Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes

  Deliades blocked right. Bellerophon mistakenly swung left, because he still wasn’t clear on the whole left/right thing. He killed his brother.

  ‘It was an accident!’ Bellerophon said.

  At that point, his parents held an intervention.

  ‘Look, son,’ said King Glaucus, ‘you can’t keep having accidents. Killing your brother … that was not okay.’

  ‘But, Dad –’

  ‘I know you didn’t mean it,’ said Queen Eurynome. ‘Nevertheless, my dear, your father and I have decided to send you away for a while before you accident us both to an early grave.’

  ‘Send me away? But, Mom –’

  ‘My friend King Proitos has agreed to take you in,’ said the king. ‘You will go to Argos and complete the rituals of purification to atone for your brother’s death.’

  ‘Rituals of purification?’ Bellerophon sniffled. ‘Do they hurt?’

  ‘You’ll spend a few months in mourning,’ his dad said, ‘praying to the gods. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘A few months? Then can I come home?’

  ‘Maybe. We’ll see.’

  Bellerophon’s lower lip quivered. He didn’t want to cry, but he felt so unwanted. Sure, he burned down the occasional building and killed the occasional brother, but did his parents really have to send him away?

  The next day he left town alone. He took the road, even though it was dangerous. He was so depressed and moved so slowly he only made it a few miles before sunset. He found a roadside shrine to Athena and decided to spend the night there.

  Before he went to sleep, Bellerophon prayed to the goddess. ‘Athena, I could really use some of your wisdom. My parents think I’m worthless. I destroy everything I touch. Should I just give up, or what?’

  Weeping, he climbed onto the altar and went to sleep.

  Normally, sleeping on a god’s altar is not a good idea. You are likely to wake up as a ferret or a potted plant.

  But Athena felt bad for Bellerophon. Even though he was a son of Poseidon, who wasn’t exactly Athena’s best buddy, the young man had potential to be more than a walking disaster.

  While he slept, Athena appeared in his dream. Grey fog billowed around the altar. Lightning flashed. ‘Bellerophon!’

  Bellerophon’s dream-self tumbled off the altar, knocking over a statue, which shattered on the floor. He shot to his feet. ‘I didn’t do it!’

  Athena sighed. ‘That’s okay. This is only a dream. I heard your prayer, Bellerophon. You are not worthless. Your real father is Poseidon, god of the sea.’

  Bellerophon gasped. ‘Is that why I look like those mosaics?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And why my mom enjoys the beach so much?’

  ‘Yes. So stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can be a great hero if you just find your self-confidence.’

  ‘I’ll – I’ll try, Athena.’

  ‘To get you started, I have a present for you.’ The goddess held up a contraption of woven gold straps.

  ‘Is that a net?’ Bellerophon asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘A brassiere?’

  Athena scowled. ‘Think about it. Why would I give you a golden brassiere?’

  ‘Um …’

  ‘It’s a bridle! The thing you put around a horse’s head!’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Bellerophon had never paid much attention to bridles. Every time he tried to ride a horse, he either ran someone over or drove the horse through somebody’s living room. ‘So … I should find a steed to put this on?’

  Athena began to wonder if appearing in this young man’s dream had been such a good idea. He reminded her of Poseidon on his stormiest days: blowing around aimlessly, destroying things for no apparent reason. But she was here now. She had to try to steer the boy on a better course.

  ‘Near this shrine,’ she said, ‘at a place called Peirene, you will find a freshwater spring. At this spot, Pegasus often comes to drink.’

  ‘Whoa. The Pegasus?’ Bellerophon had heard legends about the winged horse. Supposedly he had sprung from the blood of Medusa after Perseus cut off her head. Many heroes had tried to capture Pegasus. None had succeeded.

  ‘That’s right,’ Athena said. ‘How would you like to ride an immortal winged steed?’

  Bellerophon rubbed his chin. ‘Wait … If my dad is Poseidon, and Pegasus’s dad is Poseidon, isn’t the horse my brother?’

  ‘Best not to think about that,’ Athena advised. ‘Just follow my instructions. As soon as you wake up, make a proper sacrifice to me and to your father, Poseidon. That will ensure our blessings. Then find the spring of Peirene, and wait until Pegasus lands. When he folds his wings to drink, you’ll have to sneak up behind him and slip the bridle over his head.’

