The Arms Of Hercules

by Fred Saberhagen

  "The hours were long, the pay not great—though that improved toward the end, and I felt well rewarded by my stay on your uncle's estate. How is he, by the way? In bad health, I trust?"

  I was rewarded with a giggle. Soon she was explaining to her brother, in more detail than before, her version of what had happened at the estate of the wicked Augeus.

  Of course in Danni's version of events, which she unquestioningly believed to be the truth, the destruction of the dam, and the resulting flood, were put down as merely a coincidental stroke of good fortune that had allowed my nephew and me to get away without being noticed.

  "Anyway," she concluded, "the remains of Uncle's stables are now clean. He tries to take some comfort from that fact."

  Meleager stared at me for a long moment, before finally deciding that the whole story was worth a hearty laugh. Evidently he and his greedy uncle were not on the friendliest of terms.

  Then he clapped me on the shoulder in good fellowship, a blow that would have staggered any ordinary man. "Lucky for you and Enkidu that there was such a flood that night!"

  "Yes," I said. "That was very fortunate for us." But I was already looking at his sister again, and all I could think of was the depth of those green eyes.

  "I hope you're able to come with us," Meleager said. He was sincere, but his tone made it clear he thought it wasn't likely, given the test that had been proposed.

  I had looked at Danni only briefly the first time my eyes fell on her. But then I found myself looking back at her, again and again, over what must have been a period of several minutes.

  When she turned her eyes to me again I said: "I think I ought to go back and arm-wrestle with your brother there."

  What she said in response somehow failed to register with me. Green eyes—or were they after all some oceanic shade of gray?— quickened my pulse, seeming to convey a kind of wordless promise. I have seen something of the same seeming change of color on the sea in troubled weather.

  But she was so young. Of course I was actually not yet very old myself. Perhaps she was not every man's ideal of great beauty, and perhaps she would never be . . . but I considered her a vision of loveliness, despite her youth, her age less than mine, body barely rounding into womanhood. A quotation, gleaned from some romantic tutor, drifted into my mind: ". . . upon whose neck was still the verdancy of youth. Nor was she yet familiar with the ways of Aphrodite, charmer of men."

  But however great an impression Danni had made on me, I had little time to talk to her just then.

  The Argonauts, after some prolonged though low-key wrangling, had finally decided on what test I was to undergo. In a general murmur of heroic voices I learned that it would be the same one that had been used on several others who had recently applied to join their company.

  Jason, taking the lead in administering the test, as he did in almost everything else, stepped forward, smiling, and stuck out his big hand. He was almost a head taller than me, and his hand seemed to swallow mine. I thought there was a genuine friendliness in his attitude; he would not try to hurt me as punishment for my impertinence.

  "We must make it a fair, strict trial," Mel warned me, half-apologetic.

  "Of course. I understand."

  And in the privacy of my own thought, I reminded myself strictly that I must be careful not to crush the hand of the brother of the girl who had been of such help to me. Nor should I do permanent damage to any of her brother's friends—of course, in truth, her green eyes would have saved him whether she had been my friend or enemy.

  Whether I was to be invited to join the glorious quest or not was suddenly not so important to me as the chance that I might be able to impress a certain girl. But luckily the two goals were not exclusive. When the signal was given, and the match began, it was Jason who, tugged irresistibly forward, swayed and moved in a couple of helpless running steps before going off the pier and into the cool, refreshing water of the harbor. I thought the expression on his face was richly comical, and I heard my nephew's giggle plainly in the shocked silence of the watching crowd. Danni was also stricken dumb for a count of four, but then she added her own scream of delighted laughter.

  Other Argonauts, suddenly alerted to the fact that something unexpected was happening and that they had better be prepared to do their best, followed their leader into competition. After four or five had copied his dive over the edge, the shallows beside the quay began to look even uglier than before, churned up as they were by the thrashing of brawny arms and legs.

  When the next two contestants were disputing briefly as to who was next, pride, the heady fumes of sudden celebrity, at least as strong as those of wine (yes, Daedalus was right) once more got the better of me.

  I shifted my stance and stuck out my left hand as well as my right. "Two at once?"

  That was a dare such men could not refuse, and a moment later there was a double splash. In such a competition I found it hard to distinguish the strength of heroes from that of herd boys.

  There were more than forty heroes present (I made no attempt at an exact count) and before my test had been completed, all of them had stepped up manfully to take their turns. There was some grumbling among my victims, and I received some formal congratulations when the farce was over, but mostly the crowd onshore and on the other piers looked on in an awed silence.

  My credentials as a hero had been established beyond any shadow of a doubt, but in my foolish pride I had brought some who might have been my friends into the stage of envy, first stop on the road to being enemies.

  Chapter Eleven

  A More Pleasant Swim

  That afternoon I was welcomed aboard the Argo by Jason personally, in effect formally granted heroic status. The leader of the Argosy seemed a trifle reluctant, and at the time I could not understand why. But following the exhibition I had put on that morning, I suppose he could hardly have done anything else.

