Odysseus in the Serpent Maze

by Robert J. Harris

  Then ahead of him, he saw something humped up in the passageway. He held the sword out in front, the torch high, and ran forward. Anything to relieve the monotony of the place.

  But he pulled up short when he saw what the hump really was: a human skeleton, its clothes shredded and stained with dried blood.

  “Penelope,” he whispered, even as he saw that the skeleton wore a man’s tunic.

  He stood very still, listening, the upraised sword trembling as his tired arm shook.

  The Labyrinth was as silent as …

  As a tomb.

  “Not a good thought,” he told himself, and moved on.

  He found a second skeleton. Then a third. He thought they might be old. That the beast who had ravaged them might be old. Might even be dead.

  He wondered if he should call out to Penelope. To let her know he was looking for her.

  “Stupid idea,” he whispered to himself. It would alert the beast.

  He didn’t want to alert the beast.

  And then he heard a sound from ahead in the dark corridor.

  Clip.

  Clop.

  Clip.

  An animal’s hooves on the stone floor.

  Not dead, then, he thought. Meaning the beast. Hoping he meant Penelope. He set down the torch and moved out of its light.

  It was easier holding the sword in two hands. Much easier.

  He held his breath and went around a bend in the passage.

  Clip.

  Clop.

  He raised his sword in both hands and waited, his palms sweaty. He hoped the beast could not smell him.

  But he could smell the beast now: musky stink of a meat eater.

  The hoofbeats came closer.

  They were almost on top of him.

  Releasing all his fear in one horrific battle cry, he leaped out of hiding and swung the sword.

  A bulky figure reeled back, dropped a little light, and avoided the bronze blade by inches.

  “Great Paaaaaan!” the old satyr exclaimed. “Is that any waaaay to greet aaaan old friend?”

  CHAPTER 23: LADON

  SILENUS PICKED UP A bronze lamp from the Labyrinth floor. As he did so, the yellow flame cast flickering shadows over his little horns, making them look larger. For a moment he seemed as fearsome as any monster.

  “You’re the horned beast?” Odysseus cried.

  “I don’t know that I caaare for the term,” Silenus said, “but thaaaat’s whaaat the devil Deucalion caaaalled me.”

  Odysseus let the heavy blade touch the ground. His arm was now aching. “By all the gods, how did you get here?” He was so relieved to see the old satyr, he didn’t even mind the stink.

  “Those piraaaatical friends of yours were very persistent,” Silenus said. “They finally caught me taaaaking a naaaap in my caaaave. They draaaagged me on board aaaand brought me here, where the king bought me. A pretty price he paaaaid too.” There was a note of pride in his bleating voice. “A saaack full of gold aaaand jewels.”

  Suddenly remembering the skeletons, Odysseus said, “How long have you been here?”

  “Two or three daaaays,” Silenus answered uncertainly. “Deucalion supplied me with enough food to laaaast a week, or so he said. He underestimated my aaaappetite. It’s gone, aaaand I’ve filled the lamp with the laaaast of the oil he left me.”

  “I have a torch,” Odysseus said, gesturing behind him. “Back there. But it won’t burn for long, either. Maybe we should just use one till the other is about to give out.”

  “Good plaaaan,” the satyr said. “Do you have other plaaaans? You’re very good with plaaaans.” He smiled. It didn’t improve his looks.

  “My only plan was to kill the horned beast, rescue Penelope, and get out of here as fast as I could,” said Odysseus.

  Silenus nodded. “Good plaaaan,” he said. “Except for the killing.” He thought a minute. “Penelope is the pretty girl?”

  “I think so,” said Odysseus.

  “I thought I smelled something. Aaaa flowery perfume. I hoped it was a haaaandmaid of the gods. That’s where I was going now. Aaaa woman is better than food any daaaay. Though …” he sighed, “I could do with some food right now. Do you haaaave any?”

  Odysseus shook his head.

  “Well, then,” said the satyr, “it will haaaave to be the girl. Get your torch. With my nose”—and he laid a finger against his nostril—“we’ll find her soon enough.”

  As soon as Odysseus had retrieved his torch, they moved off smartly together. The sound of the satyr’s hooves clippity-clopping kept echoing off the stone walls.

