The Trials of Hercules (19 page)

I let him go on as if I hadn’t hunted with my father as a girl. I hated hurting the animals, but even as one of Portaceae’s wealthier families, we couldn’t afford meat until it was so putrid the butcher had to sell it heavily discounted just to get rid of it. We bought it on occasion, but the meat had to be cooked to the point it lost all flavor. One night I fell violently sick after eating the butcher’s markdown product. We took all our meat from the wild lands of Portaceae from then on.

After Herc’s hunting lecture, we head out. The sun is high in the sky when I find the first tracks. They are clearly deer prints and recent ones at that.

“There,” I whisper, pointing to the depression to my left that Herc just walked past.

“We don’t know if that’s the one we’re looking for,” he whispers back.

“It is,” I insist. He puts his finger to his lips and then points to his ear, leaning down so it is near my lips. “These are twice the size of the other deer tracks I’ve seen. It has to be Artemis’s deer.”

“You saw other tracks?” he blurts and then pinches his lips closed.

I nod. “They lead that way. They’re fresh. Maybe a day old.”

“Perhaps you should go in front,” he concedes.

I take the lead and we follow the tracks. I lose them a couple times sending us backtracking to find broken shrub branches, piles of scat, or other telltale deer signs. By evening we still haven’t sighted the stag.

“We should stop. We won’t have light much longer and this is the first flat area I’ve seen in some time,” I say.

I spread my cloak on the ground and Herc places his next to it. We eat a dinner of rolls—stale and hard by now—and more of the tangy cheese the Herenes make. After a day of trekking, the meal leaves me wanting more. I’m tempted to devour the rest of our food, but instead I fill my belly with several cups of water from the nearby stream.

We lie down on our backs with our heads cradled in our hands. Our elbows touch as we watch the sky rapidly darken through the frilly branches of the firs and pines. My stomach rumbles.

“I’ll hunt a rabbit if we’re in here another night.”

“Could you hunt down some cake as well?” I ask.

“I’ll do what I can. Anything to make you happy.” The final word fades into a light snore. I lay there listening to his deep, even breaths until I drift off to sleep.

A light brush against my lips wakes me.

Herc is staring down at me with his dark-lashed, deep blue eyes. He presses his index finger across my lips as he makes a shushing gesture across his own mouth with his other hand. Once he realizes I’m not going to start yelling the moment I wake up, he points to the west. I prop myself up on my elbow and look to where he’s indicating.

In the filtered morning sun coming through the trees, the deer’s antlers blaze in golden glory. The creature is indeed beautiful and pity swells in me. I fear he’ll be injured when we capture him, but I worry more that, once captured, the noble animal will be put on show like the lowliest freak in a group of traveling hucksters. A light breeze flows from his direction, bringing with it his warm, wild scent.

Herc stands slowly. For his size, he moves lightly on his feet as he stalks the deer. He has his bow at the ready, but the arrow he has notched is capped with the cork from our water skin. From the shaft runs a thin line of cord.

The deer flicks its silvery ears backward then forward, pricking them straight up, then pulling them back again. It sniffs the air just as the breeze shifts. Our scent drifts over to him. His large, brown eyes widen and he stamps one bronze hoof. In a flash of white, the stag leaps over the stream.

Herc doesn’t pause. As the deer flies through the air, he shoots the arrow. What I thought was a cord, spreads into a net that arcs over the stag then drapes onto him. The animal staggers onto the far shore. Herc runs toward it. The creature struggles, confusedly lashing its head and kicking out with his lean legs. His efforts only make the netting tangle worse around him.

Herc splashes across the stream. The stag collapses letting out a pitiful cry that resonates through the clearing. My heart wrenches at the sound. Herc slows his movements, taking small steps toward the deer and talking quietly to it the entire time. He pulls a strip of cloth from his tunic belt and wraps it around the creature’s head to cover its eyes. The animal, its perfect white fur now muddied from the stream bank, calms but its breathing is still panicked.

“Help me get the netting off,” Herc says as he strokes the deer whose breaths slow under his touch.

