Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One (6 page)

Aloud he said, “You're used to working as a team, I suppose?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Castor. “We fight as a unit.”

“But I have separate tasks,” said Peleus. “Both urgent, but one more difficult than the other. Working singly, you will earn double fees, and be able to rejoin each other in a few days.”

“Tell us more,” said Pollux.

“To the northwest,” said the king, “lies the island of Bebrycos. It is ruled by a monster named Amycus, a giant who butts people to death. No one has survived a visit to that place. Everyone who lands there has to fight Amycus or is cut down on the spot. It is said that the dented skulls of those who fought him form a tower higher than his castle. For years now I have been offering a rich reward to anyone who could vanquish Amycus. Many have tried, but no one has claimed the reward.”

“What is the other task?” asked Castor.

“Tricky … difficult … but much less dangerous. On a small round island, about twenty miles to the east, dwells an evil young magician.”

“What makes him so magical?” asked Pollux.

“He holds unholy sway over the birds and beasts of that place,” said Peleus. “Wolves and bears attend him. Snakes dance to his fluting. All foul wizardry, of course, and should be stamped out. Besides, he pretends to be my cousin, the son of the late king, and actually dares to claim my throne.”

“How is it you haven't been able to kill him long before this?” asked Castor.

“I can't send ships against him. That island is surrounded by a hidden reef that tears the bottom out of any vessel. But a strong swimmer can cross over unharmed. I'd like one of you to go there, strangle the tricky little rat, whose name is Jason, by the way, and return with some proof of his death. His head, perhaps, but any reasonable proof will do. That is the second task. It should take only a day or so, then he who has done it will be able to join his brother on Bebrycos.”

The twins looked at each other, nodded simultaneously to the king, and walked out of the throne room. As they left the castle, Castor said:

“It's my turn for the dangerous task.”

“How do you figure?”

“You're the one who took on the shark.”

“Only because you were busy tying knots in the octopus,” said Pollux. “But we won't quarrel. You can go to Bebrycos first. I'm curious to see what that young animal tamer looks like.”

“I'll tell you,” said Castor. “I'm uneasy about things. I don't trust Peleus.”

“I'd be worried about you if you did,” said Pollux. “He's a putrid lump of lard, every ounce of him. But I don't think he'll move against us as long as he believes we're doing things for him. And he pays very well.”

“I'm still uneasy,” said Castor. “Let's do the stump-water thing.”

This was a homely magic shared by the twins since they were small boys. What they did was go into the woods and find a tree stump in which rainwater had collected. They stood on opposite sides of the stump, inhaling its special smell of water and decayed wood and steeping leaves, all the while gazing into the puddle. They would go into a light trance and see pictures in the water. When they came out of the trance they would tell each other what they had seen. More often than not they had seen exactly the same things. If so, they believed, the matched images were telling what would happen to them in the near future. But these visions were not always reliable. Sometimes the pictures came true, other times not, and often led the twins into dangerous error. But they had happy natures. They remembered only what had come true and forgot what hadn't. And, when in doubt about anything, still consulted the stump water.

Now, they went into the woods and found a stump. They stood on opposite sides of it and leaned over, taking deep breaths. It was bright afternoon but the stump was enveloped in its own time—neither day nor night, but a kind of livid twilight. A cheesy moon hung low, and the face in the moon was the face of Peleus, leering at them.

A ship, tiny as a twig, perfectly made, graceful as a gull, scudded across the puddle, sails full. On the deck were minute figures whom the twins recognized as themselves. In the bow stood a black-haired, slender lad, very young, but obviously in command.

A fog blew over the stump, almost hiding the ship. As the twins watched, the thick mist wreathed into pictures. Giants, slavering ogres, witches with tangled hair and bloody claws. And, in a place they had never been, an altar covered by a strangely colored fleece, purple and gold, the colors shifting and mixing as in a dawn sky … then, sliding into the scene, an enormous serpent, jaws agape.

