The sun was only just beginning to rise when Bellerophon finally caught sight of the river that led away toward Xanthos and the distant sea. Green swathes of olive, orange and fig filled his eyes, but there was something more. There was fire.
Great pillars of smoke rose up from crops that had burned in the night and previous days, as if Lykia had been under attack. Yet there were no armies, no troops. At the farms and hovels Bellerophon passed as he went, he saw terror-stricken eyes peering out at him from the darkness within. When he tried to approach the people to ask them what had happened, they were incapable of speech. Doors and shutters were slammed in his face and he was left to pull his mule down the road toward the capital which rose up from the smoke like an island in a misty sea.
Philonoe.
Bellerophon was suddenly very worried. She had been on his mind constantly since leaving the Amazons, the words of Queen Otrera foremost, that Philonoe was a descendant of the Daughters of Ares, and she did not even know it.
He also remembered that Otrera had told him not to trust Iobates at all, and so Bellerophon decided to go forward into Xanthos with greater caution than he might have done.
Goddess Athena…guide me…
The city was quiet, and the streets were empty. Even in the agora, the merchants had dispersed and trade had ground to a halt. Broken and charred market stalls lay everywhere, and pieces of amphora once filled with wine and oil lay scattered like leaves on a forest floor in autumn.
Bellerophon paused to look around as he approached the main gate of the palace, and there he saw the helmeted heads of the guards looking down at him.
“Open the gates!” he called up, his voice echoing off of the empty streets and outer walls of the palace.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards yelled back.
“It is Bellerophon, son of Glaucus!” he called up.
“Open the gates!” Captain Milyas’ voice ordered from somewhere at the top, and slowly the double doors creaked open.
Bellerophon walked forward with the pack mule and stepped into the courtyard where he saw men of the palace guard being tended to by servants. Many were wounded, and a few others lay still beneath sooty sheets, their chests no longer rising and falling with breath.
“Bellerophon!” Milyas said, coming down from the battlements to see him. “You live?”
Bellerophon turned to the captain and clasped his arm. “Yes. What happened here?”
Milyas removed his helmet and tucked it beneath his arm before leading him a few steps away to talk quietly, away from the wounded. “The beast… It attacked three times while you were gone. The last time was during the night, last night. It’s never attacked the capital before…” his voice faded out as if he could not comprehend the terror even he felt. “We could do nothing.”
“Philonoe…is she-“
“She’s safe. The king ordered her to remain in the palace vaults during the attack. She is now in her rooms.” Milyas looked Bellerophon over, as if seeing him for the first time. “You survived, but barely it seems.”
“Barely, yes. But I did survive,” Bellerophon answered.
“And the Amazons? Are they…are they all dead?” Milyas had a strange look in his eyes, as if he did not really want to know, as if he had not expected Bellerophon to ever be standing there. Truthfully, no one had expected that.
Yet there he was, battered and scarred, but alive.
“Take me to the king,” Bellerophon said, taking the olive bough from Queen Otrera from off the mule’s back.
Milyas looked strangely at the branch and nodded. “He is in the megaron with his advisors.” He turned to one of his men. “Inform King Iobates that Bellerophon of Corinthos has returned!”
“Yes, Captain!” the man said before rushing off.
Milyas led Bellerophon quickly through the palace to the court before the great hall, and just as they were about to enter the propylon before the megaron, rapid foot falls approached from the side, and he turned to see Philonoe, as brilliant as a single light in that dark and oppressive place.
She made to throw her arms about him, but stopped short when she saw Milyas there too. “Thank Athena you’re safe!” she said, her eyes glossy as she gripped his arm tightly. “I prayed everyday for your safe return.” She reached up to touch the bruising on his face, took in the cuts upon his arms. “What has happened to you?”
“Much,” Bellerophon answered. “But it does me good to see you safe, lady.”
“What happened?” Philonoe asked.
“Princess,” Milyas said, “we are just about to go in to see the king. He is waiting.”
“I will go with you,” Philonoe said, her voice strong, not to be deterred. She placed her hand upon Bellerophon’s armoured chest, and then turned to lead the way into the megaron.
The guards standing there bowed to her and opened the great doors of the propylon, and the three of them passed through.