Being careful not to nick the animal underneath, we work to cut the netting away. As I free the final pieces, Herc crouches, grabs the stag to hold the two front legs in one hand and the two hind legs in the other hand. Using a shimmying motion, he hefts the animal up over his head, then stands with the deer resting across his shoulders.

“I hope those permits say we’re transporting unusual cargo,” Herc says as we cross the stream to the clearing. I can’t help but look about. At every moment I expect one of Artemis’s arrows to come hurtling in our direction. As quick as I can, I gather our things and take both our travel packs despite Herc’s insistence that he can carry them as well as the stag.

As we hurry through the woods, the breeze picks up. The rustling in the tree limbs sounds unnervingly similar to the whoosh of an arrow flying toward its target.

Suddenly, a burning sting shoots through my shoulder blade. I gasp more from the shock than the pain. Herc turns, his face creased either with worry or the strain of carrying the deer.

“What is it?”

“An arrow,” I say. My voice is filled with panic and I’m afraid to move, afraid I’ll drive the shaft in deeper. “I think I’ve been shot.” Herc comes back, looks me over, and then stands in front of me. I hate the look on his face—everything about it says the injury is serious.

“This is quite bad,” he says. I groan. “I’m going to have to repair the fletching on that arrow.” And then he starts laughing.

“What?” I ask, confused and uncertain why he finds my approaching death so funny.

“You’ve got the quiver too low on your shoulder. He nods his head to indicate the strap on my shoulder. “The non-pointy end of one of the arrows has been jabbing into your shoulder blade. You’ve completely ruined the feathers on it.” He starts laughing again. I want to be angry with him for teasing me, but seeing the deer jostling on his shoulders as Herc enjoys himself lightens my mood. I scold him with my eyes that have caught the smile started on my lips, hitch up the quiver, and tell him to get moving.

The weight of the stag doesn’t slow him and by midday we can see the city beyond the edge of the wood. I’m washed with amazement that good luck has stayed with us. I’m about to say something when the forest fills with a blinding blaze of red. My first thought is fire, but there is no heat. When my eyes clear, a woman stands before us with bow in hand. Dressed in leggings and a man’s short tunic belted at the waist, her clothes are similar to my traveling attire, but whereas I feel awkward out of my usual ankle-length dress, Artemis carries the look with spry confidence. Close-cropped brown hair frames her triangular face that is attractive even though it’s flaming with anger.

“How dare you touch Cery.” The trees shake with the fury in her voice. In the blink of an eye she flicks an arrow into her bow and aims it at Herc’s chest. “Who are you?”

I fall to my knees and bow my head at her soft leather shoes.

“Goddess Artemis, please forgive us.”

I glance up. She still points the arrow at Herc’s chest, but is watching me with dark brown eyes that remind me of the deer’s. I have no doubt that if Herc flinches a hair’s breadth, she will be swift enough to shoot the arrow through him without taking her eyes off me. After a moment during which I don’t dare breathe, her face changes from rash anger to worried shock.

“Iole,” she says in awe as she lowers her weapon and bows low to me. She holds out her hand to help me up. “What are you doing with Cery?”

Herc speaks, “Forgive us, Artemis. We’ve been sent to capture your stag for Portaceae. If we don’t bring it back both of us will die.”

She looks to me, a question on her lips, but I give my head the slightest shake to stop the words. She shifts her gaze back to Herc. This time when she looks at him her face brightens with recognition. It makes no sense, she doesn’t come into Portaceae and Herc himself said he has never traveled.

“I understand, brother,” she says. “If you’re willing to take my advice, you’ll not only complete this silly chore, but I won’t have to lose my Cery.” She pets the deer who lets out a purring rumble as she strokes its muzzle.

She tells Herc her plan, but I can only focus on why she has called Herc “brother.”

I’m forced back to attention when she touches my arm.

“And you, Iole, give my regards to your mother.”

“We don’t speak much these days.”

“A shame. Family should stick together.” She looks to Herc, but he is busy shifting Cery on his shoulders. When she sees him, she seems to remember something and reaches into the satchel slung across her back. From it, she pulls out a golden bridle that she slips onto the stag’s head. Holding onto the lead she tells Herc to set the deer down. Once the animal’s feet touch the ground, it sways slightly but quickly regains its balance. Artemis hands Herc the lead. “It’s a much more dignified way for him to travel.”

