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The Tarn of Eternity

by Frank Tymon · English · Gutenberg #822 · 411,203 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Tarn of Eternity

Author: Frank Tymon


        
Release date: February 1, 1997 [eBook #822]
                Most recently updated: April 14, 2013

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/822


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Worldwide Book Rights
(C) 1995 Frank Tymon




THE TARN OF ETERNITY

(Previous title, "When the Water Lilies Bloom")

by Frank Tymon





The Garden of Persephone

Dry and sere it lies. Where once beauty bloomed, weeds and
briars grow, as grow untrimmed bushes once flowering plants.

They flower not.

Paths meander through the drear landscape. In earlier time
lovingly attended, now lie they under gray dust and blowing
brown leaves. All paths, in good time, led to the garden gate,
its posterns now long whitened by blowing wind and sand.

Dry ditches, ground cracked, dust and sand stretch from the
broken gate. The gate, the fence -  fallen, twisted, even as the
garden.

By day the sun burns harshly the once green grass. By night the
chill of winter coats each plant with killing frost. Gusting
winds tear and rip where once soft zephyrs blew.

In bygone days bloomed here red roses, and pink carnations. The
lilacs' fragrance, the soft beauty of the violets,  the
brilliant yellow of the sunflower graced long ago this garden.

The bees hummed contentedly, and butterflies floated from
flower to flower. Gentle rains caressed the brilliant blossoms,
the verdant leaves. Dewdrops glistened on green leaf at
morningtide.

Of evening, sang the nightingales. By day, birdsong and happy
bird chatter filled the air. In vibrant colors warblers and
finches courted here, and yellow canaries darted from tree to
tree. Flying jewels, the hummingbirds, decorated the flower
gardens.

Always blue skies above, and soft caress of the warm sun. At
times, white clouds drifted softly, released the gentle rain.
The flowers opened wide, washed their bright faces in the
crystal drops. The falling moisture fed the myriad streams, and
cooled the noontime air.

Rivulets flowed with delicate tinkling sound amidst the
flowers. In the clear waters darted fish of brilliant hue, red
and gold. Here grew the waterflowers along the bank, and
watercress.

A pond there was, cool water where swam the ducks and wild
geese. From time to time awkward goslings there swam, and
ofttimes the graceful swan.

Growing there, also, the pure white beauty of the waterlilies.
Their beauty hid a message of foreboding. A message, by the
Gods' grace, that Persephone could not read.

Here dwelt peace and tranquillity, rest from toil, relief from
care.

Here walked, with gentle grace of fawn, Persephone in happier
days. The beauty of the flowers faded in comparison to her
beauty. Bright eyed, smooth skinned, lips the color and softness
of the rose petals she added beauty to the already beautiful.
The happy chatter of the birds was lost in the happy laughter of
this child. Here she tended her flowers with loving care,
dreamed the dreams of youth - and blissfully knew nought of the
trials to come.

Bird music filled the air, each performer more talented than
the other. Nature painted the garden with hues beyond man's ken.
Persephone danced in joy beneath the warm sun, sang with the
birds.

Ceres watched with happy smile, her daughter.

Yet felt the chill of premonition.

Such was the Garden of Persephone.

And that, long since.



The Garden of Pluto

Darkness!

Not the gentle poetic darkness of a summer evening, softly
hiding the courting rites of youth, bringing  peace and rest to
a tired world. Nor the friendly shadow one finds in the depth of
quiet forest, sheltered from the noonday sun.

The darkness of Hades has nought in common with these.

Clasp your hands before your eyes, pressing close against your
lids. Open wide your eyes and try to see. Feel the absolute
darkness pressing in upon you!

This the darkness of Hades. A darkness that presses on your
very eyes. And more! A darkness that envelopes mind and soul! An
unending and solid darkness, not of this world.

This is the darkness of Hades! This is the darkness of the
damned!

In Pluto's garden, earth's flowers do not grow. Yet grow there
plants.

Strange, distorted semblances of earthly growth, they twist and
writhe. They search for a non-existent sun, thirst for never
falling water. The roses thorns have, yet have they not the
blossoms.

Yet is there beauty.

The mystic asphodel here grows. With blossoms seen, now unseen,
hues rainbow inspired. Waxlike and translucent they grow in
abundance in this, the abode of the dead. They bloom in the deep
night of Hades, their aroma rousing hopeless hope, and forlorn
memories. The fragrance clashes with the evil ambiance of
eternal misery. Trampled 'neath the hooves of Pluto's chargers,
yet they ever rise again. Their strange beauty carpets the
pastures of Hades. Their gentle perfume permeates the fields and
streams of hell.

In Persephone's garden do gentle streams trickle.

Not so in Hades.

Here flows the Styx, the River of Hate, nine times round the
infernal region, dark waters flooded with ancient mysteries. The
Acheron, the Mother of Sorrows, carrying in its stream  the woes
of all mankind, merges with the darker waters of the Cocytus,
land of the doomed wanderer. Here even the waves and ripples cry
out, and none but Charon dare the fearsome tide.

Phlegethon flows here. Cooling water, water to assuage one's
thirst, to cool one's brow?

No!

Fire! Liquid fire! With consistency of molten lava the glowing
red stream burns all within its path.

And here also Lethe. The one good gift in all of Hades. A
draught from the stream cleanses the mind of all remembrances.
The evil acts, regretted, are no more. The rare acts of
kindness, bright gems in memory, fade. What was, what might have
been, washed away by this one blessed draught. Even, 'tis said,
gentle Lethean dews bring blessed forgetfulness, release from
love lost, sin committed.

The mighty rivers flow, and in the depth of Hades merge into a
thunderous stream. Dense dark  fog rises from that surface, more
black than gray, then fades to rise again. Here, midst meadows
of asphodels, the monstrous stream surges and pounds in a huge
moat, guardian to the great castle.

A moat deep and broad, home of fabled creatures, forbidding and
dark. From its surface exudes pestilential odors, and a drop of
malignant liquid from its depths, extracted from time to time,
spreads all repugnant ills upon the world. The misery of
cholera, the evil plague, unnamed and unknown diseases are its
behest to mankind.

That castle, the centerpiece of the Garden of Pluto, rises high
and majestic upon the far shore beyond the turbulent moat. Its
design, a strange and fascinating beauty, both attracts and
repels. Turrets rise - and yet they waver in one's vision, fade,
and rise again. From windows shine light of fire within,
replaced at times by grotesque shadows on the panes.

The walls of purest white as though purity dwelt therein. A
drawbridge, extending well above the angry waters below. Huge
chains, cold and foreboding, wait patiently to lift its massive
weight. A door, broad and tall, dark, blocks rather than
welcomes the visitor. Above that door gargoyles of weird design
look down. Living, or hewn from stone, they cast a spell of evil
on all who pass this portal.

Within the guests of Pluto enjoy the viands from the far
reaches of  earth. Wines to challenge even the nectar of
Olympus. Their bouquet ethereal and light, they entice and
capture. Food both delicate and strong. Strong meaty tastes, and
gentle taste of  dainty herbs. Spices, strange and delicate
fruits. Music and song and dance, with cymbals, and stringed
instruments, and drums. With singers whose beauty rivals the
beauty of their song. And dancers nimble as wild goat, smooth
and gracious as swan. All these and more - for Pluto has on call
the most brilliant of entertainers.

Poets read their masterpieces, novelists theirs. Artists
display their paintings, statues. Musicians play with infinite
skill. Nothing is lacking, for all  are on call in this kingdom.
Every art is represented here. Brilliance is not rare. Nor is
beauty.

Conversation is gay and never ending. Humor of all sorts is
heard. Skits are performed to thunderous applause. Joy and good
cheer abound. Laughter fills the halls again and again.

The dances are spirited, with happy couples moving in perfect
timing with the music of world famous bands.

Pluto looks on the festivities, notes when interest fades,
introduces new diversions, keeps the activity ever moving, ever
exciting.

Yet with his best efforts, at times, the sound of revelry
fades. From out the walls, from beyond the moat, the moans and
lamentations, screams of never-ending pain, weeping. Misery lies
without. And all the charades within the castle walls cannot
disguise that this is, indeed, the abode of the damned. Always,
like a blanket of gloom, reality envelopes that great castle.

And finally, in the early morning hours, the guests are
spirited back to their earthly abodes. The musicians put away
their instruments, the entertainers retreat to their dressing
rooms, the great hall is cleaned, and all who have catered the
festivities return once more to their fated punishment.

Only Pluto remains, seated, dour and melancholy, on the great
throne.

No bright and lilting music, no gay conversation, no happy
laughter masks the lamentations from without.

The party is over!

This is the Garden of Pluto.



The Garden of Persephone, unattended, lies in waste.

The Garden of Pluto endures, tended by slaves who dream of
emancipation - and labor eternally.

The Garden of Pluto endures  - today, tomorrow, forever!

1. Beginning

"Demo, Listen!" Petulant anger was in her voice.

"He's chasing the chickens again! You really must do something
about that dog. Hurry, now, before he catches one." His mother's
usually calm mien had disappeared. She had raised a fine flock
of chickens and was proud of every one. To her chagrin, Rough
had acquired a taste for chickens.

"Rough, leave them be! Come here!"

The dog at first wagged its tail, then let it droop between its
legs as it noted the tone of voice. Slowly it approached, its
head hung low, expectant of punishment.

