I drop my head into my hands, annoyed with myself for my own perceived cleverness when I’d devised that deal thirty years ago. After a moment’s wallowing, I look up to see Hermes preening the wings on his helmet. He stops when he notices me watching him.

  “It’s very important the feathers stay clean. Now,” he sets the helmet back on his head, “you were saying?”

  “Before all this task business, I didn’t want him dead. I wanted him to suffer, feel ostracized, lose his place as Solon, live in the dregs of the vigile housing. Tormenting him is such fun—did you see his reaction to his children’s death?” I ask with a renewed cheer in my voice. Hermes nods as he gives me a reproachful look with his black eyes. “Oh, not you too.” I roll my own eyes and rise from the chaise to cross to where he had been looking out earlier. With its summer beauty of vibrant fields, glittering rivers, and fiery sunset, the view from Mount Olympus tugs at even my cynical heart.

  Behind me I hear the flapping of Hermes’s twin pair of wings. He lands softly beside me then leans against a column, crossing his arms over his chest and taking on a jaunty aspect as he criticize
s me with his eyes.

  “It was a bit harsh,” he says.

  “They were humans. Zeus knows there’s enough of them scattered about down there. Why should three tiny mortals matter to us?”

  Hermes shrugs. This is obviously an argument he doesn’t want to have and neither do I. There is simply no reason for us to be bothered by the deaths of a handful of babies produced by a bastard vigile.

  “Oh, enough of them,” Hermes says. “You mentioned impossible criteria. Details are in order.”

  “The criteria was that he could only assume his immortality if he fell in love—truly in love, not just lust, mind you—with an immortal.”

  “Where is the impossibility in that? Mortals pine for us all the time without our even trying.”

  “The deal states that the immortal he loves must also fall in love with him. Which is why I need him dead. I fear it may be too late as it is,” I whine thinking of Iole risking herself to help the bastard complete his chore in Cedonia.

  “Ah, yes, your daughter. But wait, if she breaks her vows, then she’ll no longer be immortal. Since he needs an immortal to love him, well, problem solved.”

  He gives a triumphant nod of his head as if he’s just solved all of Osteria’s problems. I shoot him a look and he raises both hands, palms facing me as if defending himself from the glare.

  “First,” I say, “even if Iole were mortal, I do not want her bedding that bastard. The very thought of it makes me ill. Second, I do not want my daughter to lose her immortality. One day she will give up this foolish life-with-the-mortals bit and return to me.”

  The stipulation of Iole going to live amongst the mortals was that she must serve me. And in that service she is required to stay chaste. If she breaks her Herene vows, if she gives her body to a man, she will have broken our bargain. She will become mortal. And, as with all mortals, when she dies she will make the one-way journey to the realm of Hades’s Chasm. If she breaks our bargain she will never be able to return to Mount Olympus.