HAD I NOT BEEN so overwhelmed by the sight of the army, I might have stopped to wonder why Hades did not simply run away. Had I not been so delighted to see Ajax, I might have wondered why the great Lord of the Underworld did not call down fire to destroy his enemies.
Being an accomplished fraud myself, I ought to have recognized that slick grin hiding just beneath his feigned distress. I should have recognized subterfuge when I saw it. But I was so overwhelmed by joy—so glad to see my friends and so taken with my sudden good fortune—I simply did not think to wonder why Hades seemed so helpless.
Instead I ran, slipping and stumbling across the ice until I stood face-to-face with Ajax. In spite of myself, I hugged him.
“Ajax . . . how?” I gasped.
He smiled and patted me on the head. “The Harpies saved me.”
“But Antaeos!”
“Yeh,” he growled. “That big fella. Someone told him I was a wrestler.”
“Sorry.”
“Not a problem. Alls I had to do was take ’im behind the knees. A little trick you taught me.” Ajax laughed—was still laughing, in fact, when Charon stepped forward, pushing him to the side with his oar.
Instinctively, I reached for my sword, but the old demon dropped to his knees and lay his oar at my feet. “Odysseus, Son of Laertes, the Ferryman of the Acheron is at your service.”
I was baffled. “Lord Charon, rise.”
He stood and smiled. There was a great, ugly scar on his bony chest. “The Lord of the Acheron owes you a debt,” he said. “If only this lake were not frozen, my oar would be of greater service. But,” he added, retrieving it from the ice, “I can use this for more than rowing.”
“Yes,” I said, “I remember.”
A voice spoke from behind him: “Let us save our nostalgia for another time.” It was Chiron, accompanied by Nessos. Both carried long bows and had donned shirts of shining mail. Each bore a pair of quivers at his hips. “The Centaurs are eager for war.”
“And thanks to you, the Harpies as well,” added Nessos.
It was all so much to take in, and so sudden, that I could do little more than gasp. The Greeks made up only a small contingent of the army, which must have comprised a thousand different nations and races—men of every size, shape, and color. There were dark pygmies no taller than my waist with intricately painted faces and tiny bows, pale men in magnificent armor of woven leather, men of Trojan blood who marched in tight ranks and carried square shields. There were men with skin as black as night, bearing no armor at all but long, leather shields and javelins as light as leaves. They stomped their feet and shook their spears, and as they marched, their voices rang a dirge, deep as death itself. Indeed, the army raised such a din now that the groans of Hades himself were drowned out. And overhead, the Harpies circled, not screeching but singing. They picked up the melody of the dark warriors. As I looked on, one of them ducked from the sky and dropped to the ice before me.
“Odysseus, Son of Laertes,” said the Harpy. “The Daughters of Echidna sing for you.”
I looked blankly at the creature, too shocked to answer. There was something familiar about her. She held in her hand a broken arrow. But surely this was not the monster I had healed by the banks of the Phlegethon. She was . . . not beautiful exactly, but her feathers shown like oiled ebony, and her white hair lay in shining braids. A tunic of woven gold hung from her shoulders, and as she stretched her wings, a scent of pine and mint swept over me. Her blue eyes, adorned with paint in the fashion of an Eastern princess, shone like the sea of Ithaca. I smiled.
“And Odysseus,” she added, returning my smile. “We bring tidings from an old friend.”
With that, she lowered her wings. Seated upon her back, holding a bloodred arrow in her hands, was my wife.
I said nothing, my arms limp at my sides. Surely I was dreaming or dead or both.
“Come now,” said Penelope, “is that any way to greet your wife?”
A young man, bearing the shield of my father’s house, helped her down. When my eyes met his, he removed his helmet.
“Telemachos!” I gasped. The air filled with stars for a moment, and Ajax had to hold me up.
“Father,” he answered, bowing his head.
“Son, I bear the title unworthily.”
He nodded.
“Time for reunions later,” said Chiron. “For now, we have a great enemy to fight. Where is Diomedes?”
For all my joy at seeing so many friends, my heart sank. “We separated back at the valley of thieves.”
Chiron shook his head. Nessos pawed the ice.
“Just as well,” muttered Penelope, “I never liked him anyway.”
“Penelope!” I exclaimed.
She shrugged. “He was bad company. Impetuous and boastful.”
“What is past is past,” declared Chiron. “The loss of a friend is a sad affair, but we will lose more before the day is done. The armies of Limbo await their general.”
I looked past him at the sea of pikes. Banners fluttered and popped in the icy wind. In the distance, the giants now stood like siege towers, arms folded. And there I spotted Geryon and the two-headed Orthos, panting by his side. It thrilled my heart to see such a force. Surely there was no host, no fortress in Heaven or on Earth that could resist it. And they needed a general.
“Chiron,” I gasped, “how did you do it?”
“It was not I, Son of Laertes,” he answered. “You showed us the way.”
“But the winged devils, the horned devils, the serpents, the Furies, the Minotaur . . . how did you get past them all?”
“Devils?” he said. “We saw not a soul the entire way here. I assumed that was your doing.”
“No,” I said.
“Then where did they all go?”
“Who cares?” said Ajax. “We’re here. They aren’t. Let’s kill this three-faced ice licker and get out.”
“Son of Telemon,” I said, “that ‘ice licker’—whatever that means—is Hades.”
Ajax laughed aloud. “That? Hades? Naw.”
“Look at him!”
“Been looking at him.”
“Then surely you’ve noticed how big he is.”
“Kind of small for a god.”
Charon and Nessos nodded. I looked up at Hades again. Each of his arms was the length of Antaeos. His hairy chest was as broad as two plowed fields. Bloody foam dripped from his jaws. His eyes glimmered in their sockets like six black jewels.
“That there isn’t a god,” continued Ajax. “That’s just a monster.”
Dumb as he was, Ajax did have a way of putting things in perspective. Hades was big, but he wasn’t limitless. And that did give me hope. If he was finite, then he was vulnerable. I nodded to my friends and stepped forward to address the Lord of the Underworld. “Hades,” I shouted, “can we not come to terms? I fear there will be great suffering for us all if we cannot reach an accord.”
The giant smiled. “For me? Suffering for me? How could you possibly add to my suffering?”
“I have an army now.”
The smile faded from Hades’ face, and all six eyes narrowed. “You have sown disloyalty among my subjects, Odysseus. You will be punished for that. Let me assure you that the grief you have known will be nothing compared to what awaits you now.” He drew a long breath and turned his eyes on my army. “Dismiss this rabble, and I may yet show mercy to your family.”
I looked back over my shoulder at my wife and son. Send them back? How could I? “No,” I said, “I have the army. I set the terms.”
The giant’s loathsome smile returned. “Is that so? And do you suppose that I, Hades, Lord of the Nine Circles of Hell, am unable to muster an army of my own?” He leered at me and swept his wings back. The mist behind him dissolved.
And that was when I understood how bleak our situation really was.