  Every once in a while, Odysseus could feel the floors shift. Each time, when he turned around, the way behind was blocked. But as their journey went on, the shifts became fewer and fewer.

  “We’re getting close to the centre of the maaaaze now,” Silenus explained. “It’s easier to find your waaaay. Nothing moves in the centre.”

  “That’s good,” Odysseus said.

  They came to an intersection, where Silenus paused for a few more sniffs. He nodded, turned right.

  “Not faaaar,” he said. “Yes—look!”

  Ahead in the semi-darkness, a burnt-out torch at her feet, a girl huddled against the wall. At the sound of Silenus’ hooves, she stood, picked up the torch, and held it above her head like a cudgel. She was wearing a Cretan dress only slightly less splendid than Helen’s, though spoiled from her time in the maze.

  “You saaaaid she was the pretty one.” Silenus’ voice held disappointment.

  Odysseus was so relieved to see Penelope alive, he blurted out, “She is to me.”

  At his voice, Penelope ran over and threw her arms around his neck. “Merciful Athena! I thought the beast had come for me.”

  “In aaaa manner of speaking …” Silenus said. “Though I’ve never eaten human flesh. A kiss or two was all I’d hoped for.”

  Penelope let go of Odysseus and turned to the old satyr. Pulling his head down, she planted a kiss between his little horns.

  He let out a contented bleat.

  Then Penelope looked over at Odysseus. “Where’s Helen? Where’s Mentor?”

  “They’re at the harbour trying to free my old captain and get us a ship.”

  “Can we get out of here?”

  “Easier saaaaid than done,” Silenus said. “I’ve been looking for a waaaay out these past few daaaays. Don’t suppose you brought a bit of thread along? So we caaaan see where we’ve been.”

  “I could unweave a bit of my dress,” Penelope said, holding up the skirt. “It’s ugly anyway.”

  “I’m not sure the Labyrinth will let us go backwards,” Odysseus said thoughtfully. “But maybe we should be going the other way.”

  Penelope looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the prophecy,” Odysseus said, leaning on the sword. “If we can get the two of you—maiden and horned beast—together in the centre of the maze, maybe we’ll fulfill the prophecy and get our heart’s desire.”

  “My heart’s desire is to get out of here,” said Penelope.

  “And mine,” added Odysseus.

  “The centre …” the satyr said slowly. “Thaaaat maaaay not be so simple.”

  Before Odysseus could ask what Silenus meant, a horrifying din came echoing through the stone passageways. It was a savage chorus of roars and snarls and hisses, like a pack of hungry beasts.

  “What’s that?” Odysseus asked.

  Penelope shivered. “That’s what I thought was the beast until you showed up with Silenus. I’ve heard that sound three times now.”

  “It’s the real beast,” said Silenus. He turned to Odysseus. “It’s naaaame is Laaaadon. I’ve been meaning to tell you aaaabout him.”

  The awful roars came again.

  “You’ve been meaning—”

  “Something’s coming!” Penelope cried, pointing down the passage, where an enormous shape came slithering out of the gloom.

  It was a monstrously hu
ge snake, with a body as thick as a grown man’s waist, so long its tail was still far back in the blackness. Slitted eyes reflected little light, but when it opened its jaws, it exposed a set of long, pointed fangs.

  “Take this,” Odysseus said, passing the torch to Penelope. “Hold it high so I can see what I’m doing.”

  He grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands and advanced to meet the serpent. This is no worse, he told himself, than facing a charging boar. He didn’t think about how much larger the snake was than the boar. He didn’t think that a light javelin and a heavy sword fitted differently in the hand. All he thought about was the danger, and the blood raced wildly in his veins.

  The serpent jabbed at him, and Odysseus drew back a step, sword raised. Before the serpent had a chance to try again, Odysseus struck out. Twisting his body around, throwing all of his weight behind the blade as it scythed through the air, he struck downward with the sword, slicing cleanly through muscle and tissue.

  Whoosh! he thought. That was easy!

  The severed head flew into the air like a ball tossed by a child. The body recoiled, whipping back into the dark passage.

