The Trials of Hercules (31 page)

The festivities of the Earthshaker are marvelous and throughout the day I can’t help but think how much Iole would enjoy them. In the Minoan arena—which dwarfs Portaceae’s—young men dance among young bulls. Full of vigor, both man and beast chase one another around the arena. When a bull gets too close, the men turn and leap over the backs of the animals. Some men merely vault over, but others earn cheers from the crowd as they perform back flips and cartwheels over the beasts’ backs. In another area of the city, a maze has been erected. Those who spend too long making their way through are flogged with a whip of feathers by a man in a bull’s head mask. In small pens erected in the squares throughout the city, young boys chase and try to catch calves that have been slicked with oil much to the crowd’s amusement.

To complete the day’s festivities, Frederic the bull is paraded through the main square, taken around the temple—twelve times I notice, even the kingdoms of Osteria who claim to have broken from worship of The Twelve still retain traces of the old religion. On the twelfth turn he’s covered by a black sheet, led away, and another beast covered in a white sheet is brought to the temple. The white sheet is whisked away to reveal a bull painted half in black and half in gold. The people cheer the painted bull as Frederic, still under his cover, is led away with little fanfare. The message is clear, the old, familiar year is dead and best to be forgotten and now it’s time to recognize the new year that may be plentiful or it may be poor.

By the time we arrive to Minos’s house, we’re well drunk on strong Minoan beer and the sky is already beginning to show the light of dawn. In the yard to the side of the house, Frederic sleeps letting out heavy snores and completely unaware that he’s been cast aside for a younger bull.

It’s late morning before anyone in the house wakes. My head aches and my stomach feels like it’s been filled with a hot, gurgling fountain. Iolalus moves carefully as if every step hurts and looks as terrible as I feel. Minos, however, appears ready for another day of revelry and I have no doubt that as soon as the shop opens, he’ll be gulping down Yerni’s stew.

With cheerful and sincere tidings, Minos sends us on our way with heavy satchels of food in packs that we drape over Frederic’s back. The bull, complacent as any animal can be, follows us without pause. Once to the station, we load him onto a cargo car, but as soon as the door shuts, he lets out a low, moaning sound as pitiful as any child’s cry.

I look to Iolalus and my thoughts must be plain on my face.

“No, I’m not riding back there,” he protests. “Three days. Do you know what that car’s going to smell like in three days?”

“We can let him out at stops.”

“We can’t leave the stations. Where are we going to take him?”

“Here, then.” I hand him his travel pass. He takes it with a challenging thrust of his chin. I pull open the cargo door and climb inside.

“Fine,” Iolalus concedes as he rolls his bloodshot eyes. He stuffs his travel pass in the pouch on his belt and pulls himself into the car. “But they’re laying down extra straw before we go. Sacred bulls still shit, you know.”

I spend much of the journey with Frederic at my side. When I stand to walk about the car, he follows me in tight circles. When I sit, he rests his head in my lap.

“He’s going to stab you in the sausage with those horns,” Iolalus says.

“He’s careful with them,” I reply as I ruffle the soft fur behind the bull’s ears.

The sun is nearly set by the time the train pulls into Portaceae. Ours will be the last train allowed in the city today and the station’s gate slams shut startling Frederic from his slumber. I think of taking Frederic to the House of Hera, but I fear Euphemia’s wrath if he disturbs her carefully raked paths.

“We should take him to Eury,” I suggest hoping Iolalus will talk me out of it.

“Best to get it over with,” he says quietly as he strokes the bull’s back and we wait to have our travel permits checked.

The time it takes for us to convince the station guards that Frederic is indeed for Eury, gives the sky and streets a chance to darken. With Eury’s curfew in place, we avoid attracting a crowd of followers on our way to and up the Solonian Hill. Leaving Frederic with Iolalus, I climb the steps up to the house’s porch and pound on the front entry. Baruch opens the door and his eyes flick from me to the bull. An exasperated expression crosses his regal, angular face.

“Wait here.” He closes the door and I go back down to Frederic who gives a low rumble in greeting.

Several moments later, Eury flings open the door with one hand as he ties the sash of a silk robe with his other. Adneta bounces up behind him and gives a little squeal of joy when she sees Frederic.

