Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast (11 page)

“Enjoying isn’t the word I would use,” Atalanta said. “But at least we are all after the same thing—the beast that slew my father.” She set the butt of the spear into the ground and leaned on it.

“Very high-minded I’m sure,” said Pan. He patted the top of the bear’s head. “But what do you think that great bully Orion would do if he found Urso here?”

“I’ll see to it he doesn’t find Urso,” Atalanta said. Then watching the bear rub his muzzle up against Pan’s cheek, she said softly, “Urso seems very comfortable with you.”

“We’re old friends. Do you object?”

“He can do what he likes,” Atalanta declared with a shrug, though she knew she did care, desperately. “He doesn’t need my permission.” She suddenly found herself irked with the forest god. “Or yours.”

“It’s not a matter of permission,” said Pan. “It’s a matter of nature. You have been fighting human nature trying to live like a beast in the forest. Now Urso is fighting his animal nature in order to be close to you. His very blood tells him to return to the deep forest to begin the cycle of life afresh. But he also knows that you need him, that without his help you may die on this hunt.”

Urso got up and padded over to Atalanta, nuzzling her with his big wet nose.

Pan stood as well. On his bowed goat’s legs he was the same size as Orion, towering over her.

Atalanta looked up at him. Suddenly something became clear to her. “You
know
this beast, this mantiger, don’t you?”

The woodland god wrinkled his long nose and stuck out his tongue in distaste. “That creature doesn’t belong in my Arcadia. It carries the stink of the eastern deserts. If you can rid the woodlands of it, you’ll have my blessings.”

“So it is from far away,” Atalanta mused aloud.

Pan nodded.

“Is it possible the gods brought it here then?”

Pan spat to one side, and where it landed a yellow flower popped up. “If it’s oracles you want, go to that boaster Apollo. Or if it’s wisdom you’re looking for, badger that know-it-all-tell-it-ever Athena. I’m only here for good times and fun.”

Atalanta was surprised at his anger toward his fellow gods. But she thought it best not to mention that. Instead she said, “You seem to know a lot about what Urso needs.”

“Of course. That’s because we are brothers.”

“You’re not a bear,” Atalanta pointed out. “And I was the one raised in the same litter with him.”

“Nevertheless, this is the last journey he can make with you,” Pan said. His face was suddenly sad, pulled down like a beeswax candle melted in the heat.

“But we’ll still see each other, won’t we?” asked Atalanta. “He’ll still come to visit me?” She clutched the spear so hard it made a print in her palm.

“No, child,” said Pan gravely. “After this hunt, the cords of Fate that bind you together will be severed forever. He must go and start a family of his own, while you must find the family that you lost.”

His words made the hairs on the back of Atalanta’s neck stand up. She looked left, then right, as if a predator were nearing.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “What family?”

By way of reply, Pan lifted the reed pipe back to his mouth and blew a long, low note that washed over her like a soft mist. It muddled her mind and she felt herself sinking to the ground, eyes closing.

When she opened them again, she was back in the tree and Urso was stretching up and licking her leg.

She sat up stiffly. Pan was gone.
If,
she thought,
he’d ever been there at all.
Suddenly she was sure the entire conversation had been no more than a dream.

Scratching the top of Urso’s head, she whispered, “Good night, brother-bear. Thank you for standing guard.” Then she curled into the crotch of the tree and slept once more.

I
T WAS AN HOUR
past dawn when Atalanta woke. Her body was stiff and there was a terrible taste in her mouth. Climbing down from the tree, she found Urso had already left.

Better that way,
she thought,
with the Mighty Hunter so near.
She brushed away the bear tracks with her foot. Going back to the village, she located the well, and hauled up a bucket of water, which she splashed liberally over her. Then she stretched her legs, first one and then the other, to ensure that her muscles didn’t cramp in the middle of the race.

It wasn’t long before people began emerging from their houses. In spite of their long celebratory evening, no one wanted to miss the fun.

They’re here,
Atalanta thought,
to cheer Orion on.

