"If that is what my father truly wants of me, I swear that I will do my best to accomplish it."
I was starting to form the words of one more question for the god, but his back was already turned to me, and I had the feeling that it would be useless.
And with that the Messenger turned in his boat and moved the pole in his two hands; and somehow the few thin trunks of trees that rose through the dark water seemed to provide concealment, for neither the god nor his boat were any longer to be seen.
At last I did call after him. "When will I be allowed to see my father?"
No answer.
I raised my voice: "Also, if I am being hired like a laborer to do a job, I have a right to know just what payment I am being offered. I know you said it is 'greater than I can imagine,' and that sounds very generous, but all the same . . ."
I allowed my voice to die away, for I was shouting into the empty swamp.
Chapter Seven
Saurus
The first breath of real winter soon overtook Enkidu and me as we pressed steadily on, up into the high country. That, we had been told, was the place to look for centaurs; but so far we had not seen so much as a hoofprint of that legendary race, let alone gained any clue as to the whereabouts of the individual named Pholus. Again and again I regretted not having pressed Hermes for more detailed information; and again and again I wondered whether I had been completely foolish in agreeing to the pledge that Hermes had demanded of me.
As for my earlier determination to confront my father and demand some answers from him, my failure was so complete that it pained me to think about it. I had not abandoned the idea, but of course had made no progress at all in carrying it out.
Several weeks had passed since I had beaten the Hydra into a mass of fish food and Mercury had carried away his samples of the creature's flesh. Enkidu and I had gratefully accepted the food and clothing bestowed on us in gratitude by some of the people who had watched the fight. On the day I wish to speak of next, we were trudging along a high mountain path, in accordance with the only clue we had that might help us locate Pholus. My chronic impatience was made somewhat the worse by the realization that we were getting farther and farther from Mount Erymanthus, where we must eventually hunt the Boar.
Our new clothing was somewhat warmer than the garments that had been lost and torn away while we were chasing down and killing the Hydra. But, coming from the warm lowlands as we did, we had failed to appreciate what real winter on a mountainside might mean, and whenever we stopped walking we began to shiver. What we needed were furs and hats and boots.
My nephew's teeth were chattering as he asked: "Herc, do centaurs speak the same language we do?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if Pholus speaks ours, along with maybe a dozen others. I've heard that some of his race are very well educated." In childhood Enkidu and I had both learned a smattering of a couple of tongues besides our own, and in our ignorance I suppose we felt beautifully equipped, linguistically, to make our way anywhere in the wide world.
As Enkidu and I strode along, now and then swinging our arms to keep warm, my mind had moved ahead to future difficulties, and I kept trying to think of what would be the best way to wrestle with the Boar. If the creature we were soon going to hunt was in any way comparable in strength and ferocity to the two terrible beasts I had already conquered, catching it alive promised to be fiendishly harder than clubbing it to death.
My companion's thoughts were running on a parallel track. "Herc, we still don't know just what this great Boar looks like."
"True, but that should be the least of our problems. I don't doubt we'll recognize the cursed thing when we see it. It must be a special beast indeed."
Actually, Hermes had given us practically no description of the Boar. But, having seen farmyard and pasture boars, of a more or less ordinary variety, I thought there would be no problem of recognition. I could picture fearsome tusks, of course, but I didn't really suppose that they would hurt me, when the Hydra's fangs had failed to inflict so much as a scratch. Maybe I thought, I could first stun the great pig with my club, or with my fist, if I could calculate just the proper amount of force.
I felt sure that the cloaked figure who accosted me in the marsh had been a god. But for some reason, as I continued to mull over the experience, I was no longer entirely convinced that our visitor had been Hermes. Nor could I understand why Hermes—if he had been Hermes—had been so insistent that the Boar was not to be killed.
Enkidu and I were striding along with our minds on these and related topics, also speculating on the nature of centaurs, as I recall, and paying little attention to our surroundings, when a huge, heavily armed man surprised us totally by stepping out of concealment behind a tree and onto the road just ahead of us, where he stood blocking the way.
At his first appearance, the man's face was contorted into a scowl of menace, but as we remained passive, that soon smoothed away into a gap-toothed smile. I suppose his age might have been thirty, though it was hard to judge. He was clad in leather trousers and a leather vest with boots to match, his reddish hair hung in two pigtails beside large earrings, and his face and his enormous arms, quite bare in total indifference to the cold, had been heavily tattooed and ritually scarred. His barrel-like torso was festooned with belts and holsters, from which sharp weapons sprouted like thorns from a cactus.
I saw with faint, unreasonable disappointment that there was nothing of the centaur about him, though at first glance he was not much smaller than a horse. A robber, certainly, I thought; and I realized that we were lucky not to have encountered others of his profession in our wanderings to date. Somehow I retained presence of mind enough to take a quick look around, and I was vaguely surprised that he had no band of ruffians with him. Any lone bandit was going to have a hard time of it, I thought, if his potential victims tended to travel in groups. But perhaps this one made a specialty of lone travelers, or feeble-looking pairs—like us. I was of course carrying my latest version of a club, but I knew that it looked too big and clumsy to be an effective weapon, especially in hands no more impressive than mine.