“Sorry to leave you waiting, cousins.” Eury pulls Adneta to him and drapes his arm around her so his hand cups around one of her breasts. “I had business to complete.”

“Your bull,” I say curtly. Frederic nuzzles his head under my hand and I rub him behind the ears.

“As I see. Take the thing to the temple. The sacrifice will be tomorrow. Adneta and I will feast on the beast tomorrow night.”

Frederic nudges my hip. A protective rage sears through me.

“You can’t sacrifice him. He’s a sacred animal, not for slaughter,” I insist. My hands clench causing me to pull Frederic’s fur. He shakes his head as if fending off a fly.

“He’s going to be killed. It’s part of the task,” Eury says with a sneering smirk on his lips.

“It doesn’t say that.” I reach in my pouch for the letter. I rip it out and shake it at Eury. “It said to bring you the bull of Minoa. Bring it to you. Not to let it be killed.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I want you to bring me the bull and I want
you
to sacrifice it. Or have you grown more attached to some creature than you have your life. Or Iolalus’s life?” I refuse to respond to his threat. “After all, we need to appease the gods so they can protect Portaceae from the Areans. I’ve been telling everyone how the great Hercules Dion will bring a beast to save us all. You wouldn’t want to deny them their superstitious rituals, would you?”

“It’s stronger walls and armed vigiles we need, not a dead bull,” Iolalus urges.

“Perhaps, but a dead bull can’t hurt. And don’t forget, Iole will die too if you fail to do this. After all, you didn’t drag her to the woods of Cedonia. She volunteered, placing herself under the same laws as yourself and Iolalus.”

“You bastard,” I mutter. I grip Frederic’s lead and storm off. Unsure of what is going on, Frederic remains still. The lead yanks tight and I tug on it to get him moving. Eury lets out a cruel laugh as I struggle with the stubborn animal. Finally, Iolalus nudges Frederic in the rump and the bull gets the hint to move.

“What will you do?” Iolalus asks once we’ve reached the bottom of the hill.

“Wait with him at the temple. I won’t leave him there alone.”

At the gates, Iolalus delivers a half-hearted insult to his friend Odysseus who slips the gate tender a coin to open the gate just enough for me and the bull to squeeze through. I urge Iolalus to hurry back to the House before the Solonian Guards accuse him of breaking curfew, but he pauses to nuzzle his head against Frederic’s. His throat catches when he mutters goodbye to “dumb old Freddie.”

I pass through the gates and walk with heavy steps to the temple that seems a lifeless thing after the activity surrounding the temple of Minoa.

I approach the altar, but don’t walk around it. On the opposite side of where I stand is the blood crime vault. Even without seeing it, the idea of being so close to the thing sends shivers along my arms and legs. With only a sliver of a moon low on the horizon lighting the temple, Hera’s statue appears to loom at the back reminding me of the Nemean lion hiding in his cave waiting to attack. I scratch at the back of my neck to press down the hairs that have pricked up.

I sit with my back to the temple. After several turns, Frederic eases himself down behind me. I doze for a while resting against his back. In what seems like only a moment, the moon has risen high in the sky and the sound of tiny bells jangles rhythmically nearby. Appearing brighter than if lit by a full moon, a silvery horse approaches bearing a pale rider dressed all in white.

Without a word to explain how she has made it through the gates of the city after dark, Iole slides off her horse and settles in beside me. I wrap my arm around her waist and she pulls my cloak tighter to her. A warmth burns from within me as we drift to sleep with Frederic snoring softly behind us.

23

E
URY

In the morning, Baruch dresses me in my ceremonial clothes and drives me and Adneta to the temple as the guards trot behind us. Adneta wears one of her new gowns that have been designed in the style of the one Iole wore on Herc’s wedding day, but I have to admit that the Herene pulled the look off better. On Adneta, the dress clings too tightly and reveals what should be seductively hidden. Still, I can’t complain about the sight of my wife’s breasts practically falling out of the bodice.