She hugs the deer who produces another of his purrs. To my shock, she hugs Herc calling him
brother
again. To me, she kneels and kisses my hand naming me as Herene of the Herenes, then dashes off into her woods without making a sound.

This time we draw more than curious glances as we pass along Cedonia City’s streets. People stare at us openly, some drop cups that crash to the sidewalk of the café they’ve been frequenting, and others hurry back from us probably fearful one of Artemis’s arrows is heading our direction at any moment.

Herc refuses to give Cery over to the cargo hold and no one argues with the stern man who leads Artemis’s stag like a pet dog. Once we’ve settled into a free compartment I ask him, “Why did Artemis call you brother?”

“I don’t know. I thought it was just a polite term like how the Herenes sometimes call each other sister.”

“No, not that I’m aware of.”

We sit side by side, as Cery settles onto the bench seat across from us. We ride in silence for a while and I drift off to sleep. When I wake, my head is resting on Herc’s shoulder. I jerk up, but he makes no comment.

“Who is your mother? Are you estranged from her?” he asks after a while.

“My mother gave me a choice when I was young. I chose not to live with her and she left me with the people you rescued in the fire. They are my family. I’d rather not discuss it further.” I move to sit with Cery and pet him. I remain there staring out the window with the deer resting his head on my lap until it is too dark to see anything outside. As the station gates have already closed for the night, the train wheezes to a full stop outside the walls. It holds there, its engine grumbling as if snoring. At dawn this and the main gates of Portaceae City are cranked open and the train pulls up to the platform.

If I thought the stag drew attention in Cedonia, it was nothing compared to the excitement he brings in Portaceae City. From the station and on up the hill to Eury’s home an ever-growing crowd follows us, surrounds us, and precedes us. Iolalus slips in beside us and I hope his presence will be enough to keep Eury’s attention away from me. In hindsight, I should have gone back to the House to change, but I’m too caught up in the excitement to not see the task to its completion. I also need my curiosity satisfied as to how Herc plans to pull off getting the deer to his cousin without reigniting Artemis’s fury.

We enter the grounds of Eury’s estate. Or try to. The main road is crowded with people hoping to catch the end of the show they missed seeing on the screen. Guards shout for them to stay back, allowing only Herc, Cery, Iolalus, and me to squeeze through. In the bright morning light, I can see Eury on the wide, rounded porch at the front of his house which is as large as two of the wings of the House of Hera put together.

All for two people, a handful of servants and several guards. And he wonders why the people hate him.

Adneta, standing beside Eury, squeals with delight and gives a few rapid claps with her hands when she sees Cery. I stop. I have hold of the lead, and Cery halts when he reaches the end of the tether. Herc looks back.

“I won’t let her have this animal,” I say thinking of the peacock she’d had dipped in gold. “She’s a cruel woman with a vile husband who sees to her every whim without thought of its consequence.”

“She won’t have him. Didn’t you listen to Artemis?”

“I—no, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It will be okay,” he says taking the stag’s lead.

“We’re taking those antlers,” Adneta says. “Baruch, fetch a hacksaw and get me those antlers.”

I grab Herc’s arm, pulling him back. He looks down at me, giving me a comforting smile. “Trust me.”

We continue forward. Eury has locked Adneta into a slobbering kiss with his hand on her breast. He breaks away when we reach the foot of the stairs that lead up to the porch.

“So, success again,” Eury says triumphantly as he lumbers down the stairs to us.

“You gave orders to bring you the golden stag from Cedonia. Here he is.”

Herc unclasps the lead. Eury reaches up to grab the ring that hangs down from the bridle, but just as his hand nears it, a high-pitched whistle breaks through the morning air. Cery pricks his ears, turning them forward, back, then to the side. It’s as if the sky itself whistles with the sound coming from every direction until finally the call settles to the east. Once the sound has a direction, Cery twists his head at the same moment that Eury closes his hand. Eury misses the bridle’s ring by only a fraction. As he lunges for the ring again, the forward motion sends the Solon staggering over his own feet. Unaware of the falter, the stag turns and bounds off toward the sound moving faster than even the House’s chariot horses.