Meanwhile the huge man had put his fists on his hips and was regarding us with satisfaction, as if we might have been two mushrooms he was about to pick and eat.
"Good morning, lads." The voice of our new acquaintance was suitably large and deep, but well controlled. And indeed, he sounded truly pleased to see us.
"Good morning, sir," I said. It seems to me now, as I look back, that half my mind must have been still on centaurs, and the Boar. I kept looking about, still more than half expecting a dozen or so of the robber's henchmen to come springing out of their own ambushes. But we three were still alone, so I turned back to him. "Do you know where we might find some centaurs?" I asked, on the off chance.
The man did not appear to hear the question. "My name is Saurus," he announced, then paused, as if expecting a reaction. When none came, he went on, frowning. "You both look cold. I think you should come along to my cave—it's nice and warm. I have some warm clothes there that would just fit you."
If these were the words of genuine hospitality, the tone certainly had a false ring to it. I exchanged glances with Enkidu, who shrugged minimally. As long as he was standing close to me, he was no more frightened than I was, and his eyes actually brightened at the prospect of adventure. I looked back at the man, who no longer seemed quite so satisfied. I suppose our reactions, neither innocent gullibility nor craven fear, were odd enough to awaken some uneasiness.
"Which way is your cave, sir?" I asked politely.
As if reluctant to be outdone in courtesy, Saurus made a motion with his head, then stepped aside to let us precede him. A small path, practically invisible from the road, led from behind his tree of ambush into the woods. I turned my back on the man and walked along the path, without really stopping to think about what other options might be open to me.
I did, of course, take the precaution of making sure that Enkidu was
safely in front of me; he had scampered at once into that position, making sure to keep me between him and the big man. My stick rode in its usual place on my right shoulder. If Saurus, who was now walking behind me, should try to wrench it from my grasp, or more likely, to strike me down from behind with one of his own weapons . . . well, he'd be in for a surprise. But I still was not absolutely sure he meant us any harm. Very likely he did, I thought, but simply had no respect for any weapon so big and clumsy as my club, especially in hands as small as mine.
"Been traveling far, boys?" asked the large voice behind me, retaining its joviality. "Is home a long way off?"
I turned my head back slightly to reply. "All the way from Cadmia, sir. Thanks for your concern."
He did not reply, and I wondered if he had ever heard of Cadmia.
We had not quite gone a hundred yards along the path when the cave suddenly appeared in the form of a dark oblong window in a natural limestone wall, the opening covered by a hanging stitched together from the hides of large and furry animals. Saurus stepped up to push the hairy curtain back, and moments later we were all inside. I left my club outside, thinking there would probably not be room enough to swing it in a small cave anyway.
Enough daylight to see by came in through high crevices in the rock. It was a surprisingly warm chamber, roomy but snug, but despite the promise of comfort it was hard to relax, because of the dozen or so human skulls and other bones which the proprietor had incorporated into the luxurious decorations, and which ran like a frieze, up high around the irregular and slanted walls.
A small fire was burning, making an optimistically merry sound, in a recess in one wall of the cave. A hole in the rock above the fire made a fair chimney, and the stone floor formed a handy natural hearth. On a flat stone near the fire, a lidded pot was keeping warm, sending out a vaguely appetizing aroma. Had it not been for the charnel-house decorations, the place would have been quite cheerful. Much of the stone floor was actually covered with a carpet, incongruously fine.
Even a robber can have a home, I thought. And suddenly, I suppose because of the image of coziness and home, I thought of Megan. But she was far away, and I thanked all the gods that she would never be anywhere near this cave.
Something much larger than a mouse went scampering near my feet, and I looked down, startled, to see a couple of exotic little animals, lizards of some kind, the size of rabbits, running around inside the cave. At first their dark-scaled bodies moved too fast for me to get a really good look, but when they paused I saw that they were wearing collars, like pets. One of them was carrying a bone in its monkeylike forepaws and chewing what looked like the last fragments of meat from it. The bone looked ominously like a human ulna. Crouching on the hearth, the creatures stared at us with their large yellow eyes, and it seemed to me that they looked hungry.
"Your pets?" I asked.
"Meet Deimos and Phobos. They keep most of the vermin out. And they're better company than people."
I said nothing, but only shook my head. If a man prefers the companionship of lizards, what use is there in arguing with him?
Saurus invited us to shed our packs and sit down. But as soon as I had slid mine from my shoulders, he snatched it up, opened it without hesitation or comment, and dumped out the meager contents on the single, narrow bed that stood against one wall. Enkidu's burden followed quickly.
"Not much," the robber observed in disappointment. "Too bad, lads, that you're both so poor."
"Help yourself," I offered. "If you see anything there you like." Then I drew a deep breath, feeling for some reason that I owed the man fair warning. "But if you empty my pack, then before I leave your cave I'll likely fill it up again, maybe with things more valuable. Like some of those warm clothes you mentioned. And I suppose you have a good supply of food."
Saurus gave his imitation of a laugh. It would need more practice if he wanted it to be convincing. He was still watching me with amusement, but now with caution, too. Most likely my continued calm suggested to him that I was mad, and the mad, no matter how small or poorly armed, are always dangerous opponents.