"Rough, I am the greatest hunter in the village. No, I am the
greatest hunter in the whole of Greece. None but I can draw this
bow. None but I can hit the mark, time after time. None can
shoot an arrow for such a distance!"

His mother smiled. Only 17, yet with the assurance of youth, he
boasted of his skill. Well might he do so. For years his bow and
arrows had fed them well. Today he would foray in search of
deer.

"And you! All you can hunt is chickens! Well, you are growing.
Soon I'll take you with me on the hunt. And we'll hunt deer, and
bear, and . . . Well, anyway, not chickens. You hear me, pup?"
Demo rubbed its head with both hands, patted the animal.

Rough licked his palm, followed him into the house, tail
wagging.

"Lucky for you, dog, that you didn't catch that rooster. He'd
of flogged you good with his beak and spurs. Now, Demo, you
watch him. I wont have my chickens killed by the likes of that
mutt." Demo's mother growled in fake anger while surreptitiously
feeding Rough some scraps.

A beautiful dog, with long light brown fur covering his body,
except for a breast of pure white, his looks belied his name. A
handsome head, intelligent eyes, and an attitude of careful
interest placated his master and mistress.

Rough lay down quietly, gazing from one to the other.

"Yes, you are a skilled hunter. I will make ready to cook
venison, for you never return empty-handed. You wont return
empty handed, right?" She smiled.

She stood, stepped to his side, and hugged him for a moment.
Her face mirrored pride as she felt his strong arms around her.

He had been a sickly child. But the Gods had been kind. With
the help of a skilled nursemaid, with good food and work and
play, he had recovered. Now a young man, tall and stalwart,
tanned by the sun he displayed none of the weaknesses of yore.
She was pleased.

His brown eyes, dark hair, and handsome visage were no less
pleasant to her. Soon he would be looking for a mate from the
village maidens. In her mind she had already made a selection.
She glanced at him, smiled.

Her thoughts pursued for a moment that theme. I must invite
Theresa to dine with us. Yes, they would make a handsome pair.

His face reddened at her compliment, and he laughed in
pleasure.

"You shall not be disappointed, Mother."

"No, nor would I ever be. Ah, were your Father Celeus still
living. How proud he would be!"

She filled his pouch with provender for the hunt. Cheese, and
fruit, and warm bread she had baked that day. The smell of the
warm bread and the sweet spread that coated it, the oranges,
made all look eagerly to the meal ahead.

As she tended his meal, frying venison,  he took more warm
bread from the table, shared it with Rough, and grinned as his
mother turned to catch them.

"Demophoon! Shame! Without even asking! Do you like it? Is it
good?"

"Mother, your bread is better than another's cake. Isn't it
Rough?"

Rough barked with mention of his name.



Watching him with both amusement and pride as he stalked into
the bordering forest, his mother Metaneira noted the approaching
storm cloud. She frowned.

With all his strength and courage he was still but a boy.
Hopefully he will find a dry cave to shelter in. The rains will
be heavy, the winds strong.

Even in the best of weather she felt concern when he went on
his sojourns. Too many hunters had gone out, not to return. The
Gods of the Forest did not take kindly to wanderers. And they
protected their own.

A chill ran along her back, and she shivered.

"Rough, I shall be glad when you can go with him. He may well
need your aid one day."

She did not realize how prophetic were her words.



Leaving their home he strode rapidly through the open forest of
oak trees. Soon the land began to rise. He climbed the high
mountains, their peaks glistening in the sun. The oak trees
gradually thinned, and pines began to take their place. And at
the higher reaches even the pines gave way to scrubbrush and
weeds. Sunlight was beginning to disappear as he climbed, and he
noted the dark thunderclouds, forming in the north. There shall
be weather by nightfall, he thought.

"The deer will sense it. They will be searching for shelter.
And I know the grove where they will congregate, waiting for the
storm to pass." He voiced the words even as they came to mind.

It was a habit formed of living a lonely life. Since he had
none to talk to on his frequent excursions, he talked softly to
himself.

At times he argued with himself - now supporting a position;
now, opposing it. Such mental contests amused him, sharpened his
wits, or so he led himself to believe.

"They will drift down to the little valley on yonder hillside.
I can be there by set of sun, or perhaps travel under moonlight,
and our larder will be well-stocked tomorrow."

Today he didn't argue with himself. It was a good plan. He
began the climb to the mountain valley.

Few paths led into the mountains. Torturous and narrow they
quickly petered out into animal trails or ended abruptly without
cause. Man left the mountains to Gods of the forest. Only the
bravest hunters dared their heights.

It did not concern him. This was his world, and he climbed
steadily, finding passage where others might turn back.

The lower reaches of the foothills were rolling and the climb
was gradual. Here grew giant trees, broadleafed under the summer
sun, bare in the cold of winter. Nevertheless, here game was
rare, as man dwelled nigh.

As he passed the foothills the terrain became increasingly
rougher. From time to time a vertical wall of stone blocked his
way, and he detoured on twisting paths among boulders as tall as
himself. Sometimes, when no path existed for his progress, he
carefully and slowly climbed the rugged precipice.

"Ah, " he smiled,  "would I could fly." He gazed upward, noted
dangerous routes, continued his climb. Panting from his efforts
he progressed ever upward, soon reaching levels where only the
evergreens grew. And as he went upward still, even these grew
more rarely, and more diminutive in form. A few, twisted and
gnarled, hung tenaciously to the near barren earth, their forms
bowed in submission to the power of the wind.

As he leaped from boulder to boulder one twisted beneath his
foot. The motion of the stone threw him to the side of the
trail, to the outer edge of the pathway. Loose dirt and gravels
rattled downward, bounced from jutting ledges, disappearing into
the fog that hid the rock-strewn surface at the cliff's base.

With the agility of youth he caught his balance, danced to a
more solid footing. For a moment he sat down, grinned at the
incident as he gazed over the edge of the precipice that might
have welcomed him. He picked up a pebble, tossed it over the
rim, watched and listened as it careened downward from ledge to
ledge. He shook his head.

"Could have been me."

He grinned, tossed another pebble. It rattled down the
surfaced, bounced outward.

"No, no way, not me."

He leaned back for a moment, relaxed in the warming rays of the
sun, filtered at times by the gathering clouds.

He rubbed his ankle, winced at the pain. "Well, not broken. I
think I'll cut a staff. Too bad. May slow me."

Even as he fashioned the staff  his thoughts wandered. He
thought the deep, deep thoughts of youth. The concerns for
tomorrow. His search for a goal beyond the hunting and fishing
of his daily life. His companions had gone diverse ways. Some
were now merchants, others farmers, a few followed the sea. Some
very few had disappeared into the wilds, destined to join outlaw
bands. Perhaps he should become, as his Father, a farmer.

To plow the fields, plant, and watch the harvest grow. Marry
and raise a family.

"Mother would like that. She would favor Theresa. And I do like
her. "

He put his weight on the staff, walked back and forth. The
ankle was swollen, ached, but he would manage.

His thoughts once more returned to the future. Married, a home
of his own? It was not unappealing. Ah, but he could not forsake
the mountains, give up the hunt! Anyway, there was time enough.

"There is tomorrow, and many tomorrows to come. Time enough."

High above a flock of wild geese flew, their path southward
toward the sea. Clouds, winddriven, chased them across the
darkening sky. In the distance lightning flashed between dark
cumulus clouds. Quickly the rumble of thunder followed. He felt
the cool breeze ruffling his hair, heard its whisper in his ear.
Another burst of thunder. "Close, very close."  he murmured.
"Best I be moving on. Still,  the wind is shifting. Perhaps it
will pass by."



Above the whisper of windrustled leaves he heard a different
noise, the soft pad of footsteps approaching. He frowned. By the
sound he knew them to be human, and likely two people. But who
would be traveling here at this time, with the impending storm?

Rising, Demo slipped silently into the bordering underbrush,
moved to the meager shelter of a gnarled pine. He lay flat at
its base, obscured by its trunk from any curious eyes that might
gaze from the pathway.

Tales passed by word of mouth of robber bands, brigands who
made their home in the forests. Furtive, deadly, they survived
by waylaying unwary travelers.  Perhaps exaggerated tales, but
few honest men dared the high mountains!

He waited, eyes wide, controlling breathe and movement.



"I tell you, I saw the boy. He was young, scampered up the
slopes like a mountain goat. And he carried a pouch. There could
be gold. At least he should have food, and our larder is nearly
empty."

The speaker and his comrade came into sight at the mouth of a
dark ravine.

"Maybe a kid out on a hunt. Or maybe a trick. He could be here
looking for us, with a band ready to follow. They were peaceful
enough in the village when we took only a few coins and needed
food. It's when you killed that tradesman all changed. Now they
are afraid, and they are hunting desperately for us."

"True. Anyway, it was dispatch him or be taken prisoner. And I
say we do the same with this one. I say we find this lad, open
his gullet, take his pouch and toss him off yonder crag. This is
our territory, and we want no trespassers!" He grinned, pleased
at the thought.

The speaker was medium height, burly, and his face wore an
angry scowl. His companion was taller. The shorter man was
plainly the leader, and the tall one listened more than talked.

"He had a bow."

"We come up behind him, end it quickly. His bow is of no
consequence."