  Suddenly Odysseus could feel the heat of battle drop away from him, and his knees nearly buckled. He prodded the lifeless head with his sword point. It rolled away, the dead eyes staring at the cave’s ceiling.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” he said, pushing the words out with his last bit of breath. “Like killing any adder. Only … larger.”

  “There’s no need to sound disappointed,” said Penelope, but her hands were shaking, and the torchlight flickered.

  “You don’t understaaaand,” Silenus said. “Laaaadon’s not dead.”

  Leaning on the sword, Odysseus gave the satyr a quizzical look. “But you just saw me kill him.”

  Silenus opened his mouth to explain, then gaped in mute horror at something behind Odysseus.

  Odysseus whirled around and let out a gasp. There were six more serpents, each as large as the first, hurtling towards them.

  Battle fury again surged like a tide through Odysseus’ veins. He felt hot and cold and hot. Raising the heavy sword with both hands and screaming, he charged the snaky heads, swinging his sword to keep them at bay.

  They rose on their long necks and snapped at him from every direction at once. One of them even curved around behind him and prepared to take a bite out of his neck.

  Penelope grabbed the oil lamp from the satyr, lunged forward, doused the snake’s head with oil, and set it alight with the torch. The creature let out a screech of pain and pulled sharply away along with its brothers.

  “We have to get out of here,” Penelope cried, shaking with terror. “We can’t fight them all at once.”

  Odysseus felt the sudden weight of the sword but willed his arms to keep the blade up. “You only mentioned one of these things,” he said to Silenus. “Where are all the others coming from?”

  “There is only one,” said the satyr. “Laaaadon—the serpent with aaaa hundred heads. You caaaan chop off as maaaany as you like, but he just grows new ones to replaaaace them.”

  “You could have mentioned this before,” Odysseus said.

  “And whaaaat good would thaaaat have done?” asked the satyr. But he was shaking worse than Penelope.

  They backed out of the hall, staying clear of the corridors from which the snake heads had come, when a loud snarling hiss to their right caused all of them to turn as one.

  Six more snakes were coming towards them.

  “Penelope, when I yell ‘Now!’ we both charge at once.”

  Penelope gulped and nodded.

  “Now!” Odysseus cried. He whipped his sword in a vicious circle, slicing a shower of scales off two of the sinuous necks and cutting a third neck neatly in two. By his side, Penelope jabbed at the other serpent heads with the torch. The five live snakes shrank back from the fire into the shadows, leaving the dead head behind.

  “Run!” Odysseus yelled, pointing his sword towards the only corridor that hadn’t held snakes.

  They spun around and ran down the stone hall, with its bewildering twists and turns. Odysseus led them around a sharp corner, then skidded to a stunned halt.

  The way before them was swarming with serpents. Razor-sharp teeth glittered in the torchlight.

  One snake lunged forward and ripped the tunic from Odysseus’ shoulder. He barely turned away in time.

  “The other waaaay!” Silenus screamed, grabbed Penelope by the shoulder, and dragged her with him.

  Penelope screamed back as a serpent launched out of a side passage and aimed for her throat. Odysseus knocked Penelope down, and Silenus fell on top of her. Then Odysseus slammed the snake to the floor with the flat of his blade.

  “Run! Run!” Odysseus cried.

  One by one they leaped over the stunned serpent and ran down the shadow-filled hall. Behind them came the furious hissing of serpents.

  “They’re everywhere!” Penelope cried. “Everywhere!”

  Odysseus knew, with darkening certainty, that she was right.

  CHAPTER 24: A BATTLE IN THE DARK

  THEY RACED DOWN THE twisting, turning passages. Silenus was in the lead, shouting, “My nose knows.”

  Odysseus’ nose knew nothing. Between the satyr’s stink, the musty tang of snake, the damp cave odour and the nose-drip of fear, he couldn’t smell a thing. His arms were both red-hot with pain, his shoulders ached, and terror dogged his heels. Going after Silenus made as much sense as anything.

  They ran and ran, panicked, through the zigzagging corridors until they were all out of breath.

  Except for their own heaving sobs, an eerie silence filled the Labyrinth.

  Odysseus looked back warily. “Have we lost Ladon?”

  Silenus didn’t answer. His shudder was enough.