King Iobates was standing before the hearth fire surrounded by several courtiers and advisors, each of them pleading with him for a decision or some aid for a particularly hard-hit part of the city or kingdom.
Polyidus stood beside the king, silent, listening to all that the men of the court demanded of their king. He felt the king growing angrier and angrier with every demand made of him. Since Bellerophon had been sent on his second task, the seer had felt a lightness in the king’s countenance, but then the beast had attacked, and his lord’s anger, his desperation, had known no limits.
“Father!” Philonoe said aloud, her voice clear above the buzz of the courtiers. “Father, Bellerophon has returned!” she called out.
“Silence!” King Iobates shouted at those near him, and the circle around him fell away as they all made room and turned to see the son of Glaucus led before the king by the princess and captain of the palace guard.
Without saying anything, King Iobates mounted his throne and turned to look down at Bellerophon. He glanced at his daughter sternly and looked to the seat on his left.
Philonoe, however, did not move from Bellerophon’s side. “He brings news of the Amazons!” she said aloud, and turned to let Bellerophon speak.
Bellerophon looked at the expectant faces about him, and finally rested his gaze on the king.
Iobates’ face was dark, a little excited even, for he had been waiting for news either of Bellerophon’s death, or of the removal of the Amazon spear between his shoulder blades.
“By the look of you, Bellerophon,” the king began, “you have been in a great battle. Tell me, are the Amazons of Phrygia no more? Did you defeat them?”
The megaron was silent as all waited to hear what the returning Corinthian had to say.
Bellerophon searched for the appropriate words, as well as for the ability to keep his anger at bay. Standing before Iobates, he realized how much he disliked the king, how all that Queen Otrera had said made perfect sense.
“King Iobates,” he began, “I have travelled far at your bidding in order to prove my innocence and the falsity of the accusations levelled against me. I went into the heart of Phrygia, and I did indeed confront the Amazon queen, Otrera, and her people.”
King Iobates leaned forward at this, excited at the prospect of what he might hear, biting his lip in anticipation. “Tell me, son of Glaucus… Are they all dead? Did you slay them?”
Bellerophon held his head up high. I will not be cowed by this man. “I fought Queen Otrera, the daughter of Ares, in single combat-“
“Is she dead, or not?” Iobates yelled.
Philonoe looked at her father, shocked and wary of his reaction, for she had never seen him that way before.
Bellerophon shook his head. “She is a mighty warrior, King Iobates, and an honourable opponent.”
“So you bring back nothing but your own cuts and bruises?” Iobates was on his feet then, his finger pointed directly at Bellerophon.
“I bring back something better than death, King Iobates,” Bellerophon said calmly, but loudly enough for all to hear. “I bring back the word of the Amazons that they will agree to a truce with Lykia and King Iobates. They have agreed to be Lykia’s allies from now on. You need no longer worry about your northern border, King Iobates. It is safe and secure, and guarded by powerful allies.” He paused to let the news register with everyone there. “Queen Otrera sends this olive bough as a symbol of her word and the alliance.” Bellerophon stepped forward and handed the branch to the king.
Iobates’ hands shook, and he seethed where he stood, even though his courtiers began to smile and sigh with relief at the much-needed good news. The king sat down upon his throne again and threw the olive branch into the hearth fire. “I sent you to kill Otrera and her people! You,” he pointed, again, “were not to be an ambassador, but an assassin!” he shouted and his voice reverberated about the walls. “You have failed!” he turned to Milyas. “Captain!”
“Yes, my king?” Milyas responded.
“This man is to be kept under guard until his appointed execution day.”
There were stunned gasps about the megaron.
“Father, no!” Philonoe said, stepping forward. “For shame! Bellerophon has proved most honourable in this and secured an alliance with a powerful force. Surely, it is better to have obtained new allies rather than eliminate a foe and allow the Hittites to sweep through to replace them?”
“You know nothing, Daughter. You are a child and I command you to refrain from speaking any more, lest you wish to be locked in the dungeons yourself!”
Philonoe stared back at her father with fire in her eyes, and Bellerophon could see the truth of what Otrera had said. She was her mother’s daughter. Beneath the peplos and perfume, beneath the beautiful, gilded exterior, Philonoe was indeed a descendant of the Daughters of Ares.