"As for clothes," the huge man said, "you lads won't need to worry about such things anymore. I understand they're just not needed in the Underworld. In fact, you'd better take off the ones you're wearing—that'll keep 'em from being damaged and save me the trouble later."
I was glad to see that Enkidu had already done what he could to remove himself from harm's way, scrambling back as far as he could get in a blank corner of the cave. Now I would not have to worry about protecting him in the conflict that seemed likely to begin at any moment.
Still, with the image of Linus before me, I felt a need to make the whole business thoroughly explicit, so I asked our host: "Don't robbers usually have helpers? I mean, don't you like the odds to be in your favor, as a rule?"
Saurus looked at me almost pitingly. "Why, bless you, lad, I don't need any helpers. Not in dealing with anyone I might invite into my home. Maybe you've heard of me by my other name. Some call me the Lizard." Again he paused, as if expecting that the name would produce some effect. But Enkidu and I had never heard of him.
Now the robber was growing angry. "And the odds are in my favor, boy. If you doubt it, try me. What do they call you, by the way?"
"Hercules," I said. But that name meant no more to him than his had to me.
"And my name is Enkidu!" came from the corner, in a brave, piping voice.
"All right, Enkidu," said the Lizard equably, turning his head a little toward the corner, while he kept his narrowed eyes on me. "I'll let you live until later, so you can clean up the mess that it seems I am going to have to make. But it'll be outside. Little Hercules is going to come out there with me; I dislike staining my good carpet."
The Lizard had scorned to draw his sword for me but already had one of his big knives out. When I reached to grab his arm he was far too quick for me—not that being quick did him any good at all. Before I could get hold of him, the blade came slicing through my tunic, and I felt it slide cold and sharp along my ribs. There was a biting sensation, but, as I verified with my own eyes later, sharp bronze or steel in a man's hand was no more able to break my skin than the Hydra's fangs and claws had been. And in the next moment I had managed to catch his arm, and the fight, if you could call it that, was effectively over.
When Saurus felt his muscles crushed in the power of my grip, his bones about to break, and he saw in my eyes that he was soon to die, he said, in a changed voice: "A god has come against me, and I can do nothing."
I wondered if someone, sometime, had given him a prophecy to that effect. For he believed what he said, and he said no more, and put up almost no further struggle. Somehow the Lizard's calm acceptance only made me the angrier, so far was his behavior from what I would have said and done in his place.
He did not scream but only grunted twice, once when I broke his arm, making him drop the knife, and again when I snatched from its scabbard another of the blades that sprouted from his leather-strapped torso, and awkwardly pushed the keen point through his heart. It seemed to me fitting that death should come upon him through one of the tools of his evil trade. Deimos and Phobos screamed and ran away, and bright red stained his good carpet after all, and no one was ever going to clean it up.
In that manner died the second human being that I had ever killed. I found my second slaying less upsetting than my first—and had I been wiser, that fact would have troubled me.
But could I have been so cruel to the world as to allow such a robber and murderer to live? The skulls nailed high on the walls grinned down at me—victims having the last laugh on their killer after all, for they had told me beyond a doubt what manner of man he was.
A god has come against me. But no, I had seen Hermes, and I knew that I was not a god.
As soon as he saw Saurus crushed, Enkidu came out of the corner of the cave where he had taken shelter, and stepped carefully over the robber where he lay, no longer breat
hing, on his good carpet. Then the two of us unhurriedly went through the cave, looking for useful supplies and miscellaneous loot. Most of it we found in a back room, its entrance half-concealed by another curtain of animal hides. Here were the stores I had expected and hoped to find, of dried meat and fruit and fish, and warm clothes enough in different sizes, including fur-lined boots, to complete our outfitting.
After a little searching, I dug out another tunic for myself, one lacking a knife slash, and some leggings and a fur hat. While we were rifling the storeroom, my nephew picked up a fine, fur-lined hooded cloak, which I suppose might have once belonged to some elegant lady, and better footwear. But he thought all this was incidental, and kept on looking anxiously for treasure.
There was indeed a considerable store of gold and silver. This was cunningly buried under the floor, but Enkidu searched diligently until he found it. I pocketed only a handful of coins, which would be useful in buying provisions on the way.
"Look at this, Herc. And this! By all the gods, it's gold!"
"Heavy stuff to carry." I was trying on some boots, of which there was a good selection.
"But gold!"
I shook my head. "I've got all I need. You take what you want. But don't expect me to lug an extra load, or defend a big pile for you." Coins and jewels, gold and silver, in themselves have never seemed to me a great prize, or worth much trouble to accumulate; the world contains vast quantities of such things, after all, and enough to meet immediate needs can usually be found when they become really necessary.
For a minute he was quiet, rummaging around. Then: "Look: earrings! I wish I had my ears pierced, Herc. Are yours?" I suppose my hair hung thick and low enough to keep my ears from being a familiar sight to my companion.
"They're not," I said. "I doubt that anyone could find a tool to pierce them with. But Saurus's ears have large holes." I could remember that detail of the body in the other room.
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