Other venues for athletic events were scattered here and there.
“By the depictions above and the fields to the left, no doubt this is the Hall of Heroes,” said Roel.
“The gymnasium is enormous,” said Celeste.
“A mighty hall for mighty men,” said Roel, grinning.
On they rode, coming closer, and just ere reaching the great portico, they came to an area fenced off by a chain.
Within that enclosure yawned a rift in the ground, some six paces in length and perhaps two wide at the center.
Celeste said, “Think you this is the crevice of which Priam spoke, the one plunging to Tartarus?” They paused a moment by the chain and peered at the fissure. Celeste dismounted, and as Roel gritted his teeth to keep from telling her to take care, she leaned forward to look as the daylight shone down within.
“I see no bottom whatsoever,” she said. She turned to Roel. “It must be a way to the Abode of the Accursed.”
“Perhaps,” said Roel. “Yet let us not tarry, but enter the hall and find the black portal to the City of the Dead.”
Celeste remounted, and they rode to the steps.
And even as they alighted, one of the great bronze doors opened, and draped in the pelt of a lion, a large muscular man stepped out and said, “Seeking death, are you? Perhaps I should slay you outright.”
37
Challenges
“Who is it, Heracles?” called a voice from inside the hall.
“A pair of mortals, Chiron,” replied the large man.
“Mortals?” There sounded the clip-clop of hooves, and a Centaur came trotting out and peered at them.
“You two, what are you doing in Elysium? Do you not know that without special sanction mortals are forbidden to be in this place upon penalty of death?”
“My Lord Chiron,” said Celeste, “I believe we are indeed here on special sanction, for we have been sent by the Fates themselves.”
“Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos?”
“Perhaps those are your names for them, but we know them as Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd, as well as the Ladies Wyrd, Lot, and Doom.”
Chiron smiled. “All gods are thrice named, did you not know?”
“You call the Three Sisters gods?”
“I do, but perhaps they are above all pantheons, for the gods themselves seem ruled by the Fates,” replied Chiron. “Regardless, why have you come?” Celeste gestured at Roel and said, “We are on a mission to rescue my companion’s sister and his two brothers.”
Heracles growled and said, “How do we know these mortals are telling the truth?”
Chiron shrugged. “Let us first hear their story, and then we shall judge.” He turned to Celeste and Roel and said, “Come. Enter the Hall of the Champions so that all might know your tale.”
“But Chiron,” objected Heracles, “for a married woman to witness our athletic contests means she must die. Virgins and young maidens are the only ones permitted to see.” He turned to Celeste and asked, “Are you a virgin, or are you instead married?”
Before Celeste could answer, Chiron said, “Oh, my son, if these two are sent by the Fates, then such needless rules must give way.” The half-man, half-horse turned to the pair and gestured for them to enter.
“As you wish, My Lord Chiron,” said Celeste, and together with Roel, she walked up the steps and past the great bronze doors.
Heracles, a sour look on his face, followed, but Chiron was smiling instead.
The hall was a vast gymnasium equipped for indoor sports, with weights to lift and circles for wrestling and boxing and ropes for climbing and other such.
Inside one of the large circles a pair of naked men grappled, and a third man with a brief skirt wrapped
’round his loins and sandals on his feet seemed to be judging the match. Ringed ’round the contestants a gathering of men-some nude, others not-watched and shouted encouragement.
Chiron called out to them, and the match stopped, and men turned to see what the Centaur wanted.
As Celeste came in among them, the men looked at her in amazement, and some unashamedly responded to her beauty and form, while others looked questioningly at Chiron and Heracles.
Chiron smiled.
Heracles scowled and shook his head, as if to de shy; Clare it was not his fault that a female had entered their sanctum.
Chiron said, “These two mortals declare that they have been sent by the Fates.” He turned to Celeste. “I did not catch your names.”
“I am Celeste, Princess of the Springwood, and my consort is Sir Roel, Knight of the Manor of Emile.”
“Ah, a princess and a knight. How fitting that you are on a mission of rescue.”
One of the men, his hair honey gold, said, “Mission of rescue? Ah, how heroic that sounds.”
“Indeed it does, Achilles,” said Chiron. “I suggest we all move to the amphitheater, for we have a tale to hear and judge.”
A small amphitheater stood in one corner of the vast hall, and all the men were soon seated in the tiers all
’round. Chiron led Celeste and Roel onto the floor of the circular stage, and then stepped to one side and said,
“Now, Princess, your tale, if you please.”
“Much of it takes place ere I met my companion Roel, and so he is the one to tell our story in full.” Celeste stepped to Chiron’s side, leaving Roel in the center of the floor. Slowly he turned about, eyeing the heroes and demigods above. And then he began: “When I was but a lad, my sister and I rode to the ruins of a temple, for she was distraught over being pledged to marry someone she did not love. And at these ruins. .”
“. . and so you see, the Three Sisters sent us to find the gray arrow, for if we do not obtain it, then we are doomed to fail. Hence we must go through the black portal in the Hall of Heroes, for that is what both the Abulhol and Lord Thoth said.”
Achilles scowled and rubbed his left heel. “The gray arrow is the shaft that slew me. What will you use it for?”
“That we do not know,” replied Roel.
“Ha, the Fates are ever ambiguous in their foretellings,” said another of the heroes.
“True, Odysseus,” said Chiron.
“Is there a dark doorway within this hall?” asked Celeste.
Reluctantly, it seemed, Chiron nodded. “The one you seek leads to the Waste City of Senaudon, also known as the City of the Dead, which lies in the underworld of a fabled land called Cymru.”
“Cymru,” said Roel, his word not a question. “I have heard of such from other knights. It lies somewhere on an island to the east, it is said.”
“Yes,” said Chiron. “In the world of the Cymry, Senaudon is the dreadful place where the souls of those who commit the most heinous deeds go when they die.
It is somewhat like our Tartarus.”
A youthful-seeming man stood and said, “But not as escape-proof.”
“Aye, Philoctetes,” said another.
“Say on, Jason,” urged Chiron.
Black-haired Jason rose and said, “Now and again one of those dead ones manages to escape their dread city, and they come through their black portal to enter the Hall of Heroes. Ah, but then Heracles grasps them and”-
Jason gestured in the direction of the fissure outside-
“tosses them into the crevice yon that leads to the pit of Tartarus, a place from which they cannot get out.” As Jason sat down, a silence fell on the gathering, but then Heracles said, “A nice tale told, Sir Roel.” Heracles turned to his comrades and said, “Even so, how do we know it is true? After all, these two mortals might be going to Senaudon to raise a dread army.” A burst of chatter broke out among the heroes, but Chiron raised his hands and said, “Whether true or false, we do not know for certain, yet I am inclined to believe them. How many of you do?”
A goodly number raised their hands.
“And how many are uncertain?”
A greater number raised their hands.
“Ah, it seems you lose,” said Chiron.
“But we are telling the truth,” protested Celeste.