  Penelope sighed. “Who is this Ladon anyway?”

  Taking a deep breath, Silenus said, “From whaaaat the gloating king told me, Laaaadon is one of the maaaany offspring of the giaaaant Typhon and the she-serpent Echidnaaaa.”

  Now it was Penelope’s turn to shudder.

  The satyr went on. “Laaaadon terrorised Crete during the early years of Deucalion’s reign. There weren’t aaaany heroes who could kill him. So they lured him into the Laaaabyrinth.”

  “And here he’s been ever since?” Odysseus had caught his breath. “So why hasn’t he starved to death?”

  The old satyr straightened. “Oh—he haaaas regular meals. Deucalion sends all Cretan criminaaaals into the Laaaabyrinth.”

  Odysseus smiled wryly. “No wonder the dungeons are empty and lightly guarded.” He glanced at the torch in Penelope’s hand. It was flickering now, a sure sign it would soon die.

  “Ladon hasn’t been giving you any trouble,” Penelope said. “Both members of the same monster’s guild?”

  “Oh, he’d eat me soon enough,” Silenus admitted. “Snaaaakes love goat meat. But so faaaar I’ve staaaayed clear of the centre of the maaaaaaaaze.” His bleating voice let go on the last word.

  Penelope sighed. That small bit of breath fluttered the torch. “Too bad. Odysseus’ plan to bring us into the centre was the only plan we had.”

  “And it was a good plaaaan too,” said the satyr. “Except for Laaaadon, that is.”

  “We could sneak past Ladon in the dark, and …” Odysseus began.

  “His maaaany eyes are shaaaarp enough to penetraaaate the gloom of Erebus, the blaaaackest region of the Underworld,” Silenus said.

  All three were silent, contemplating just how dark such a gloom might be.

  “Maaaaybe we should let him eat us aaaand be done with it,” Silenus said. Exhausted, he squatted down on the floor.

  “Never!” Penelope cried.

  “There must be a way to kill him,” Odysseus added. Though he doubted he’d have the strength to lift the sword one more time, even if they found a way.

  “Oh, there is,” said Silenus. “But you haaaaave to kill his one true head, the one containin
g his scheming braaaain.”

  Odysseus leaned over the old satyr and stared at him, eye to eye. “And how do I tell which one is the one true head?”

  The satyr’s eyes closed. “It’s maaaarked, Deucalion saaaid, with aaaa crimson crest. The others are really just tentacles with eyes aaaand mouths.”

  “Crimson crest, eh?” Odysseus said, straightening up. “That shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “Haaaard enough,” muttered Silenus.

  “Harder still,” Penelope warned, “if the torch goes out.”

  But having gone through fear and defeat, Odysseus had already come out on the other side. “All we have to do is find the crested head and”—he lifted the sword with a barely concealed grunt—“and I will kill him!”

  Buoyed by Odysseus’ spirit, Penelope lifted the sputtering torch. “You will! You will!” She smiled.

  Grateful for her support, Odysseus smiled back and set the sword down carefully.

  Silenus got to his feet wearily. “Now Laaaadon’s haaaad a taaaaste of your sword, he’ll keep his one true head aaaat the centre of the maaaaze, well out of your reach.”

  “The centre of the maze!” Odysseus and Penelope said together, and Penelope added, “We’re back where we started.”

  “No, we’re not!” Odysseus was suddenly certain. “Do you remember what happened when I cut off that first head?”

  Penelope nodded. “The neck disappeared back into the dark.”

  “Yes!” Odysseus was triumphant. “Just what you’d do if you pricked your finger. Pull the finger away without thinking. Ladon’s done the same thing, and that’s what gives us a chance!”

  “I still don’t like this idea,” Penelope said as they made their way through the dark corridor. The torch was madly flickering.

  “We don’t have another choice,” Odysseus reminded her. “Soon we’re going to be completely in the dark. Better to strike when we still have some light on our side.”

  “We’re getting close to the centre,” said Silenus, touching a finger to his nose. “Laaaadon’s bound to attaaaack soon.”

  “Remember: when he does, you two get away and leave the rest to me.”

  “I really don’t like this idea,” Penelope said.