The Dolphin Rider (6 page)

“Try Mercury,” said the sea queen. “He is god of thieves, you know, and quite apt to steal anything. Besides, he is also god of commerce, gamblers, travelers, as well as being the messenger god. He knows everyone's affairs. Even if he didn't take your sister, he might be able to tell you who did.”

“Thank you again, beautiful goddess. And grant me this last favor. Allow me to paint your wonderful green eyes on the bow of my ship so that their beauty may outstare all peril.”

“You are a well-spoken young man,” said the goddess. “Paint my eyes on the bow of your ship. I shall look through them every now and again and assure you safe passage. Farewell.”

The dolphins whirled the sea queen away in her little boat of coral and pearl, but Cadmus did not have to search for Mercury. The god found him. A huge shadow glided toward Cadmus across the beach. He looked up, expecting to see an eagle, but it was no eagle. It was a winged god who slid through the bright air and perched on a rock. A smiling young god, glittering with gold at head and ankles, and holding a golden staff entwined with golden serpents.

“You are Mercury,” gasped Cadmus. “I was about to seek you.”

“I know you were,” said Mercury. “We gods know what's going on in the world, particularly when it concerns us. Besides, you have caused a great deal of talk on Olympus. Rare indeed is the mortal who dares to seek out the high gods and question them about their behavior. It is usually the other way around.”

“I thank you for seeking me out,” said Cadmus. “Tell me then, great Mercury, divine messenger, was it you who stole my sister, Europa, to take for your mortal wife?”

“No,” said Mercury. “It was not I. I have no wife and I do not intend to get one — goddess, half-goddess, or mortal. I travel far, and must travel light.”

“Thank you, lord of distances,” said Cadmus. “Then I must seek elsewhere.”

“No!” said Mercury. He had stopped smiling. His face was stern, and his voice cut like a whiplash. “No! You will question no more gods, Cadmus.”

“I do not wish to quarrel with a god,” said Cadmus. “But I must seek my sister until I find her.”

“Listen to me,” said Mercury. “You have been very busy among the gods. You have learned that neither Vulcan nor Neptune has kidnapped Europa. And you know that I did not steal your sister. So how many gods does that leave you?”

“Hades,” said Cadmus. “But I shall not seek him in the underworld. I know in my heart that my sister is not among the dead. And there is Apollo.”

“Do not question Apollo. He would grow very angry at such a question. He is the sun god and his anger scorches. If you seek Apollo, you will be a cinder before you get your question out. Besides, I can vouch for him, it was not Apollo. Now who does that leave among the gods?”

“But — ” whispered Cadmus. And he stopped, unable to speak the mighty name.

“Exactly,” said Mercury. “Zeus! Father Zeus, king of the gods, whom we ourselves dare not question.”

“But was it he?” asked Cadmus. “Was it he who changed himself into a white bull and took my sister as mortal wife?”

“It was Zeus,” said Mercury. “You have been honored above all human families, for your sister has become the mortal bride of Zeus. She dwells now on Crete, the most beautiful island in the world. She is the mother of three sons, who will become mighty kings. They will build great empires and become the fathers of warriors and heroes. Europa herself is very happy, and would not trade her life for any other. Do not seek her further. Do not try to visit her on Crete. That coast is guarded by a bronze sentinel as tall as a tree. On the command of Zeus, he hurls huge boulders at ships that sail too near. Perhaps in time you will see your sister again, but not yet.”

Cadmus felt the hot tears running down his face. But they were tears of joy, for he knew that his sister was safe and happy. “Thank you, great Mercury,” he murmured. “Thank you, god of messages. I can return now to the East. My father is old, and I shall soon be king.”

“No,” said Mercury. “Your quest is not ended. You are part of the family whom Zeus loves. Your sister, Europa, has become the mother of kings. Her name will be given to the whole western part of the world. But you too are part of the plan. You must settle these new lands. If you have the courage and the strength and the wisdom, you will found a new kingdom, and build a great city. But first you will have to pass through the most dreadful peril that has ever been faced by mortal man.”

“What must I do?” asked Cadmus, standing tall and proud before Mercury. “My heart is singing with joy and pride! If Zeus sends great perils to test me, so much the better. I can prove myself, and go on to whatever deeds he wishes me to perform.”

