Clarestes. Chapters 34 to 38.

Chapter 34 - “Hacain, you lazy cow, why is my cup empty? Fetch me more strong wine. And be quick.”

I guess, dear reader, you tire of the dull track and tedious version of Clarestes’s and Mera’s story that I have chosen to share with you of late. You grow restless as I have mostly written of their time upon their farm, or of how they fell in love with one another, and of how this made them both better people in time. Zzz...

I assume you have heard and are familiar with their more entertainingly frightful and highly dangerous, mythic adventures. If this is the case, I’m supposing you are wondering why I haven’t recounted more stories like those? Why in the world have I not written about, for instance, their touch-and-go fight and by-the-skin-of-their-teeth defeat they dealt to the infamous harpies that plagued middle Greece for a time? Many ancient, greek authors have written of this, and their accounts of Clarestes’ and Mera’s battle with the foul harpies as it is much more riveting than such small “stories” of Mera learning to; tend to the animals, gather herbs, cook, or cast seed upon tilled fields from her beloved Clarestes.

I apologize, Clarestes’ and Mera’s mundane, romantic tale is what strikes a chord in me more.

Yet I need not feel too sorry. If you want to know of Clarestes’ and Mera’s battle with the harpies, all you need to do is google them on your smartphone or, heaven forbid, go to a library and find one of the numerous accounts of the ancient Greek writers who chronicled it. By the way, if you chose the library route, you will find those stories there in dust covered and musty smelling things called books.

Anyway, I bet you’ve heard at least something of that story already, as it is no secret and their battle with the harpies is very well known. I will refresh your memory. One day, long ago, those harpies swooped (literally) in to make central Greece their playground of terror. For months they took the food, livestock, goods, wealth and the lives of the Greeks that lived there, and of those Greeks that traveled through the harpies’ new territory as well.

Those Greeks were not able to vanquish them, and it was Clarestes and Mera who eventually defeated and drove them off.

You don’t know any of this?! No? Holy Poseidon! Doesn’t anyone read or study Greek history any more?!

All right, here is that story for you for now, to educate you, and to satisfy your juvenile need for a story with tons of adventure and gallons of blood shed.

After the harpies first appeared, naturally it did not take long for word of them to spread throughout Greece. Word of them spread so far and wide, it eventually reached even Clarestes’ and Mera’s remote farm.

What is a harpy?

Simply put, a harpy is a half woman and half bird monster.

Mera knew something of them, even before she saw them first with Clarestes, for the older Amazons who battled them once in the past taught the younger Amazon girls (like Mera was at the time) about them, in their Amazon School of War that specialized in classes of hate. Those talon-scarred Amazons came out on the losing end against the harpies in that violent “cat fight.”

As those veteran Amazons recounted that harrowing battle, Mera was but a small girl. She listened open mouthed, wide eyed, and with pricked ears. Then those Amazons shared the rest of their knowledge of harpies with the young girls as well. And as Mera was so smart, and as she was so frightened as the older Amazons spoke, she remembered all they said. With this in mind, I will let Mera’s better understanding and longer explanation of what harpies are to serve you now.

When word finally reached Clarestes about the new tribe (or flock?) of harpies in middle Greece, he asked Mera what she knew of harpies, as he knew little of them and had never even seen one.

She answered, “I have never seen one either, but this is what I heard of them. Harpies are nasty bitches. Their upper half is a woman, below the middle they are huge eagles, or maybe giant hawks. They can be cunning at times, but they are really not that intelligent and I would guess they are not even as bright as your average, dumb woman, like me. They have their own simple and rudimentary language that they squawk to one another as they wing in their large groups. Don’t all women, even half women, love to blah, blah, blah, without cease?”

Clarestes chuckled, and she smiled.

But soon her face became grave. She thought for a moment, then continued, “They do understand basic tactics, even though not one has ever read...anything. They love food above all else and will eat anything, but they prize and crave fresh human flesh the most. They covet coins, gold and treasure, although they understand the true value of those little. Nevertheless, they steal and hoard wealth. They create nothing of value themselves, of course. They are deadly and they love to kill. Luckily, their arms are their wings and so they do not wield weapons. Hey boy, could you imagine harpies firing arrows from bows from above? They would wipe us from Gaia if they could. There are witnesses that attest to some carrying a dagger or spear in her clawed feet. I do not believe this, as their sharp, strong talons are more dangerous alone and there are few better weapons in close combat. Nor do I believe this, them using weapons, for they have not even figured out how to snatch up simple rocks from Gaia, to drop later upon those below. Yes, they are stupid, but very dangerous. Actually, they are very alike to men if you think about it, and just as thoughtless as they fly around doing nothing but killing, and taking what they greedily want.”

Then Clarestes asked Mera if she knew where they came from, or how they reproduced. She answered, “No one knows. But I’m sure it is something along the lines of a gaggle of them coming into heat together, as the bitches cycles are probably all synced up. Then they fly off as a wet, horny group, to some unknown island far across the sea where male harpies reside that nobody has seen. Those male harpies, I imagine, are reversed. I picture them as birds of prey above the waist and as men below. And that is why women harpies are so stupid, for they mate with bird brained men harpies, whose only back up plan when their pea brains fail them is to think with their human dicks. Where do they come from and how do they reproduce? It is probably something romantically wonderful like that.”

Of course Clarestes laughed and laughed at this, although he thought what Mera had tossed out for humor could perhaps be right.


So as those harpies “sunk their claws into the heart” of Greece, soldiers, warriors, hunters, would-be-heroes and established heroes all raced headlong there to be the first to slay and vanquish them, as those men wanted to gain renown, or wealth, or both, in doing so.

All of them were defeated by the harpies. The harpies always surprised them and in each confrontation the harpies inflicted the first deaths. Indeed, most times the harpies slayed those parties to man, afterwards eating their flesh and drinking their blood in victorious celebration. But occasionally, when a group they attacked was so large, or experienced, or resolute, and thus those men were able to turn the tide of the battle in mid-course, the harpies simply retreated by winging away as they deftly dodged the last of the arrows or javelins that were shot or thrown at them.

The few times this happened, the harpies simply licked their wounds and then came back that night to attack the men’s sleepy and depleted camp. Then they slayed those Gaia-bound wingless men to a last, in vindictive and sweet revenge.