"Say, look here. Something's happened here. Look at the stones,
and the footprints."

They knelt where Demo had nearly taken a fall, examined the
disturbed stones, and the surrounding ground.

"You're right, someone has been here. And it looks like they've
decided to stay - down there." The tall man pointed over the
brink of the escarpment toward the valley floor.

"The path ends here, and that's a fact. Well, if he went over
at this point he's a goner. Too bad. Wonder what he had in that
pouch?"

They glanced cautiously out over the edge of the precipice. The
short man suddenly gave the tall one a half shove.

"You idiot! What if I'd slipped. I'll rap you on that thick
skull if you do a fool thing like that again!"

The shorter one grinned. "Ah, it was just in fun. I'd not send
you over."

"No, not unless you were for taking all the coins for yourself.
Just keep your distance. Maybe you saw nothing at all, just
wanted to get me out here where it'd be easy. No, Rooster, I
trust you not at all."

The burly man pulled a dagger from his belt, still grinning.
"You think too much, friend Peter. Nevertheless, I like it! It
is an excellent idea!"

The blade darted out! Missed!

The Peter stepped back quickly, slipped, fell sideward, slid
toward the cliff!

He grabbed the ankle of his companion. The Rooster kicked his
face! Blood spurted from a broken nose, covered the sandled
foot! Rooster pulled and jerked, trying to free his leg, but
Peter held on doggedly.

"Damn you." Peter spat at his attacker. He grabbed a rock, rose
to his knees, still grasping Rooster's ankle. His opponent
pulled away, his eyes on the rock. Red blood flowed from Peter's
torn skin and swollen nose. Peter lashed out desperately with
the rock, crashing it against his companion's knee.

"Damn you, you've broken my leg!" Rooster cursed, slashed at
Peter's rock hand as both slid toward the waiting cliff.

Dropping the rock Peter, too, drew a knife, slashed at
Rooster's leg.

A boulder interrupted their slide. They both struggled to their
feet.

"I'll see you in hell," Rooster thrust once more with his
weapon.

The blade sliced through flesh, hit bone. Peter, wounded in the
left side, gasped, staggered backward.

With a grimace his burly assailant suddenly rushed forward,
slashing wildly.

Peter, leaping sideward, felt the stones rolling beneath his
feet.

Ground gave way, and he screamed. At the same moment he grabbed
the Rooster's arm, yanked him forward.

For a moment they staggered on the edge of the precipice.

It ended quickly!

Even as they fought the ground quivered beneath their feet!
Then, with a low rumbling, the ledge on which they fought began
to slide. White-faced they dropped their weapons, scrambled to
reach a firm foothold.

It was to no avail!

Their frightened screams mingled with the growing roar of the
falling boulders, lasted only seconds. Demo lay still, unable to
rise. The screams had ceased. Now nothing else was heard save
the rattle of falling stones. Dust rose from the cliffs edge,
quickly blew away by a vagrant breeze.

Demo lay still. It had happened so quickly!

They had stood on the trail, talking, friends it seemed. And in
moments they had turned on one another, fought! And now -  they
were gone.

Dead!

He shuddered.

"Ah, how my heart is beating!" He stood up. "Dead, and in but a
few heartbeats of time!" He leaned on his staff, took a deep
breath. "And that's what they would have done to me!"

He moved gingerly  from his retreat.

He listened carefully.

"There are no more of them . . . ?" He glanced fearfully toward
the ravine from which they had emerged.

There was only silence.

Slowly Demo  edged up to the brink of the precipice, slowly
peered downward.

Nothing could be seen save a few scattered boulders  and a few
dark patches lying ominously quiet.



He turned now downward, turned his back on the lonely
desolation of the higher peaks. His thoughts remained with the
scene that had just occurred.

Long he had heard of brigands and outlaws in the high
mountains. In appearance these had looked no different than his
neighbors in the valley. Yet they had destroyed each other in
acts of senseless violence.

"May the Gods keep me! What strange mad creatures we humans
are!" he whispered to himself. He paused, leaned against the
bole of a tree. He felt nauseated, weak. They were not old,
certainly younger than his Mother. And now, snuffed out, gone.
He sat down, his back against the tree.

It could have just as easily been me. He took a deep breath. It
was me they wanted. And they would have killed me just as
quickly. A shiver ran through his body.

"Is life so very cheap?" He looked at his hands, held them in
front of his face. "It can end so quickly. "

He had never thought about it. Never given death even a second
thought. But now it would not leave his mind. A quick slash with
a knife, a blow to the head, a fell from a crag. And it is over.

The only death he had ever know was that of his Father. And he
had been quite young. It had  been lonesome without him, sad.
But he had not understood how very final it was. He had always
thought, in a childish way, that his Father would return.
Perhaps, strangely, even 'til now.

He hadn't thought of his Father for a long while. He knew not
why, but tears welled from his eyes. For a few moments he sat
beneath the tree, sobbing. Now I begin to understand. How
strange, after all these years. And yet he had always missed his
Father. But he had never cried before. He shook his head.

His Mother had cried. He remembered, at night, listening to her
sobs. He had walked to her bed, hugged her, and she kissed him.
But he had not really understood. Now he did. How very strange.
How insensitive we are, unknowingly.

Biting his lip he rose, glanced back toward the escarpment.
With an effort he brought his thoughts once more to the hunt.
Did the deer ever think of death? Was the buck fearful,
constantly watchful for the hunter? How very strange the world!

He began his descent, wide-eyed and watchful. There could be
others around any tree, any boulder!

His concern was not warranted, for he met neither brigands nor
wild beast. The mountain slopes were silent. As though the men
had never existed, had never disturbed the peace and calm of the
placid heights.

The valley he sought lay far below, tree encompassed. The
downward path would be easier. Even now he walked mid patches of
green grass and verdant bushes. Wild flowers bloomed, occasional
berry bushes provided sustenance, and he ate, then stopped.

Here he was eating, enjoying the mountains bounty! And they!
Lying dead, who had but moments before lived and breathed as did
he. How short the distance between survival and abundance. He
thought again of the scene he had watched.

The thought continued to shock him. His thoughts were more
often on material things, on stalking the deer, catching the
fish from the streams. He shook his head, driving away dismal
thoughts as he lengthened his stride toward the distant valley.

"Well, I must be careful. Mother was right. There are brigands
about. My, that ankle does ache. But I promised Mother venison."
He leaned on the staff to lessen the pain.

The high mountains beckoned with promise of game. Above the
domain of man the deer browsed. At times threatened by wolf or
the mountain lions, they flourished still. To the hunter who
dared these slopes a day without success was rare.

The storm clouds were nearing rapidly.  The air preceding their
arrival was beginning to cool. The odor of rain wafted ahead of
the storm. And the odor of ozone, accompanying the frequent
lightning flashes. Drifting downward from the peaks, dark
thunderclouds forewarned of imminent danger. Long rumbles of
thunder followed the frequent flash of lightning. And the wind
blew continuously, a mournful sound at times steady, but more
frequently gusting in sudden fury. The trees swayed wildly under
the ministrations of Aeolus.

The deer, driven by the storm, drifted more rapidly toward the
valley for shelter. They were small, at times indistinguishable
because of the distance. Still could he make out, or so
imagined, antlered bucks among them.  The best of these would
fall to his arrow. In spite of the weather he would indeed be
there by sundown. It would be a good hunt. In his mind he could
smell the cooking venison.



Ceres watched her world with happy smiles. Soft rains nurtured
the crops, and harvests would be bountiful. Bees from flower to
flower flew, humming as they went their industrious way. Grain
grew tall, and every tree limb bent low, weighted with its
fruit. Grapes were bounteous, green grapes and blue, others
purple and red.

Ceres watched with jealous heart. Every seed to her was sacred.
If but one failed to put forth its plant she fretted. If several
slept lazily under the fertile soil her lips tightened in
concern. A limb that bore no fruit, a plant that failed to
flower - all drew from her the like concern.

Yet she was happy, for though man must toil to reap, his
rewards were plentiful. The grapes, swollen purple, ready to
burst with sweetness, soon would go to press. Bacchus would
receive his devotees, frolicking, carousing,  and celebrating
joyful times. For the people were thankful for the wealth of
food their land produced, and gave thanks through their
celebrations.

Ceres watched her daughter playing amidst the flowers of their
garden. Winsome and gay and ever active she darted among the
plants, now chasing a colored butterfly; now dancing with a
flirting breeze.

Soon her education must begin. The ways of the wind, of the
storm gods, and of Earth herself must she learn. The many
plants, their names and their fruit, were to be learned. When
and where to sow, how deep the seed to plant. Harvesting, and
storing the harvest, were skills she must have. Preparing the
foods to satisfy the taste and body - so many wonderful and
exciting secrets of the world!

But, for now, let her play. Her curiosity would teach her much.
Observant, Persephone noted each subtle change in plant and in
the land. Inquisitive, she asked of Ceres question after
question, probing to find how and why and what of each event,
each object.

Ceres watched with pride her lovely child.

And wondered at the dark sense of foreboding that would not
leave her mind.



Brooding, his eyes half closed, Pluto sat on his sumptuous
throne. Ornate with jewels - diamonds and rubies, sapphires and
amethyst, green jade and blue turquoise - it held the treasures
of the world. Decorated with  filigree of silver and gold, it
dominated the room. Or would have, were it not for its occupant.