As if answering his name, Orion suddenly came out of the door of Labrius’ house, stretching his arms and yawning. Even this unheroic display was enough to prompt a loud round of applause. He filled the bucket from the well and drained it in one long draught.

Just then Phreneus emerged from one of the humbler cottages. Looking from the tall huntsman to Atalanta, he shook his head.

I suppose,
Atalanta thought,
he means I might as well go home now.

Evenor appeared at last with Labrius. Spying Atalanta, he hurried over. In a low voice no one else could hear, he said, “A prayer to swift-footed Hermes might be a good idea, Atalanta.”

“Why? Because you think I can’t win without the gods’ help?” She felt cross. “Isn’t that just the same as cheating?”

“Not if they’re helping Orion as well.”

“Well, they would, wouldn’t they,” she said.

Evenor couldn’t help it. He began to laugh.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I am reminded of a race run in our village many years ago. A man named Charmus ran for three miles with five others, and he came in seventh.” He chuckled as he spoke.

She looked puzzled. “How seven?”

“A friend of his went along crying, ‘Keep it up, Charmus!’ and arrived ahead of him. If he’d five more friends, he would have come in twelfth!” He began laughing again.

It took Atalanta a moment to get the joke, and when she did, she began to laugh, too. Soon they were howling together, till tears ran from their eyes.

When the laughter passed at last, Atalanta handed Evenor her bow, spear, quiver, and belt. Then she took the leather thong from around her neck with the boar’s head ring.

“Will you…” she began.

“Of course.” He gathered them to his chest. “As if they were my own.”

Atalanta looked over to where Orion was stripping down to his loincloth and sandals, leaving himself as unencumbered as possible. Seeing his swelling muscles and powerful legs, she wondered for the first time if she had simply made a fool of herself by challenging him. Yes, she’d chased Urso through the forest and more than held her own. But she’d been told Orion’s speed was legendary. Poets sang of it.

Orion approached her and towered over her. “Do you still wish to go through with this?”

“Why? Do
you
want to back out?”

A few of the villagers chuckled, and Orion laughed as well. “I like your spirit, child.”

Labrius cleared his throat, which effectively silenced everyone. Pointing to a rough, narrow road leading to the next village, he said, “The girl, Atalanta, and the hero, Orion, will race down that track.” He cleared his throat again. “We’ll place a marker two miles down, attended by a judge. Once they’ve reached the marker, they’ll turn and run back. The first to reach the well will be the winner.”

Looking down the long straight track, Atalanta again felt her heart sink. This was not how she raced Urso. They went through the forest—over trees and through rock clefts and wading across streams.

Suddenly that thought gave her an idea. Perhaps there was a way to even the odds just a little, to turn Orion’s great size and strength against him.

“What sort of a race is that for a hunter?” she asked.

Orion raised an eyebrow.

“Does a hunter chase an animal along a straight flat track?” Atalanta continued. “Does a hunter run halfway then turn around and go back before catching the prey?”

Orion smiled. “What do you suggest then, little huntress?”

“Let’s go through the woods,” she said, gesturing toward the thick woodland to the north of the village.

“And what will be the object of the race?” he asked.

Squinting, Atalanta used the flat of her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. “What’s that up there?” she asked, pointing. “Up on that hill beyond the trees.”

Orion’s sharp eyes followed her finger. “A statue.”

“That’s our shrine to Artemis,” Labrius said.

“Make that our finishing post then,” Atalanta suggested.

Orion smiled fully, showing his white, even teeth. “Agreed. The first one to touch the statue is the winner.”

Atalanta nodded and held out her hand.

Orion took her hand in his but was careful not to squeeze her fingers too tightly. “It looks to be at least a mile and uphill the whole way,” he observed. “Are you sure those spindly legs of yours will carry you?”

They must,
Atalanta thought.
I have to be part of this hunt.
She swallowed hard.

The starter asked: “Are you both ready?”

Atalanta looked down at the ground. “Ready,” she whispered.

“Let’s get on with it,” Orion said. “I’m growing hungry for breakfast.”

They waited till the people of Mylonas had walked up along the trail and the finish line at the shrine was well watched over by Labrius and his council of elders.