So how were Mera and Clarestes able to defeat them, where so many others failed before? They did it together and with much preparation. They too, at first, wanted to directly run off and confront these monsters, but they knew this would mean defeat for them as well. So they stayed their desire for rash, youthful action, and instead they thought.

Mera had seen, in her past travels north of Thrace, a weapon...a simple weapon. Rope or a leather cords with rocks or weights attached at each end. She had seen this weapon used by hunters to take large fowl from the air. She knew not its name, but she remembered seeing those barbarian hunters twirling them above their fair, golden locked heads, and then sending them into deadly flight afterward.

For days and nights Mera and Clarestes made many of these. The thin but strong ropes they made from braiding together their wool twine. The rocks they retrieved from Gaia. And there in Greece, Mera and Clarestes had so many ones to choose from.

They made dozens of these. Then they practiced. First they threw them at a post. Then they took turns and threw them at targets that they cast into the air for each other. They threw them from a standstill and they threw them as they ran. They practiced more. They competed, and Mera grew angry, for while she was faster and could hurl them quicker one after another, Clarestes, Apollo damn him, was more accurate. The fucking boy almost never missed. Mera mused that Classindria may have had some of the northerners’ uncivilized blood in her veins, and she had passed every drop of it down to her sandy haired boy.

That weapon was Mera’s contribution to the task. Clarestes added his own contribution, which was how to lure the harpies in close on favorable ground with overconfidence. First, they would travel to middle Greece by their mule cart which they would pull. It would be laden with their farm’s fare, which was good bait for the ever ravenish and never satiated harpies.

And they would disguise themselves as the old. Clarestes smiled wide as he shared his idea of this with Mera. As Mera was so tall, she would be disguised as the elderly husband. Clarestes began the deceit by cropping her beautiful, dark hair short, as she cared little about it anyway. Then he dyed it gray. He wove and fashioned for her a long beard from their sheeps’ white fleece, and he laughed and laughed every time he put it on her face.

He gave her his father’s long, traveling cloak to wear, as her legs, arms, and hips pegged her as a woman, even from far away.

He told her, with a huge smile, he would be the crone wife and she would have to help him become a woman. She was genuinely worried by this, as she did not even know how to even make herself look or act more like a woman. But she put her mind to this immediately and in whole, because she did not want to fail him. Failing him, in this case, would mean his death.

“Your chest and shoulders will be a huge issue,” she said as she felt them both. “Hey boy, did you get that funny joke? Anyway, they all but cry out that you are a man,” she said and presently her touching of him absentmindedly moved her as a woman, and so she slid her hands over his pleasing, hard strength some more. Clarestes too was aroused by her touch and something else about him became hard as well.

She noticed this, then she said something she never said. “No, not now. Your death is the stakes here, and so I am not in the mood.” She looked at him some more and she said, “Your face must be your mother’s, as it is delicate and somewhat girlish. That will not be a problem. All we have to do is make that look old.”

She was not any good for that, and so it was Clarestes who did the make up for that. To hide his powerful physique he simply put on a long sleeved and shapeless dress.

One day they did a dress rehearsal. Mera’s hair was already cut short and gray. Clarestes made up her face to make her look old and as a man. He did a careful and surprisingly good job with this. He put her beard upon her face as well. Then he put on his long dress, tied a cloth about his head, and made his face up as well. He retrieved a short walking stick, and he began to hen peck and croakingly criticize Mera, as he hobbled about while leaning heavily upon his cane.

Mera laughed at this and he froze. He said shakily, “That laugh of yours says I am a beautiful, young woman.”

Mera laughed more and she said, “So what?”

Clarestes said, “The harpies may watch and listen to us in secret before they attack. If they hear that laugh they will certainly become wise to our guises and our advantage will be lost.”

Mera rolled her eyes, but she said, “Fine, I will work on my laugh.”

Clarestes said chidingly in his old woman’s voice, “I know, and you will do so now.”

Clarestes was so good at this that she laughed again and so he grew angry at her, but he stayed in character. He said in the voice of his new alter ego, “Listen, my husband. We must grow into these people. You must practice at this just as hard as you have done with the bolas.” (As they had finally learned the weapon’s name from the well traveled and knowledgeable Nycius, who came upon them practicing with them in a field one day). “You worry for me? One laugh like that could seal both our fates. Now let me hear you laugh, as an old man would,” he finished, and as he was hunched over and not as tall as Mera even when standing straight, he had to strain his neck upward to make peevish eyes at her.

Mera rolled her eyes and she said, “Fucking fine.” She laughed at a lower register and she tried to make it sound as stupid as possible. I mean, she was trying to be a man and all.

“There! How was that?” she asked when she was done guffawing like an ass.

Clarestes trembled and squawked, “Actually, that was not half bad! But you erred with your normal voice after. Your voice needs to be deepened a lot, as well.”

Mera deepened her voice and tried to sound stupid again as she said, “All right, honey! Do I sound like an idiotic man now?”

Clarestes smiled as he wavered his head. He said quaveringly, “Yes. Now you must try to sound old as well.”

Mera attempted to sound ancient and she said, “You mean like this? How is this, you ugly, shriveled up, old bat?”

“That is it,” Clarestes cooed appreciatively in his old woman’s voice. “That is it.”

Mera said, “Good.”

Clarestes looked at her sharply, or more accurately, peered up at her sharply.

Mera said as an old man would, “I mean, good.”

Clarestes turned and hobbled off to one of their sheds. He called to Mera, “Now we will load up and haul our wagon in practice.”

Suddenly Mera was frightened. It was as if Clarestes was gone and was replaced by this weird, old woman. It seemed as if he was no more.

You may be thinking this sounds melodramatic, and makes Mera sound stupid, which by now we all know she was not. But keep in mind, she was an Amazon and not a Greek, and so she was not very familiar with theater, or drama, or acting...to say the least.

Clarestes stopped hobbling toward their shed. He turned around in old-lady-anger at Mera. “Come on!” he squawked in harsh irritation.

Mera strode a few steps toward him, but instantly he cried hoarsely, “Stop!”

She froze.

Clarestes, as his voice warbled, scolded, “That is the walk of a beautiful woman.”