Zeus and Poseidon, his brothers, were heroic figures before man
and Gods. Strong, handsome, powerful - they were admired,
worshipped.

Not so, Pluto.

Face and form hideous to behold he ruled the nether world. Not
admiration, nor worship were his. Rather, fear!

His appearance aroused it. He stood huge over the poor
supplicants who pleaded for release from this, the eternal
prison. A skin of leathery hue, plated in metallic scales that
gleamed in light of candle. Misshapen form, twisted, broken. A
face of ghastly white, lined with deep marks that twisted with
his thoughts, pitted with pock marks. He projected fear and
evil. His kingdom reinforced it. The tales and rumors that
spread among men, and even on high Olympus, did little to
dissipate that fear.

Only his eyes, often hidden by lowered lids, belied his
appearance. For they reflected the pity and compassion in his
soul.

At his invitation the great castle filled with revelers. Yet,
in their presence or alone, Pluto had no feeling of belonging.
His was a lonely world, a world apart.

Companionship, friendship, understanding - these were denied
him.

And, also, love.

Pluto brooded.

2. The White Owl

Demo suddenly heard thrashing, mixed with the distress call of
a bird. Rounding a bend in the mountain trail he quickly
stopped. Before him was a scene of impending tragedy.

An owl, beautiful, with white feathers, struggled. Enmeshed in
a clever trap it was unable to break free. A cunning net had
extended above the narrow ravine, and the bird had triggered an
ingenious mechanism that released the net. Its wings threshed
uselessly as it tumbled on the rocky ground.

And creeping ever closer, a fox. Its eyes gleamed in
anticipation. Saliva dripped from its open mouth. The sun's rays
reflected from the glistening fangs. Brown and white matted fur
clung tightly to its body. Gaunt and hungry, its every muscle
tensed, it waited eagerly for the right moment to strike.

It crouched to spring, inched closer to its prey.

"No you don't." Demo whispered the words. Laying aside the
staff, smoothly, with hardly a thought, Demo drew an arrow from
its pouch. Notching it to the string he drew the bow.

Even as he did so the fox sprang, jaws open wide.

With a whistle the arrow flew through the air!

The fox, startled, twisted to avoid the danger.

Too late!

The arrow struck him at the peak of his leap. It struck high on
his haunch, cut deep into the upper leg. The arrow's force
knocked the animal sideward, and he fell short of his victim.

Even as the fox fell the world burst asunder in a thunderclap
of sound. The force of a sudden wind drove Demo to his knee,
almost stunned.

He froze in that position, starred in consternation at the
scene in front of him.

Where the fox had fallen an imp stands, looking at him in
anger. It's hand pulls dagger from sheath. The long twisted
blade is raised threateningly. Demo takes another arrow from the
quiver.

A louder blast of thunder feels the air and the imp looks up in
fear. With another glance of hate he dashes away into the bushes.

But Demo's eyes are focused on another, and the imp is not now
the center of Demo's attention. The cynosure of his gaze is the
beautiful white owl. For the beautiful white owl is now more
beautiful still.

Standing free from the trap is the princess of the forest
nymphs. She has shed the white feathers of the owl and stands
before him in innocent beauty. She smiles as his face reddens,
then steps behind some obscuring bushes.

"What, what is it . . . !" he stammered.

Dazed, Demo backed away. "This is unreal. It can not be
happening. Imps, and Goddesses - these are but stories. Where am
I? This is not the world I know. Who am I that I meet with imps
and Goddesses. Enough that this day I have seen death. " He
mouthed the words, but no sound came.

He closed his eyes, opened them.

She did not go away.

"You  have saved me from the minions of Pluto, the God of
Hades. And for that you shall be rewarded. I shall take you as
my husband, and you shall live with me forever. We will dwell
among the Gods, and you shall ever be my protector."

The lilting beauty of her voice entranced him. It caressed him
as the gentle notes of a favorite song. Bewitched, he ignored
the content of her words, merely listened to tone of her voice..

"Come with me. I am Athena, Goddess of Wisdom. We must tell
Zeus. There will be great rejoicing on Olympus. Zeus feared I
should never find a suitable husband! Yet, here you are!"

She reached out for his hand. They never touched, for then,
twice in this one day, a mysterious force intervened. Looking
upward he saw great dark clouds boiling. From their depth a
streak of lightning sundered the ground between him and Athena.
Dust and rubble filled the air, and the ground shook beneath his
feet.

A mighty voice, deep and vibrant, rumbled from the heavens.

"Mortal, dare you even think to consort with the Gods!"

For a moment he heard no other sound. He looked up in awe  at
the darkened sky. The silence enwrapped him as a shroud. Even
the wind whispered not.

"On your way! Back to your valley!"

Lightless, the sky seemed only a black blanket drawn over his
head. The winds once more gusted, tearing angrily at trees and
bushes. The thunder rumbled ominously in preparation for another
lightning strike.

"Marry for yourself a simple galleymaid. Do not anger the
mighty Zeus! Husband to Athena? Bah!"

He shrank back in dismay, wide-eyed.

Though he was silent, Athena bravely replied. "He has saved me
from your evil brother, Pluto. He has risked his life for mine.
He shall be rewarded. Oh mighty Zeus, if you love me, grant this
to me."

Rumblings reverberated from the walls of the mountain canyon.
Finally they give way to silence. Then, with brief lightning
flashes from cloud to cloud, there is a response.

"Very well, my dear. Perhaps it shall be as you desire. He's a
brave young man. Striking down a minion of Pluto alone does not,
of itself,  make him deserving. Nevertheless, he may indeed join
us on Olympus."

The voice stopped, the clouds darkened even more. The mountain,
in the midst of day, is black as midnight.

By the sound alone he knows that Athena again reaches her hand
to him. And again a bolt from the sky separates the two.

"No! First he must prove himself worthy." The voice once more
thunders. "To win the hand of a Goddess is not an easy chore.
But, if you prove yourself, it shall be as you desire. First,
though, . . .," - and now the voice grew soft and warm with an
assumed kindness.

"Yes, first you must perform some minor chores. A few little
tasks, perhaps. Yes, that's it! A dozen or so little tasks.
Piddling things, actually. Hmmm, let me give some thought to
this."

The skies were beginning to lighten. The voice of Zeus had
softened indeed, as had his mood. The clouds were rapidly
dissipating. Blue patches of sky emerged. The dark clouds
dissipated, and small white clouds drifted gently above.

"Go home! Prepare yourself! And when I call be quick to begin
your sojourn. - Eh, yes, I think minor little chores."

It almost sounds like Zeus is humming happily to himself.

The wind whipped the leaves along the pathway, the clouds tore
asunder. And, even as he glanced back to earth, Athena, too, had
departed.

Nothing remained to reflect the tragedy that might have been.
Nothing remained to reflect the beauty and wonder of Athena. Yet
. . . .

On the ground, fluttering in the now gentle breeze, a single
memento - a pure white feather. He picked it up gently,
reverently.

What to do?

What to do? "This is madness. I am dreaming. Death and imps!
Goddesses and Gods. What has happened today? Can it be real!" He
looked around at the forest, at the sky. All was calm, normal.
Except for one thing.

In his hand he held a white feather.

Reluctantly he continued his hunt. There must be food for his
mother and himself. In spite of himself, because of the day's
events, his thoughts strayed.

He blushed again as he thought of the beautiful Goddess. "Can I
return to my hut, live as a simple hunter, having seen her?"

"No! As Zeus has spoken, I shall return and await his command.
After all, how difficult can be a few little chores?"

He thought he saw the imp dancing through the bushes, chortling
in glee.

Suddenly he tossed away the white feather. Even as it floated
down the side of the mountain he took up his weapons, returned
to the hunt.

"How foolish can I be," he muttered to himself. "Even if it
were real. I to wed a Goddess! It cannot be!"



Shadows were lengthening, soon night would fall. Nights on the
high mountain are cold and forlorn. Already the sun, hidden by
the storm clouds, neared the horizon. The sky, an angry red,
peaked through rents in the dark clouds. Large drops of rain
pelted him, cold with the hint of hail.

Yet, swiftly, the body of the storm had swept by. The remaining
clouds drifted high above, each in its solitary domain. The wind
still gusted from time to time, momentarily, then faded.

Tree leaves fluttered as the evening breeze began its soft
caress. In the eastern sky a single star began to shine. One of
the heaven's wanderers, not unlike himself on the earth below.

He halted. In the copse ahead a creature moved. Sensing his
presence it froze in position. A tawny hide, revealed
momentarily between the leaves, brought a gleam to Demo's eye.

A buck!

Demo notched his arrow, waited silently.

The antlered head extended above the bushes. The moist nostrils
sniffed the air. Then the buck bounded across the trail.

The arrow flew, and without glancing at the prey he unstrung
his bow.

As he moved toward the copse a falling leaf drifted down,
dressed in the yellow-brown of the coming season. His eyes
followed it, then he glanced toward the copse. In astonishment,
he noted that the buck was no where to be seen. Quickly he
rushed forward. Nothing! No buck, and no sign of life!

"Not possible, not possible that I have missed! Now, where is
the deer," Demo wondered aloud.