“There is more,” Bellerophon suddenly said. “Queen Otrera declares that she will abide by the truce, and be a strong ally of Lykia…in honour of the memory of her dearest friend, Queen Pasandra, and of the late queen’s daughter, Philonoe…” He turned to face Philonoe who looked at him, speechless.
The princess then looked to her father, and saw the changed look in his eyes. It was not a look of pain or nostalgia, however, but a look of guilt. She could see her father look with true hate upon Bellerophon, and that scared her.
“King Iobates,” Bellerophon said, stepping closer. “By Zeus Xenios, I believe I have better than achieved the task you set me, and brought you a greater outcome. I have kept my end of the bargain.”
“You think so, do you?” the king growled. He was about to say more when Polyidus leaned in to whisper to him. It took several moments for the seer to relay all that he wanted to say, to urge his advice upon Iobates, but in the end, the king seemed to grow calm again, despite the dark look in his eyes.
“My seer has given me sage counsel once more.”
Those in the megaron looked to the blind man beside the king.
“Bellerophon, son of Glaucus of Corinthos…” the king began. “Though you did not achieve the exact task I set for you, I can see the benefit of what you have done, and though I do not trust the Amazons, I do believe they mean to honour the memory of our late queen. The laws of Xenia will be honoured!” he declared. “Tomorrow night, we will feast in your honour, and at that time, I will declare the nature of the third and final task which will prove or disprove your innocence in the matter of my eldest daughter.” The king stood then, and looked down at Bellerophon, being sure to avoid his daughter’s shocked gaze. “Go now, and heal yourself of your wounds. Captain?”
“Yes, my lord?” Milyas said, stepping forward.
“Bellerophon is free to roam the palace.”
“Yes, my king!” Milyas said.
“My daughter, however, is to be confined to her rooms.”
Philonoe looked up at her father but before she could say anything, the king had turned and swept out of the megaron, followed by the majority of the courtiers there.
“How could he?” Philonoe whispered to Bellerophon.
He turned to her quickly before Milyas’ reluctant guards arrived to take her away. “Go with them, Philonoe. I will find my way to you, for there is more I need to tell you.”
She wanted to ask why, but she felt the guards close in around her.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Milyas said. “Your father’s orders…”
She pulled her arm away when one of the guards touched her arm. “I’m coming!” she said, and looked one last time at Bellerophon before walking out of the megaron with her head high.
When she was gone, Bellerophon turned to the seer, Polyidus, who still stood there beside the empty throne. “What did you tell the king, seer?”
Polyidus smiled. “I told him that you had done him a great service, and that now was not the time to anger the Gods.”
“And can you tell me what this third task will be?” Bellerophon asked.
Polyidus shook his head slowly. “No. I cannot. But you should go. Rest and prepare yourself for the trial to come, for the Amazons were nothing compared to what is next.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Bellerophon, but that is all that I can say, on my life, and the princess’.”
“Then you had best say nothing.”
Polyidus was about to leave, but he turned once more in the direction of Bellerophon’s voice. “What more did Queen Otrera tell you?”
“She told me a story as our wounds were mended.”
“And what was this story?” Polyidus asked.
Bellerophon looked at those milky eyes, and there he did not see any hatred or cunning. He knew Polyidus admired the princess. “That is not for me to tell you.”
Polyidus nodded. “As it should be,” he said. “But I suspect, it is for someone else to hear.”
With that, the seer disappeared out the back of the megaron, his staff clicking on the paving stones as he went.
It was strange to be back in the palace again after the long, dusty road, and the warm hospitality of the Amazon camp. The palace was quiet, and somewhat lifeless in comparison.
When Bellerophon returned to his chambers to wash, and gave his armour into the care of the servant, Phoebos, for cleaning, he did not go out into the palace as Iobates had said he could. Once he was clean, he sat upon the terrace to eat heartily of the food that had been brought to him, and to stare at the bundle which Queen Otrera had given him. He needed to get it to Philonoe, for it was hers by right, as was the information he had also brought back.