The fog blew away, taking the ship with it, and dissolving their trance. The twins found themselves staring into an ordinary stump that held a puddle of rainwater. They looked at each other.

“What did you see?” asked Castor.

Pollux told him about the ship, its crew, the wreathing shapes, and the moon face of Peleus leering over all. “That's what I saw,” said Pollux. “What about you?”

“Exactly the same, every detail.”

“Well, the old stump-water magic is still working,” said Pollux. “How do you read it?”

“We're destined to take a voyage, obviously. Meet giants, ogres, witches, serpents, and all the things that moved in the fog.”

“Yes,” said Pollux. “How about that skipper, did you recognize him?”

“No. And he looked mighty young and puny to be leading us. One thing I know is true; I thought so before, but now I'm sure. We can't trust Peleus. Want he wants is for us to do some dirty work for him and get ourselves killed doing it. And I think it's Amycus who's supposed to do the killing.”

“So I'll finish off my job as soon as possible, and join you on Bebrycos.”

“Well, I hope I won't need too much help,” said Castor. “But if I do, I'll wait for you.”

The twins embraced briefly, and parted.

8

Jason, the Healer

As the king had said, some miles off the coast of Iolcus lay the little round island where Jason dwelt. He was the only person there, but didn't realize how lonesome he was because he had many animal friends.

Nevertheless, he sometimes felt that he would like to meet someone more like himself, and would spend hours standing on the beach gazing at the dim bulk of the mainland. He was especially excited when he saw a ship sailing toward him. Sometimes one would come close enough for him to see tiny figures moving on the deck, but always a ship would come only so near, then sheer off abruptly—and the lad would wonder why. He had no way of knowing that Poseidon had girded the island with a hidden reef.

But for some time now he had been too busy to watch for ships. He was trying to solve an important problem. For among the many snakes on this island was one that was particularly vicious—a small green viper, unbelievably swift, whose bite sent animals into foaming fits. The poison didn't actually kill them, but, maddened by pain, they would often shatter their skull against rocks or trees, or claw themselves to pieces. Now, Jason had taught himself to cure ordinary snakebites, even ones that were quite deadly, but he wasn't able to approach an animal bitten by the viper, for, in its madness, it would have killed him. He had to stand by and watch it destroy itself. He knew that if he could only quiet these viper-bitten animals, somehow, he would be able to draw out the venom, but he didn't know how to quiet them. And he kept thinking about how to do it.

He had been studying the flight of bees because he liked to eat honeycombs. Bees astounded him. They flew so fast, so hard—like flung stones—but they could also hover, float, change direction; they seemed the most active of all creatures. But he noticed that after visiting a certain flower bed, the bees would slow up considerably, wobble in flight, seem almost to drowse as they flew.

He examined these flowers. They were unfamiliar. He thought that he knew every kind of flower that grew on the island, but these seemed to have sprouted overnight. Black and purple blossoms, except for a single flame-colored petal. He tore off a leaf and ate it. And immediately felt himself sinking into sleep.

Dreams thronged. He saw a young god, Morpheus, standing in the dark chamber of his father, Hypnos, God of Sleep. “I am weary, my son,” said Hypnos. “You must help me tonight. You must fly about the world distributing my gift.”

“Very well,” said Morpheus, “but I wish to mix my own colors of sleep. Yours are too dark and thick and sad.”

“So it has been and so it must be,” said Hypnos. “For it is a little trial death we put upon man each night to prepare him for the long final death.”

Morpheus, dissatisfied, went to his cousin, Persephone, the flower princess, and said: “Help me, sweet maiden, you who go with your paint box among the flowers each spring. I do not wish to scatter little deaths but hours of repose. I need something to brighten sleep.”

“Yes,” said Persephone. “Sleep can be brightened by something called
dreams
. Humankind is ready for them now. Take this.”

