“Many years before the fall of Troy,” Louis intoned solemnly, “there were three wicked sisters called the Gorgons. They had snakes instead of hair on their heads, and anyone who gazed upon them was turned instantly into stone.”
Behind him the curtain was slowly opening. Two panels about the size of doors, ornately decorated with fading paint and flaking gilt, stood side by side with one panel set slightly behind the other.
“Greek mythology tells us that one of these sisters, the one named Medusa, was killed by Perseus with the aid of magic sandals that let him fly and a magic cap that made him invisible. Perhaps this tale is true and perhaps it isn’t. Maybe the Gorgon you are about to see isn’t Medusa, but one of her sisters. I do not know, because she will not speak.”
Louis stepped toward the panels. Jack grabbed Finney’s arm. “Did you hear, Finney? He said it might not be Medusa.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay if it’s one of her sisters instead.”
Louis put his hand on the farther panel and turned it slowly. There was a brilliant flash as the lights caught in the mirror on the reverse side. When the panel stopped moving, they could see, reflected in the mirror, the woman standing behind the forward panel. The audience hummed appreciatively.
The woman’s reflection glared at them. She wore a dark robe that fell straight from her shoulders to the floor. Her arms were rigid at her sides. On her head, instead of hair, was a writhing mass of foot-long green snakes. They coiled and looped in agitation, as if trying to escape the bondage of the woman’s skull.
Finney and Jack stared, transfixed.
Francine cringed. “Yaaah! Those snakes look real!” She shivered and put her knuckles against her mouth.
“That woman must be nuts, lettin’ ’em put real snakes on her head,” Rose said.
Louis looked speculatively at the audience, then turned the panel back to its original position. He walked to the front of the stage as the curtain closed. The applause was polite.
Harold looked at his sister. “Well? Medusa was just as phony as Electro, but I’ll admit that was a pretty good touch, using real snakes instead of rubber ones.”
Francine shivered again and made a little noise through her nose.
Louis held up his hands. “We stay with Greek mythology for the next part of the Wonder Show.”
Rose reached over and poked Francine. “Here he comes, Francine. Watch out.”
Francine put her hands over her face to hide her blushes. “Oh, Rose, you’re so wicked!”
“The Greek god Poseidon,” Louis said scholarly, “gave a wonderfully beautiful bull to Minos, the king of Crete, for Minos to sacrifice to him, but Minos could not bear to slay the beautiful animal and, instead, kept it for himself. To punish him for his betrayal, Poseidon caused Minos’ wife, Pasiphae, to fall madly in love with the bull. Do not be shocked, ladies.” Louis smiled comfortingly. “This happened many thousands of years before Christianity. The son of Pasiphae and the bull was a monster, half bull, half human—the Minotaur!”
The curtains swept open with a rattle. There were shocked, disapproving gasps from some in the audience, a rumble of excited comments from others, and titters of embarrassment from some of the girls at the sheer masculinity standing before them.
The Minotaur’s resemblance to the painting on the caravan was only superficial. He was a tall, powerfully muscled man, wearing only a loincloth. He did not have the head of a bull, but had long, bushy hair and horns sprouting from either side of his head. His face was slightly elongated, with only a suggestion of bovine features.
He stepped forward. His muscles rippled like bronze satin. His cloven hoofs clumped loudly on the wooden stage. From the knees down, his legs were shaggy with brown hair, exactly like a bull’s.
Rose looked at Francine and grinned. Francine was consumed by genuine blushes.
Finney and Jack stared. “It’s him,” Finney breathed. “It’s really and truly him.”
“Sumbitch,” Jack muttered.
“King Minos had a miraculous labyrinth built underneath his palace and there placed the Minotaur to live forever. Every year seven youths and seven maidens were sent into the labyrinth. What happened to them, we don’t know, because none ever returned. Mythology tells us the Greek hero Theseus slew the Minotaur in the labyrinth, but there was only the word of Theseus—there were no witnesses.
“As you can see, standing before you, Theseus was prone to exaggeration.” He smiled at his little joke. “You all know of the fabulous strength of the Minotaur.”
A roustabout brought two straight-backed wooden chairs onto the stage. He placed one on either side of the Minotaur, who ignored him, standing placidly, seeming to ignore the whole affair.
“Haverstock’s Traveling Curiosus and Wonder Show will now demonstrate that strength for you. I need two volunteers from the audience…”
Finney and Jack immediately sprang up.
“Thank you, boys.” Louis grinned. “But I need someone with a little more meat on their bones.”
Finney and Jack sat back down, limp with disappointment.
Louis looked over the audience. They shifted this way and that, waiting for someone to volunteer. Louis suddenly pointed at a man about halfway back. “You, sir. What is your name?”
The man looked around him with embarrassment. “Uh… Jakey Dunlap,” he said and grinned.
“What is your occupation, Mr. Dunlap?” Louis asked.
“Oh, I work at the feed store,” Jakey said, warming up to being the center of attention.
“And how much do you weigh, Mr. Dunlap?”
“Oh, about two hundred and forty pounds, give or take.”
“Thank you, sir. Is there anyone in the audience who weighs more?”
“Here!” a voice brayed near the rear of the tent.
“Oh, no,” Sonny moaned dramatically and hunched over with his hands on the back of his head.
“The name’s Baby Sis Redwine and I weigh two hundred and forty-one pounds,” the voice bellowed. Everyone twisted around to look. There was laughter and a scattering of applause.
Louis was momentarily rattled. He had never had a woman volunteer before and he was taken by surprise, but it took only a few seconds for him to regain his rhythm. “This demonstration might be a bit too… strenuous for a lady, ma’am,” he said smoothly and flashed his teeth.
“Oh, hell!” Sis Redwine said. “I can out drink, out shoot, and out cuss any man in this place. And I ain’t scared of no hairy man wearin’ drawers!” The crowd guffawed with delight. Sis was a popular character in Hawley, and Sonny’s first cousin. Some said she wasn’t quite right in the head, but she owned the blacksmith shop and the Sinclair station and didn’t hurt for money. She was thirty-four years old and unmarried, and the pet of the Redwine family, though smiles were sometimes strained when her escapades got too rambunctious.
Louis bowed and smiled. “I bow to your wishes, ma’am. Will you and the gentleman come up on the stage? You will be perfectly safe. There is no danger.”
fakey and Sis left their seats and grinned at the crowd. Sis was shorter than Jakey and almost as wide as she was tall. Her turgid body rolled with soft fat. Jakey had considerable fat on him, but it was hard and underlain with solid muscle. Even so, the Minotaur towered over him, and his chiseled muscular definition and slimmer body made Jakey look bloated.
“Give ’em what for, Sis!” someone yelled.
Sis and Jakey raised their eyes to the Minotaur critically and unconsciously edged away. The Minotaur looked at them with his big, soft bovine eyes without interest.
“Will you please be seated in the two chairs?” Louis asked politely.
Jakey and Sis looked at each other and grinned, then Sis made a belligerent face at the Minotaur and turned to the audience for approval. The audience responded with the expected laughter. They sat tentatively in the chairs. The Minotaur squatted between them, reached out his massive arms full-length and grasped one leg of each chair. After some shifting and getting into position, he stood slowly, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging. He held the two chairs at arm’s length.