Such betrayal… he thought, shaking his head and realizing that he and Philonoe had been treated, in some ways, the same by their respective surviving parents. How will she take this news of her father and mother? he wondered, but he knew he could not keep it to himself any longer, for he might not live long enough to tell her otherwise.
Once darkness fell over Xanthos, and the night air began to fill with the scent of jasmine, Bellerophon made offerings to Athena upon the altar overlooking the river, and the smoke from those offerings wove about him, thick and fragrant, rising up like a mist to cover the terrace walls.
“Thank you, Goddess,” he said softly when he realized that Athena was aiding him. And so, as his offerings burned in the darkness of that star-pocked night, Bellerophon slung the bundle over his shoulders and began to climb.
The stonework was thick, and smooth in places, but not so perfect that he could not find handholds, and not so high that he would fall to his death should he slip. The terraces of the upper palace were close, like the soft levels of a mountainside olive grove. He knew the king’s apartments were at the top, and that the princess’ were one below that, but there was another between hers and the one Bellerophon inhabited.
He reached the second terrace and stopped when he saw the form of a man standing there in the darkness, waiting.
“Promise me you will be honourable with her,” the man said.
Bellerophon stepped closer, his heart beating, but then he saw who was waiting for him. It was Polyidus.
“I do not bring her harm or pain, seer,” Bellerophon said. “Only the truth she has a right to know.”
Polyidus turned his head to Bellerophon in the darkness and nodded. “Truth often is pain… But this is a truth she must learn. I have kept this secret for far too long.”
“Surely others know?”
The seer shook his head. “Have you noticed how young the guards are? Even the courtiers? Few, if any, were old enough to know what had happened to the queen, let alone the Lykian traditions which my king did away with.”
“Then how do you know?” Bellerophon asked.
“The king’s guilt was overwhelming when his bane arrived and began to ravage the land. He confided in me and asked me to consult the Gods.”
“And what did the Gods tell you?”
“They said that after years of suffering, a hero would come from across the sea to help us.”
“I am no hero, Polyidus,” Bellerophon stated as he went to the wall to continue his climb. “I am an outcast. You should consult the Gods again.”
He then disappeared into the rising smoke from below and continued to climb.
“I have,” Polyidus whispered as he heard Bellerophon reach the terrace of the princess’ apartments.
When Bellerophon reached the next terrace above, he peered over the short retaining wall to see open doors covered with flowing silk curtains that rustled gently in the nighttime breeze. Beyond them, Philonoe paced back and forth in the lamplight of her rooms.
He swung over the edge and stood to look up at the king’s level above. No one was there. He then moved quietly to the curtains. Philonoe was in distress, it seemed, but she appeared strong and determined as she paced, her head held high, her fists opening and closing. Knowing what he knew about her, Bellerophon now saw her in a much different light, an even stronger, more brilliant light than before. He only hoped that she would not hate him for the news he brought to her.
He spotted two female servants waiting upon her and knew he could not risk being seen there. So, when they were turned, their attention taken up with their tasks, he stuck his hand beyond the veil of the curtains and waved to Philonoe.
The princess stopped dead, but did not speak or squeal in surprise. She knew, and turned to her servants. “I will prepare myself and retire now. You may go.”
“Are you certain, my lady?” one of them said.
“Quite. I wish to be alone.”
The servants bowed, went to the chamber doors to knock so that the guards opened, and then went out, the doors locked again behind them.
“The princess is retiring for the night. She is not to be disturbed,” their faint voices said on the other side of the doors.
When Philonoe was certain they were gone, she rushed to the terrace doors and threw the curtains aside.
Bellerophon stood there in his simple, red tunic, the golden battle-axe she had given him hanging about his neck.
Philonoe reached out and placed her hand upon the charm, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing beneath as she looked upon him with her clear, green eyes. “I thought I would never see you again,” she said, her voice low.
“I thought the same, Princess. But this charm you gave me saved my life.”
“I am so glad.” She gripped his hands tightly.
He could feel that she wanted to kiss him, and he wanted the same also. She is kind and generous and brave, and so very beautiful… But now is not the time. I must tell her!
Bellerophon raised her hands and kissed them, his eyes closed as he did so. When he opened them, he looked into hers. “There is much I must tell you.”