  ‘Um, stealth isn’t really my thing.’

  ‘Do your best. Try not to kill yourself. If you can succeed in getting the bit into Pegasus’s mouth, the magic of the bridle will instantly calm him down. He’ll accept your friendship and take you wherever you want to go.’

  ‘Awesome!’

  ‘Just don’t push your luck,’ Athena warned. ‘Heroes always push their luck when they get some cool gift like a flying horse. DON’T DO THAT.’

  ‘Of course not. Thanks, Athena!’

  The goddess faded into the fog. Bellerophon awoke from his dream, promptly toppled off the altar, and knocked over a statue, which shattered on the floor.

  He looked up at the heavens. ‘Sorry. That was an accident.’

  The wind made a sound like an exasperated sigh.

  Bellerophon walked to the nearest farm and spent all his travelling money on a young bull. He sacrificed the animal – half to Athena, half to Poseidon.

  Then he set off to capture Pegasus with his magical golden brassiere.

  The spring of Peirene gushed from a limestone crevice and spilled into a pool dotted with lotuses and water lilies.

  Bellerophon crouched behind a nearby bush and waited for what seemed like hours. Probably because it was hours. He learned what most ADHD demigods know: we may be easily distracted, but if we’re really interested in something we can focus like a laser beam. Bellerophon was really interested in capturing Pegasus.

  At last a dark shape spiralled out of the clouds. Bellerophon thought it was an eagle, because it had the same gold-and-brown plumage. But, as it descended, Bellerophon realized the creature was much larger: a tan stallion with a rust-blazed muzzle and a twenty-foot wingspan.

  Bellerophon didn’t dare breathe as the horse landed. Pegasus pawed the grass. He folded his wings, approached the spring and lowered his head to drink.

  Bellerophon crept forward with the golden bridle. Halfway across the meadow, he stepped on a twig.

  Bellerophon froze. Pegasus looked over. The horse noticed the golden bridle and, being an intelligent animal, knew what was up.

  Pegasus nickered. Bellerophon could have sworn the horse was saying, Man, you are such a loser. All right, fine. C’mere.

  Bellerophon approached. Pegasus allowed him to put the golden bridle around his head. I’m not sure why Pegasus decided to cooperate, but it was a good thing for Bellerophon. He’d never bridled a horse before. It took him about six tries. At first, the poor horse had the throatlatch running across his eyeballs and the bit sticking out of his left ear, but eventually Bellerophon got it right.

  Pegasus shivered as the golden bridle filled him with warm, tingly, happy magic. He whinnied softly, like, Where are we going?

  ‘The city of Argos.’ Bellerophon stroked the horse’s nose. ‘Oh, gods, you are amazing! You are the most incredible – Ow!’

  Pegasus stepped on his foot, like, Shut up and get on before I change my mind.

  Bellerophon climbed onto the stallion’s back. Together they soared into the sky.

  They made quite an entrance in Argos. It wasn’t every day a Corinthian flew a horse through the window of the throne room. Fortunately, it was a big window. And nobody had invented glass panes yet. Otherwise it could’ve got mess
y. As it was, Pegasus got a tapestry cord tangled around his back hoof, ripped it off the wall, dropped Bellerophon at the royal dais, then flew out of the window again, the tapestry trailing behind him like an advertising banner.

  King Proitos welcomed Bellerophon as an honoured guest. Anybody who could tame Pegasus (more or less) was okay in his book.

  His wife, Anteia, was even happier to see the handsome young hero.

  The queen was lonely. Her homeland, Lycia, lay far across the sea on the coast of modern-day Turkey. Her father had forced her to marry Proitos, who was much older, pot-bellied, and balding. She hated Argos. She hated being stuck with an old, gross husband. As soon as she saw Bellerophon, she fell in love with him.

  Bellerophon spent several months at the palace. Every day he would go to the temples to pray, sacrifice and beg the gods’ forgiveness for killing his younger brother. (Oh, and that other dude, Belleros. Him, too.)