Mera caught herself just before she almost answered him in her normal voice. She said in her low, raspy, old man’s voice, “No it isn’t.”

“Those strides are too long and fluid. And the hips are too swishy. Your walk is too much a young woman’s, and as it moves you, it moves me too much as well. It is too sexy,” Clarestes clucked as an old woman and so made all he said seem very wrong.

Mera looked to Clarestes. Again she was afraid as he seemed gone. She took a few more steps, but now she shuffled her feet slowly across Gaia and she tried not to sway her hips as much.

Clarestes eyes grew big and he said, “Much better! Much better! I think this is the first time you’ve ever done anything well or right.” He turned and hobbled to their shed as he mumbled, “And for the first time in your life. You know, you live to be seventy and you think you have seen it all. Then your useless husband surprises you, by finally, finally doing something right.”


That day Clarestes made them stay in character for its length. He told Mera repeatedly she must not break. “We must become these old people if we are to fool the harpies,” he croaked time and time again.


That evening Mera sat upon her log and she was weary and sad. Presently this sadness had a silver lining, for it helped with her act and she slumped over from tiredness.

Clarestes, meanwhile, puttered around the cooking area while muttering to himself. “Bassius!” he cried out, for this was the name Mera had chosen for herself. “Do you want some tea with honey in it?

From “his” log “Bassius” answered tersely, “No.”

Clarestes said, “No what, Bassius?”

“No fucking thank you, Hacian, you annoying, old shrew,” Mera said hoarsely, as Hacian was the name Clarestes chosen for himself.

Clarestes mumbled to himself about ill manners and rudeness as he fussed over his herbal tea.

Mera asked, “Who will attend to the animals’ nightly needs?”

Clarestes was demur and cooed, “Your choice. Your command. You are the man.”

Mera said, “I will. Listen, Hacian. I am going to have to walk as Mera to do that. It will take me eight years to bring them in, shuffling about. I want no shrill reproach from you when I do this. Do you understand me, woman?”

Clarestes smiled and rasped, “I understand. When you return here, you can return to your Bassius’ walk. Bassius, I am very proud of you.”

Mera said as Bassius, “Hacian, I want…” But then she said in her voice, “Clarestes, do not be mad with me. But this is scares me.”

Clarestes stood up straight and said in his voice, “What is amiss?”

“This is freaking me out. You are too good at this. It is as if you are no longer you,” said Mera.

Clarestes thought and he said, “Alright, we will be ourselves for a time. But later tonight, we must go back to our ruse. One laugh, one word, or one small movement by us as ourselves might tip off the harpies. Even calling out to each other in the wrong name may alert them, as now your name is as well known in Greece as mine. In two days time when we set off to middle Greece, Bassius and Hacian must be ingrained in us, and be us. We can not go back and forth between us and them until we meet the harpies. Once the fight has begun and we have revealed our true selves, then we will never have to do this again.”

Mera nodded her head sadly and then she went outside to bring the sheep and the goats from the pastures and into their pens.


That night Mera became more comfortable in being Bassius. Partly because she started to realize the advantages of this.

She said from her log, “Hacain, you lazy cow, why is my cup empty? Fetch me more strong wine. And be quick.”

Clarestes clucked and grumbled at this. But he fetched the wine as “Bassius” had ordered.

Mera said jokingly, “Hacian! Look at how you have let yourself fall apart. I tire of this. You will now take more time during the morning to clean and present yourself. You look shitty, and I need a hotter bitch for a wife.”

Clarestes froze as Mera said this. Then he surprised her as he looked sheepish and wounded. He said sadly, “Our fourth child was very hard on me, as he came so late in my life. I know I no longer hold any charms or beauty. But I will try...”

Mera was stunned by this. Clarestes was so good at this. How in Hades did he come up with that so quickly? She guessed that he had probably heard some sad, old woman say this one time in response to her nasty husband’s rebukes, and he had felt sorry for her. And so he remembered that mean cruelty as it was etched into his sharp and very uncruel mind.

Now Mera was becoming Bassius even more. She actually felt for the Hacian part of Clarestes, or maybe she felt for the Clarestes part of Hacian. She said, “Never mind that. You are fine the way you are, come here.” She beckoned with her arms open to him.

Clarestes hobbled to her and slid into her embrace.

Mera closed her arms about him and then she felt his unmistakably non-old-woman’s tight, firm ass.

Clarestes grew excited by this and Mera felt it.

She drew back from him abruptly. She pointed low and said in horror, “Hacian, what the fuck is that?”

Clarestes could not help himself and he laughed, as himself. Mera jumped all over this.

“Hacian!” she shouted hoarsely. “You have broken. How many times have you bitched to me today that we must become us, if we are to fool the harpies. And now you break! You woman, are all self-centered weakness.” She leaned in close to Clarestes and she said more as Bassius, “Maybe you were thinking we would break character tonight to join. I am sorry, for as you said, we must stay in character until we meet the flying bitches. And so we will not. I am so sorry, but I am a used up, old man. I can not join anymore. Not even with you, my wife.”

Clarestes looked disappointed by this for a moment, but then he nodded his head in agreement.

Mera abruptly said as herself, “Whoa, whoa, boy! What the fuck was that?”

Clarestes stood up straight and he stopped being Hacian.

Mera said “We have done nothing but work and worry and fret this day. Tonight, we will finally cease this play, to play.” She pointed to his groin and she said, “Your urge is not going to be denied tonight. Nor mine. You want me and I want you as well. Tomorrow morning we will go back to this act. Agreed?”

Clarestes smiled and nodded his head. Then he went about to clean up the kitchen as he normally did.

As Mera gathered her things to go out and take the animals in from pasture, she thought. She felt her short hair. She assumed it must look awful to Clarestes, as now it was all gray as well. She said to him, “Are you sure you will be able to, with me looking all ugly like this?”

Instantly Clarestes laughed from the kitchen, yet he said nothing, as this was his answer to her. And Mera was relieved that it was his normal, manly and lusty laugh.


Chapter 35 - “Nycius, you look so sad and I know not why. For Hermes sake, we only go off to Ithea to sell our fare.”

Two days later and in the morning Clarestes and Mera made ready. Both of them dressed as Hacian and Bassius. Both of them talked to each other as Hacian and Bassius. Clarestes made up their faces to look like Hacian and Bassius. They looked old and convincing.