When all was ready, the starter—who was Labrius’ stoop-shouldered son—began his count. “One…”

Atalanta chewed her lip nervously. She needed to make a good beginning, for if she fell behind Orion at the onset of the race, she might never catch up.

“Two.”

Orion did a deep knee bend.

I can do this,
Atalanta tried to give herself courage.
He’s too vain to believe it possible. He’s never run with a bear.

“Three…”

Atalanta felt as tight as a bowstring.
No,
she thought suddenly,
I am the arrow in the bowstring.

“GO!” shouted Labrius’ son.

Atalanta sprang forward at once, the arrow released from the bow.

Orion’s start was slower as if he knew he didn’t need to exert himself fully.

An enthusiastic yell went up from the crowd on the hill.

“Orion! Orion!” they cried. “Victory to the huntsman!”

Atalanta gritted her teeth, ignored their calls, and ran toward the trees, her legs pumping. She thought about keeping up with Urso, pictured him ahead of her, and raced to keep up.

“Run, Atalanta! Run!” It was Evenor. His voice floating down the hill was remarkably like her father’s and his encouragement put an extra spring in her step. Surprisingly, she found herself in the lead. She didn’t dare look around for fear of giving away as much as an inch.

Though he had started more slowly, the huntsman’s muscular legs were now hurtling him forward in long, powerful strides that devoured the distance between them. Soon he was alongside Atalanta. “You’re nimble, girl, I’ll grant you that. But you’ve a long way to go. A start is not a finish.”

Atalanta said nothing. She was saving her breath, straining every muscle to keep Orion from pulling away early in the race. But little by little he drew ahead.

Only a short way into the forest,
Atalanta told herself. It was through the wild, forested country of the north that she’d raced Urso, and that experience was what she needed to give her a chance.

They ran under the canopy of the trees only a few feet from each other, passing from sunshine into leafy shadow. Ahead of her, Orion suddenly turned and plunged into a thicket of blackberry bushes, tearing a path through it like a bull trampling a hedge.

Atalanta rushed headlong through the gap he’d made, fighting desperately to catch up.

Now negotiating the forest’s many obstacles became part of the race. Here alertness and agility counted as much as speed. Boulders blocked the way, trees tilted across their path, great holes in the ground yawned at their feet. All of these had to be swerved around, dodged, leaped.

They took separate tracks, Orion on the higher ground, Atalanta below him. He remained bull-strong, blasting through what couldn’t be gone around. But Atalanta was deer to his bull.

It helped her to be the smaller now. She could duck overhanging branches, slip through narrow slits in the rocks, and make sudden changes in direction more quickly than the big man.

She saw Orion as a flashing shadow moving through the trees, slightly up the hill and to her left. Gradually the gap between them narrowed and, as it did, they both came upon the same fallen tree trunk, lightning-struck and gaping. Leaping at exactly the same moment, they hit the ground on the far side together, matching step for step.

I’ve caught up!
Atalanta thought. Thick sweat plastered her hair to her brow; her tunic clung clammily to her back. She was struggling hard to keep her breath steady and the blood was pounding in her temples. She could only hope that Orion was suffering as much.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him set his teeth in a grimace as he summoned another burst of speed.

Then his pace faltered.

A thick copse of trees was blocking their way. At the sight of it, Orion broke off and swept around to the left to try and bypass the obstacle.

Atalanta decided that this was her one chance to pull ahead. Running straight into the cluster of trees, she drove through the narrowest of gaps between them, tearing her tunic and skin alike as she scraped against the rough knobby trunks. A low branch raked across her head, another smacked her in the face, which brought tears to her eyes. But still she kept on, slim enough to slip through.

On she sped, her arms now thrust ahead to push other branches away from her face. Twigs and leaves snagged in her hair, but at last she broke free, bursting into a more open stretch of forest.

She could see no sign of Orion.

Where is he?

She didn’t dare stop to look around in case he was already far ahead.

Then she heard him behind her, to her left, grunting like an angry boar. The sound drove her on as surely as a sharp spear in the back. Her legs were protesting now, telling her they had no speed left. She willed herself to ignore them.