“The guard will hear us if we speak inside, but my father is in his gardens and will not hear us outside.” She looked into the darkness of the terrace. “Polyidus may hear us. He is below.”
“He knows I am here.”
“What?” She looked panicked for a moment, then understood. “He knows what you have come to tell me.”
“Yes. But he is determined that you should know the truth.”
“He has always been kind to me,” Philonoe said, leading Bellerophon to a couch that lay against the outer wall, hidden and lit by a single brazier, surrounded by jasmine and bougainvillea. “Tell me.”
Now that it came to it, Bellerophon did not know if he had the words to tell her the truth in the way it should be told. But, he had always spoken plainly and honestly, and that is what he decided to do then.
“The Amazons were never your enemy, Philonoe. They received me well and honoured the laws of Xenia, though I had been sent to kill them. They are the most honourable people I have ever met…apart from you.”
“But how did Queen Otrera know of my mother, or of me for that matter?” she asked, no longer able to wait.
“Philonoe,” Bellerophon began. “Your mother, Pasandra, was an Amazon.”
“What?” Philonoe’s composure collapsed and shock overtook her.
“This charm you gave me…” he touched the battle-axe about his neck. “It saved me because Queen Otrera recognized it. It broke open the truth which the queen told me, and which she asked me to pass along to you.”
“My…my mother was one of them?” Philonoe was incredulous.
“As are you, Philonoe. Your mother, Pasandra, was one of their greatest warriors. She was Queen Otrera’s general and closest friend.” He could see Philonoe’s eyes glossing over as the realization swept her up, but he pressed on for fear he would not be able to tell the rest. “You are a descendant of the Daughters of Ares, Philonoe. And Queen Otrera honours you, as she honoured your mother. She sent this…”
Bellerophon unslung the bundle from his shoulders and laid it in her lap. “The queen said this was one of your mother’s favourite blades which she used in battle. She wanted you to have it.”
Philonoe looked at the bundle laid across her lap for a few shocked moments before slowly pulling back the folds to reveal the handle and hilt, and the gleaming bronze of the oiled, battle-worn blade. “I can’t believe this…” she said, touching her finger to the edge and recoiling quickly when it cut her. “It’s so sharp,” she said, putting her finger in her mouth to stop the blood.
“It is a warrior’s blade,” Bellerophon said softly. “And it’s yours.”
Philonoe looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “How could my father keep this from me?”
Bellerophon looked away from her eyes to the ground, and then back again. “There is more…”
For some time, Bellerophon explained all that Queen Otrera had told him about the battle between Lykia and the Amazons, and of how her father’s mother had wanted to pass her throne to Pasandra after she married Iobates. He told Philonoe of her father’s betrayal of the traditions of Lykia, and of how he had sent her mother to her death against the Solymi - deliberately or not - and then taken the queen’s throne for himself.
Philonoe wept at first to hear all of it, but then anger at the great betrayal filled her heart and without knowing it, she gripped the handle of her mother’s sword tightly in her hand, staring at the length of the blade.
“The beast then,” Philonoe said. “It is my father’s doing. The Gods have punished him for what he has done.”
“I cannot claim to know the will of the Gods, Philonoe. That is Polyidus’ domain. But I do know that Queen Otrera was not lying. And I know that if you were to take your rightful place upon the throne of Lykia, the Amazon nation would be your staunchest ally.”
“It’s too much, Bellerophon,” she said, looking younger and more afraid than she had, at odds with the anger and strength she also held within herself. “And what of you? If my father finds out what you’ve told me, he will have you killed.”
Bellerophon smiled sadly. “I think he will have me killed anyway. Besides…I have yet to complete a third task.”
“Whatever it is,” she said, “I know you will succeed.” She looked up at the dark night sky then, her eyes tracing the lines of the constellations, and wondered where her mother was and whether she now knew her daughter was aware of the truth. Oh, Mother…I miss you… She looked back at Bellerophon. “What would I have done if you had not come into my life?”
He smiled at her. “You would have continued as the strong, honourable woman you already were when I met you. The Gods have a way of helping us along our paths.”
“Yes. They do, though I don’t think you believe that about yourself, Bellerophon.”