The light glinted on an object. He saw, lying on the forest
floor, that object. An object that caused him to freeze in
place. A beautiful white feather. And beneath it on the ground,
his arrow. Athena will not be rejected!

Uncertainly he stared from side to side, hesitated. Finally he
picked up the feather, pressed it to his heart.

"It is the will of the Gods!"

He returned the arrow to its pouch, rushed through the
darkening forest to the mountain hut far below.

"I must prepare myself. I must be ready to perform the tasks of
Zeus!"



Olympus is a world far removed from this, our earthly abode.
Its laws are not as our laws, its inhabitants not as those of
earth. Here dwelt, from time to time, the twelve major Gods.
Here ruled Zeus, the ThunderGod.

It is said the Gods, all powerful, do what they will, act as
they wish, and answer to none.

Not true!

Moira, to whose edicts even mighty Zeus must acquiesce, had
long before Olympus' birth assigned duties. Assigned those
duties  that ever were to weigh upon the celestial house. Duties
that seemed, to those who bore them, merely whims of their own
devising.

Zeus, forever to nudge the earth, to keep that sphere spinning
in its little space. Poseidon, ever to keep the busy waters
flowing, mixing, changing. Pluto, to warden the whole of Hades,
dealing out evenhandedly to each of the ferryman's charges that
portion of eternal punishment that each had earned.

And each lesser God, also duties had.

Of the Gods only Zeus sensed that strange and ever-present
being, realized that responsibilities had been assigned. He knew
not Fate by name, but knew full well the chores ever to be done.
At times he chafed under their weight, yet always returned to
his given work. Where others might have rebelled Zeus pondered,
understood, and acquiesced. And as these duties were laid on
him, he laid also duties on man. Pride, a strange duty indeed.
Yet each must be proud of himself, of his selfworth. And work he
imposed, for pride comes from work well done. The duty to love,
and to seek love were there. The duty to be gentle, and to be
harsh - and the wisdom to choose the time for each.

Yes, Zeus tempered duties imposed, with wisdom for their
performance.



When Zeus had looked on Demo he had been troubled. This
earthling would, of course, fail in one or all the tasks to be
imposed.

And still, within, he felt the might of Moira and knew
misgivings.

What must lie ahead, not given even for Zeus to foresee? The
plans of man and Gods go astray when Fate's dictates are ignored.



"Theresa, I'm so glad you came by. Perhaps you can stay for
evening meal. Demo should return by nightfall. He's out chasing
deer. I'm sure we'll have venison. Ah, your hair! What have you
done to it! It's so different, and yet so nice. Come in. Rough!"

She shouted at the dog, who growled low at the visitor, then
approached stiff-legged to sniff at her legs. Satisfied he
wagged his tail, deigned to graciously accept the pats the
visitor bestowed.

"My, look how you have grown! Let me see, you're 15 now. Do you
know, I was married at 15. Such a silly girl. I knew nothing.
But he was so attentive, so kind. I fell madly in love. Are you
in love, Theresa? Every young girl should fall in love! It is a
wonderful, sad, happy experience! Do sit down."

"I haven't seen Demo in ages. Is he well? What does he do?"
Theresa paused for a moment, adding "Has he a girl friend?"

Metaneira smiled.

"I'm glad you came. Here, let me get some sweetmeats and
drinks. I don't have company often. Girl friend? No, I think
not. He's too wild! What girl would want him! He fishes and
hunts and disappears into the forest for days at a time. Ah, the
poor girl who gets him for a husband!"

Theresa sat demurely on the proffered chair. Rough lay down
beside her, comfortable that she was no threat to him, or to the
family he protected.

"Oh, I think he is a fine boy. How old is he now? He seems so
big and strong. And he's handsome. He looks much like his
mother."

Metaneira accepted with pleasure the compliments for her son.
After all, she herself was sure they were true.

"No, he is his Father's image. His Father was very handsome.
Very handsome." She was silent for a moment, remembering.

"So long ago! Theresa, do you like Demo? I think it would be
well for him to find a good woman, to settle down." She looked
searchingly into the girl's eyes.

Theresa blushed, looked down, then looked at her.

"I've always liked him. Still, at times he is so young and
childish. He seldom glances at me, or even at any of  the girls.
The other boys chase us madly. I could have my choice, you
know!" Her voice suggested that she expected doubt.

"You stay for supper, dear. My, I like the way you are dressed.
Come here, there are a few changes needed. Trust me."

She examined the girl carefully. "Turn around, my dear, slowly.
Hmmm, can we tighten it ever so slightly here?" She adjusted the
girl's waistband.

"And it is so warm. Why not leave this just a bit more open to
the air - that much. No, a little more yet." She loosed
Theresa's bodice slightly, then a bit more, suggesting rather
than exposing the smooth rise of her breasts.

Theresa, red-faced, looked searchingly at her, then giggled.

"We're terrible, aren't we. It isn't our fault, since a young
man is so insensitive. Sometimes you must be very forward to
wake them up. Besides, I know he likes you. He's just very shy,
and he truly knows nothing about real life. My, my, I shouldn't
be talking like this. After all, I am his mother. Don't you feel
like a conspirator?"

They laughed together.



Demo entered the yard, face flushed. Rough barked joyously,
jumped up and down in excitement. He rushed to his master,
leaped up, to receive a happy hug.

"Mother, I must tell you what happened. I . . . ?" He paused as
both his Mother and Theresa came through the door.

"Oh, hello, Theresa. Eh, Mother, I'll hang the venison."

He cut and hung up the meat while the women worked and talked
in the kitchen. Once done he washed up, sat at the oaken table.

"Theresa is staying for supper. She helped me cook. Isn't that
a lovely dress. Turn around for him Theresa. Isn't she pretty
and slender. My, Theresa, some boy will be carrying you off
before we know it!"

Theresa twirled, blushing but smiling. Demo blinked, swallowed.
She was a very pretty girl. Yet he could not help but think of
the vision he had seen this day, and compare the two.

The aroma of cooking meat reminded him of how long since he had
eaten. The meal of venison and vegetables, with sweetbread his
mother cooked, all washed down with wine he finished swiftly.
"How hungry I was, and how good it is! Mother, you are such a
good cook!"

"I don't know where you can put so much food. Poor woman who
catches you. She'll spend all her time in the kitchen. Well, if
she looks like Theresa, she may spend some time in the bedroom."

Theresa blushed, glanced under lowered eyes at Demo.

"Demo, walk her home, will you. The moon is bright tonight, but
I've heard there are brigands about. Besides, I'm sure you could
find no lovelier company."

They walked slowly beneath the moonlight. Theresa stumbled and
he caught her arm. She leaned close against him, took his hand.
"Thank you. I might have fallen."

"It's all right," he responded gruffly, moving away.
Nevertheless, he left his hand in hers.

"Demo, the moon is so beautiful tonight. Almost bright as day.
I love the moonlight. My, you are so tall. And such strong
arms!" she placed her hand around his upper arm, squeezed.

"It's a good moon for hunting. Fortunately, our larder is full,
at least for now."

"Then you should have more free time. Will you come and see me.
At times it is lonely. I need a true friend, one I can turn to
in time of trouble. A friend like you."

For a moment Demo was silent. He wanted to put his arm around
her, hold her close, and tell her that she had a friend. He
didn't understand his feelings. He felt the need to hold her in
his arms. She seemed so fragile, so small and weak and helpless.
He thought of a young doe, first learning to stand. He was
confused. His thoughts wandered,  today's events were on his
mind, and he hesitated.

"Theresa, we have always been friends since we were small. When
you needed help, I have been there. It will always be so. I
guess I have always cared for you, little sister."

They reached the door of her home, and her father stood outside
watching their approach. "Good evening, Demo. I see you have
brought her home. The pathways are safe tonight, it seems. Girl,
you mother would like to talk to you."

"Goodnight, Demo. Please come tomorrow night."



As she went inside Demo heard her mother's voice. "Girl, you
are out very late. My, your face is so  bright and radiant. You
don't have a fever I hope. Oh, my, what have you done to your
dress. Turn around here. Well, you really shouldn't. Well, I
guess I did the same when I was your age. You grow up so fast,
so fast!"

"Demo, how goes the hunting?"

"Hunting has gone well. Our larder is full. Now I must prepare
the house for the winter season. The winds are picking up, and
we'll be getting more rain shortly. Our roof needs some repair."

"Well, I still need more meat, but there is time enough. Walk
with me a moment, boy."

"You and Theresa have known each other a long time. I've
watched you grow from childhood to manhood. And she'll be taking
a husband before many more seasons pass. What of you, boy? Have
you plans to marry?"

"Sir, my plans now are mostly to care for my Mother. I . . . ,
well, I suppose I shall marry in time."

"The flowers bloom, and then they fade. Don't delay too long in
living your own life. I believe you mother would be pleased to
see you wed. Like Theresa said, why don't you stop by the house
tomorrow night. The wife is an excellent cook, and you look like
you could use a pound or two. I have some wine we shall enjoy
together. I'd like your opinion of it."

On the way home Demo thought of the day's events. Somehow, he
thought, I have this strange feeling. As though the beaters were
driving me into a trap.

"Strange. Yesterday I was child, without concerns." He spoke
aloud, thoughtfully, to himself. "Today I feel so very
different. I have seen death. I have seen Athena. And even Zeus
has revealed himself to me. It is as though, overnight, I have
grown up."

