There was darkness all around, and it was so deep as to make one believe the cosmos had caved in on itself, leaving nothing left to fill the eyes, not a speck of beauty or of light.
And then the ground, the air, the very sinew of Bellerophon’s gasping body began to shake in concert with the deep, menacing growl that erupted in that darkness from every direction. This was accompanied by a hideous hissing that preceded violent, stabbing pains before finally, fire exploded from every direction.
It was in those brief bursts of killing light that Bellerophon, grasping and gasping in the dark, felt the rush of wind from every side, and the high-pitched screams of a stallion bent on devouring him the same as his own father had been devoured, torn limb from limb.
In one last burst of firelight, great jaws opened up before him, and behind, the rearing form of a death-bringing stallion rose high above him to crash down…
“NO!”
Bellerophon shot up in his bed, his eyes wild and darting, searching about the room for the beasts who had come to destroy him. But all he saw was the open doorway onto the terrace where curtains blew in a strong breeze, touched by the light of a new day.
Suddenly, he bent over and vomited into the bronze basin that sat upon the floor beside the bed. Sweat poured from his head, neck, and chest, and his heart beat without proper cadence or rhythm.
“Just breathe…” he said to himself, forcing his breath to slow, and his mind to focus. “It was just a dream.” For a moment, he wondered if King Iobates had poisoned him, but the ill feeling and pain in his gut soon passed after he washed, ate, and drank cool water from a nearby pitcher. Fear is poison, he thought, and all of the previous night returned to his clouded mind, the banquet, Philonoe’s absence, and the third task which he had been commanded to perform on pain of death.
Bellerophon looked down at his hands as he moved into the morning light on the terrace, and he saw that they were shaking. He then bent to pick up oil and herbs and set them upon the altar where he lit them. He fell to his knees as the smoke enveloped him.
“Oh, Goddess Athena… Fear has finally taken hold of me. Not of death, but of the unknown monster I must face. I am tired, and do no know if I can perform this task.” He felt the desperation in his voice, the exhaustion in his limbs, and he gripped the sides of the altar tightly. “I will willingly go to fight this beast, and am prepared to die doing so, if you will keep Philonoe safe from harm. May she one day replace her father upon the throne that is rightfully hers. Will you do this, oh Goddess, if I fight this beast on my own, alone, as I have lived?”
The air then grew cool and the smoke whiter and thicker, and after a brief ringing in Bellerophon’s ears, he opened his eyes to see Athena standing on the other side of the altar towering over it with her spear and aegis, her helmeted head looking down on him with strength and kindness.
You cannot defeat the Chimera alone, Bellerophon, she said, his mind echoing with her winged words.
“Am I then to simply march to my death?” he asked.
The goddess’ face was severe and the gorgon head upon her aegis writhed, gaped-mouthed and terrifying. She shook her head slowly.
You forget that I have been with you since you were young…that I have protected you and aided you…
“Forgive me,” Bellerophon bowed his head. “I do not forget. If I cannot do this alone, how else am I to defeat the Chimera? Will you fight alongside me, divine Goddess?”
I cannot. It is against the laws of Father Zeus. Even as she spoke the words, there was thunder in the distance, a warning. There is only one way to defeat Iobates’ bane, one ally who can help you in the attack.
“Who?” Bellerophon asked, looking directly into those shining eyes.
The offspring of Poseidon and Medusa… Pegasus.
Bellerophon did feel fear then, cold and clawing about him. He shook his head. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”
He had heard of the winged stallion but, like all horses, he had never spared a conscious thought for it. Of course! he realized as he looked at the goddess. “Please do not insist on this, my goddess. I have seen it in my dreams. Pegasus will kill me as surely as the Chimera. The stallion has been prowling my dreams. He has been hunting me and seeks only my death.”
The disappointment upon the goddess’ face was as black clouds passing before the sun. You allow your fears to choke your judgement, Bellerophon, she chided. Pegasus will help you, and he is your only way to avoid being torn body and soul by the Chimera. There is no other way.
“But my father? His death…”
She stepped closer and reached out to raise him to his feet. Her hands were as hot iron upon his skin, her eyes blinding and beautiful. You are not your father, Bellerophon. This is the task to which your life has led you. You must take up the challenge, or Lykia and Philonoe are lost…
Philonoe… He thought of the princess, her kindness toward him, her care and honesty…her strength. Then, as if the goddess had blown them away, Bellerophon’s deep fear and reticence fell away, even as flashes of his father’s fate pulsed in his mind. “Very well, oh Goddess… I will do as you ask. But how am I to ally myself with such an animal as Pegasus?” Even as he said it, he felt fear of the winged beast fill him again.
