“Perhaps so,” said Chiron, “yet how do you propose to prove it? Has any a suggestion?”
Roel started to speak, but all eyes were turned to Odysseus, the clever one of the lot. He frowned and then said, “As we have done before, let us settle this by trial. Let them meet three challenges-two individual contests and one team challenge-and they must win all three.”
Celeste gasped and said, “But you are demigods and heroes and are favored of the gods, and with such supremacy at your behest, how could we prevail?” Heracles sneered and said, “Pah! We need no aid to defeat you, nor use of divine power.” Celeste turned to Roel for support, but he said,
“Odysseus’s suggestion is the same as my own: trial by combat, or through tests of strength and skill.” A murmur of approval muttered throughout the gathering.
Celeste stepped to Roel and whispered, “But as I say, they are demigods, and if we are to win, it must be through cunning, through guile.”
Roel frowned, for it went against his grain. Even so, he understood the worth of it, and he said, “We shall first try guile, but if that fails, then combat or other tests it be.”
Celeste nodded her acceptance, and she turned to Chiron and said, “We accept your challenge on the condition as Heracles has put it: your champions must neither accept divine aid nor use any divine powers against Roel and me, for we are but mortals.” Chiron turned to the gathering and said, “Do you so pledge to compete as would a mortal? If so, then the goddess Athena and her companion Nike, to whom this athletic temple is dedicated, will certainly hold you to such.”
“I do so pledge,” declared Heracles.
“As do I,” said Achilles.
“And I,” said Philoctetes.
“Enough,” said Chiron. “Three champions for three tests, and if no one objects”-Chiron took from a pouch at his waist a scroll and a plume with which to keep tally-“I will be the judge.”
A roar of approval rose from the heroes, for after all, Chiron was the famed tutor of Heracles, Achilles, and Asclepius, and others within the hall, and none could be fairer.
“Very well,” said Chiron, and a quietness fell as he made a notation on the parchment.
During the silence, Celeste turned to Roel and whispered, “Remember, Roel, we must use guile.” Nearby, Chiron smiled, as did Odysseus, even though he sat in the stands.
Heracles stepped forward and gestured toward the enormous weights at one end of the hall and said to Roel, “I challenge you to a test of strength.” Roel glanced at Celeste and winked and then said,
“Nay, My Lord Heracles, a test of strength would not be fair, for I did hear that you held the entire sky on your shoulders, while Atlas took golden apples from the garden of the Hesperides. Yet, my lord, I name a different challenge, and it is this-” Roel turned and took the plume from Chiron’s hand and held it on high and turned about so that all could see. “Light as is this plume, I name that which e’en you cannot hold for six hundred of my heartbeats. If you loose it ere then, let it count as a victory for Celeste and me. If you succeed, then it is a victory for you.” Heracles snorted in derision and said, “I accept your challenge,” and he reached for the feather.
But Roel said, “Oh, My Lord Heracles, did you think it was this plume you would hold? Non, instead it is your breath.”
“My breath?”
Even as Heracles said it, the heroes burst out in laughter, Odysseus loudest of all.
When it abated, Roel gave the plume back to Chiron and said, “Oui, My Lord Heracles, your breath, for surely it is as light as a feather. Now take a deep one and I shall begin the count.” Roel placed a finger on his wrist and found his pulse. “And remember your pledge, Lord Heracles: you must compete as would a mortal-
no acts of divinity nor acceptance of divine aid.” Glowering in ire, Heracles deeply inhaled thrice, and on the third breath he clamped his lips tight and nodded.
Roel began the count: “One, two, three, four. .” And now Heracles smiled at Roel, for surely he could hold his breath that long. He had done so many times, though that was with divine aid. Nevertheless. .
“. . one hundred eighty-one. . one hundred eighty-two. . one hundred eighty-three. .” Heracles was now red in the face, but he yet held his breath.
“. . two hundred thirty-nine. . two hundred forty. .
two hundred forty-one. .”
Still Heracles grinned at Roel, though his face was redder still.
“. . three hundred eighty-one. . three hundred eighty-two. .”
Heracles’ face was now nigh purple, and he squinted his eyes shut, and tears streamed down his cheeks. As for Roel, he frowned and glanced toward Celeste, but he yet kept the count.
Of a sudden, with a great whoosh followed by a frantic panting of air, Heracles blew and gasped and blew.
And once again laughter broke out among the heroes, for mighty Heracles had been bested.
“That’s one for the team of the princess and the knight,” said Chiron, and he stroked the parchment once.
“It was not fair, Tutor,” protested Heracles. “I demand a different trial.”
But Celeste called out, “Who is the best at hurling the discus? I would challenge him.”
All eyes turned to Heracles, and he grinned in triumph and said, “That would be me, Princess.” Celeste looked crestfallen and said, “Oh, my, it seems I have bitten off more than I can chew. How far can you cast it?”
Heracles sneered and said, “Ha! Surely farther than you.”
“Well, then, my lord, let me set the terms: take up the discus and stand where you will and fling it. And wherever it stops, that shall be the measure of the throw.
Then I will do the same. We will have one cast each. Do you agree to the terms?”
“Oh, yes, my lady. I accept your challenge, and I do agree to the terms.”
Two of the heroes ran and gathered up two of the circular wooden objects rimmed about with bronze, and all marched outside and to the discus ring. Heracles took up both of the disks and judged their weight. Then he laid one down and said, “You can cast the lighter one; I will take the heavier of the two.”
“As you will, my lord,” said Celeste, glancing at Roel, who frowned in worry.
Heracles then stepped into the ring, and with a spinning toss he hurled the discus; up it sailed and up, as if borne on the very wind, and then down it arced and down, finally to land and skip along the ground, and when it came to a stop, it lay easily 150 paces away, and perhaps as much as 160.
“A mighty cast, my lord,” said Celeste, “mayhap four hundred feet in all.”
“Think you can best that?” asked Heracles.
“Oh, yes,” she replied nonchalantly.
Heracles snorted in disbelief, and he bent down and took up the remaining disk and handed it to her.
“Hmm. .” Celeste frowned. “ ’Tis much heavier than I imagined.”
A smile of victory spread over Heracles’ face, and he gestured at the ring.
But Celeste shook her head and walked toward the front of the gymnasium and beyond, all the men following, Odysseus laughing.
To the crevice she went and pitched the discus within.
As down it fell beyond seeing, Celeste turned to Heracles and said, “I understand you should be able to measure the full distance of my cast after nine days and nine nights, but as you can see, it has gone well beyond the trivial toss of yours.”
Hilarity erupted among the men, and the look upon Heracles’ face was one caught somewhere between humiliation and rage. But of a sudden he burst out in laughter, and he bowed to Celeste and said, “Well played, my lady, well played.” He glanced at Odysseus and added,
“As clever as the very slyest of us.” Celeste smiled and stepped to the large man and she reached up and pulled his head down and stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. The men hooted and whistled, and one said, “Let not Deianeira hear of this; she will claw Heracles’ eyes out for accepting a kiss from another beautiful maiden.”