“Bravely spoken, Cadmus,” said Mercury. “Here is the first thing you must do:

Follow a cow…

Where she rests

Tell yourself
now
.”

Before Cadmus could question him further, Mercury leaped into the air, ankle-wings whirring. He hovered a moment, saying:

If I wish to send you word,

I'll send a purple bird.

Then the god flashed off into the blue air. “Farewell,” he cried. But he was so high now that his voice drifted down as a gull's cry.

Cadmus watched the speck of gold vanish from sight. When he turned, there to his surprise stood a beautiful brown cow with large amber eyes and small horns. The cow mooed musically, then ambled off. Cadmus followed as Mercury had directed. He understood nothing. He only knew that he must do as the god had said. All the rest of that day he followed the cow. She wandered away from the coast and moved inland at the same ambling pace, which let her cover great distances. Cadmus followed. He could not stop to eat or drink, he had to keep the cow in sight.

Night came on. “Surely,” Cadmus thought, “she will stop now.” But the cow did not stop. The stars hung low as torches, and it was easy to see the cow. She climbed a low hill, and went down the other side. Still Cadmus followed. His legs were weary. The helmet and shield and sword that Vulcan had given him seemed to weigh more with every step. They seemed to be dragging him down to the ground. But he could not cast off his weapons, nor could he rest as long as the cow moved before him. All night he followed her. Finally, he could walk no further. He fell to the ground.

“Am I to disappoint Zeus in my first test?” he said to himself. “Shall I fail simply because I am weary? No! This cannot be!”

Cadmus tried to drag himself to his feet, but he could not. So he crawled after the cow on his hands and knees. Fortunately, the cow seemed to be tiring and was going more slowly. She was climbing the slope of a steep hill, and that slowed her even more. Cadmus climbed the hill after her, dragging himself along on his knees, pulling himself on by the strength of his arms. Finally, the cow reached the top of the hill, and began to go down the other side. Now Cadmus simply let himself roll after her. When she started across the plain, he crawled after her. But now he had to crawl more slowly. His knees were scraped and bleeding. His hands were bleeding.

“I will go on even if my flesh is torn away and I have to creep on my bones,” he said to himself.

Then to his delight, he saw the cow suddenly fold herself into a low shadow and lay down to rest. As he watched, the cow lowered her head and slept. Cadmus drew in a great breath of the fresh air. He took off his helmet, lay down his shield, and placed his sword carefully on it. Then he also slept.

When he awoke, the sun was high. The cow was gone, but it did not matter. Where she had rested there was a circle of crushed grass, and Cadmus suddenly knew what Mercury had meant. Here was where he must build his city. Indeed, it was a perfect site for a city. There was a broad plain, cut by two rivers and surrounded by low hills, offering natural defense against an enemy.

“I will build my city here!” cried Cadmus, turning his face to the sky. “Here will I found my kingdom!”

He gazed about the great empty plain. “But how can I even begin? Oh, well, Zeus said I must. And he who sent the task will send the tools.”

Suddenly, the air was filled with a hideous clanking sound. The sun was blotted out by an enormous shadow. Cadmus looked up, and brave as he was, he almost fainted away with sheer terror. The sight that he saw was the most dreadful ever seen by man. Imagine an alligator as big as a ship — a flying alligator, with brass wings. This monster's entire hide was made of sliding brass scales, and it had a long thick tail bristling with brass spikes. Its feet had brass claws like baling hooks, but this was not the worst part. This beast, which was a dragon, spat flame from its mouth. Hot red fire spurted from its jaws.

The dragon was still a mile away, but Cadmus felt the awful heat begin to roast him as he stood there on the plain. He knew that this was the peril of which Mercury had spoken. This was the monster he would have to destroy before he could build his city and found a kingdom. And Cadmus knew that there was no way under the morning sun that he could fight this flaming, spiked beast. The heat had become unbearable. Clutching his shield and sword, his helmet firmly planted on his head, Cadmus rushed to the river. He dived as deep as he could. His heavy weapons carried him to the bottom but, remembering a trick he had learned as a boy, Cadmus seized a handful of hollow reeds just before he dived.

