Once upon a Spring morn

37

Challenges

“Who is it, Heracles?” called a voice from inside the hall.

“A pair of mortals, Chiron,” replied the large man.

“Mortals?” There sounded the clip-clop of hooves, and a Centaur came trotting out and peered at them.

“You two, what are you doing in Elysium? Do you not know that without special sanction mortals are forbidden to be in this place upon penalty of death?”

“My Lord Chiron,” said Celeste, “I believe we are indeed here on special sanction, for we have been sent by the Fates themselves.”

“Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos?”

“Perhaps those are your names for them, but we know them as Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd, as well as the Ladies Wyrd, Lot, and Doom.”

Chiron smiled. “All gods are thrice named, did you not know?”

“You call the Three Sisters gods?”

“I do, but perhaps they are above all pantheons, for the gods themselves seem ruled by the Fates,” replied Chiron. “Regardless, why have you come?” Celeste gestured at Roel and said, “We are on a mission to rescue my companion’s sister and his two brothers.”

Heracles growled and said, “How do we know these mortals are telling the truth?”

Chiron shrugged. “Let us first hear their story, and then we shall judge.” He turned to Celeste and Roel and said, “Come. Enter the Hall of the Champions so that all might know your tale.”

“But Chiron,” objected Heracles, “for a married woman to witness our athletic contests means she must die. Virgins and young maidens are the only ones permitted to see.” He turned to Celeste and asked, “Are you a virgin, or are you instead married?”

Before Celeste could answer, Chiron said, “Oh, my son, if these two are sent by the Fates, then such needless rules must give way.” The half-man, half-horse turned to the pair and gestured for them to enter.

“As you wish, My Lord Chiron,” said Celeste, and together with Roel, she walked up the steps and past the great bronze doors.

Heracles, a sour look on his face, followed, but Chiron was smiling instead.

The hall was a vast gymnasium equipped for indoor sports, with weights to lift and circles for wrestling and boxing and ropes for climbing and other such.

Inside one of the large circles a pair of naked men grappled, and a third man with a brief skirt wrapped

’round his loins and sandals on his feet seemed to be judging the match. Ringed ’round the contestants a gathering of men-some nude, others not-watched and shouted encouragement.

Chiron called out to them, and the match stopped, and men turned to see what the Centaur wanted.

As Celeste came in among them, the men looked at her in amazement, and some unashamedly responded to her beauty and form, while others looked questioningly at Chiron and Heracles.

Chiron smiled.

Heracles scowled and shook his head, as if to de shy; Clare it was not his fault that a female had entered their sanctum.

Chiron said, “These two mortals declare that they have been sent by the Fates.” He turned to Celeste. “I did not catch your names.”

“I am Celeste, Princess of the Springwood, and my consort is Sir Roel, Knight of the Manor of Emile.”

“Ah, a princess and a knight. How fitting that you are on a mission of rescue.”

One of the men, his hair honey gold, said, “Mission of rescue? Ah, how heroic that sounds.”

“Indeed it does, Achilles,” said Chiron. “I suggest we all move to the amphitheater, for we have a tale to hear and judge.”

A small amphitheater stood in one corner of the vast hall, and all the men were soon seated in the tiers all

’round. Chiron led Celeste and Roel onto the floor of the circular stage, and then stepped to one side and said,

“Now, Princess, your tale, if you please.”

“Much of it takes place ere I met my companion Roel, and so he is the one to tell our story in full.” Celeste stepped to Chiron’s side, leaving Roel in the center of the floor. Slowly he turned about, eyeing the heroes and demigods above. And then he began: “When I was but a lad, my sister and I rode to the ruins of a temple, for she was distraught over being pledged to marry someone she did not love. And at these ruins. .”

“. . and so you see, the Three Sisters sent us to find the gray arrow, for if we do not obtain it, then we are doomed to fail. Hence we must go through the black portal in the Hall of Heroes, for that is what both the Abulhol and Lord Thoth said.”

Achilles scowled and rubbed his left heel. “The gray arrow is the shaft that slew me. What will you use it for?”

“That we do not know,” replied Roel.

“Ha, the Fates are ever ambiguous in their foretellings,” said another of the heroes.

“True, Odysseus,” said Chiron.

“Is there a dark doorway within this hall?” asked Celeste.

Reluctantly, it seemed, Chiron nodded. “The one you seek leads to the Waste City of Senaudon, also known as the City of the Dead, which lies in the underworld of a fabled land called Cymru.”

“Cymru,” said Roel, his word not a question. “I have heard of such from other knights. It lies somewhere on an island to the east, it is said.”

“Yes,” said Chiron. “In the world of the Cymry, Senaudon is the dreadful place where the souls of those who commit the most heinous deeds go when they die.

It is somewhat like our Tartarus.”

