Heroes

by Stephen Fry

  When he felt the time was right he swung himself gently onto the horse’s back and took up the reins.

  ‘Shall we?’

  Pegasus dipped his head and broke into a trot. The trot became a gallop. Bellerophon leaned forward until he was almost lying on the mane as the great white wings opened and began to beat the air.

  Half an hour later they landed with a clatter of hoofs in the courtyard of the royal palace. Bellerophon calmed Pegasus, who became immediately alarmed by the shouts of the guards and then by the cries of his father Glaucus, his mother Eurynome and his brother Deliades, who all rushed out with the others to see what the fuss was about.

  The crowds that came every day to watch Bellerophon ride the white horse through the sky were enormous. When he wasn’t riding, Bellerophon kept the bridle with him at all times. No one else could approach Pegasus; he flinched and bolted when anyone but Bellerophon came near.

  People can accustom themselves to almost anything, and in time the crowds thinned. Everyone but visitors from other provinces soon became used to the sight of the boy, the youth and now the young man astride his flying horse.

  One day a messenger arrived from King PITTHEUS of Troezen, a small city state tucked away in the southeastern corner of the Peloponnese. Bellerophon was cordially invited to stay in the palace to meet the king’s daughter, AETHRA, with a view to betrothal. Bellerophon flew down on Pegasus and before long he and the princess had fallen in love. Their engagement delighted King Pittheus, who had long wanted to strengthen Troezen by uniting it with Corinth.

  It would be easy to envy Bellerophon. He was a handsome prince engaged to a beautiful princess. His parents doted on him. Women swooned at his lithe athleticism and insolent charm. He had a flying horse that he, and he alone, could ride. How much more in life could anyone want?

  But the Fates delight in preparing nasty surprises for those who ride on top of the world. Bellerophon was no more exempt from their malice and caprice than the rest of us.

  BEARING FALSE WITNESS

  It began as a day like any other. Two weeks before the wedding in Troezen, Glaucus, Deliades and Bellerophon went hunting for wild boar in a forest outside Corinth. It was a hunt on foot, so there had been no call for Pegasus. No one quite remembered how disaster struck. Without mentioning it to his brother or father, Deliades had slipped away to relieve himself behind some bushes. Bellerophon heard what sounded to him like the unmistakable sounds of a charging boar (his brother straining at stool, it is to be supposed) and hurled his spear in the direction of the bellowing and snorting noises. A terrible cry was heard and Deliades staggered out from the bushes, transfixed and mortally wounded by the spear. He died before they could get him home.

  We must not tire of reminding ourselves that to the Greeks blood crime, the killing of a relative, was the most serious of all transgressions. Purification could only be performed by oracles and the priestly caste, or by an anointed king. To go without such a purification was to invite pursuit by the Furies.

  The first consequence of the killing of Deliades was the immediate cancellation of Bellerophon’s engagement to Aethra. Next, he was sent from Corinth to Tiryns, in the neighbouring kingdom of Mycenae, to serve out his period of penitence and purification. The ruler PROETUS was a friend of the family and by virtue of his mystical kingly powers was able to cleanse Bellerophon of his crime.

  Proetus had a wife called Stheneboeafn5, who was so excited by the proximity of such a desirable young man that she knocked on his bedroom door one night. He opened the door and he saw her standing there, rushlight in hand, an alluring smile on her face. She was dressed in a sheer silk nightdress that revealed more than it hid.

  ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’ she cooed.

  ‘I … I … no! No. It would be most improper.’

  ‘But impropriety is such fun, Bellerophon,’ she said, pushing him aside and making for the bed. ‘Narrow, but plenty of room if one of us is on top of the other, don’t you think?’ She laid herself down and traced coy little circles on the counterpane.

  Bellerophon was in agony. ‘No! No, no, no! Madam, I am a guest in this palace. Proetus has shown me nothing but kindness. To betray him would be the act of a swine.’

  ‘Ride me like you ride that horse of yours. You want to, don’t you? I can sense that you do.’

  Bellerophon now made a terrible mistake. Of course he would very much have liked to lie down and do lustful things with Stheneboea. She was immensely appealing and he was a young man filled with sap and juice, but to defy the laws of hospitality while still in the process of being cleansed for a blood crime would be unthinkable. He should have said so. Instead, believing that this would solve his predicament, he said, ‘No. As a matter of fact I wouldn’t like to. I’m not in the least attracted to you and I’ll thank you to leave.’