“I go where Athena wills me,” he conceded. “She has always been there for me.”
“And so will I,” Philonoe whispered.
Bellerophon felt his heart full then, of what he was not sure, but he knew that he would do anything for the woman before him. He then remembered the charm about his neck and reached up to remove it. “This belongs to you,” he said.
But she reached out and stopped him. “Keep it. There is yet another task. If it protected you before, it will protect you again.”
“Thank you,” he smiled, and kissed her hand. “Whatever happens to me in this third task, Philonoe, I am happier than I have ever been in my life just for having met you.”
She moved to kiss him then, unable to control the urge, but he had already stood and was climbing down the wall once more.
When he was gone, she held up her mother’s sword to the moonlight to look upon it as a single tear traced a line down her cheek. “Goddess, protect him,” she whispered.
Bellerophon did not sleep that night, not because he worried about the third task to be set for him. He had resigned himself to dying long ago. Sleep escaped him because he thought of Philonoe, and of the effects of the news he had brought her, the painful truth.
When sleep finally took him, he dozed through the sun-drenched morning into the afternoon of the next day. A part of him wanted to climb back up the walls to see Philonoe, but he felt it right that she should be alone to mull over the knowledge she now possessed. A part of him also wanted to burst in on King Iobates and confront him for what he truly was, but that would be a betrayal of the laws of Xenia also. Iobates might have been willing to betray Zeus’ laws as a host, but Bellerophon knew that he would not do so as a guest.
And so he waited until evening fell, and the servants came to tell him that the feast was about to begin.
The megaron was brightly lit and filled with the men and some of the women of the court. The young entourage of Lykian nobles, Bellerophon now knew, were ignorant of their old king’s past machinations. They laughed and talked and celebrated, but they were ignorant of all that had gone before.
When the king spied Bellerophon, however, there was something strange in his eyes.
Bellerophon knew then that Iobates suspected that he knew everything, and that was something the king did not want anyone else knowing.
“Will the princess be joining us to celebrate?” Bellerophon asked as he seated himself on the king’s right for the feast.
King Iobates shook his head. “The princess has taken ill and will remain in her chambers.” Without another word, the king pounded his fist upon the table and raised his golden wine cup to the room. “Tonight, we celebrate the truce with our long-time enemies, the Amazons of Phrygia!”
People around the room cheered, raised their cups, and poured some onto the floor for the Gods.
“And to Bellerophon, son of Glaucus of Corinthos, who made this truce possible.”
“Bellerophon!” the other guests cheered and drank.
“Let there be music!” Iobates said, and immediately, the musicians with tambourines, lyres, and auloi began to play from the far corner of the megaron. Platters of steaming meats and breads were placed upon the tables, and more wine was poured. Iobates turned to Bellerophon then. “Are you rested, Bellerophon? You have had a long journey, and such a battle!”
Bellerophon sipped his wine and looked at Iobates. “I am rested, thank you, King Iobates.”
“Good.” The king set his cup down. “Tell me, what else did Queen Otrera say to you?”
Bellerophon wondered if he should tell Iobates that he knew everything that had happened, but then he glimpsed the shimmering form of Athena in the shadows.
The goddess stood there, bright-eyed and stern, and shook her head slowly before disappearing. Do not trust him…
Bellerophon cleared his throat. “Queen Otrera spoke very highly of the late queen, Pasandra. She said that she was a wondrous woman.”
For a fleeting moment, a veil of sadness covered Iobates’ face as he remembered days long ago, of passion, and of joy when his daughters had been born. But then he remembered his strong belief that Pasandra had intentionally given him daughters and no sons. The Amazons have their ways of assuring that! he had thought. He looked at the man beside him, still living, and felt great hatred then, jealously even, for his beloved youngest daughter, he knew, had fallen for Bellerophon, as easily as Pasandra had fallen for him in the beginning. The Gods toy with me!
“Do you know, Queen Otrera?” Bellerophon asked when the king did not speak.
Iobates’ face darkened and he nodded. “Oh, yes. I know her. She loved my wife, and hated me for also loving her.”