They retrieved their long, mule wagon and loaded it with mostly straw. On top, they put baskets of dried figs, wine jugs, jars of olives, sacks of grain, crates of half ripened bunches of grapes, apples and dried, salted fish and such. They made the wagon appear to be filled with nothing but their food.

Yet in the front part of their wagon, hidden just under the straw, were their shields, swords, spears, and bows and arrows. And, of course, their dozens and dozens of bolas were concealed there as well.

Mera retrieved from a shed a sea net that Arestes and Clarestes had acquired in past travels, then stored there. Many days before, when they made their bolas, she had remembered it, as she had seen it many times laying there as she rummaged through their sheds in search for this or that. Two weeks before and without Clarestes knowledge, she had retrieved it and repaired its rents with wool twine. She weighted its ends with rocks she tied there. Afterwards, she had practiced and practiced in secret with this net as well.

Clarestes looked to her curiously as she buried this repaired and altered net under the straw. He smiled and asked, “What is that?”

Mera said to him, “You now know what this is, woman. A little surprise for the little bitches, if I can pull it off.”

Nycius broke his trail’s head as they finished. He approached them and he was quiet. And he looked at them in their disguises with great curiosity, and his face was grave.

Clarestes said to him in his quavering old woman’s voice, “Hello, Nycius. You child, as always, are right on time. But where is Therias?”

Nycius was so shocked by Clarestes’s mimicking of an old woman, it took him a moment to respond and say, “I told him to come tonight, as he has a normal, boy’s loud mouth, and as he knows nothing of your dangerous charade as yet.”

Clarestes nodded his head in approval as he fussed about the food stuff covering the straw.

He went to the front of the wagon to begin to haul it, but Mera said, “Hacian, you stupid woman! What do you think you are doing? You won’t be doing that.”

And Nycius' jaw dropped as Mera sounded, well, she sounded exactly like him!

Clarestes stopped and started to protest, but Mera said, “Listen, you can’t pull this. Who the fuck do you think you are? What will people think if they see you, and not me, hauling this wagon?”

Again Mera sounded to Nycius like an old man, and a cringingly entitled one who was used to telling his wife what to do. Nycius froze as he listened and watched, and he was caught up in the eeriness and completeness of it all.

Clarestes squawked tersely in protest, “I will help pull! You can’t stop me!”

Mera laughed as if there was gravel in her throat and she said, “The fuck I can’t.” She stepped to Clarestes and she picked him up by his armpits. She groaned a little as she did this, but only because she was pretending to be old. As she plopped Clarestes on the wagon she said, “Now sit there and be silent for once. Not a word from you, unless it is to ask me if I need food or drink.”

Mera started to shuffle to the front of the wagon, but she caught Nycius’s look of shock. She clasped him on the shoulder and she said, “I am sorry. Such rudeness to my wife in front of you was rude to you as well. I apologize, my back is killing me today and this has made me of sour mood. I am sure once we get to Ithea, I will be of kinder words to Hacian, as you always are with Dalia.”

Then Mera went to the front of the wagon. She groaned as she picked up its two tongues, although it actually felt fine. She slowly began to pull the wagon westward, though really she could have pulled it thrice as fast, and with ease as well.

“Nycius, walk with me for a bit,” she rasped.

As Clarestes complained about demeaning and ill treatment from atop the wagon, Nycius walked next to Mera. She said to him, as a man would say to another, “Thank you for, yet again, taking care of our animals.”

“Yes, thank you!” quavered Clarestes from atop the wagon.

Nycius finally found his voice and he said, “No thanks is needed.” Suddenly he said, “Let me come with you! I will fit right in.”

Mera shook her head and she said, “No.” She thought for a moment, then barked to Clarestes, “Hacian! Not that we care, or that it matters, but just out of curiosity, what do you say to this?”

Clarestes cooed and said, “I’m sorry, what do I say to what? My ears are failing and the wagon’s wheels squeak so!”

Mera said to Nycius, “I have not the strength to shout at her anymore. You tell her what you want.”

Nycius laughed. Mera and Clarestes, these two were so very different. They were something he had never seen before. And something he would never see ever again.

As Clarestes held his hand to his ear, Nycius shouted, “Let me come with you!”

Clarestes cackled and cackled. He sputtered his lips and said, “Dalia would have our heads if we did. No, you can not come with us, and I am sorry.”

And as Clarestes said this he sounded again so much like a concerned, old woman that Nycius stopped short.

As Mera pulled the wagon away, Clarestes continued to complain he wanted to pull the wagon as well. Mera grumbled and said tersely to him, “Listen woman, if I tire of this, which I know I will not, you can help.” And then she ignored all the rest of what Clarestes said.

Nycius stood still in their field and so Clarestes turned around on the wagon. He waved a handkerchief at Nycius and he called out to him, “Nycius, you look so sad and I know not why. For Hermes sake, we only go off to Ithea to sell our fare. You have been there many times, so I do not know why you want to come now. Do not look so sullen and disappointed, my child. Listen, I promise to tell you all of what happens to us there when we return. That will all be very boring, and then you will realize how your wanting to come along was so, so silly!”

As Clarestes waved goodbye feebly to him, Nycius suddenly felt very old. But he felt some else as well. He felt as if he was witnessing two of the most oddly fascinating and unearthly beings setting forth. To be in danger together, again. Sadly, he knew they needed him not at all, as together, they were a match for just about anything on Gaia. The only need they had for him was to take care of their animals, that this woman Mera, who now posed as a man, treasured so much.

He thought it possible that the gods and goddesses had made Mera for Clarestes. Or, just as likely he mused, perhaps the other way around.

So he waved goodbye to Clarestes. Then he turned around and made his way back to their farm. He led their clean, happy, and healthy goats and sheep out to their pastures. After he tended to their grape vines, as he began to hope for and await their safe return.


Chapter 36 - “Let us take him. He shows good mettle and heart. He reminds me of you.”

Four days later and sometime before noon, Mera slowly pulled their wagon along the rough road that led west. She grumbled and cursed at every rut and hole she hit.

Clarestes sat atop their wagon. He appeared to doze, but really his eyes continually searched the sky.