  At this Stheneboea rose with a hiss and stalked from the room, her cheeks aflame. Never had she been so affronted. Well, she would show that pious little prick. Oh yes. All night she tossed and turned in an agony of mortification and wounded pride.

  Proetus was in the habit of snoring terribly and the royal couple had long enjoyed separate sleeping arrangements, but it was not uncommon for Stheneboea to visit her husband in the mornings and talk through their plans for the day. This morning she came in with a bowl of warm goat’s milk stirred with honey.

  ‘Ah, bless you, my dear,’ said Proetus, sitting up and taking a grateful sip. ‘Fine morning by the looks of it … I thought I might go hunting with young Bellerophon later on. He’s a … good heavens! How red your eyes are!’

  As well they ought to have been after being rubbed vigorously with raw onion for a full quarter of an hour.

  ‘It’s nothing, nothing …’ sniffed Stheneboea.

  ‘Darling, tell me what it is.’

  ‘Oh, it’s only … No, I can’t. I know how much you like him.’

  ‘Like him? Who?’

  ‘Bellerophon.’

  ‘Has he done something to upset you?’

  And so it all came tumbling out. Last night he had hammered on her bedroom door, barged his way in and tried to force himself upon her. It was all Stheneboea could do to keep the wild beast off and push him from the room. She was so scared. Felt so ashamed, so horribly polluted.fn6

  Proetus leapt from his bed and paced the room. He was in a quandary. After blood murder, perhaps the second most serious sin in the Greek world was an infraction of xenia, those laws of hospitality or guest-friendship that were especially sacred to the King of the Gods himself, Zeus Xenios, protector of guests. Naturally, the young man’s repulsive attempt to ravish Stheneboea was itself a crime against xenia, but this did not give Proetus the right to transgress in return. No, he must find another way to avenge the family honour.

  A few more turns about the room and he had hit upon the answer. ‘Of course!’ he cried. ‘Darling, I shall send Bellerophon to your father, with a sealed letter. That will fit the case perfectly.’

  ‘What will you say?’ Stheneboea’s eyes shone with malice.

  ‘I shall tell him the truth,’ said Proetus. ‘Now, let me sit down and write it.’

  Bellerophon awoke later that morning from an uneasy sleep. He could not be sure if it was his duty to report Stheneboea’s appalling behaviour to her husband, or whether it was best to be tactful and spare their marriage the trouble such a revelation would be certain to stir up. He had settled on the latter course when a page arrived to tell him that the king awaited his pleasure.

  ‘Ah, Bellerophon, come in, come in, my boy …’ Proetus was later to congratulate himself on the warmth and friendliness with which he conducted this meeting. Inwardly he was seething with rage at the vile effrontery of the monster of debauchery who dared to stand gazing at him with such round and innocent eyes. ‘It’s been a delight having you here. That unfortunate accident in which your brother died … you are, you know, almost wholly cleansed of that now. Any other crimes for which you may feel a twinge of
guilt are none of my business, of course.’ He fixed Bellerophon with a skewering glance and was not surprised to see the young man’s cheeks flush red.

  Bellerophon for his part was writhing inside. Perhaps not telling Proetus about his wife’s infidelity was a sin. Perhaps now was the time to speak up … He cleared his throat. ‘There’s something you should know …’

  ‘Tush tush. Enough talk. I sent for you to say that I have a message I need delivered to my father-in-law in Lycia. Thing is, it’s rather urgent. Family matter. Needs to be settled.’

  ‘Lycia?’

  ‘Yes, my father-in-law IOBATES is King of Lycia.fn7 It’s a fair way, but with that flying horse of yours you can cover the distance in no time. Besides, you’ve completed your period of piacular penance, what? Young men of noble birth should visit Ionia and Asia Minor, don’t you think? Here’s the letter. It also introduces you to Iobates and begs him to treat you with all the hospitality that you deserve.’ Proetus was pleased with that last remark. It was exactly what the letter did require of Iobates.