  Each qualified and accepted hero was allowed to bring aboard one companion, who was not required to pass a test, and so Enkidu came with me. No one bothered to ask whether he was present in the capacity of friend, relative, servant, catamite, or some combination of those categories, all of which were already represented among the chosen adventurers and their various associates.

  That very day the expedition got under way, taking advantage of a favorable midday turning of the tide. I pulled an oar with the others, a few minutes being long enough to acquire the necessary skill. Some of my new shipmates, who had noted the soft skin of my hands, looked forward to seeing me quickly blister; but they were doomed to disappointment. Most of my body was already tanned from almost lifelong exposure, and the sun reflecting from the sea did no further damage.

  Within an hour or two we had run into some choppy seas, and after half an hour of that I was unheroically seasick; my only consolation on that boatload of heroes was that I was not alone in my suffering.

  Some of those who were not sick seemed to find amusement in the plight of us who were. Before my wretchedness had persisted for an hour, my anger at these mocking ones, and at myself, grew great enough to drive out seasickness from my guts and brains. Yet fortunately it was not great enough to goad me to violence.

  As we rowed, the conversation around me touched on many things: women and the sea, Giants and gods. I listened mostly, now and then contributing a word or two; but to my surprise what I had vaguely expected to be the chief subject of conversation was scarcely mentioned. That was of course the Fleece itself. Neither I nor my nephew had yet been able to discover just what kind of treasure this might be, and gradually it dawned on us that some considerable number of those who were now on their way to seek it did not know, either.

  Our first night out we spent at sea, mostly dozing at our oars, while clouds covered the stars, and Jason, who apparently did not completely trust Tiphys and his elaborate compass-pyx, decided to wait for dawn to push ahead.

  On our second day at sea we raised some hills around noon, and soon came ashore at a diff
erent place on the mainland for a scheduled final outfitting and to once more refill our water jugs and jars and waterskins. This was, of course, another part of the world that I had never seen before.

  Before landing, we rowed up into the mouth of a good-sized stream, and one of my shipmates informed me that this was the river Chius, and the land that we had reached was Mysia.

  Most of the crew might still have had some lingering taste of Iolcus harbor in their mouths, for none of us were eager to restock our water supply in this muddy stream. The party split into several groups, and most of the groups went inland, searching in several directions for a clear pond or stream.

  At the time I assumed it was by sheer accident that Enkidu and I were separated, assigned to different parties; but before long I realized that it was nothing of the kind.

  I was the chief subject of the following conversation but did not hear it, for it took place in a water-fetching party of which I was not a member. But it was later reported to me by a source I considered reliable.

  Jason was shaking his head as he trudged along, carrying several empty jars, like all the other members of the group. "I am a strong man," he announced matter-of-factly, and others nodded. "But when he gripped my paw, I might as well have been a child." Jason raised his own right hand, large-boned, thick with muscle, callused in certain telltale spots that indicated a habitual use of weapons, and stared at it as if he beheld some troubling flaw. Then in a lower voice he mused: "Do you know, that wasn't the worst thing of all."

  "No?" prompted one of his companions.

  "No. The worst thing of all was—and it was easy to see—that Hercules wasn't even trying very hard."

  "And he's not at all large," someone else put in, after a pause in which they all considered the implications.

  "Wait till he gets his full growth," another voice speculated ominously.

  For a while after that, no one said anything at all.

  The heroes of the Argosy, every one of them having personally tested the strength of this upstart Hercules, knew that not one of them could stand against me for an instant in any direct contest. Later I learned that whenever I was not present, they tended to sulk and scowl and mutter among themselves, trying to devise some way to be rid of me. From accounts I was able to piece together later, the business went something like this:

  The group of which my nephew was a member had gone ashore like the others, everyone carrying appropriate containers, in search of clean water.

  When Enkidu's party had made their way inland half a mile, one member of it suddenly recalled having heard where a suitable pool might be.

  When they had reached its shore, one muscular young giant approached Enkidu casually and asked him: "Are you sure your uncle's not some god in disguise?"

  "I'm sure." The boy was calmly matter-of-fact about it. "I've known my uncle all my life, and he wears no Face. Zeus is his father, though." The little squad of heroes who had casually managed to separate us muttered and discussed it among themselves. A number of the Argonauts also claimed divine ancestry, in one form or another; sometimes it seemed that half the people in the world, at least those who hoped to advance in society, did that. But among this boatload of adventurers, a great many of their claims might well be true, to judge by the various powers they could demonstrate. They were not overawed by me. But they were worried.

  By now, Enkidu's group had come out of the woods to stand beside a long, broad serpentine of water, almost an acre in extent. Its grassy shores were shaded by the trees of a grove the local folk deemed sacred to some ancient god, a deity whose name had been forgotten. For the moment, the party seemed to have the place all to themselves.

  Enkidu asked the others, innocently enough: "Why did we have to come all this distance for water? I heard someone else talking about a clear stream a lot closer to where we came ashore."