I had wanted to shout after Herc when he stormed off last night. It is against protocol for anyone to leave my presence without being dismissed, but I was too pleased with my own cleverness to quibble over details. I truly hadn’t carried any notions of killing the bull when I created the task. I only wanted Herc out of Portaceae and was simply going to let a little blood and call it a sacrifice well done. But when I watched the animal nuzzling up to Herc like a stray dog and observed the pleased expression on Herc’s face at the gesture, well, if Hera thinks she has the monopoly on cruelty toward my cousin, she has completely misjudged me.

At the edge of the temple grounds, Baruch has to slow the carriage to press through the crowd of people who have gathered. The laws of the temple state they can’t come within a hundred paces of the altar; the boundary being marked by a row of low lavender hedges. But the people have pressed up to the shrubs and now peer over one another, squeezing smaller folks in front and hoisting children on shoulders to see the show the blazing rumor mill of Portaceae must have announced.

Well, a show they will get.

Baruch halts the carriage twenty paces from the altar. There, Herc and Iole stand on opposite sides of the beast with somber faces made darker by a bank of grey clouds that have gathered over night. Iolalus stands in front of the bull holding his hand out while the animal moves its massive head up and down as if it doesn’t understand the concept of how to be pet.

I stride up to the front of the altar with Adneta by my side. Iole steps away from the beast to join us, but makes no effort to move quickly or to acknowledge her Solon and Solonia. Even her grooming shows a lack of respect. Her hair, which normally hangs so perfectly, has been tied into a quick, loose braid.

“I’d think you could have taken some time with your appearance,” I say.

“We need to have a meeting, Eury. Soon. Please let me know when you’ll grace me with your presence so I can be sure to meet your expectations of how a Herene should look before you arrive.” She gives an insincere curtsey, holding my gaze with a defiant gleam in her eye.

“Another meeting. Wonderful. I’ll be certain to check my schedule.” The irksome little Herene has been trying to arrange a meeting since my festivities ended. Of course, I know it’s going to be about money, and since I have none left, I see no point in holding a discussion about it. To halt her tongue that threatens to wag again, I announce in a loud voice so all can hear, “People of Portaceae, these are terrible times. Hera seems to not care for us as she should and has allowed our borders to be invaded. So, it is to the other gods we sacrifice the blood of this bull in the hopes they will honor us with their protection.”

A few people cheer, but the majority of them shift about casting uneasy looks at one another. Mutters and whispers dance across the temple yard and echo through the temple back onto me. Are they worried because I’ve called on other gods to come to Portaceae’s aid in front of Hera’s temple? Superstitious fools.

I pull a dagger from my belt, present it on its side to Iole who hesitates before touching it with the tip of her finger to give it her blessing. I move to the side of the bull. As Solon, I should be the one to make the sacrifice, but I have no intention of bloodying myself. I only want to watch Herc’s discomfort before I have one of guards finish the task. Herc refuses to look at the creature, staring instead at his feet as his jaw grinds back and forth.

When I put the blade to the bull’s throat, I glance at my hulking cousin from the corner of my eye and nearly laugh at the sight of his wet cheeks. It’s too tempting an opportunity to pass by. I whip the knife away, flip it around, and hold the handle out to him. It takes a great effort to maintain my feigned solemnity and to not break out in laughter when I notice the tremble in his hands. I step in closer to him, giving the appearance that I’m kissing him on the cheek.

“You will do it or they will die,” I whisper in his ear before backing away.

Herc grips the handle and steps up to the bull.

The audience has fallen into awed silence, but as Herc stands by the bull that keeps nudging into him, they begin to chant his name. He looks to Iole and then to Iolalus. A look of resignation passes over his face, but is quickly replaced by a stern expression of resolution. Only his quivering jaw betrays his resolve to complete the task.

As he places the blade to the animal’s throat, the crowd grows louder with shouts and cheers for my cousin. Although ancient and sturdy, I fear the columns of the temple might collapse under the rumble of their praises. Herc wraps his left arm around the bull’s neck as tears wash down his face. With the dagger in his right hand, he presses it to the creature’s throat and whispers an apology to the stupid animal.

A crackling pop like a log bursting in a hearth sounds behind me. A flash of light silences the people’s chants. My first thought is lightning as my eyes dart to the slate-colored clouds above the temple. The audience drops to their knees with their heads bowed. Herc’s hand releases the knife and he too collapses to his knees to join Iolalus who is already on the ground.