Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two by Bernard Evslin Page B

northward through the Peloponnese, then would angle northeast toward Thessaly, where Mount Helicon stood.
    Hercules ambled down the slope toward the encampment. Tall, suavely muscled young women milled about. Some were grooming horses. Some were in a pool, scrubbing little men who spluttered and wept. Others were sharpening swords against flat rocks. One group was playing with ropes, making their captives run and lassoing them as they ran. A pair of frolicsome twins, aglow with the excitement of their first raid, had tied their men to trees and were giving them a taste of the lash … not hitting hard—it was just an introductory flogging—the girls chatted and laughed as they swung their whips. Four Amazons were practicing archery with a human target. He was spread-eagled against the bole of a thick tree, and the women were shooting in turn. The idea was to come as close as possible without hitting him. And the archers were so expert that arrows outlined his body but none had touched him.
    Then they spotted Hercules. Saw a towering, bronzed, wide-shouldered youth wearing a lion skin and bearing an oaken club. They immediately stopped what they were doing and gaped in wonder. Their voices mingled.
    â€œLook at him, would you? What a big one!”
    â€œCan’t be a man; must be a woman!”
    â€œMust be, absolutely!”
    â€œWhat does she want here?”
    â€œShe’s on a raid of her own. Hurry, or she’ll take the best ones.”
    â€œIt’s no woman!” bellowed Hippolyte. “It’s a man, definitely.”
    â€œA man that big, can’t believe it.”
    â€œLet’s take him and throw the little ones back. He’d be more use than a mountainful of these runts.”
    â€œA prime cut! After him, girls!”
    They shouted with eagerness, uttered war cries, beat sword against shield. The clamor came to Hercules like a dim murmur. He was trying to find a rhyme for tree and had forgotten why he was on the mountain. He waved absently to the ranks of warrior women, then wandered off, mumbling to himself.
    Thinking always in terms of warfare, the sisterhood thought this stranger might be leading them into ambush and followed him warily. But, danger or no, they were determined to catch so fine a specimen.
    â€œWhen I give the signal, we’ll move in,” called Hippolyte. “And don’t forget, he’s mine!”
    No one answered, but every young Amazon there, except for Nycippe, had decided that Hercules must be hers alone, and was ready to fight Hippolyte for him.

13
    The Silver Stag
    Hera and Hecate hovered, watching. They had been pleased by the Amazons’ campaign, delighted when they saw Hercules drinking of the spring, but were dismayed now as they saw him bounding down the mountain after a stag.
    â€œI thought that springwater was supposed to do things to him,” said Hera. “Scatter his wits, drain his strength. That’s what you told me. But look at the brute. Look at him chasing that stag. He’s tireless.”
    Indeed, as the stag raced down the mountain and onto the Thessalian plain, Hercules had put on speed and was managing to keep the animal in sight. He had no idea he was being pursued, but it didn’t matter. For he was running faster than the Amazons could gallop their horses.
    Furiously disappointed, the warrior women reined up and galloped back to retrieve their captives. But the battered poets had fled, finding holes and caves for themselves and burrowing so deep that the Amazons abandoned the search. They had been hunting listlessly anyway. The memory of the glorious big youth who had outrun their horses made these scruffy little cowards seem most unappetizing. As for the lost sister, Thyone, they had never even caught a glimpse of her. Hot and disgruntled, they trooped off the mountain and headed for Scythia—all but Nycippe; she had deserted.
    In the darkest hour of night, she had gone to where she had