A youthful-seeming man stood and said, “But not as escape-proof.”

“Aye, Philoctetes,” said another.

“Say on, Jason,” urged Chiron.

Black-haired Jason rose and said, “Now and again one of those dead ones manages to escape their dread city, and they come through their black portal to enter the Hall of Heroes. Ah, but then Heracles grasps them and”-

Jason gestured in the direction of the fissure outside-

“tosses them into the crevice yon that leads to the pit of Tartarus, a place from which they cannot get out.” As Jason sat down, a silence fell on the gathering, but then Heracles said, “A nice tale told, Sir Roel.” Heracles turned to his comrades and said, “Even so, how do we know it is true? After all, these two mortals might be going to Senaudon to raise a dread army.” A burst of chatter broke out among the heroes, but Chiron raised his hands and said, “Whether true or false, we do not know for certain, yet I am inclined to believe them. How many of you do?”

A goodly number raised their hands.

“And how many are uncertain?”

A greater number raised their hands.

“Ah, it seems you lose,” said Chiron.

“But we are telling the truth,” protested Celeste.

“Perhaps so,” said Chiron, “yet how do you propose to prove it? Has any a suggestion?”

Roel started to speak, but all eyes were turned to Odysseus, the clever one of the lot. He frowned and then said, “As we have done before, let us settle this by trial. Let them meet three challenges-two individual contests and one team challenge-and they must win all three.”

Celeste gasped and said, “But you are demigods and heroes and are favored of the gods, and with such supremacy at your behest, how could we prevail?” Heracles sneered and said, “Pah! We need no aid to defeat you, nor use of divine power.” Celeste turned to Roel for support, but he said,

“Odysseus’s suggestion is the same as my own: trial by combat, or through tests of strength and skill.” A murmur of approval muttered throughout the gathering.

Celeste stepped to Roel and whispered, “But as I say, they are demigods, and if we are to win, it must be through cunning, through guile.”

Roel frowned, for it went against his grain. Even so, he understood the worth of it, and he said, “We shall first try guile, but if that fails, then combat or other tests it be.”

Celeste nodded her acceptance, and she turned to Chiron and said, “We accept your challenge on the condition as Heracles has put it: your champions must neither accept divine aid nor use any divine powers against Roel and me, for we are but mortals.” Chiron turned to the gathering and said, “Do you so pledge to compete as would a mortal? If so, then the goddess Athena and her companion Nike, to whom this athletic temple is dedicated, will certainly hold you to such.”

“I do so pledge,” declared Heracles.

“As do I,” said Achilles.

“And I,” said Philoctetes.

“Enough,” said Chiron. “Three champions for three tests, and if no one objects”-Chiron took from a pouch at his waist a scroll and a plume with which to keep tally-“I will be the judge.”

A roar of approval rose from the heroes, for after all, Chiron was the famed tutor of Heracles, Achilles, and Asclepius, and others within the hall, and none could be fairer.

“Very well,” said Chiron, and a quietness fell as he made a notation on the parchment.

During the silence, Celeste turned to Roel and whispered, “Remember, Roel, we must use guile.” Nearby, Chiron smiled, as did Odysseus, even though he sat in the stands.

Heracles stepped forward and gestured toward the enormous weights at one end of the hall and said to Roel, “I challenge you to a test of strength.” Roel glanced at Celeste and winked and then said,

“Nay, My Lord Heracles, a test of strength would not be fair, for I did hear that you held the entire sky on your shoulders, while Atlas took golden apples from the garden of the Hesperides. Yet, my lord, I name a different challenge, and it is this-” Roel turned and took the plume from Chiron’s hand and held it on high and turned about so that all could see. “Light as is this plume, I name that which e’en you cannot hold for six hundred of my heartbeats. If you loose it ere then, let it count as a victory for Celeste and me. If you succeed, then it is a victory for you.” Heracles snorted in derision and said, “I accept your challenge,” and he reached for the feather.

But Roel said, “Oh, My Lord Heracles, did you think it was this plume you would hold? Non, instead it is your breath.”

“My breath?”

Even as Heracles said it, the heroes burst out in laughter, Odysseus loudest of all.

When it abated, Roel gave the plume back to Chiron and said, “Oui, My Lord Heracles, your breath, for surely it is as light as a feather. Now take a deep one and I shall begin the count.” Roel placed a finger on his wrist and found his pulse. “And remember your pledge, Lord Heracles: you must compete as would a mortal-

no acts of divinity nor acceptance of divine aid.” Glowering in ire, Heracles deeply inhaled thrice, and on the third breath he clamped his lips tight and nodded.

Roel began the count: “One, two, three, four. .” And now Heracles smiled at Roel, for surely he could hold his breath that long. He had done so many times, though that was with divine aid. Nevertheless. .