  ‘Sir, you are more than kind …’ Bellerophon felt a great surge of relief. This was for the best. Any more nights under the same roof as Stheneboea would be awkward. He could leave by chariot at once for Pirene, bridle Pegasus and be in Lycia by tomorrow.

  Proetus and Stheneboea waved from the doorway as Bellerophon drove away. ‘Vile pervert,’ muttered Proetus. ‘Good riddance to him.’

  What a pity, thought Stheneboea to herself. A slim, golden body with a sweet and lovely face to go with it. Such a lovely, firm round behind, too. Like a peach. Oh well, can’t be helped …

  IN LYCIA

  Bellerophon landed Pegasus in a sheltered meadow some distance from the city of Xanthus, where the royal palace of Lycia stood.

  ‘You must stay there until I return for you,’ he whispered, hitching him to a tree. ‘Sorry to tie you up, but it’s a long rope. There’s a stream if you’re thirsty, and plenty of grass to graze on.’

  Neither of them enjoyed the clamour, excitement and hysteria that the sight of Pegasus engendered. If he got to know and trust Iobates, Bellerophon would introduce them, but long experience of boys who thought it was funny to fire at Pegasus’ rump with catapults and even bows and arrows, and thieves who tried to capture him with nets and snares, had taught him that it was best to be cautious.

  Bellerophon walked by himself in to Xanthus, announced himself at the palace gates and was shown to the king’s private chamber.

  ‘Bellerophon, eh?’ said Iobates, taking the letter. ‘My son-in-law Proetus has written to me about you before. Says you’re a fine fellow. That sad business with your brother was clearly an accident. Could have happened to anyone. You’re welcome, young man. Very welcome.’

  Iobates put the unopened letter down on his desk. He summoned his palace staff, called for wine, and arranged for a feast to welcome the Corinthian prince. ‘You do my house honour,’ Iobates said, raising a cup to his guest.

  ‘Sir, you are most kind.’

  ‘You haven’t brought that famous flying horse with you, I don’t suppose?’

  Bellerophon laughed.

  ‘No. Never believed that story myself. The nonsense people will swallow, eh? So, tell me,’ he said with a nudge. ‘Like to ride mortal horses on solid ground do you?’

  Nine days and nights passed in which Iobates and Bellerophon rode, hunted, drank and feasted. The king treated the younger man as the son he had never had. He was blessed with two daughters: aside from the fearsome Stheneboea safely married off to Proetus in Mycenae, there was a younger unmarried daughter, PHILONOË, who still lived in the palace. She very quickly developed a crush on the handsome visitor. Bellerophon’s experience with her sister made him very wary of being alone in a room with Philonoë, which Iobates took as the sign of a decent and honourable nature.

  It was on the tenth day that Iobates, nursing a hangover, decided he really should clear the backlog on his desk. He found the letter from Proetus and unsealed it. He read the one line, centred on the single page, with gaping disbelief.

  ‘The bearer of this letter tried to rape my wife, your daughter. Kill him.’fn8

  Iobates stared at the words for some time. He was now in precisely the same quandary that Proetus had been in. Bellerophon was a guest: he had stayed nine nights under the king’s roof. Iobates couldn’t contemplate killing a guest. What to do? What to do? Oh, why hadn’t he opened that damned letter straight away?

  An hour or so later Bellerophon came into the king’s chamber, rubbing his face. ‘Goodness me,’ he said. ‘You really are the most incredible host. I can’t imagine how much we drank last night. But forgive me, sir, you look distracted.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Iobates tapped the letter on the desk and thought frantically. ‘Cares of state, you know. We have concerns in the kingdom. Great concerns …’

  ‘Anything I can help with? You’ve only to say the word.’

  ‘Well, now that you mention it …’ Yes! Of course. The very thing. Iobates cleared his throat. ‘Did you ever, I wonder,’ he said casually, ‘hear tell of the Chimerafn9?’

  ‘No, sir. What is it?’

  ‘She is a beast. A two-headed monster. Progeny, it is said, of Typhon and Echidna. She ravages the countryside around Methian, near the border with Caria and Pamphylia. Few who see her live to tell the tale, but word has it that she has the body and head of a lion. A second head, that of a goat, rises from her back. Her tail, some have claimed, is a venomous lashing serpent …’

  ‘Surely not!’