And yet he felt too much the child. Everything was happening
too quickly.

"I need time,  I need a lot of time."

Demo shook his head. Rough came running toward him, and he
laughed, skipped along the path, then ran home with the dog
barking, chasing excitedly at his heels.



The rumble of wheels, the pounding of hoofs, filled the night
air. Through the darkness dashed without concern four great
stallions, pulling the dark chariot.

At the reins was Pluto!

Thunder rumbled through the sky, blended with the thunder of
chariot and team. The only light was that from occasional
lightning. It revealed the grim visage of the driver.

On whatever mission Pluto rode this night, plainly it bore
heavy on his mind.



Persephone sat in the garden swing, watched the night sky, the
gentle stars. A storm brewed, but like all storms, skirted her
garden. In the distance she saw the dark clouds, illumined by
the lightning's flash.

And on the far mountain road, momentarily revealed by that
lightning flash, a chariot pulled with madcap speed by four huge
stallions.

She frowned, then laughed away her concern. A nighthawk flew
by, identified by its nasal peent. A soft warm breeze rustled
the leaves of the lilac bush. The sweet fragrance of the lilacs
filled the air.

Persephone swung gently, hummed quietly to herself. Looking up
she saw a shooting star, a brilliant traveler among the stars,
quickly fading.

She laughed happily at its beauty. Then thought more somberly
of what it might portend.

3. Waiting

He waited impatiently. The days were growing shorter, the rains
were more prevalent. Even now, outside the hut, he heard the
drops beating with ever increasing fury. The pelting on the
roof, the whistling of the wind, and the increasing cold all
presaged an early and severe winter.

His mother was preparing the evening meal. Luckily, on his way
home he had chanced on two bucks, and the first fell to his
ready arrow. And that two weeks afore!

The aroma of the roasting venison permeated the little hut. His
mother hummed quietly to herself as she stirred vegetables,
skillfully added the exact measure of spices, sprinkled on tangy
herbs. Yet his thoughts wandered. Dwelling on recent activities,
his thoughts were not on food.

Had Zeus forgotten?

He gazed into the burning logs, listened to the crackling as he
stirred the ashes. The brilliant sparks rose and disappeared.

Demo strode from the fire to the doorway, stared at the mist
and rain. The weather kept him from the hunt. The encounter with
the Goddess Athena occupied his mind. He had confused and
uncertain thoughts over all that had happened. Was it but a
dream?

Now the winds began to moan through the trees. Autumn has
already touched the high mountains. He glanced out at the moist
leaves, all bright in gold and crimson hues, soon to darken.
Then they will fall. The mountains shall be barren.

He examined the pack his mother had prepared. It contained
several days' food, for he had no idea how long he would be on
his quest. He picked up his pouch, examined each arrow in turn.
Sharpened and re-sharpened! They wait to fly straight and true
to his prey. The smell of the cooking venison again caught his
attention.

"Eat well, my son. When you are called you will have little
time for food." His mother smiled. Yet her smile is a little
wan, for she fears for his welfare.

"You know, Theresa is a lovely girl. She was by when you were
on your last hunt. I think she likes you."

He ignored her comments. He has no thought for Theresa.

"She's a very pretty girl. A little younger than you, but not
so much. Her parents look with favor on you, too."

She glanced at him, judging the impact of her words.
Disappointed, she returned to preparing the meal.

After eating he tested the strength of his great bow. Made of
the finest wood, it drove arrow after arrow deep into the oak at
the edge of the forest.

Braving the rain he went to the tree to regain his arrows. All
but one were retrieved. Demo frowned, for the tree gripped the
last arrow stubbornly.

Rough sat on his haunches, a quizzical look on his face as he
watched his master tugging at the arrow. Suddenly Rough growled.
He rushed toward the tree, barking.

Demo pulled even harder, glancing up into the tree as he did
so. There, seated on the lowest limb, sneered the fox-imp. It
smiled in delight at his efforts to free the arrow.

"Listen, mortal. My master Pluto sends you greetings. You are a
great hunter." The imp stopped with a frown.

"I show the proof of it on my hide," he grumbled morosely.

"Never mind. My master says you shall also be a rich hunter.
Give up your thoughts of the Goddess Athena. You shall have
riches beyond measure."

The arrow suddenly came free in Demo's hands, and he tumbled
backwards, rolled over and over on the muddy ground.

Rough quickly bounded to his side, whining. When his master
rose the whine changed to a contented growl, and he turned once
more to contemplating the creature in the tree. Plainly it
looked more appetizing than a chicken.

The fox-imp's smile now changed to derisive guffaws. "And you
would perform the twelve tasks of Zeus! If you but attempt to
begin that sojourn I shall be with you. I, and my companions,
shall haunt your trail until you fall in misery and failure."
The voice is angry and threatening.

"But," and now his voice is affable, "if you accept the offer
of Pluto - if you renounce this vain adventure - you shall
receive all the pleasures of this earth. Gold and jewels will be
yours. Wine of the finest vintage! Women of the most delicate
and beautiful nature! All you desire - and an eternity in which
to enjoy it. That my master offers you. As a token that you
accept, only break the arrow in your hand."

He shook his head. Should he break the arrow. All the riches of
the world! Slowly he grasped the arrows shaft, bent it in his
strong grasp.

And if he follows the path laid out by Zeus? By the tricky and
devious Zeus! Zeus who has never made easy the lot of the
adventurer!

And Athena. He recalls her beauty, the sweetness of her voice.
She wanted him as her husband - and as her protector!

Suddenly Demo drew back his arm, threw the arrow at the fox-imp.

The latter dodged quickly in surprise, and the arrow barely
scratched his skin.

"Oh, you are a beauty, you are. Ah, how that stings. Master
Pluto has great things in store for you, young hunter. Great
things! And how I shall enjoy serving them to you!"

He leaped from the tree, turning to his fox form before
touching the ground. For a moment he sat, scratching at the
wound with his hind leg. Rough rushed forward, growling, teeth
bared. The fox imp glanced quickly over his shoulder at the dog,
then dashed into the forest.

Demo stood silently in the mist and rain.

Can this really be happening? I have heard of such things, but
only in stories. I was sure they were only to frighten children.
And yet . . . and yet it is happening to me. Why to me? I don't
understand. I wish . . . .

"Demo, my goodness! You'll catch a terrible cold. Come inside.
Oh, you look so pale. Here, dry your head. And wrap up warm."
She hugged him to her, tousled his hair. "My, children never
grow up. Quick now."



Zeus was slowly entering comments in his diary, muttering under
his breath.

"The thoughts he had in his mind when he beheld the Goddess!
Dear, dear - unconscionable!" He stopped, noting Hera standing
by his side.

"Yes, Dear Husband. I'm sure you would not countenance any
unchaste thoughts on the part of this bumpkin."

He ignored the sarcasm in her voice.

"And was he, this youth, perchance handsome?"

"Handsome," he growled. "No, no! You would find him singularly
unattractive, I assure you."

'Ummm! Singularly unattractive. Well!"

"Now, be about your business. I must call Athena, the Goddess
of memory. I vaguely recall some chores of historical note. Some
very interesting little minor chores. Oh, yes!"

For a moment Hera stood still, frowned. Fortunately for Zeus
she was quickly distracted by her maids, who gathered around to
whisper of the exciting events of the day. They left the room,
chattering and laughing.

Zeus smiled as he contemplated those interesting little minor
chores. "Athena, in spite of her foolish infatuation, will
provide me with the information I need. Eh, reluctantly, I
suppose. My, the difficulties one meets in governing the
universe!"

He hummed softly. "What is that called! Catchy little tune.
Hera, dear, I'm hungry. My ambrosia, please."

Hera, at the door, glanced backed at him in surprise.
"Ambrosia, please? Did I hear 'please'?" She walked across the
room to his side, placed her palm on his forehead, shaking her
head as she did so. "Strange, no fever. Please? My, how
un-Zeus-like!"



In happier times did Persephone with the water nymphs play. By
the seashore they gathered. They brought from the ocean's depth
strange flowers, colorful stones, and jewels seized from sailing
ships by angry sea.

Persephone carried with her flowers from her garden, a garland
on her head. With her she brought fruits, and all manner of good
and beautiful plants that grew within the garden.

In their play they fashioned garlands, gave them beauty by
wearing them. The dolphins swam near and laughed and sported to
see the beauty of land and sea at play.

One other watched them too. From a distance and with brooding
eyes. Often, as they frolicked on that white and sandy shore, he
sat in the gloom of the forest in his golden chariot, his four
black steeds pawing at the leaf-covered ground.

Their beauty he coveted.

And above all he desired Persephone!



4. The First Quest

He lay in bed, awake. It was morning, but morning  dark and
gloomy. He could hardly see the doorway. The rain fell steadily,
the wind gusting, falling, then gusting once again. The air was
damp, cold, and clothes and bedclothes were soaked with moisture
from the humidity. He shivered, curled up tightly against the
cold.

Still, Rough tugged at the blankets as day broke, eager for his
master's company. Reluctantly Demo shooed the dog away, tucked
the covers more closely around himself.

"Well, mother, I shall sleep in this morning. Even Zeus is
hardly up and about on a day like this."

It was the wrong thing to say.