“. . one hundred eighty-one. . one hundred eighty-two. . one hundred eighty-three. .” Heracles was now red in the face, but he yet held his breath.

“. . two hundred thirty-nine. . two hundred forty. .

two hundred forty-one. .”

Still Heracles grinned at Roel, though his face was redder still.

“. . three hundred eighty-one. . three hundred eighty-two. .”

Heracles’ face was now nigh purple, and he squinted his eyes shut, and tears streamed down his cheeks. As for Roel, he frowned and glanced toward Celeste, but he yet kept the count.

Of a sudden, with a great whoosh followed by a frantic panting of air, Heracles blew and gasped and blew.

And once again laughter broke out among the heroes, for mighty Heracles had been bested.

“That’s one for the team of the princess and the knight,” said Chiron, and he stroked the parchment once.

“It was not fair, Tutor,” protested Heracles. “I demand a different trial.”

But Celeste called out, “Who is the best at hurling the discus? I would challenge him.”

All eyes turned to Heracles, and he grinned in triumph and said, “That would be me, Princess.” Celeste looked crestfallen and said, “Oh, my, it seems I have bitten off more than I can chew. How far can you cast it?”

Heracles sneered and said, “Ha! Surely farther than you.”

“Well, then, my lord, let me set the terms: take up the discus and stand where you will and fling it. And wherever it stops, that shall be the measure of the throw.

Then I will do the same. We will have one cast each. Do you agree to the terms?”

“Oh, yes, my lady. I accept your challenge, and I do agree to the terms.”

Two of the heroes ran and gathered up two of the circular wooden objects rimmed about with bronze, and all marched outside and to the discus ring. Heracles took up both of the disks and judged their weight. Then he laid one down and said, “You can cast the lighter one; I will take the heavier of the two.”

“As you will, my lord,” said Celeste, glancing at Roel, who frowned in worry.

Heracles then stepped into the ring, and with a spinning toss he hurled the discus; up it sailed and up, as if borne on the very wind, and then down it arced and down, finally to land and skip along the ground, and when it came to a stop, it lay easily 150 paces away, and perhaps as much as 160.

“A mighty cast, my lord,” said Celeste, “mayhap four hundred feet in all.”

“Think you can best that?” asked Heracles.

“Oh, yes,” she replied nonchalantly.

Heracles snorted in disbelief, and he bent down and took up the remaining disk and handed it to her.

“Hmm. .” Celeste frowned. “ ’Tis much heavier than I imagined.”

A smile of victory spread over Heracles’ face, and he gestured at the ring.

But Celeste shook her head and walked toward the front of the gymnasium and beyond, all the men following, Odysseus laughing.

To the crevice she went and pitched the discus within.

As down it fell beyond seeing, Celeste turned to Heracles and said, “I understand you should be able to measure the full distance of my cast after nine days and nine nights, but as you can see, it has gone well beyond the trivial toss of yours.”

Hilarity erupted among the men, and the look upon Heracles’ face was one caught somewhere between humiliation and rage. But of a sudden he burst out in laughter, and he bowed to Celeste and said, “Well played, my lady, well played.” He glanced at Odysseus and added,

“As clever as the very slyest of us.” Celeste smiled and stepped to the large man and she reached up and pulled his head down and stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. The men hooted and whistled, and one said, “Let not Deianeira hear of this; she will claw Heracles’ eyes out for accepting a kiss from another beautiful maiden.”

Again there was more hooting and laughter, but finally Chiron said, “Now comes the team challenge; has anyone a suggestion?”

Achilles stepped forward and said, “My Lady Celeste, is that your bow I see upon one of the mares?”

“Oui.”

Achilles nodded and turned to Chiron and said,

“Since Philoctetes, the prime archer of the Argonauts, and I both took the pledge, then I suggest that we return to the gymnasium and he take up the bow and contest with the princess, while I take up the sword and contest against the knight.”

“But my lord,” protested Celeste, “this is really two challenges, and therefore the total is more than three tests in all.”

All eyes turned to Chiron, for he was the judge. He pondered a moment and then said, “Nay, Princess, it is really just one, for in team play, oft are many different matches waged.”

And so, Celeste retrieved her bow and arrows, and Roel took up Coeur d’Acier, and back into the Hall of Heroes all trooped, Celeste thinking furiously, for Philoctetes was a fabled archer, and Achilles a champion with a sword.

Finally, inside the hall, she said, “Let the archery contest be the first match, and then the sword duel commence.” Both Philoctetes and Achilles nodded, for no trickery within the suggestion did they see.

Several small targets-a chit of wood, a small flask, a coin on edge, a cup, a chalice-were set at one end of the hall, and the archers told to strike the target of their choice. At the other far end of the hall, one of the circles was chosen for the duel, and the men were to battle to first blood.