A part of Bellerophon felt for the old king, pitied him for his lonely existence. Perhaps he did not mean for her to die? he wondered. But he should have been there to fight alongside her. He was tempted to ask the king if all of what he heard from Otrera was true, but the goddess and Otrera’s warnings echoed in the corners of his mind. “Queen Pasandra must have been a magnificent woman.”
“She was,” Iobates said flatly, and it was then that Bellerophon knew that the old king had never truly loved the Amazon. He had used her, usurped the Queen’s throne of Lykia, and now his people suffered as a result of his iniquity.
Bellerophon looked about the megaron at the faces of the young courtiers, the commanders, and then at the still-silent face of Polyidus who leaned in to hear all that was said. He then turned back to Iobates.
“King Iobates… We have eaten, and drunk, and spoken of many things. I still claim my innocence in the matter of your eldest daughter. And so, I would know what the third and final task is that I must complete to prove what the Gods already know of me. Tell me, what is my final task.”
A gleam came into the king’s eyes then as he took up his cup in one hand and pounded the table with his other before standing to address the room.
“My people!” King Iobates said aloud and a hush fell over the room. “Thus far, Bellerophon, son of Glaucus of Corinthos, has proved himself a strong and skilled warrior. He has survived the first two tasks we demanded of him, and though the result of this last brought about a different outcome from what I had commanded, it still benefits our kingdom greatly.” He looked about the room at the faces of his sycophants, and his soldiers. He knew they suffered, and in some ways they suffered because of his own actions. Now is my chance to end their suffering, and the tool to help me achieve that end is sitting beside me!
“It is time to announce Bellerophon’s third and final task! If he should complete this task, it will prove that he is innocent of the accusations levelled against him by King Proetus and my eldest daughter, Queen Stheneboea.” The king looked down at Bellerophon then, and waited.
Bellerophon felt Polyidus’ hand upon his arm as the seer leaned in to whisper to him. “You must stand before the king now. Trust in the Gods…”
Bellerophon felt a chill then. He felt very alone in that room full of people absent Philonoe. But he stood and walked slowly around the dining tables to stand before the king.
King Iobates looked down on him, his eyes hard and unfeeling. It was a look Bellerophon was much used to.
“The third task you must complete is the most perilous, and yet it will benefit our kingdom the most. If you complete this task, Bellerophon, you will be welcomed into Lykia for all time, and I will grant you the hand of my youngest daughter, Philonoe, who would be yours ever after, as long as you live.”
Bellerophon listened to the words the king uttered, understood their meaning, and yet, he did not believe their sincerity. He is lying, he thought. “And what is this perilous task, King Iobates?” he asked aloud.
“Bellerophon, son of Glaucus of Corinthos… You are to travel into the mountains, hunt down and kill the beast that has been ravaging my kingdom and terrorizing my people for many years. You are to kill the Chimera!”
There was an immediate and confused uproar around the megaron then, for the people had come to admire Bellerophon for what he had done thus far, despite the accusations against him, but all knew that this final task was impossible.
Amidst the chaos and cacophony of courtiers and guards about them, Bellerophon stood still as he heard the pronouncement of his third task. He stared the king directly in the eyes and saw the absolute hatred which the king had for him. I know the truth, and he wants me to die.
“What say you, Bellerophon?” the king asked. “Do you accept this third and final challenge in order to prove your innocence?”
The room grew a little more quiet then as people crowded around the Corinthian to hear his response.
“I accept,” Bellerophon said, and the people around him cheered.
The king smiled haughtily, and stepped down from his dais to stand before Bellerophon.
“Do not think that you will live to marry my daughter,” Iobates said so only Bellerophon could hear. “You will die, and painfully too, and then the world, and I, shall be rid of you.”
With those final words, King Iobates left the megaron as courtiers patted and slapped Bellerophon on the back, barking empty words of encouragement.
Bellerophon stood there amidst the noise, his ears ringing, his death certain, and all he could think of was Philonoe.
“Bellerophon,” came the voice of Polyidus who had finally made his way to the Corinthian’s side. “The princess is unharmed, but you must focus now. Trust in the Gods, Bellerophon. Trust them.”
Bellerophon looked at the seer’s blank eyes and, without a word, left the megaron through the propylon.