The rain suddenly increased, the wind grew stronger, and the
door flew open. Rough began barking excitedly, moved cautiously
toward the open door. As the rain blew in he retreated nearer
his master. Demo rose quickly to shut the door, but not before
a dark object blew in, fell upon the floor. Quickly Rough seized
it between his teeth, shook it from side to side.

"Hey, easy there." Demo approached the dog cautiously. In his
mouth Rough held A thin leather sheet. And burned on its surface
were some words. Slowly Demo deciphered them.

"The race is to the swift. Sometimes. Be at the Temple of Mars
at sundown. The white feather must . . . ."

He could not make out the rest. The heavy rain had soaked the
material, and the remaining words were smudged beyond
recognition.

Zeus! It could have come from no other!

"Mother, I must go quickly. Why the temple of Mars? There is no
way to reach it by sundown. Still, I must try."

She looked at the falling rain, thought to detain him. Finally
she sighed, quickly put more and fresher food in his pouch.
"Perhaps you should take the white feather. And do be careful. I
had a bad dream last night. I shall not repeat to you, but
beware of that which you cannot see."

She hugged him.

In spite of the rain he smiled. The first task was begun.

The race is to the swift. Sometimes.

What strange words these.

And to reach the temple of Mars by sundown! Beyond the ability
of any mortal.

Still, perhaps, if he could float on the swift waters of the
churning river it might be possible. The falling rain had turned
the gentle stream into thunderous torrents. And even as he
looked a huge tree floated down the stream, twisting and
rolling.

There seemed no other option. Quickly he located two fallen
logs, pried them slowly to the waters edge. There he knotted
vines around them, forming a single platform. Finally, with a
deep breath, he forced them off the bank into the stream.

Almost too late he waded out. The cold mud sucked at his feet,
the angry water stormed at his thighs. He  leaped atop the
nearest log, slipped, fell across the logs awkwardly. He was on
his way to the temple of Mars!

What chance of success he had was quickly spoiled.

When he clambered onto the raft his pouch had opened. A sudden
gust of wind picked up the white feather, wafted it quickly
beyond his reach. In seconds it landed on the raging waters,
quickly disappeared from sight.

Rough bounded along the shore, barking furiously. He badly
wanted to board the raft, yet feared to dare the sullen waters.
Finally, as the raft moved to the stream's center the dog
stopped, whined, its tail between its legs. The dog shivered as
though in fear, then slowly turned to wend its way home.

Demo watched with regret as the Rough quickly disappeared in
the midst of the heavy rain shower. "Perhaps I should have taken
you with me. No, you must stay home, protect Mother."

Demo smiled. With a sigh he braced himself on the logs as the
tumultuous stream tossed the frail craft from side to side. What
a wonderful start he was making to perform the required  tasks
of Zeus!

The white feather, lost to the wind and the rain! And his
chances of reaching the temple before nightfall almost
non-existent!

The watery trip, miraculously, was almost uneventful. Almost.

As the raft rounded a bend in the river the water narrowed,
flowed ever faster. And on the shore, obscured by the driving
rain and gathering fog, stood a creature of unearthly mien. It
neither moved nor spoke.

Demo had faced the bear that claimed the mountain ridges as
their own. The snarling night cats that dominated the forests
had stood before him. Of them all, none had aroused in him such
fear as now he felt.

 For from this creature radiated a menace more fearsome than he
had ever known, an overwhelming evil emanation.

Demo gasped, eyes wide. "What is it! What manner of beast are
you . . . ?"

Almost immediately the creature disappeared in the swirling
mist.

It was gone! Though it disappeared from view he felt a
premonition. A premonition that he would see it again. He knew
not why, but knew it would be with him. A constant, unseen
companion. The chill that enveloped him now was not caused by
the cold, soaking rain.

Whether sundown was near, or had long past, he could not tell.
The dark, drear day had no sun, only the continuous rain.
Finally, there, on the cliff above, stood the temple, barely
visible.

He paddled with his hands, attempting to bring his raft to the
far shore. The water swirled, waves built up before the wind,
and currents formed and disappeared throughout the stream. His
paddling was almost to no avail. The makeshift raft swirled,
rocked, meandered randomly at the mercy of the river. By the
time the craft  reached the shore he had drifted well beyond the
temple.

Clawing his way up the muddy bank he found a narrow trail and
began the climb. His ankle, which he had thought healed, began a
slow steady ache.  Rock-strewn, and now covered with silt and
muck and murky water, the trail formed a slippery maze up the
mountainside. Rivulets gouged ever-deepening gullies across the
path. At times the entire path was but a stream, with swift
water washing away small plants and stones.

Midway in his climb he entered a wide clearing. A doe, in
attempting to flee from his approach, had slipped and its leg
hung useless as it stood, shivering in fear.

A ray of light appeared briefly from a sun very low on the
horizon. Time was running out. With a frown he avoided the doe,
continued his climb.

He could not help himself. He looked back, and its brown limpid
eyes, full of pain and fear, held him. Finally, with a growl, he
returned. He approached the beast carefully. Though it tried to
evade him, it was to no avail. Finally it stood motionless,
shivering.

"I have no time, little one. I must be quick. This splint will
hold, hopefully, until you heal." He bound the doe's leg with
wooden splints in place. With a growl he started once more up
the mountain. He noticed the doe following behind, timidly
maintaining its distance.

"Go away. The sun has certainly set. Ah, if you had only been a
full grown buck. My arrow would have quickly found its mark. And
I would already be at the temple!"

When he reached the temple it was indeed dark. The building
rose massively before him. Built over the years, at times of
wood, at times of stone, it had grown from a small shrine to its
current size. Cautiously he entered through the huge doorway.
The wooden doors were open, as though he were expected. There
was no sound. The temple was empty!

Plainly, Zeus had already departed!.

Demo sat down in the middle of the floor, his head bowed.
Finally he noted a white feather lying in an open space near the
temple's center. He picked it up, stroked it softly with his
hand. How like the one lost in the storm!

Dropping it, aloud he whispered, "Good-bye, Athena. It was not
to be."

The clatter of hooves on the floor caught his attention. The
doe stood by the door, pawing the stones. "Well, you have cost
me dearly, little one. Go on your way, there are hunters who
would not reject you."

A rumbling voice filled the temple. "The race is to the swift.
Sometimes."

The voice emanated from the doe!

Quickly he stood up. Zeus! It must be Zeus!

"Merely a little test, my boy. One must be sensitive to
suffering. Your bleeding heart has caused you to fail this
simple task, bringing the white feather to the temple.
Nevertheless, I'll certainly remember you kindly for the aid you
provided me. Well, boy, go on home now. It was nice knowing you."

His head bowed he walked across the temple, passed the doe on
his way to the downward path.

"Wait!" The voice was an angry growl. "What is this! How did it
get here?"

Zeus stood in the middle of the temple, in his godly form now.
In his hand he held the feather Demo had previously taken from
the floor, only to toss aside.

"I know not sire. For the feather I carried was stolen away by
the wind. This was here when I entered the temple."

"Ah, good, good. Then it couldn't be the  feather. Good day, my
boy. Give my regards to your mother - and to any other kinfolk
you should meet. Lovely day, lovely." Zeus smiled happily as the
rain dripped upon him from a rent in the temple roof.

With drooping head Demo once more turned to go. A sudden
disturbance caught his attention. Once more he halted.

A beautiful owl floated on wide spread white wings through the
temple entrance.

"Zeus, Aeolus carried here the white feather. Even as you
required, it was delivered. Nought was said that the boy must
himself carry it."

"Athena, you shall have many children." He paused for a moment.
"And all of them shall be lawyers,"  Zeus growled. "Very well,
technically the task was done. Come back, my boy. Let us
celebrate your success. Here, have a sip of my most valued
nectar."

Zeus tipped the flask, burped, wiped his lips with the back of
his hand. "Here you are. Take a deep draught."

Demo smiled happily, looked at the rosy fluid for a moment, and
raising the flask to his lips, closed his eyes.

He drank eagerly. Oddly, the liquid had little taste. Not
noticeably different from the taste of water. Almost like
rainwater, really.



"Demo, you must fix that leak. The rain is all over your face.
How can you lie there!"

He opened his eyes wide. Indeed he was lying on his own bed.
And the only nectar was the drops of rain leaking through the
roof. With a start he sat up. It was only a dream!

Rough lay at the foot of his bed, eyes closed.

Lying beside the dog, half hidden by his form, something caught
Demo's eye. Something familiar!

Two white feathers!





5. The Gorgon's Head

"An object of extreme rarity. Actually, only one exists - all
others, destroyed. A shame, really. Could have sent out a few as
gifts. Love to give one to my dear brother Pluto. Well, well, it
can't be helped. Only one left." Zeus spoke sadly, noting the
effect on Demo.

"And you want me to fetch this precious object for you?" Demo
queried.

"Eh, that's the general idea. Now, there are some difficulties.
I mean, after all, if it were too simple I would have dispatched
Hera."

Suddenly his eyes widened. "Oh, oh, I didn't see you, my dear.
Just joshing with the boy! Kidding around, you know!"

Hera glared. Fortunately for Zeus she was distracted, seeing
Cupid practicing archery in the flowery garden. "Hmmph! Men!"
she murmured as she went into the garden.