Mera said as Bassius, “Since passing Carthos, this has become the shittest road ever.”

Clarestes answered with Hacian’s voice, “Silly husband, that’s because of those rascal harpies. The crews of Ithea and Carthos haven’t done any work on this road for many weeks, for fear of attack from them!”

Mera grunted and she thought, ‘I am so stupid, of course this is why this road is in such poor condition now.’

She remembered that the first two days after leaving their farm that this road had been smoother, and had held many travelers. But those travelers’ numbers had rapidly decreased the third day. And this morning, since they passed the small city of Carthos and now they approached Ithea, they had seen no one as yet. The road was empty, and quiet.

Soon, a troop of soldiers appeared walking toward them from the west. Like Clarestes, they also scanned the sky. Each man held a three pronged fowling arrow notched in his bow.

They looked shocked and surprised as they approached Mera and Clarestes. When close, both the troops and Mera halted.

“Hail to you,” said their leader cheerlessly and curtly. Mera mumbled hail back.

“What in Gaia are you doing on this road?” he asked. “Have you not heard that harpies all but own it now?”

Mera nodded her head and mumbled that “he” had.

The leader shook his head in disgust, as these clueless, old folks presented a problem for him. “What are your names? And where do you go?” he demanded.

Mera said, “I am Bassius.” She pointed to Clarestes atop the wagon and she said, “That is my wife, Hacian.” As Clarestes waved his handkerchief in enthusiastic admiration at the troops, Mera continued, “We go to Ithea.”

The leader of the troop said with exasperation, “Are you crazy? Ithea is all but at the harpies’ mercy as well! I would not be surprised if soon they used our city as their nightly roost. We are Ithean soldiers. Why do you go there?”

Mera said, “We go there to sell our farm’s fare.”

Again the leader looked completely dumbfounded and he said, “Why, in Hades, would you attempt that?”

“Easy,” Mera grumbled. “As Ithea is in want of food, we will get good prices there, for once in our lives.”

The leader of the troop looked to his men. Some of them laughed at the absurdity of this. But their laughter was brief and they quickly resumed watching the sky anxiously.

The leader said, “You will not. You will turn around and head back. We now patrol this road’s length until we get to Carthos. You will turn around and follow us there.” And then the leader looked to their wagon as he greedily eyed their foodstuffs, for he was half starved, as were the rest of his men as well. They all approached it.

Mera let the wagon’s tongues drop to Gaia. Then she followed the soldiers slowly, although she tingled from fear that all would be lost.

As the men started to pick over the wagon’s food, Clarestes said to them, “Hail boys! I mean, hail men! Doesn’t our farm’s food look so delicious?”

One man plucked a grape from a bunch and he ate it. Now the grapes were ripened and his eyes opened wide at its juiciness. But when he made to take the whole bunch, Mera slapped his hand away.

The man grew angry, but Clarestes said quickly, “Listen men. You must be hungry and we will give you some of this food, and for no cost...”

The leader, as he practically drooled over their food, said, “We will take all of this, if we decide so.”

Mera grumbled, “No, you won’t. If you do, we will still go to your city, and we will tell your king you took the food intended for his people.”

The leader seethed and he said, “You will never make it there.”

Mera said low, “And who will stop us, you or the harpies?”

“Why the harpies, of course,” said the leader, although he lied.

Clarestes cried from the wagon gaily, “Do you mean those harpies to the northwest there?”

And then all eyes were upon the sky to the north and west. There, just above the horizon in the sky, were many small, black specks that circled slowly.

The leader looked at those specks nervously and he said, “Old woman, how can your eyes see those are the harpies? They could be crows, or hawks, or vultures, or any large bird.”

Clarestes, in fact, did not know. And so he looked to Mera. She looked at them for a time. Then she turned back to Clarestes and she nodded her head very slightly for she could see very far.

Clarestes wiggled his shoulders and croaked, “Oh, I suppose I really don’t know. I just have a feeling. Old woman’s intuition and wisdom and such.”

The leader growled, “Well keep your feelings and such to yourself. This food will go with us to Carthos, as you will as well.”

“No, it won’t, Nerces,” said a young soldier from among the group.

Nerces said, “Fuck you, Xerathon. Getting tired of you thinking anyone cares what you think, just because you are the king’s fucking second cousin or whatever. I think it’s about time we stood toe to toe to find out who is in charge here.” Then Nerces went for his sword, but Mera caught his hand as it lay upon his sword’s hilt. Immediately Nerces cried out in pain and he could not move his hand.

The other soldiers raised their bows, but Clarestes called out, “Time out here, boys. Let’s all not do anything so silly that it might get back to your king. I mean Apollo is racing to climb high, and as so, those circling birds appear to be getting closer.”

Again all eyes went to the growing dark specks, and indeed their slow circles appeared to be rising and getting closer.

“Nerces,” said Clarestes.

“What?” said Nerces through his pain.

“Bassius is amazingly strong for a man of seventy, isn’t he?” Clarestes said.

“Quite,” said Nerces through his gritted teeth.

“When he lets go of your hand, your sword stays in its sheath. I mean that hand of yours probably won’t be much good for anything for a few days anyway, right?”

That was true, thought Nerces. This old man’s grasp was like a vice. Xerathon laughed at Nerces’ anguished face.

Mera let go of Nerces’s hand, and he left his sword in his sheath.

“Good, good,” said Clarestes hastily. “Here is the plan. Now you will get some food from us. Enough to get you to Carthos and some extra as well. After that we will part. You, to Carthos, and we to your city to sell the rest of our bounty to your starving people.” Clarestes quickly started to dole out some of their food to the soldiers. “My, you look very skinny. Here are some figs and goat cheese for you. Dried fish for you. And you! My word, such a handsome and manly, thick beard. Some bread and a jug of strong wine for you of course…” When Clarestes had given out enough food to make this situation tenable, he said, “That is all we can spare to you bold troops.”

And Mera said low, “And that is all you get.”

Xerathon said, “And I fucking agree. You, Nerces, are a dick, and I tire of you just as much as you tire of me. Here, too, we will part ways, for I’m going back with these two to Ithea as well.” Then Xerathon raised his bow with its notched arrow a little.

