Jane Yolen - Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast

A Timeline of the Heroic Age

In addition to using material from the Greek myths, Jane Yolen and I wanted to set our Young Heroes tales, as best as we could, against the background of the historical Greek civilization of the Heroic Age. The fall of Troy is not only part of the legends of ancient Greece; it is generally accepted to have been a historical event to which we can give an approximate date. Using this as my starting point, I worked my way back in time, setting the major events of Greek legend in chronological sequence.

Note that Heracles is the original Greek name for the hero we normally refer to as Hercules. The titles of the Young Heroes novels are in italics, showing the years when these adventures supposedly took place.

Robert J. Harris

BCE

2200 The Mycenaean peoples invade Greece from the north

1750 Cities of Crete destroyed by an earthquake

1600 Cretan palace at Knossos damaged by an earthquake (Knossos rebuilt within a century and Cretan civilization flourishes)

1357 Perseus slays Medusa

1350 Perseus founds Mycenae

Oedipus becomes King of Thebes

1291 Bellerophon battles the Amazons

1289 Hippolyta and the Curse of the Amazons

1274 The labors of Heracles begin

1273 Heracles sails to the land of the Amazons accompanied by Peleus and Telamon

1270 Heracles captures Troy and slays Laomedon

1268 Theseus sets out for Athens where he slays the Cretan Bull

1267 Theseus travels to Crete and slays the Minotaur; becomes King of Athens

1266 Queen Hippolyta leads the Amazons to war against Athens

1265 Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast

1263 Jason and the Gorgon’s Blood

1259 Jason leaves Mount Pelion and travels to Iolcus

1258 Voyage of the Argonauts

1254 Hunting of the Calydonian Boar

Atalanta marries Melanion

1253 At the age of six, Achilles begins to hunt wild beasts under Chiron’s instruction

1247 Odysseus in the Serpent Maze

1245 Battle of the Gods and Giants

1237 Death of Heracles

1236 Helen marries Menelaus

1235 Penelope marries Odysseus

1234 Paris abducts Helen

1233 Trojan War begins

1225 Deaths of Patroclus and Hector

Penthesilea and the Amazons arrive to help the Trojans

1224 Achilles slain by Paris at the Skaian Gate

1223 Fall of Troy

1213 After ten years of wandering, Odysseus returns to Ithaca

1200 Fall of Mycenae; end of the Heroic Age

Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast

Jane Yolen and Robert J. Harris

For Heidi—

who keeps me running on the right path

—J.Y.

To David E. Poole and

Professor Robert Ogilvie, who taught me Homer and Virgil and much else besides

—R.J.H.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE: A SHAPE IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER TWO: THE RING

CHAPTER THREE: BURYING THE PAST

CHAPTER FOUR: URSO

CHAPTER FIVE: ON THE TRACK

CHAPTER SIX: THE WOODLAND GOD

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE TRAP

CHAPTER EIGHT: THE HUNTERS

CHAPTER NINE: THE VILLAGE

CHAPTER TEN: A SMALL HERO

CHAPTER ELEVEN: A SIGN FROM THE GODS

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE HUNT

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VICTIMS OF THE BEAST

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: LAND OF DANGER

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE CHALLENGE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: TWO NATURES

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE RACE

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE ROAD TO TEGEA

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE CITY

CHAPTER TWENTY: CHOSEN FEW

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SACRED TEMPLE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE GREAT HUNT BEGINS

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: ATTACK

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: NIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: ONE SMALL DEATH

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: ALLIES FROM THE WILD

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: THE TRAP

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: ARROW’S FLIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: THE CAVE

CHAPTER THIRTY: THE PALACE

WHAT IS TRUE ABOUT THIS STORY?

A Conversation Between the Authors

A Biography of Jane Yolen

A Biography of Robert J. Harris

CHAPTER ONE

A SHAPE IN THE FOREST

THE GIRL WAS SILENT, tracking through the deep woods, a small gutted rabbit safely tucked into her leather belt. It was all she had found in the snares they’d set, and she was still hoping she might be able to find something more impressive before her father reappeared.

He’d left her to check the snares while he followed some deer tracks. Of course she’d grumbled. Checking the traps was a child’s task.

“And I’m no longer a child,” she whispered to herself, though she wasn’t yet thirteen.

The forest seemed unnaturally quiet. Nothing scrabbled in the underbrush away from her. No birds trilled overhead. Even the wood pigeons were still. She was disappointed.

How can I prove to Papa what a good hunter I am, she thought, if there is nothing here to hunt?

A spring gurgled from a low crag, their usual meeting place. Glancing around, she looked for some sign of her father.

Perhaps he has had good luck, she thought. Then she added in an under-breath, “I’ve certainly had none.” The rabbit didn’t count. It was scarcely a meal for one, and besides, it had been caught in their snares.

Setting aside her bow, she crouched by the stream and scooped up the cool water in her cupped hands, drinking greedily. Then she straightened up, licking the droplets from her lips and brushing a strand of dark hair from her eyes in a single unconsciously graceful movement.

The sun was almost touching the hilltops to the west.

Where is he? she wondered, a bit anxious. They had agreed to meet long before dark. It was not like him to be late.

The only other time he’d left her waiting at the stream was a few weeks ago when he’d been gathering wildflowers for her birth remembrance day. She’d forgotten about it. He hadn’t.

She smiled at the memory, then stiffened at a sudden noise, a strange rustling in the bushes, as if something big was creeping through the undergrowth toward her.

It didn’t sound like her father.

Instantly alert, she snatched up her bow and looked about.

As suddenly as it had come, the noise was gone.

A breeze? she thought. A breeze could rustle the bushes. But she didn’t really believe it was a breeze. Or at least she wasn’t sure of it. In the woods—her father always said—certainty keeps the hunter alive.

She slipped an arrow out of her quiver and fitted it to the bowstring.

The rustling started again, and this time there was no breeze. Then she heard a solid crack, as if a branch had been stepped upon.

A deer? Too heavy.

A boar? Too subtle.

A bear? Though they were rare in these parts.

A pair of wood pigeons burst suddenly from a tree, their wings beating in a desperate flight. The girl felt her heart fly off with them.

Suddenly something touched her on her arm and she whirled about, arrow at the ready.

“Papa!” She lowered the bow.

“Hush, Atalanta,” he said, raising a finger to his lips. “There’s something out there.” His weather-browned face creased with concern. “Something big.”

“I know,” she whispered back, realizing she did know. “I think it may be stalking me. What is it?”

His eyes narrowed, and his fingers clenched tightly around the shaft of his long hunting spear. “I don’t know. I found some spoor in the woods. Nothing I recognize.”

She thought, Nothing he recognizes? How can that be? Her father knew every inch of the forest. He was a great hunter. Perhaps the greatest. She found herself shivering.