Chiron then said, “Heed me, for these are the additional rules: if Celeste and Roel are bested, then they lose, and the black portal is denied.”

“What if there is a tie between teams?” asked Odysseus.

“If the teams tie, there is no victory for the princess and the knight; hence going through the black doorway is denied them in this case as well.” Roel groaned and looked at Celeste, and she said,

“Agreed.”

“Well, then, archers, take your positions.” Celeste marched away to the end most distant from the wee targets. Philoctetes’ eyes widened in surprise, but he followed her.

Roel and Achilles also went to the far end of the hall, for that is where lay the circle they had chosen for their match.

Chiron gave the signal for the contests to begin, but Celeste turned to Roel and Achilles and said, “Let not your own match start until my arrow is loosed.” Achilles looked at Roel and shrugged, and they both agreed; the loosing of her arrow would be their signal to begin.

Celeste smiled and nocked an arrow but then said,

“Philoctetes, after you.”

Philoctetes looked at the faraway targets, and after a moment of deliberation he said, “I declare my target is the small coin standing on edge.”

The gathered men gasped, for never had any shot ever been made at so small a target from a distance such as this.

Philoctetes nocked his arrow and drew it to the full and took long aim at the target nigh three hundred paces away. Finally he loosed and up flew the arrow, sissing in its flight. And all held their breaths as the shaft hurtled in its long arc and sailed down to- ching! -

strike the coin. Pent breaths were released in wild cheers, for it was a shot worthy of the gods themselves.

Philoctetes turned to Celeste and smiled and said,

“Your turn now, my lady. Choose your target and loose.” Celeste drew her own shaft to the full and said, “I choose”-she quickly turned and shot Achilles in the foot with a blunt arrow-“Achilles’ left heel.” Crying out in pain, Achilles fell to the floor, and as Odysseus laughed, Chiron said, “The arrow is loosed; let the duel begin.”

Roel stepped to writhing Achilles and with Coeur d’Acier simply pinked his left heel, and said, “First blood.”

The hall erupted in argument, some men shouting, others laughing, and a few saying it was a gambit worthy of Odysseus himself. What do you mean? cried others. Clearly they should forfeit the match.

When quiet fell, Celeste said, “According to the rules, I was to select a target of my choice, and my choice was Achilles’ left heel, for only there is he vulnerable.”

Again argument erupted, and finally all eyes turned to Chiron. “Indeed it was clever, and certainly within the rules as stated. And since both archers struck their targets of choice, that match is declared a tie. Yet Roel drew first blood; hence he is clearly the winner, and so the contest of the teams goes to the princess and her knight.”

Odysseus clapped, as did many others, yet a few grumbled at the outcome. But Achilles finally got to his feet and shook Roel’s hand and bowed to the princess, and she kissed Achilles and Philoctetes each on the cheek.

Celeste turned to Chiron and said, “Then the black portal is ours to enter and go to the City of the Dead?” Chiron nodded but said, “Yes, Princess, you and your knight have earned that right, yet there is one final test.”

“A final test? But we have met your three challenges.

Surely you cannot force another upon us.” Chiron held out a hand to stop her words. “Princess, it is not I, nor we, who force this test, but Lord Hades himself instead.”

Celeste sighed. “Go on, Chiron. Tell us of this final deed.”

Chiron gestured to the far end of the hall and said,

“There are two dark exits: one leads to Tartarus, from which there is no return; the other leads to the Waste City of Senaudon. You must choose between them, for at no time whatsoever do we know which is which.” Celeste looked at Roel and said, “Love?”

“We must chance it, cherie; else my sister is lost forever. Yet I can go alone.” Celeste shook her head. “Never, Roel.” Then she grinned and said, “Let us retrieve the horses and choose.”

And so Celeste took up the blunt arrow she had used on Achilles. And then she and Roel fetched their mounts and led them into the hall, where they followed ONCE UPON A SPRING MORN / 309

Chiron to the far extent. There he bade the princess and the knight to stand in a modest circle inset in the floor.

“Now you must put all else out of your minds except the desire to open the portals, and then, together, say the word Phainesaton!”

“Wait,” said Roel, and he stepped to his mount and took up his shield from its saddle hook. Then he stepped back into the circle where Celeste yet stood, the princess with an arrow now nocked to her bow. He drew Coeur d’Acier and glanced at Celeste. At a nod from him, they spoke in unison- Phainesaton!

Before them appeared two black doorways, seeming much like the gate in Meketaten’s tomb, or the ebon at the heart of Faery’s twilight bounds.

Roel turned to Celeste and said, “Choose.” And Celeste said, “Left is right, and right a mistake.” And leading their horses, into the leftmost portal they went.