Nerces seethed, but he moved not against Xerathon as he was their king’s relation. Then he smiled and said, “All right, it’s your fucking funeral. Xerathon, you and these two, will never make it to Ithea, but we will make it to Carthos as the harpies will certainly choose you to us. Let’s go,” said he to his men. Then the Ithean troop all followed him, although two soldiers took the time to clasp hands with Xerathon and wished him good luck, before they left as well.

When they were gone, Clarestes said to Xerathon with the girlish part of Hacian, “That was so brave of you!”

Xerathon looked to the growing dark specks in the sky. He said, “More like foolhardy, as I fear Nerces is right. Nevertheless, the die is cast. I will go back to Ithea with you.”

Clarestes clucked and he said, “I am sorry, doll, but you are not invited to join us.”

As Xerathon looked at Clarestes in confusion, Clarestes said, “Listen Xerathon, it is Xerathon, right? Why don’t you take respite deep under those trees and wait out the harpies. When they are gone and by the cover of night, you could make your way safely back to…”

Xerathon interrupted and said, “Hacian, you must be joking! The harpies will tear you limb from limb. They have already done so to two of our patrols upon this very road. And they will do so to you, with or without my protection.”

Clarestes began, “And that is exactly why you should hide now. Those harpies won’t kill two old ones like ourselves. We are too tough and stringy to interest them. If we meet them, we will explain to them why they should let us pass. I’m sure they will listen to us and be reasonable.”

Xerathon was so puzzled by this old woman’s delusional denial that he just laughed.

Mera scowled at this as she thought that plan might go awry. She rasped to Clarestes, “The boy might be safer with us, and us with him. Let us take him. He shows good mettle and heart. He reminds me of you. It will be an honor to have him escort us.”

Clarestes smiled at Mera as she said this, and he almost broke character. But then he giggled and croaked, “Very well then. Safety in numbers and all. I love meeting new people on the road. Such fun! Let us depart. I’m sure we will be safe and sound in Ithea in no time!”


Xerathon went around to the front of the wagon and he picked up its tongues. His first attempt to move it failed. As Mera shuffled to him, he said, “Great Heracles. You are strong, aren’t you?”

Mera answered him gruffly, “Farm work will put hair on one’s chest. We will pull this wagon together.”

Mera and Xerathon began to pull the wagon. Clarestes called merrily from the wagon, “I will keep you two apprised of the harpies location! How does that sound?”

Xerathon laughed and he said, “Sounds great!”

Then he and Mera pulled the wagon slowly for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. After a time Clarestes called out, “Bassius!”

Mera asked, “What is it now, woman?”

“The harpies have left the upper sky and I see them no longer. I think they approach us from a lower angle, and not from high anymore,” Clarestes said.

“Good,” said Mera as Xerathon listened with shock. She told him to stop pulling the wagon. Near the road, open fields and meadows were about, and further out trees and woods were the land’s scape she noted. If the harpies attacked them here, this would be very favorable ground for their bola defense.

Xerathon stood in chilled silence as suddenly Mera and Clarestes seemed to be something more than old peasants. Mera looked at Clarestes as he watched and scanned. Without breaking his watching eye, he asked Mera, “To the wagon?”

Mera croaked, “Yes, it is time.” She turned to Xerathon and she said quietly in her own voice, “You may go under our wagon for your better chance of survival, or you may join us atop it to fight.”

Xerathon’s heart raced, and now all this seemed like a dream. He managed, “I will fight.” To this Mera nodded her head.

She climbed aboard the wagon. She gave her hand to Xerathon. He clasped it and she powerfully pulled him up.

Clarestes crouched at the wagon’s front. He said to Xerathon quietly, “Do not say a word to what you see us do now. And do what we tell you to do. Do you understand?”

Clarestes smiled at Xerathon, as Xerathon simply nodded his head.

Clarestes and Mera moved all of their food to the back corner of their wagon. Then they began to pull the bolas from the straw as their eyes searched. They lay the bolas atop the straw, one after another after another. And then they drew forth their other weapons and shields, and they laid them upon the straw as well.

Mera pulled her sea’s fishing net from the straw. She untangled it and made it ready in the other back corner of their long wagon. Clarestes smiled as she did so, but he said nothing. Aphrodite on high, he loved his woman so much.

Soon, both of them held two bolas low. They scanned the tops of the trees in the distance.

Clarestes quietly asked Mera, “Do you see or hear anything?”

She said, “No.”

Xerathon said low, “I have never fought before. I am afraid.”

Mera whispered to him, “I have fought many times. Yet I am afraid as well. Look,” she said to him although her eyes did not stop from searching. Xerathon looked at her and he saw that her raised hand was shaking.

Clarestes smiled at Mera’s words, then he gave Xerathon a quick sideways glance. He asked him low, “Have any Ithean soldiers battled these creatures before?”

Xerathon whispered, “Many, but no Ithean has done so and lived.”

Clarestes nodded his head. Nevertheless he asked Xerathon softly, “Any idea as to how they will approach?”

Xerathon said, “None.” He thought, then he whispered, “The harpies smell very foul. We may smell them before we see them.”

Mera’s face instantly lit up. Clarestes saw this and he asked, “Do you smell them?”

She smiled even more broadly as she whispered, “No.”

They both turned their eyes eastward and Clarestes said very quietly to Xerathon, “Listen to me now and do not move. Move not at all. They have circled round us. They approach now from downwind.”


Chapter 37 - “Another group approaches from the south!”

A moment later the harpies broke above the treeline. Clarestes, Mera and Xerathon saw them instantly. Although they were very far away, they were already within range, for Mera’s and Clarestes’s deadly reach was long. They stood and instantly bolas whizzed in circles above their heads.

Then they let them fly. Clarestes’ bola went wide, but Mera was lucky and hers found its mark. It entangled the harpy it struck and she fell to Gaia, where she squirmed in pain, for she was only wounded with a broken wing, and not slain.

Xerathon watched as both Mera and Clarestes had whizzing, what-ever-they-were-things circling above their heads already again. He moved to the back of the wagon to get out of their way.

The harpies knew that their stealthy approach was already seen and spoiled. So now they abandoned silence and screamed blood curdling cries. They strove to wing as fast as they could (as previously they had approached with lazy boredom) toward the wagon. They were many and they knew their numbers were to their advantage against these mere three.