  Every night, Bellerophon would try to avoid Anteia. The queen flirted with him constantly and ambushed him whenever he was alone, but Bellerophon was pretty sure having an affair with the queen would not help him purify his soul.

  As the weeks passed, Anteia got more and more frustrated. Finally, one night after dinner, she barged into Bellerophon’s bedroom.

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ she demanded. ‘Am I not beautiful enough?’

  ‘Um … no. I mean, yes. I mean … you’re married.’

  ‘So? Aphrodite is married. It never stopped her from enjoying life!’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a good comparison.’

  ‘Will you kiss me or not?’

  ‘I – I can’t. It’s not right.’

  ‘Argh!’

  Anteia stormed out of his room. She hated self-righteous young men, especially handsome ones who refused to flirt with her. She marched into the audience chamber, where her fat, old husband was snoozing on his throne.

  ‘Proitos, wake up!’

  The king flinched. ‘I was just resting my eyes.’

  ‘Bellerophon attacked me!’

  Proitos frowned. ‘He … he did? But he’s always so polite. Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of accident? He has a lot of accidents.’

  ‘He chased me around his bedroom and tried to grab me!’

  ‘What were you doing in his bedroom?’

  ‘That’s not the point! He tried to kiss me. He called me Babycakes and all sorts of horrible lewd names.’

  Proitos wondered if he was dreaming. The queen wasn’t making much sense. ‘Bellerophon attacked you. He called you Babycakes.’

  ‘Yes!’ Anteia clenched her fists. ‘I demand justice. If you love me, arrest him and execute him!’

  Proitos scratched his beard. ‘Look, dear, attacking the queen is a very serious crime. But … I mean, are you sure? Bellerophon doesn’t strike me as that sort of person. He’s the son of my old friend King Glaucus. Killing him would probably start a war with Corinth. Also, Bellerophon is a guest in my house. The gods frown on killing guests.’

  Anteia snarled. ‘You are so useless! If you won’t kill him, send him to my father in Lycia. My father will definitely kill him!’

  Proitos had no desire to kill Bellerophon, but he also didn’t like the queen yelling at him. He had to live with her. She could be very unpleasant when she didn’t get her way. ‘If I sent him to your father for execution, how would that work exactly?’

  Anteia tried to contain her impatience. Honestly, she had to explain everything to her stupid husband. ‘You’re Bellerophon’s host, aren’t you? You decide what he should do for his purification rituals and when he’s finished, right?’

  ‘Well, yes. In fact, I was about to declare his purification complete.’

  ‘Tell him he has one more thing to do,’ said Anteia. ‘Before he can be purified, he must travel to Lycia and offer his services to my father, King Iobates.’

  ‘But how does that get Bellerophon executed?’

  ‘Give him a sealed letter of introduction for my father. Bellerophon will think it’s just a bunch of compliments about him. But, in the letter, you ask Iobates to execute him. My father reads the letter. He kills Bellerophon. Problem solved.’

  Proitos stared at his wife. He’d never realized how bloodthirsty she was. He had a hard time believing anyone would call her Babycakes. ‘Okay, I guess that’s a good plan …’

  The next morning, Proitos summoned Bellerophon to the throne room. ‘My friend, congratulations on nearly being finished with purification! You have almost earned the title Bellerophon the Blameless!’

  ‘Almost?’

  The king explained about the trip to Lycia. He handed Bellerophon an envelope sealed with wax. ‘When you arrive in Lycia, present this to King Iobates. It will ensure that he gives you the proper welcome.’

  Bellerophon didn’t like the cold look in Queen Anteia’s eyes, or the way Proitos’s hand shook when he gave him the envelope, or the creepy organ music that was playing in the background. But Proitos was his host. Bellerophon couldn’t question his orders without appearing rude.

  ‘Uh, okay. Thanks for everything.’ Bellerophon whistled for his steed.

  Pegasus had been spending the last few months roaming free in the clouds, but when he heard Bellerophon’s call he soared straight through the window and landed in the throne room.

  Bellerophon bid his hosts goodbye, then flew off for Lycia to deliver his own death warrant.

