The Wrestling Match

Throwing off his lionskin, the Stranger stepped forward. Antaeus gestured at vases of oil that he kept nearby and so the Stranger anointed himself all over while, to Art's surprise, Antaeus anointed himself with dust. Oil and dust? What strange tradition was this?

The two combatants stood ready and then they seized hold of one another. With arms twisting, the two swayed back and forth like great trees, both trying to grasp the strength of the other. Ultimately, the Stranger flung Antaeus to the ground.

Art had thought this the end, for Antaeus had been close to fainting and yet to the Gael's surprise, the moment the Giant touched the ground his weariness vanished. Upon again jumped Antaeus and once more he wrestled with the now astonished Stranger. Again, the Stranger hurled Antaeus to the ground and again, Antaeus rose neither looked weary nor wounded.

Immediately the Stranger exclaimed: "A Son of Gaia you truly are! It is plain from where you draw your strength! Come on again, and this time I'll see to it that we fight standing if fall you must, fall upon me, and see what sort of vigour I can impart to you!"

Once more battle was joined, but this time the Stranger took hold of the Giant and lifted him aloft. Struggling with all his might, Antaeus grew weaker and weaker as the crushing arms of the Stranger squeezed the life out of him, hugging him to death as a bear might. When all was done, the corpse of Cruel Antaeus fell to the ground and there was nothing Gaia could do to revive her son.

When all was over, Art approached the Stranger and asked: "What manner of a man are you?"

"My maternal great-grandfather was an Achaean and my maternal great-grandmother an Aithiopian." The Stranger answered. "My maternal grandfather was born of this union and my maternal grandmother was the niece of my grandfather, her father being his brother and her mother had been an Achaean just as my paternal great-grandfather had been."

"And what of your father?" inquired Art.

Giving a smile as he put on his lionskin, the Stranger replied: "He is my father. That is all that need be said. Now, boy, what brings you here to Libya?"

"I have quit the wanderings of my people to begin my own." Answered Art, looking up at the man.

"Let your wanderings take thee to Achaea then." Said the Stranger. "Libya is no place for you!"

Continuing on his way, the Stranger departed, leaving Art to dwell on what he had been told. The Stranger's father was his father and that was all that had to be said. What did he mean by that? As for saying that Libya was no place for him, Art had little reason to argue with that. He could have been slain by Antaeus and then his skull would have been a decoration in a temple dedicated to Poseidon.

Achaea… That was to the north… At least, that was Art thought. Perhaps he could take passage on a merchant ship headed there. It would be safest for him there… The only question was, what then? He supposed he would figure that out when he got there.

Kneeling down to look at Antaeus' body, Art wondered how someone who was the son of Poseidon and Gaia could look so indistinguishable from a human being such as himself. Thinking of the Stranger, Art wondered if the man's father was someone like Antaeus had been. Was he? Alas, he knew not. All the Gael could do was guess.

It was that moment that a lynx approached Art. Most confused by the sudden appearance of this reddish-tan creature with his black tufted ears, the Gael simply began to make his way northward, thinking that the creature would lose interest.