Mera and Clarestes dropped their ruse, and they called out to each other in their clear, youthful voices.

Mera cried, “Apollo damn you, boy. You never missed in practice. How am I the first to fucking strike?”

Despite his fear, Clarestes laughed at Mera’s scolding.

Clarestes’ next two bolas each found their mark. While Mera’s next two both missed.

Xerathon let one of his fowling arrows fly but it missed the harpy he aimed for as she easily dodged it.

As another bola whizzed above Mera’s head, she saw before she let it loose that one of Clarestes’ struck harpies lay still, while the other twisted and flopped upon the ground. She let her bola go at a flying harpy and that also missed. Damn, these bitches moved fast now, she thought.

“Xerathon!” she shouted as she snatched up two more bolas. “Can you hit that harpy on the ground?”

Xerathon let another fowling arrow loose, but it missed the harpy which still struggled upon Gaia.

Mera screamed to him, “Again! You can not hit them in the air! Kill the ones we wound or entangle, but are not dead. And do not miss any more!”

Now Mera’s next thrown bola struck. It made a lovely, resounded crack as its stones hit the head of the harpy and killed her instantly.

She was not impressed by herself, the harpies were closer now.

Xerathon drew forth another fouling arrow and aimed at that harpy upon the ground that he previously missed. The harpy had just disentangled her wings from the bola and was ready to take flight when he let loose his arrow and struck her. And then she lay still.

Mera shouted to Clarestes, “Somebody just popped his cherry!” Clarestes laughed.

But the Harpies were closing fast. More bolas flew quickly from Clarestes and Mera, and now most hit, but they were not enough. Soon too many harpies would close upon them and tear them apart.

Mera retrieved her net as the harpies screamed in. She cast it, and it could not have spread more beautifully as it flew into the air. It caught four shrieking harpies before its ends closed around them and they were captured by it and brought to the ground.

As they struggled to free themselves, Mera shouted, “Xerathon, kill them!” And he shot them all before they were able to free themselves.

Now the other harpies were upon them, but Mera had not taken back to her bolas, she had her sword and shield in hand. She first slew one that made for Clarestes. Then as Xerathon shot another wounded harpy upon Gaia, she swung her shield to viciously batter an incoming harpy aside that almost reached him with her talons outstretched.

“Stand resolute, Xerathon,” cried Clarestes as another bola was launched by him. “Keep shooting arrows at the grounded harpies, before they can retake to the air! This is our only hope! Trust Mera to have your back!”

Xerathon was in the grip of terror. Nevertheless, he drew forth another arrow.

For a time Mera did nothing but look frantically to the safety of Clarestes and Xerathon with her sword and shield. Clarestes threw bola after bola and now all found their mark. Meanwhile Xerathon fired arrow after arrow, and as those harpies upon the ground were so close, he did not miss as well.

Another harpy approached Xerathon from his flank. He never saw it, but Mera did. She was just barely able to get between them before she cut that harpy down with her sword.

But the dead harpy slammed into both of her and Xerathon, knocking them off their feet. A blood soaked Mera hurled the limp harpy off of her and to a stunned Xerathon she cried, “Get up, boy!” as she sprang to her feet as two more harpies were already so very close.

Clarestes stepped to Mera and Xerathon and the bola that whizzed above him was not thrown. Instead he whipped its stones into one of those harpies, and the two solid thuds it made as it hit her were all but drowned out by her death shriek.

But this left the other harpy free to find her mark. She ripped Clarestes’ shoulder open deep as she laughed while flying by.

He ignored the burning pain. He quickly spun around and threw his other bola at her. He struck and her laughter ceased as she fell hard to Gaia with her wings ensnared.

Clarestes soon had yet another bola whizzing above his head, and at the same time he kicked another quiver of arrows to Xerathon’s feet, as Xerathon was out.

Xerathon’s blood heated and he was afraid no more. He was livid. He knew Clarestes now stood gravely wounded because Mera had chosen to protect him instead of Clarestes. And he knew after that, Clarestes had chosen to protect them both over himself. He snatched those arrows up and let one fly at the harpy that had wounded Clarestes, but was still grounded. He hit. She squawked in pain and thrashed around for a moment before she went limp.

Mera shouted in rage, “Best fucking kill so far!” She too was no longer afraid. She moved like a cheetah as she slayed those harpies that successfully drew close to Clarestes and Xerathon.

Soon she cried, “Another group approaches from the south!”

Clarestes was now bleeding heavily from his shoulder and it was harder for him to hit his marks.

Xerathon saw all this, as if it were now all in a slow dream. They were done for. No, there was but one way out. He cried to Mera, “You must go back to taking them from the air! And you must leave me to fight those that draw close!”

She got this instantly. She dropped her sword and shed her shield. She took back up to her bolas, sending one after another at the harpies coming in from the south.

At the same time, Xerathon threw his bow aside. He picked up Mera’s shield and sleeved it. Then he drew his sword.

And when those screaming harpies from the south that Mera did not kill or ensnare closed in to join their sisters in close attack, it was now Xerathon who looked to Mera’s and Clarestes’ protection from both directions.

He slew them all before they could touch either Mera or Clarestes. Indeed, the only harpy to get through and wound any of them was himself.

That one flew in cursing and sunk her talons into his arm and neck. She lifted him from the wagon for a moment, then quickly retracted her claws, and so sent him sailing off where he landed brutally upon Gaia in a bloody daze. She made a tight circle and swooped back to finish him off, that is if that wingless one wasn’t dead already.

But Mera flew to Xerathon with greater speed. She leapt to Gaia and with a thrust of her spear she skewered that harpy clean through midair, just before the harpy’s outstretched claws could mangle him more.

Before everything went to black for Xerathon, Clarestes was with them upon Gaia as well. His dress was torn long and blood soaked from his terrible wound. He looked deathly pale, but as he knelt next to Xerathon while wrapping a long bandage round and round his neck, he said calmly, “The remaining few have fled. It is done.”

Then Xerathon knew no more.



Darkness was falling as Mera wildly hauled the wagon that held the wounded and delirious Clarestes and the wounded and unconscious Xerathon through the gates of the city of Ithea.