  Normally it would’ve taken weeks to sail from Argos to Lycia. Pegasus made the trip in half an hour – not even enough time for an in-flight beverage. As they glided over the Lycian countryside, Bellerophon noticed lots of fires – burned-out villages, blackened fields, swathes of smoking forests. Either Lycia had lost a war or National Barbecue Day had got really out of hand.

  When Bellerophon arrived at the palace, King Iobates was quite surprised. It wasn’t every day a Corinthian flew a horse through his window. The king was even more surprised when Bellerophon handed him a letter of introduction from his old, fat son-in-law, the king of Argos.

  Iobates opened the letter. It read:

  Dear Iobates,

  Before you stands Bellerophon the Blameless. He has offended my wife, your daughter, by calling her Babycakes and other lewd names. Please kill him immediately. Thanks a bunch.

  Yours,

  Proitos

  Iobates cleared his throat. ‘This is … quite an introduction.’

  Bellerophon smiled. ‘Proitos has been very kind to me.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m guessing you haven’t read this letter?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘I see …’

  Anger formed a hard clot in Iobates’s throat. He wasn’t angry with Bellerophon. The king knew his daughter Anteia quite well. She had a habit of flirting with young men, then asking to have them executed if they didn’t return her affection. Iobates had hoped she would settle down once she married Proitos. Apparently she was still up to her old tricks. Now she wanted him to do her dirty work long-distance.

  He studied Bellerophon. The young man seemed nice enough. He resembled the mosaics of Poseidon in the local temple, and Iobates figured that was not a coincidence. Bellerophon had also befriended the immortal horse Pegasus, which had to count for something.

  Iobates decided he couldn’t simply kill Bellerophon on the spot. That would be rude, messy and possibly get him into trouble with Poseidon.

  The king had another idea. Perhaps he could solve two problems at once. He would give Bellerophon an impossible quest and let the Fates decide whether he should live. If Bellerophon failed, Anteia would be satisfied with his death. If he succeeded, Iobates’s kingdom would benefit.

  ‘Blameless Bellerophon,’ he said, ‘you have come here to complete your purification, yes? I have a task in mind for you. I’m not going to lie: it won’t be easy. But you’re a strong young hero. You have a flying horse. You might be just the man for the job.’

  Bellerophon stood up straight. He wasn’t used to being trusted with
important missions. ‘I would be happy to help, Your Majesty. It doesn’t involve anything fragile, does it? My fine motor skills aren’t the best.’

  ‘No, nothing fragile. It involves a monster called the Chimera. Perhaps you noticed some fires as you flew into my kingdom.’

  ‘I did. So it’s not National Barbecue Day?’

  ‘No. A foul supernatural creature has been destroying my villages, burning my crops, terrorizing my people. No one has been able to get close to it, much less kill it. According to a few eyewitness survivors, the monster is part lion, part dragon, part goat.’

  ‘Part goat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The lion and dragon, I understand. Those are terrifying. But a goat?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. The local priests have been trying to discern where the monster came from. As near as they can figure, the Chimera crawled out of Tartarus. It’s probably some spawn of Echidna. Anyway, a neighbouring king, Amisodarus, had the bright idea of feeding the Chimera and trying to harness it for war. That didn’t work out so well. The Chimera destroyed his kingdom. Now it’s destroying mine. It radiates fear, spits poison and breathes fire hot enough to melt armour.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Bellerophon.

  ‘So that’s your task,’ Iobates said. ‘Go kill it. And thanks!’

  Bellerophon had never been given such an important job before. All his life, people had been telling him not to do things: don’t throw that dagger, don’t spill that flask of oil, don’t saw that rope. Now King Iobates, who barely knew him, was trusting him with the fate of his kingdom. What a nice guy!

  Bellerophon was determined not to screw things up.

  He jumped on Pegasus’s back and flew out of the window.

  They found the Chimera blowtorching a village about twenty miles south of the capital. Flying overhead, Bellerophon could understand why nobody had been able to give a good description of the monster. Anyone who got within a hundred feet would’ve been blasted to ashes.

  (Just for the record, I have met the Chimera. At the time, it did not look the way Bellerophon saw it. Monsters often change appearance, so that’s not a surprise. Also when I met the Chimera it was disguised as a Chihuahua named Sonny, which gets us into a whole new level of terrifying. But moving along …)