Read Online Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume One by Bernard Evslin - Free Book Online Page A

the slopes. A vast throng was gathering. Jason crossed to where Pollux was standing. “Have you chosen your ground?” he asked.
    â€œHere,” said Pollux. It was a spot where the field tapered toward a cliff face, a wall of sheer rock.
    â€œWhy here?” asked Jason. “Wouldn’t you do better in the middle of the field where your speed would count? He’ll simply corner you here and pound you to pieces.”
    â€œExactly what I want him to think,” said Pollux.
    Jason stayed with him now, waiting for the king to come. People were mobbing the slopes; it looked as though the entire population of the island had come. Vendors passed among them, selling prawns, honeycombs, and melons.
    The king strode onto the meadow, surrounded by spearmen, attended by slaves. He went directly to Pollux. “Are you prepared to die?” he growled.
    â€œI’m prepared to fight.”
    â€œHave you chosen your ground?”
    â€œHere,” said Pollux. “This rock wall is one boundary. The dimensions are whatever you choose.”
    The king turned to his spearmen. “Pace it off. Fifteen strides long, fifteen strides wide. Stand your pickets.”
    An officer paced off the distance and placed the men along the boundaries, making a square with the wall at one end. The armored men were a hedge of iron.
    A trumpeter raised his horn and blew a clear blast. Then he addressed the crowd. “People of Bebrycos, you are gathered here to watch your king, Amycus, protector of the realm and hammer of justice, punish one who dares enter our land without invitation. Watch the fellow perish. Watch and admire.”
    As this was being announced, the king’s slaves were stripping their master. The sun glinted on his brass head. The trumpeter sounded his horn again. The fight began.
    Pollux was a big youth, but he looked very small as he backed away from the stalking giant. Jason watched in anguish as the king worked every advantage of the tightly penned space. He could corner Pollux here, maul him with his great fists until he was ready for the death butt. Yet Pollux himself had chosen this place. Jason couldn’t understand why.
    But it was strange what was happening in the ring. It seemed more like a dance than a fight. Amycus shuffled after the youth, blocking him with shoulders and elbows, swinging at him. But Pollux drifted away from those fists and from those massive furry arms—moving very thriftily, just enough to escape the flailing fists. Stepping lightly away from the bull-like charges, dancing, twirling, dodging. He was untouched, though Amycus had aimed a hundred blows at him. He was untouched, but had not yet struck a blow of his own.
    Suddenly, Pollux changed tactics. He stopped dancing and began to leap. He sprang from one side of the ring to the other. As soon as he touched ground he leaped again. Amycus rushed after him. Just as he reached him, Pollux rose straight into the air. He leaped higher than the king’s head and launched a scything sideways kick. Amycus ducked, and the foot whizzed past his head. Jason thought, “Why does he duck? Kicking that head is kicking brass. The foot must break.”
    Amycus must have thought the same thing at the same time. For, as Pollux landed with knees bent and immediately sprang into the air again and kicked again, this time the king did not duck. But foot did not meet head. It was exquisitely aimed. As Pollux came down, his foot swerved in the air and sank into the king’s torso. He bent over, gasping.
    But Amycus straightened up, immediately seeming to gain new strength from the pain. He bellowed, charged again. Pollux sprang away. This time Amycus did not rush after him but dove through the air. Dove halfway across the ring, hitting Pollux with his shoulder and hurling him against the hedge of armored men—who pushed him back into the ring.
    Amycus was all over him now, blocking escape, mauling him. A terrific punch