  ‘Well, you know what country people are like. Probably exaggerated, but it’s certain that the land all about is littered with dead and savaged livestock. Who knows what to think?’

  ‘And you’d like me to find this creature and kill it?’

  ‘It’s too much to ask, too much. You’re my guest. Besides, you’re just a young man … No, no, no.’

  ‘Sir, I insist that you let me do this for you.’

  Nothing that Iobates could say would dissuade Bellerophon.

  ‘But only the bravest hero could even get near. You’re far too young.’

  ‘With respect, sir, that’s nonsense.’

  ‘Besides, forgive me, but I haven’t told you the worst part yet. They say …’ Iobates lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, ‘they say the Chimera breathes fire! Yes! I’ve heard it sworn as fact. To go against her would be suicide. Anyone would understand if you backed out …’

  Strangely, these desperate bids to offer the young man a way out seemed only to strengthen his resolve. Outwardly Iobates shook his head and clicked his tongue in distress. Inwardly he hugged himself. How cleverly he had played on the young hothead’s vanity and pride. There was no possibility that Bellerophon could subdue or slay the Chimera, whose immortal bloodlines made her one of the most terrible monsters ever to have risen from the earth. Bellerophon would most certainly die in the great jets of searing, roasting, devouring flame that the creature belched. Justice for daring to lay hands on Stheneboea and no stain on me, Iobates told himself, for harming a guest. Altogether a perfect solution.

  The King of Lycia helped himself to a fig and smiled.

  CHIMERICAL REACTION

  Iobates waved Bellerophon goodbye, his left arm around the weeping Philonoë.

  ‘Try to put him out of your mind, my dear,’ he said. ‘There’ll be other men in your life, just you wait and see.’

  ‘But none as wonderful as my Bellerophon,’ sobbed Philonoë.

  Bellerophon himself set out cheerfully enough. He would slay this Chimera, bring its heads and pelt to Iobates, stay a few more weeks in Lycia and finally return to Corinth to resume his life there as prince and heir. Now that he was cleansed of his accidental fratricide he would be able to marry Aethra. Life was good. But first he needed to find a competent smith. He had had an idea about how best to tackle the Chimera.

  A short time later, Bellerophon marched into the meadow where he had left Pegasus, a fine n
ew lance forged to his special instructions canted over one shoulder. The horse came trotting forward to greet him.

  ‘What happened to your tether?’ Bellerophon asked in surprise.

  Pegasus shook his mane and stamped a hoof. The rope lay mangled under his hoofs, chewed in pieces.

  ‘You’re a cunning one,’ said Bellerophon, cupping the soft muzzle. ‘Now, before we fly off, we need to be sure of ourselves. A two-headed fire-breathing monster with a venomous snake for a tail. Think you’re up to it?’

  Pegasus tossed his head.

  ‘I’ll take that as a “yes”.’ Bellerophon set the lance in its sheath. ‘Come on then. Up, up and away.’

  Looking down at the landscape around Methian, Bellerophon could see that much of the land was badly scorched. Deserted villages, fields empty of livestock and the burnt-out shells of barns and farmhouses all bore witness to catastrophe. Of his monstrous quarry herself he could see no sign.

  ‘Up, up!’

  He had never ridden Pegasus so high. It was a cloudless day, but he shivered in the rush of cold air. The land below now took on an intricate, ordered pattern that reminded Bellerophon of barbarian carpets from the east. The jagged coastline came into view and the green lands of Caria, Phrygia and Lydia lay beneath him, picked out by a network of glinting threads meandering down from the mountains towards the sea.fn10 He searched the landscape for anything that might betray the presence of the Chimera. He saw a mountain from which rose a thin wisp of smoke. He tried to recall his lessons in geography. Mount Taurus? He leaned forward and urged Pegasus down. The fire could be anything, of course, but he was low enough now to see that what had looked like a thin wisp was really a thick cloud. The forest in the foothills was ablaze. A wave of warm air came up as they descended.

  Men, goats and deer were running from the flames down to a lake. Wildfires were not uncommon. Bellerophon did not see what he could do to help and was just about to drive Pegasus back up to resume their high search when a great stag burst out from the trees below. It was being chased by a lion and … a lion and a …