  "Clear, yes. But not with water like this one. This is a very special pool." This was said with such a winking emphasis that my nephew's suspicions were immediately aroused, and he refrained from drinking from the pool until he saw several of his companions stretched out on the bank, slaking their thirst with no apparent concern and starting to fill their water jugs. Then Enkidu in turn bent down and drank. The water was cool and refreshing.

  And very special it proved to be.

  When we had all been in the boat, and I had tried to pin Jason down as to exactly where the expedition was headed, his response had been a little vague. The most I could learn about our destination was that it lay somewhere in the East, and that we were going in search of a reputed Golden Fleece. For guidance in the details, he told me, they meant to rely on visions and omens.

  Later, I began to wonder if Jason had withheld details because he knew I was not going to remain with the Argonauts for very long.

  A sizable faction among the Argonauts, having been convinced of how strong I really was, seeing for themselves confirmation of the wildest rumors, feared that I would hog all the glory of their quest for myself if they allowed me to come along.

  I was ready then to give Jason himself the benefit of the doubt, to believe that he was too noble a soul to be involved in such chicanery. In later years I became more cynical about the likely motives of all human leaders.

  But whether he was personally involved or not, there is no doubt that a certain clique among the Argonauts decided among themselves to throw Enkidu into the pond of nymphs, the Pool of Pegae. They were in fact reasonably careful not to do the youth any real harm.

  Before Enkidu could say or do anything else, two of them had him by the wrists and ankles, their four hands locking him in a quadruple grip no ordinary mortal could possibly have broken. Another hero began a chanting, lightly mocking count: "One, and—"

  "What're you doing? Let go!" the boy cried out, beginning to be frightened. The water under the overhanging trees, while much cleaner than the harbor, was somewhat darker and more mysterious than most people would choose for a casual swim.

  "You can swim, can't you? Good! Fear not, lad, there are no monsters in the depths. Only some girls who say they want to meet you."

  —-girls?!

  "—two, and—"

  "You'll find it cool and refreshing, much better than that damned harbor water."

  "—three!"

  So it seemed to Enkidu that he was only in for a dunking; nothing so terrible about that. And what could they possibly mean, about girls who wanted to meet him? He even managed to relax a little as he went in with a splash. Even while still in midair he caught a glimpse below him of a slender, silvery body, quite dramatically female; and when he opened his eyes, under the clear water, he saw drifting before him a girlish face framed in wild wet hair and wearing an expression of devilish anticipation, as of some delightful game about to be played.

  And now, close beside this first apparition he beheld another, at least as beautiful; and then another, and . . . with a strange feeling in his gut, he realized that there must be at least a dozen of the water sprites in all, and that they had him thoroughly surrounded.

  He was swimming freely now, but was suddenly not so much concerned to get out of the pool as to investigate the wonders that its depths had so unexpectedly revealed. And the more he saw of those wonders, the more willing he was to be detained by them. He had never met a naiad before, though I would not be surprised to learn that he had dreamed of them without knowing what they should be called. Had my nephew known what sort of welcome awaited in the pool, it might have taken several heroes to keep him out of it.

  Before long, I was quietly tipped off by the companion of one of the other heroes. The information came in the form of vague and disconnected hints that something might have happened to Enkidu. My informant told me he had last been seen alive on the shores of a certain pool, called the Pool of Pegae, which lay more than half a mile inland. At that point the name of the pool meant nothing to me.

  Paying little attention to the suggestive fact that none of the heroes were coming w
ith me, I dashed in that direction. I have never been able to manage anything out of the ordinary in running speed, but still I soon located the pool, which was easily approached by a couple of well-marked trails.

  When I reached the shoreline, the boy was nowhere in sight, and for a moment I was totally convinced that he was drowned. Detecting some kind of disturbance below the surface, I threw off my clothes and dove into the pool to see what I could find. I was far from being the best of swimmers, but I was determined to do all I could.

  Even in a pool that size, the tumult under the water was violent enough to be easily discovered. To my great relief, I soon saw and heard him sporting in good health.

  Soon I had joined Enkidu in his watery sport. We both enjoyed the romp.

  I quickly noted, with considerable relief, that nothing like scales and fish fins were in evidence, either on his body or those of his new playmates. The nymphs' bodies below the waist were as fair and womanly as they were above.

  While we were both still below the surface, his voice reached me with the sound of a stream of bubbles.

  "Uncle, Uncle! There's great magic in this pool! These girls can fix it so we can breathe underwater!"

  I thought about it, then bubbled back: "That can't be good for you, in the long run."

  But a moment later I was trying the technique myself, under the guidance of a fair instructress. The long run always seems very far away when you are young.

  The naiads offered superb sport, I must admit, and it might have been possible for a man to spend years in that pool, coming to the surface only now and then, or not at all if that should please him, so long as the fair natives were on hand to protect him with their special magic; but I had other aims in life. Several hours had passed before I finally succeeded in disentangling my nephew from the silvery bodies of the naiads. We surfaced among a stand of lily pads, I retrieved my clothes from the border of the pool (Enkidu's had all permanently disappeared somewhere underwater) and we went looking for the Argonauts.