“This wagon holds Xerathon, the King’s cousin, and Clarestes the Bold! Both lay wounded from battling the harpies! Fetch a doctor!” she shouted to the wide eyed and stunned guards that stood above its walls. “Fetch two.” she shouted louder. Then she screamed as only she could (as the guards still hadn’t moved), “Hermes, fucking damn it! Fetch them all and now! Move!”


The next day a feverish Clarestes awoke to his right mind. Naturally, the first thing he saw was the drawn and concerned face of Mera.

An Ithean doctor had told her that the harpies’ wounds were nasty and festered, and usually grew worse over time. So she had worried and fretted over him as he moaned and writhed from his growing sickness as well as his wound, in Ithea’s long hospital ward where he lay upon one of its many straw pallets.

But presently, for the first time, he was a little of himself. He asked Mera weakly, “How does Xerathon fare?”

She said low, “He hangs on by a thread, and as so, he is only a little worse off than you are now.” She tipped her head to the side to indicate where Xerathon was..

Clarestes painfully rolled over upon his pallet. He saw Xerathon laying upon another straw pallet next to him. Xerathon, he saw, lay still.

A young woman sat next to him as she shook and wept.

Mera whispered in his ear, “She is to Xerathon, as I am to you.”

He hazily drank in this sad sight and then he rolled back, so he could see Mera. She leaned in close to him and whispered, “If you die, I will lose my mind.” With naked fear in her tearful eyes she threatened, “You had better not die.”

And then he lost his conscious mind again.


Chapter 38 - “Was that bloody and violent enough for you?”

When Clarestes awoke next, Mera, who now had deep, black circles about her very red eyes, was there. And of course she was there, for she had not left his side once. Nor had she slept, not even for a moment. She had refused all the food that was brought to her, as she could not eat. Clarestes asked, “What day is it?”

She said, “Three days more since we last spoke.”

He rolled over to look at Xerathon, but he lay not on that pallet anymore. His heart leapt in fear.

But when he turned back, he now saw that Xerathon stood behind Mera, with his woman at his side. He called loudly for a doctor for Clarestes. To Clarestes, Xerathon looked taxed and pallid, but much better. I am sure he looks much better than I must look, he thought.

His eyes went back to the weeping Mera, and his heart swelled with love for her. He asked her weakly, “When have you last eaten and slept?”


There, how was that? Was that bloody and violent enough for you? Do you feel viscerally satisfied now? I hope so, for the rest of this tale is but one of healing and of a friendship cemented.

Mera, as she watched over Clarestes the first night they arrived in Ithea, made her stamp upon the city. After two harried doctors had; cleaned Clarestes’ and Xerathon’s wounds, stitched them up and then dressed their wounds, they placed them upon pallets and done all they could for them for the moment. Soon a cringing city official hesitantly approached Mera. He asked her if Ithea could buy the food she had brought in the wagon. “Take it all for nothing!” she screamed so loudly that he and everyone in the ward jumped. “Do you think I fucking care!?” And then she wept and fretted over Clarestes as she pressed a wet cloth to his burning brow.

And she held his wrists tight with all her might when he tried to rip out his stitches in his mad, feverish thrashings which soon followed. While she did this, she tried very hard to not let any of her tears fall onto his clean dressings. That was not easy, as she could not stop their flow.

Soon, and during a time when Clarestes lay still, an exhausted captain of guard came to Mera’s bedside care and watch. He gently asked her what exactly had occurred. She told him. Then that captain was rapidly off with this knowledge to his king. The King of Ithea immediately sent out a troop of horsemen to confirm this. Three hours later the troop raced in return, and they told their king that all Mera said seemed true. They had found forty eight dead harpies exactly where she said the shitstorm occurred. And of the remaining harpies that she said had fled? Their troop had seen nothing of them.

Indeed, those remaining harpies were long gone. Eventually they flew out of Greece and far to the north, where they thought the pickings would now be easier. But their numbers were decimated, and so they too, in time, were killed to last, in that unknown, northern land that had its own bold heroes who desired to make their mark and gain glory, or get rich, or do what is right.

Quickly word of what Clarestes, Mera and Xerathon had achieved was spread. And with the harpies defeated, food, merchants, and peace, flooded into Ithea again.


After Clarestes and Xerathon had both awoken and mended more, and Mera had some ease of mind back, the King of Ithea wanted to hold a great feast in their honor and in thanks. Clarestes loved this type of fun, social shit, but Mera did not. She said she would not go. Xerathon surprised Mera by saying he refused to go as well.

But the night before Clarestes and Mera left Ithea, Mera and Xerathon got the feast they wanted. They got a double date. Clarestes and Mera, and Xerathon and his love, all ate in a small room together as they drank too much strong wine and laughed late into the night.

Early the next morning, Clarestes and Mera quietly pulled their emptied wagon through the gates of Ithea and so slipped away unnoticed by all. They did so in secret to avoid any stupid fanfare that Mera despised.

And what of Xerathon? Well, he became Ithea’s new hero, for a time anyway. Everybody wanted to hear his recounting of the battle with the harpies, but almost immediately he became sick of telling it. And he grew disgusted as many women threw themselves at him, as they told him his plain girlfriend wasn’t up to his newfound fame, not to mention she was dirt poor and he was so no longer, as he had hauled in quite the reward for his part.

Xerahpon disagreed and told those “beautiful” gold diggers to never speak to him again. He married his “plain” and low girlfriend. They became farmers. They had children. Eventually, as he grew older and wiser, he began to lie. He denied having any part in clearing out the harpies from middle Greece. But the talon wounds upon his neck and arm had turned to scars, and those that saw those scars noted they looked very much claws’ marks. So some of that younger generation wondered if he, despite his denials, had indeed stood with the Clarestes the Bold and Mera the Invincible against the harpies, as the few of the remaining Ithean old timers insisted he had done.

But before all this, when they were younger occasionally, Xerathon and his wife were visited by Clarestes and Mera. When they passed near Ithea and were not pressed, they would go to Xerathon’s farm to see him and his wife. Xerathon always welcomed this. They would eat, drink too much strong wine and laugh together. And all four never talked of the harpies, but they always spoke of farming, crops, and things like that. And that is why Xerathon always liked it so much when they paid him a visit.