Athena stepped back from Bellerophon and the altar then. She was unsmiling, stern, and her voice was flat and commanding. You must conquer your fear and decide for what you will fight. When you have done that, visit the seer, Polyidus, for I have put into his mind the method for you to join forces with mighty Pegasus.
Light flashed, and a moment later, the goddess was gone, leaving Bellerophon alone upon the terrace. When he opened his eyes, he was lying on his back staring up at the blue sky and morning sun.
On the terrace overlooking him, he saw the dark form of Polyidus against the sky, looking down at him with wide, blank eyes.
“Walk with me.”
That is all Polyidus said when Bellerophon found him in the great court of the palace, near the outer gates of the precinct.
Bellerophon wanted ask many questions, but Polyidus reached out to grip his arm and squeeze. “There is something I must show you.”
The guards watched as the seer led Bellerophon toward the gates, but then Captain Milyas approached them.
“Polyidus, where are you taking Bellerophon?” he asked. “The king commanded he be kept under guard.” Milyas looked at Bellerophon his lips pursed, his face apologetic.
“Captain,” Polyidus said, “I am helping the son of Glaucus to prepare for his trial. It is the Gods’ will.”
Milyas shifted uneasily, but Polyidus continued.
“He does not plan on fleeing, I assure you,” the seer added.
Milyas looked at Bellerophon.
“I have nowhere else to go, Milyas,” Bellerophon said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Very well.” Captain Milyas turned to his men. “Open the gates!” he ordered, and the men pulled at the high double doors to reveal the empty agora beyond where Polyidus and Bellerophon ventured.
It was strange to roam the market and streets of Xanthos, so empty and tired, devoid of life. Though Bellerophon could see the people in the windows peering down at him and the seer, he heard not a peep, or whimper. Even the dogs had stopped their barking. It was as if the entire populace held its collective breath.
Fools! Bellerophon thought, shaking his head as he followed Polyidus down the sloping streets to the southern end of the city and out into the olive groves.
“The people pray to the Gods for your success, Bellerophon,” Polyidus said. “I can hear their whispered hopes upon their lips.”
“I can’t hear anything,” Bellerophon answered. “What are we doing here anyway? I must prepare.”
“You are preparing. And I will aid you in this. Athena commands it.”
“The goddess has asked too much of me,” Bellerophon answered, immediately regretting the words.
Polyidus sighed and stuck his staff out until he found a large boulder upon which he settled himself. “Sit for a moment.”
Bellerophon sat upon another boulder opposite. It was peaceful in the olive grove, the hot wind rustling the silver-green leaves and unripened fruit adorning the branches.
“Do you know how I came to be here, in this place? How I lost my eyesight?” Polyidus’ face turned toward Bellerophon, his clouded and scarred eyes seeming to look directly at the Corinthian.
“No. Tell me,” Bellerophon said, unable to look directly at the seer’s face.
“I had a gift from an early age. That much was evident. For some reason, the Gods had chosen me among my people. I dreamed dreams that could help with crops. I knew when invaders would be coming, and so could give warning. I am from an island, and so there were many invaders. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. I was young, you see. I simply dreamed things, and told my parents.”
“Were your parents afraid of you?” Bellerophon asked.
Polyidus shook his head. “No. They loved me very much. They protected me.” Polyidus’ voice lowered.
“What happened?”
“The Gods continued to speak to me. One day, when I was ten, I dreamed that wolves were coming to destroy the village flocks.”
“And did they?” Bellerophon asked.
“Yes. That very morning, the people awoke to find the streets littered with the corpses - ewes, lambs, rams. All gone. The people were angry and needed to direct their anger. They yelled at my parents. Told them that I had not given them enough warning. They believed I had kept the dream to myself for a time, that they would otherwise have been prepared. Of course, my parents defended me. They calmed the villagers down.”
“What happened after that? Did your dreams stop?”
“No. I continued to dream, only the visions that the Gods sent me changed. I began to dream of death.”
“Death?”
“Yes. Plague came to the village, and I began to dream who would die next. The first victims were my parents.”
Polyidus was silent, his face like that of a child’s once again, scared and alone.
“I am sorry. That must have been terrible.”
“It was. But things got worse. I kept dreaming and tried to warn every family I dreamed of, but I was always too late. People were afraid of me. I was afraid! Even as I mourned my parents’ passing, the villagers I grew up with turned on me. I was an outcast. But despite that, I persevered and tried to warn them of each vision I had. The Gods began to warn me sooner and I went to people to tell them to leave the village, that they could save themselves. But by that time, people were so afraid of me, they would not listen. People died, though I tried to save them.”
“You tried though,” Bellerophon said. “What more could you have done?”
