Read Online The Bull from the Sea by Mary Renault - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Renault
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higher. “Well met, King Theseus. Don’t you feel lonely, so far from home?”
“Why should I,” I said, “if I can find good company? I have come to fetch back my cattle. Leave them where they are. As you are strangers, I will remit the fine.”
The pirates bellowed, and started forward. But he barked at them, and they pulled up like well-trained hounds.
“Your bull knows you, it seems. Have you missed each other?” He added a joke so rustic that it shocked the boy. I could tell from his men’s laughter that they loved him dearly.
I said, “What are you, Pirithoos? A lord of men, or just a cattle-lifter? I have come to see.” And I reached for my shield.
“Call me a cattle-lifter,” he said, “who likes to pick and choose.” His bright open eyes were insolent as a cat’s are: without malice, and lazy, until it springs.
“Good,” I said. “That goes with what I heard of you. Well then, there is a matter of standing for us two to settle.” I gave the reins to the boy, who grasped them as if his life were in them. Then I leaped from the chariot with all my arms.
We stood there face to face. Now I had got what I wanted, I found myself thinking I had never seen a man I should be sorrier to kill.
He had paused too, idling on his spear. “You seem in love with trouble,” he said. “Well, you want it, I have got it to give. I will make dogs’ delight of you or any man who comes to me asking civilly. And what a squealing of women over your body! Oh, I have heard.”
“Don’t be concerned,” I answered him. “No woman hereabouts will squeal under yours. Not girls but birds will be getting their fill of you, when our business is done.”
“Birds?” he said, raising his brows. “Don’t you mean to eat me yourself, then? You are not the man they told me of.”
“You should come down oftener from the hills,” I said, “and learn the ways of folk who live in houses.”
He laughed, standing with a loose shield and half his right side bare to me; he knew I would not take him off guard. I could not make him lose his head, nor get really angry myself. But it was no use to dawdle and wish we had met some other way. “Listen, Pirithoos; this boy brought me your challenge. He is a sacred herald: if I fall, don’t chance your luck. And now let us stop calling names like a couple of women yattering over a cracked jar at the wellhead. Come on, stand up to me, and let us try each other’s bronze.”
I threw my shield before me. He stood a moment, looking straight at me with his big green cat-eyes. Then he shrugged his shoulder out of the shield-sling, so that the tall shield fell clattering, and tossed away his spear.
“No, by Apollo! Are we mad dogs or men? If I kill you, you will be gone, and I shall never know you. Thunder of Zeus! You came alone to me, with a child for shield-bearer, trusting in my honor. And I your enemy. What would you be for a friend?”
When I heard these words, it was as if a watching god had stepped down between us. My heart lightened; my spear fell from me; my foot stepped forward and I held out my hand. His with the blue snake round the wrist came out to meet it; the grip seemed one I had always known.
“Try me,” I said, “and see.”
We clasped hands, while the Lapiths rumbled through their hair. “Come,” he said, “let us start clear. I will pay your fine for the cattle-lifting. I have done well this trip, my holds are full, meeting my debts won’t break me. You’re the King; you make the judgment. If you weren’t to be trusted, you’d never have trusted me.”
I laughed and said, “I saw old Oinops squaring his own score. Feast me one day and we’ll call it quits.”
“Done,” he cried. “I’ll ask you to my wedding.”
After that we exchanged our daggers as a pledge of friendship. Mine had a gold inlay of a king in a chariot, hunting lions. His was Lapith work, and very good, not what you would expect from looking at Lapiths; the hilt was
“Why should I,” I said, “if I can find good company? I have come to fetch back my cattle. Leave them where they are. As you are strangers, I will remit the fine.”
The pirates bellowed, and started forward. But he barked at them, and they pulled up like well-trained hounds.
“Your bull knows you, it seems. Have you missed each other?” He added a joke so rustic that it shocked the boy. I could tell from his men’s laughter that they loved him dearly.
I said, “What are you, Pirithoos? A lord of men, or just a cattle-lifter? I have come to see.” And I reached for my shield.
“Call me a cattle-lifter,” he said, “who likes to pick and choose.” His bright open eyes were insolent as a cat’s are: without malice, and lazy, until it springs.
“Good,” I said. “That goes with what I heard of you. Well then, there is a matter of standing for us two to settle.” I gave the reins to the boy, who grasped them as if his life were in them. Then I leaped from the chariot with all my arms.
We stood there face to face. Now I had got what I wanted, I found myself thinking I had never seen a man I should be sorrier to kill.
He had paused too, idling on his spear. “You seem in love with trouble,” he said. “Well, you want it, I have got it to give. I will make dogs’ delight of you or any man who comes to me asking civilly. And what a squealing of women over your body! Oh, I have heard.”
“Don’t be concerned,” I answered him. “No woman hereabouts will squeal under yours. Not girls but birds will be getting their fill of you, when our business is done.”
“Birds?” he said, raising his brows. “Don’t you mean to eat me yourself, then? You are not the man they told me of.”
“You should come down oftener from the hills,” I said, “and learn the ways of folk who live in houses.”
He laughed, standing with a loose shield and half his right side bare to me; he knew I would not take him off guard. I could not make him lose his head, nor get really angry myself. But it was no use to dawdle and wish we had met some other way. “Listen, Pirithoos; this boy brought me your challenge. He is a sacred herald: if I fall, don’t chance your luck. And now let us stop calling names like a couple of women yattering over a cracked jar at the wellhead. Come on, stand up to me, and let us try each other’s bronze.”
I threw my shield before me. He stood a moment, looking straight at me with his big green cat-eyes. Then he shrugged his shoulder out of the shield-sling, so that the tall shield fell clattering, and tossed away his spear.
“No, by Apollo! Are we mad dogs or men? If I kill you, you will be gone, and I shall never know you. Thunder of Zeus! You came alone to me, with a child for shield-bearer, trusting in my honor. And I your enemy. What would you be for a friend?”
When I heard these words, it was as if a watching god had stepped down between us. My heart lightened; my spear fell from me; my foot stepped forward and I held out my hand. His with the blue snake round the wrist came out to meet it; the grip seemed one I had always known.
“Try me,” I said, “and see.”
We clasped hands, while the Lapiths rumbled through their hair. “Come,” he said, “let us start clear. I will pay your fine for the cattle-lifting. I have done well this trip, my holds are full, meeting my debts won’t break me. You’re the King; you make the judgment. If you weren’t to be trusted, you’d never have trusted me.”
I laughed and said, “I saw old Oinops squaring his own score. Feast me one day and we’ll call it quits.”
“Done,” he cried. “I’ll ask you to my wedding.”
After that we exchanged our daggers as a pledge of friendship. Mine had a gold inlay of a king in a chariot, hunting lions. His was Lapith work, and very good, not what you would expect from looking at Lapiths; the hilt was
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