Heroes: Volume II of Mythos

6. P ROCRUSTES, THE S TRETCHER Theseus’s last adversary appeared before him in a valley of Mount Korydallos. Unlike the others, he did not leap out from behind a rock or a tree. He did not bar Theseus’s way and he did not threaten him with swords, clubs or knives. Instead he stood in the doorway of a pleasantly appointed stone house and welcomed him with a smile and an offer of hospitality. ‘Hello, stranger! You look as though you have travelled a few leagues.’ ‘That I have,’ said Theseus. ‘You will surely be in need of refreshment and a bed for the night.’ ‘I was thinking of making straight for Athens this evening.’ ‘Oh, it’s a good twelve miles. You’ll never make it before nightfall. And there are thieves and murderers waiting out there, I can assure you. Believe me, much better to stay here and make the final leg of your journey when you’re fresh. We offer cheap, clean lodging at an affordable price.’ ‘Sold,’ said Theseus, thrusting out his hand. ‘Theseus of Troezen.’ ‘PROCRUSTES of Erineus. Make yourself welcome under our roof.’ There was something in the smiling and the bowing that Theseus did not quite like, but he said nothing and entered the small house. A middle-aged woman was busy wiping down the wooden table with mint leaves. She welcomed him with a bobbing curtsy and a beaming smile. ‘A guest, my dear,’ said Procrustes, ducking his head to avoid the lintel as he entered, for he was a tall man. Procrustes’ wife bobbed again. She smiled quite as much as her husband and Theseus found the nature of the smile quite as off-putting. ‘Do you have water somewhere that I might wash myself?’ he asked. ‘Wash yourself? Why would you do that?’ Procrustes asked, amazed. ‘Never you mind, Procrustes. If the young gentleman wants to wash, then let him. Strangers have strange ways and there’s an end to it. There’s a pond out the back where the ducks swim,’ she added to Theseus. ‘Might that serve your needs?’ ‘Perfectly,’ said Theseus and he made his way out. He saw the pond but did not make for it: instead he doubled round to the window at the back under which he crouched, listening. ‘Oh, he’s perfect, my dear,’ the wife was saying. ‘Did you see that bulging satchel he’s carrying? There’ll be silver and gold in there enough.’ ‘He’s neither tall nor short,’ Procrustes put in thoughtfully. ‘When I take him to be fitted to the bed, should he be stretched out, do you think?’ ‘Oh, I love it when you manacle them and stretch them out, Procrustes. The screams, the screams!’ ‘Ah, but there’s fun to be had when they’re too tall for the bed, too. Chopping off their feet … They scream plenty then too.’ ‘Stretch him, Procrustes, rack him! It lasts longer.’ ‘I believe you’re right, my dear. I’ll go to the room now and make the bed long. What’s he doing, anyway? Who ever heard of a man washing himself? He’s not making a sound, neither.’ Theseus quickly picked up a stone and threw it into the pond. It landed with a splash and a chorus of angry quacking. ‘He’s frightening the ducks, at any rate.’ ‘Maybe he’s from Sparta,’ suggested his wife. ‘You hear strange things of Spartans.’ ‘He said he was from Troezen.’ ‘They’re strange too.’ ‘We’ll hear stranger things of him soon enough,’ said Procrustes as he left the room. Theseus came back by way of the pond and was suitably dripping when he came back into the house. ‘You’ll have a cup of wine by the fire,’ said the woman. ‘That water must be making you chilly.’ ‘How kind.’ ‘All right and tight for you,’ said Procrustes, coming back in, with a wink. ‘Just been making sure your room is comfortable.’ ‘That’s so thoughtful of you,’ said Theseus. ‘They say the gods reward hospitality.’ ‘Well, it’s the least we can do,’ said Procrustes. ‘It’s a rough road from Eleusis to Athens. You can meet some nasty customers on the way.’ ‘I’ve certainly encountered plenty of interesting and unusual people on my journey.’ ‘No one who wanted to harm you?’ said the woman with motherly concern. ‘I found most of them to be as polite and friendly as you are,’ said Theseus, with a broad smile. ‘Enough chat, my dear,’ said Procrustes. ‘This gentleman will be wanting to see his room. Make sure the bed fits, that kind of thing.’ ‘A bed?’ said Theseus. ‘Goodness me, I’ve become used to sleeping out in the open. What luxury a bed will be.’ ‘Come along then and I’ll show you.’ It was a pleasant room into which Procrustes ushered his guest. He had gone to the trouble of setting a vase of flowers on the table. The frame of the bed itself seemed to be of bronze. Theseus saw that there were rings built in all around the sides that seemed to be decorative, but could easily serve as manacles or cuffs. ‘How charming,’ said Theseus, surveying the room. ‘Irises. My favourites.’ ‘Now, if you’ll just lie out on the bed, I’ll see if it fits.’ ‘No, no,’ said Theseus. Quick as a flash he executed one of his wrestling moves, which deposited Procrustes face down on the bed. While he was still stunned, Theseus grasped his hands and quickly fixed them to the restraints, then he did the same to Procrustes’ ankles. Procrustes swore loudly, but Theseus shushed him. ‘What a remarkable bed this is,’ he said walking round it slowly. ‘There’s a handle here, I wonder what it does?’ He picked up the crank and fitted it to the mechanism at the end of the bed. When he turned the handle, the bed shortened in length. ‘Language, Procrustes, please! I see you have an axe here. Perhaps that is to fit your guests properly to the bed? I wonder if it works.’ Theseus lopped off Procrustes’ protruding feet at the ankles. The screams were terrible, so Theseus silenced them by chopping off his head too. The body quivered and jerked for a few seconds, blood spouting from each end. As he was detaching Procrustes and rolling him off the bed, he heard the wife coming down the passageway. ‘Oh, you haven’t started without me, have you, my love? I heard the screams, but I had bread in the oven and I –’ She stopped and stared at the sight that met her: Theseus standing cheerfully, axe in hand, her husband dead on the floor and blood everywhere. ‘No, you’re not too late,’ said Theseus. ‘Why don’t you lie down and let me fit you to the bed? No, no, don’t struggle. It’s much easier if you lie still and let me attach you to these clever manacles … like so. Dear me, you are far too short for this bed, you know. Far too short. Let me make you a better fit.’ The woman spat and screamed curses but Theseus took no notice as he turned the handle. ‘You see, now I can stretch you. They say that is very good for the muscles.’ He cranked until he could hear the woman’s shoulders creak as her arms were slowly pulled from the shoulder sockets. ‘Still not quite a fit …’ Now her hips began to click and snap. ‘You were right about the screams,’ said Theseus. ‘Just as well you have no neighbours.’ She died in terrible agony, but Theseus thought of the agony of the many travellers who had had the misfortune to accept hospitality from the couple. He found plenty of stolen jewellery and, behind the duckpond, a macabre midden of bones. More than two hundred had screamed their last in this evil place. Theseus threw lit rushes into the windows of the house and crossed the road to lie down in the field opposite and watch it burn down – Procrustes, wife, bed and all. As the embers died, he curled up and thought to himself how the best beds were to be found in nature, in the hedgerows and under the wise all-seeing stars. In the morning he should stop off at the River Cephissus and cleanse himself. That, he felt, was important.