“Nothing. I was but a boy, newly-orphaned. As I slept one night, the older boys in the village came and dragged me from my home. They shouted at me, and beat me. They told me that the plague was my fault. They blamed my visions and me for all that had happened. While some of the boys held me down, one of them stuck sharpened sticks in my eyes. He shouted, ’Now you will stop having your visions!’ as he blinded me.”
Polyidus stopped talking, and Bellerophon could see his hands shaking as he relived that terrible experience in the retelling. He felt a deep anger toward the ignorant villagers. “I’m guessing the Gods punished those ignorant villagers for what they did to you?”
Polyidus shrugged. “I don’t know. The Gods did not show me that. The following day, the village elders traded me for a new flock of sheep. The merchant they dealt with was Lykian and had just come to the island to do business. They saw their opportunity to be rid of me. That is how I ended up here. The king heard of my gifts among the outlying settlements and sent for me.”
“What did he want?” Bellerophon asked.
“He wanted to use my gifts to help him overcome a new threat to his kingdom. The Chimera had come.”
“Did he expect you to fight it?”
“No. Of course not, but he wanted my advice. He wanted to know why it had come. And the Gods showed me this. The Gods showed me in a dream what King Iobates had done to incur their wrath, what he had done to his queen and kingdom… When I told him what I had seen, he threatened to have me killed, but I explained that I would not speak of it. I told him that my visions were true and that I could help him in the running of his kingdom if he wished.”
“And he agreed?”
Polyidus nodded. “Yes. I have advised him in war, and politics, though he has not always taken my counsel. And then I told him that one day, a hero would come to rid him of the Chimera.”
“I told you, Polyidus, I am no hero.” Bellerophon stood and peered through the olive grove, shimmering in the heat and dust of the plain.
“I speak only what the Gods tell me. You have done the impossible until now, Bellerophon. Why can you not see it?”
“I have been lucky.”
“You don’t really believe that. I tell you…I saw the things you would do when you arrived here…the subduing of the Solymi…and the alliance with the Amazons.”
“Then why didn’t you tell the king?” Bellerophon asked.
Polyidus stood slowly and shuffled over to Bellerophon’s side. “King Iobates does not have the Gods’ favour, and I serve them, not him. But this kingdom needs our help, Bellerophon. We have been brought here, to this place and time, for a reason. It is time now for you to strike a final blow for Lykia. That is why the Gods have sent you here. And now, the goddess has shown me the way. You can defeat the beast, but only with help.”
“Why should I do so for Iobates, or for Lykia? They will turn their backs on me anyway, the same as your village turned on you.”
“Not for Lykia then, and certainly not for Iobates. You are here to do it for Philonoe, and for your children.”
Bellerophon stepped back from the seer. He felt his heart racing, winded as if he had been punched in the gut.
Polyidus stood still before him though, confident in the words he had uttered. “You must do this thing, or die in the attempt. It is the Gods’ will.”
“So you have seen me die?” Bellerophon thought about leaving then, leaving and never coming back. But then he thought of Philonoe’s face where she was locked in her chambers, held prisoner by her own father simply for defending him. Would I repay her by fleeing? Bellerophon thought. He shook his head. “It can’t be done, Polyidus.”
“It can,” the seer said with absolute certainty. “But only if you join with a new ally.”
“Pegasus.”
“Yes,” Polyidus confirmed.
“I can’t…” Bellerophon could hear the screeching of a stallion in his mind, he could see his father’s blood in the dirt as his own horses tore him to pieces. He could feel the emptiness that was left after that terrible end.
“You are not your father, Bellerophon,” Polyidus said softly. “And Pegasus is no mere horse. He is a god among horses, the son of Poseidon.”
“How will I even ride him?” Bellerophon said. “I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a child!”
Polyidus shook his head. “You do not ride Pegasus. He will help you. He will decide whether or not to ally with you!”
Bellerophon walked a few paces into the grove and leaned upon the trunk of an ancient, gnarled olive tree. He was sweating, and could feel his heart beating wildly. Athena… he prayed. I ask for your help in this. Then, he turned to Polyidus. “What must I do?”
“At the end of this grove lies the great altar dedicated to Athena. This evening, just before nightfall, you are to return and make offerings to the goddess there. When you have done that, you must go to sleep at its foot. The goddess will then show you the way.”
The fear Bellerophon felt was tangible. It reached out to strangle him as he stood upon a great precipice, frozen and shaking, but then he felt the seer’s hand upon his shoulder, one friend to another.
“I do not lie to you, Bellerophon. For if I am wrong, Iobates will kill me also. I was once afraid of my gifts… But peace only came when I finally accepted those gifts, and my purpose. Our destinies are interwoven, Bellerophon of Corinthos. It is the Gods’ will.”