She moved her slender hand through the air. In her fingers a flower blossomed. She gave it to Morpheus. “See, Cousin, black and purple like sleep with one fire-red petal for dreams. We shall call it the
lotus
. Plant it first in Libya where it is always summer; it will do well there. But save a cutting for a certain small island in the Middle Sea, where someone will someday use it in a very timely way.”

When Jason awoke, he knew what to do. He gathered an armful of blossoms, which grew thicker than ever, and took them to his hut. He chopped up the petals, mixed them with pure springwater, and boiled the brew until it was thick and gummy. Then dipped his arrowheads in it.

He took bow and arrows and prowled the woods until he heard a bugling, a clattering. He followed the sound into a clearing where two stags were fighting. Horns locked, heaving; they were writhing shapes of brute strength. He notched an arrow, drew his bow, and loosed the shaft, aiming so that he would just nick the haunch of one stag. The arrow sang through the air, flying true. The stag immediately collapsed. The other one stood over him, eyes rolling in astonishment. Jason ran to the fallen stag, which was breathing evenly, unhurt, but fast asleep.

Jason whooped with joy. In his exultance, he leaped upon the other stag and rode it out of the woods onto the beach. He galloped along the beach, shouting with joy. A black goat and blue fox raced after him. He saw something white coasting in on a wave. It landed on the beach and sat there in his path. He stopped the stag in mid-stride and looked down at a snow-white seal. The whiskered face gazing up at him looked so clever that he almost expected to hear words coming from its mouth. Nevertheless, he was astonished when the seal did speak.

“Do you know who you are?” asked the seal.

“I'm me,” said Jason.

“Is that all you know about yourself?”

“What else is there to know?”

“Much … much … Do you remember how you came here?”

“I've tried to forget.”

“Can you?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Then I will,” said the seal. “You were asleep in your nursery. Dreadful sounds awoke you. Men shouting, women screaming. Torches flared. You remember your nurse's hand snatching you out of bed and wrapping you in a cloak. She is running with you; you hear her feet on the marble floor. Outside now, cold air, gull cries, sea smells, the hiss of the surf. You are in the small boat in your nurse's lap. You hear oars dipping. You are rocked to sleep. You awake upon this island. Then day follows day in a bright blur. You are a little boy living alone except for animals. A she-goat and a blue fox. You drink milk from the goat; the fox brings you nuts and berries and honeycombs, until you learn to gather them for yourself and to take fish from the sea.”

“You seem to know all about me,” said Jason.

“Yes. I have watched over you since that dreadful night.”

“Who are you?”

“I am he who serves his master. My name is Proteus.”

“Who's your master?”

“Poseidon, God of the Sea.”

“Is it he who bids you watch over me?”

“It is he.”

“What is his interest in me?”

“You shall know presently. First, let me unravel that terrible scene. The shouts were your father, the king, being murdered by his cousin, Peleus, who wished to be king himself. After killing your father he was coming to kill you, the heir to the throne. But your nurse, a remarkable woman, fled the castle with you in her arms, found a boatman and hired his boat. My master then, who had been observing all this, spoke from the sea, guiding her to this island and bidding her leave you here. She knew it was a god speaking and obeyed, although it broke her heart to abandon you. Then I was ordered to arrange for your care. I instructed the goat and the fox, and in various forms have visited this island from time to time to see how you fared.”

“And why do you reveal yourself to me now?” asked Jason. “What has changed?”

“You have. You have grown. Growth is slow change. You are old enough now.”

“Old enough for what?”

“To know,” said the seal. “Then to do.”

“Do what?”

“Act upon your knowledge. I have informed you that you are the rightful king.”

“King of what?”

“That fair land called Iolcus, which you can dimly see from this shore.”

“Have you come to tell me that I must claim my kingdom?”

“Hearken now. Your cousin Peleus, your enemy, is a famed battle chief. His army has swept over frontiers, subduing neighbors and adding their lands to his. His war fleet raids island kingdoms. Before you can even think of confronting him, you must learn to fight, learn to lead.”

“How do I begin?”

“You have begun.”

“What is my first task?”

“To survive another day.”