He poked a reed up to the surface of the water, and held the other end in his mouth so that he could draw in enough air to keep himself alive. He felt the icy water grow warm as the dragon passed overhead. But the flames could not reach him. He waited, crouched on the bottom of the river until the clanging faded away. Then he climbed out of the river. He was covered with slimy mud, exhausted, and very downhearted. He knew that he must seek help.

“Good morning, Cadmus.”

He whirled about, saw no one. Then he spotted a bird, flying in slow circles above his head.

“Was it you who spoke?” he said to the bird.

“I don't see anyone else here,” said the bird.

“Since when do birds speak?”

“When they have been educated as I have. Then they learn to speak — quite well too.”

The bird looked something like a crested bluejay. And had the same kind of bossy voice. But instead of blue, it was purple. Then Cadmus remembered Mercury's last instruction.

If I wish to send you word,

I'll send a purple bird.

“Did Mercury send you?” cried Cadmus.

“He did, indeed. And he sent this message.

To make the dragon yield,

Let him dread his head

Upon your shield.”

And the bird flew away. “Wait!” cried Cadmus. “I don't understand.”

“That's the entire message,” said the bird. “Farewell.”

The bird disappeared. Cadmus tried to puzzle out the meaning of the message. He knew that he did not have much time. In the distance he heard a tiny chiming, the brass scales clanking; the dragon was flying his way again.

“These rhymes and riddles spoken by gods and oracles seem to come true,” he said to himself. “If only I could get the meaning of this one. But it's a puzzle, and I don't have much time.”

To make the dragon yield,

Let him dread his head

Upon your shield.

“Well, I have a shield all right, but what does that have to do with the dragon's head?”

Cadmus had been wiping the muddy shield all this while with a handful of rushes. Now he studied it intensely. What he saw was his own face. The bright shield was a mirror.

“That's it!” he cried. “I understand! I must let the dragon see himself in the shield. But to do that he will have to get very close…much too close for comfort. Now may all the gods help me, for here he is!”

Indeed, the great shadow had darkened the plain again. The hot breath of the dragon was scorching the grass. Cadmus saw the dragon, jaws yawning, swooping toward him in a long curving dive. “He's stopped spouting flame,” thought Cadmus. “He must want to eat me and doesn't want me over-cooked.”

The dragon swooped low and struck at Cadmus with one great brass claw. Brass rang on brass as the claw struck the helmet Vulcan had made. But Cadmus was not touched; the claw did not pierce the helmet. The monster swerved in the air and flew back, flailing with his great tail. But Cadmus was ready. He sliced off the tip of the dragon's tail with the sword Vulcan had made. The beast howled in agony, rose to a great height, and came diving down, furiously beating his enormous wings and lashing his wounded tail. The dragon was falling with all his tremendous weight but Cadmus stood his ground. He looked up, and saw the terrible monster hurtling toward him — jaws open, teeth flashing like ivory daggers.

“Now is the time,” he thought. “I must test Mercury's rhyme.”

He held up the shield, stood with its bright brass disk covering his face and torso. The shield was on his bent left arm, his right arm held the sword. He stood rooted to the ground. He did not let his arm tremble, but held the shield steady as the dragon dove straight at him. The monster fell headfirst toward the shield, and on it saw a sight so horrible that it penetrated even that dim dragon brain. It was, of course, his own reflection in the mirror of the shield. But the dragon had never seen himself before and he did not know he was looking at himself. He thought another monster was attacking him. When he spit flame at the shield, he thought the monster facing him spit flame right back. When he saw this, the dragon gasped in horror.

Now when you gasp in horror you draw your breath in. That is what the dragon did. He drew in a great breath, not of air but of fire, for he was spitting flame at the time. He inhaled his own flame. Fire entered him and scorched everything inside. Lungs, liver, and heart were burned to a crisp. With a terrible choking shriek of agony the dragon fell to the plain. The fire had worked itself outward, and as Cadmus watched, the whole great length of the monster burned in a bright blue flame. The air was filled with bitter smoke, but it was sweet to Cadmus, seeing his enemy perish before his eyes. The dragon burned away completely, leaving only a handful of brass scales and his ivory teeth, for ivory does not burn.