"The object - well, I must confess, it is not an object. It is
. . ., " He lowered his voice, glancing toward the garden. "It
is a young lady whose beauty would adorn Olympus. I would have
you invite her to the Olympian Spring Ball. Not a bad task, eh."

Zeus nudged him with his elbow while keeping an eagle eye on
the garden. "Just let her know that the Gods look kindly upon
her, and that she will be the guest of honor. She can't possibly
refuse. Oh, by the way, her name is Medusa. Lovely girl, Medusa."

Now, what is the hitch? Zeus talks so kindly. Yet he is a wily
one. An invitation to a beautiful girl to attend a spring
festival? Why me? Would not an Olympian messenger, Mercury
perhaps, have served better. After all, I have no credentials.

So his thoughts rambled as he proceeded northward.

And I know not where she dwells, nor do I know her appearance.

A bleak stretch of land lay ahead. Empty, barren, dotted with
boulders it stretched well into the distance. At his pace it
would require a fourth of a day to traverse. He moved across the
open space cautiously, checking behind, to either side. He liked
not being in the open, exposed to eyes he could not see.

Surrounded by forest, the open area exposed him to the view of
foes who might wait among the trees. And in  a strange land any
might be a foe. Wild animals certainly wandered here. And outlaw
bands who prey on lonesome travelers. He looked around more
carefully. Bushes and shrubs formed a narrow border, beyond
which giant evergreens loomed. In unknown territory, he felt the
weight of unfriendly gaze following his progress.

On reaching the other side of the open meadow he glanced back,
and his own eyes widened.

He shuddered.

It had entered the open stretch, crouched near the wooded edge.
Now it dropped to the ground. Huge, misshapen, a travesty of a
man, it lay quietly, motionless on the ground. Though distant,
he knew it well.

The unseen companion!

Demo notched an arrow to his bow, felt the cool breeze on his
fevered face. He drew the bow to its limit, shook his head.

Too far! The arrow would not carry.

He waited, but the creature lay quiet.

"What want you?" he shouted. "Why do you follow me?"

Silence.

Finally, with a shrug, he turned, started once more on his way.
After a few steps he halted, looked back again.

It has disappeared! The broad expanse held now only boulders,
small shrubs. Lifeless, bare, no hint of motion, other than from
vagrant breeze.

Was it but a dream, an aberration in vision?

No! It was real. The bushes at the edge of the clearing were
moving, disturbed by the passage of . . . He knew not what. He
knew, though it had slipped into the brushes, it would return to
his trail. Whatever it be, their destinies were intertwined.

But days ago I knew only my Mother, Theresa and her family
well. And a few others but only to a small extent. Suddenly I
walk and talk with Gods, and Goddesses - yes, and with imps. And
I am followed by something, by a being unlike any other. What
does it all portend? The thoughts repeated themselves as he view
the clearing.

A foreboding crossed his mind.

One of us shall not survive the  tasks of Zeus!

Ever northward he trekked. He did not know why, only that his
feet were guided by Zeus. His quest was to the far north.

Game were plentiful, and he ate well. At times he partook of
venison, at times of fish from the streams. Rarely, he ate not.

After one repast he knelt by a quiet brook, washing his face
and hands.

In the water he saw a visage not his own!

He turned quickly, rose to his feet.

The unseen companion had faded into the undergrowth.

"Come out and face me, coward! Do not skulk and hide, recreant!"

Perhaps a tree branch moved, perhaps a footfall was heard.

Then, nothing.

His eyes widened, as he thought to himself, I must be on my
guard. Whatever it is, it becomes bolder with each passing day.

He followed a stream, a path along its edge. The path widened
as he climbed upward, and at times footprints could be
discerned. A dwelling must lie not far ahead.

At evening he arrived in a small village at the foot of tall,
snowpeaked mountains. He found an inn. Walls made from logs,
with cracks filled with dried mud, and a rock fireplace as one
wall, it formed one huge room. Animal furs, fur of deer, of
bear, hung across from one wall to the other, sectioned off
little bays where the traveler could rest in limited privacy.
Through signs and much nodding and handwaving Demo bartered
trinkets for such a room. The nights were growing cold, and this
brief respite was welcome.

Suddenly a man standing by the door turned toward him, growled
in mixed language at him. Strangely, Demo understood.

"Is he with you? What is he, and why does he loiter in the
shadows?"

They crowded through the open doorway, gazing southward to the
ravine he had so recently traversed. They stared fearfully
toward the shadows at the mountain's base.

A creature, perhaps a man, stood huge in the shadows. It
neither approached nor yet retreated. Even so, from it a
threatening aura seemed to radiate.

The watchers moved nervously, whispered low one to another.

"No, not with me," he responded

"Begone! We want not you, nor his kind. Return him his
treasures. "

The inn keeper reluctantly parted with the baubles he had
received. Two were missing. Demo started to argue, realized it
would be to no avail. Reluctantly he left the shelter.

"I know that creature! He has visited our village before. He
brings pestilence, death. Begone, the two of you, quickly!"

They gathered outside the structure. One reached down to pick
up a stone, then several others. Demo loosed his bow and they
quickly shuffled inside, cursing and threatening.

Demo continued north. He didn't look back. He knew well that he
was not alone.



His queries about Medusa led him now to one domain, now to
another. Time after time, each lead ended without location of
the fabled damsel. Until, at last, in a village on the slope of
the mountains, he received guidance that seemed to hold worth.

The sun had set, and evening stars were beginning to make
appearance. To the north the little bear could be seen. The air
had the feel of coming frost. The great hunter moved across the
cold winter sky, followed by his faithful hounds.

"Feel the air, young man! Is there not a storm brewing? A
blizzard? Medusa has been deserted by her lover. Her countenance
is hard. The chill winds will blow, the lakes freeze over, and
living things shall freeze and die. For her heart has grown
cold."

The old crone rubbed her hands together for warmth, continued.

"Until she takes again a suitor, the world will suffer from her
rejection. Even now, there, beneath the little bear, she waits
in her icy cave."

The night wind began to blow and the chill crept through his
clothing. "Beneath the little bear, then, will I find her?"

"She is there. And she is dangerous. If you value your life,
end this quest. She strikes out in her anger, uncaring for any.
If you go on, beware the great white bear. He guards her by day,
and by night." The old woman turned away, hobbled awkwardly to
her frigid mountain hut.

She stood in the doorway, looked at him intently. "Your
companion, why does he lurk in the shadows? He has nothing to
fear from me."

He did not reply. He knew not himself the reason for the evil
presence.



Game became increasingly scarce.

He was lucky when a rabbit crossed his path. And even these
were few in number, lean in build. Scrub brush served to cook
those few he killed.

The winds wailed, the snow peppered down, then settled in huge
white flakes. At times the storm stilled and he traveled on in a
world where day was night, night day. Across the skies strange
colored images danced, twisting and turning. Here seemed a world
deserted by Zeus, left to the ministrations of lesser Gods.

The world was enveloped in a blanket of white. At times he sank
into its depths. At other times, frozen, it supported him as
well as solid ground. And still the snow fell, wind-driven.

With cessation of the wind he could hear, though from a far
distance, the crunch of footsteps on the frozen snow. Hidden in
the fog or by the falling flakes, the unseen companion was ever
with him, ever following.

Even when the snow ceased the air held a strange opaque
whiteness, as though the world were immersed in milk. At such
times even his hand before his face was not visible. He dared
not travel on, knowing he would circle helplessly in the
blinding whiteness.

Slowly the white out lifted. The barren snow covered wasteland
stretched endlessly.

He pressed on. There was little choice.

At times the storm died, the skies cleared. Crystalline bright
the stars shone down. Still the hunter, now directly overhead
and to his south, marched across the wintry sky. The pole star
gleamed softly, a constant beacon.

But the storm quickly returned.



And then they met!

Invisible in the snow bank it lurked, marked his presence,
waited to attack!

The great white bear moved quietly, without a warning growl. It
charged down upon him, its huge jaws wide. Its clawed paws
reached out to seize him.

Quickly he strung his bow, notched an arrow!

 As he drew the  cord, the snow settled beneath his foot. He
felt himself slipping.

He fell, rolled downhill!

Demo slid halfway across a frozen pond. Thick, fat flakes of
white touched his face. They  melted in cold trickles as he lay
half conscious.

Suddenly the ice gave way beneath him!

Even as he sank he saw, blurred upon the shore, two monsters in
mortal combat.

The great white bear!

And another. One he knew too well.

The bitter cold of the icy waters enveloped him. Through he
forced his arms and legs to move, to try once more to rise to
the surface, it was to no avail. The freezing cold quickly
changed to numbness, then oblivion.



Warmth! He felt warmth!

Not since he had left home had he felt such wonderful, gentle,
soothing warmth.

He slowly opened his eyes, then closed them in disbelief. The
girl ministering to him outshone even Athena in beauty. Slender,
yet with the smooth curves of a mature woman, she held his gaze.
Her face, though pale, mirrored beauty found only in one's
dreams. Her lips, soft and pouting, were warm and red.  Her face
expressed concern, and her eyes expressed compassion.

Her hands lightly massaged his body, and wherever they touched
a glow of warmth spread through him. He recalled the icy cold of
the lake, and his eyes widened.

"How am I here? Who are you? How did I escape the icy depths?"

Placing a finger to her lips, she smiled, exposing the whitest
of teeth. "Shhh. Rest. I will explain it all, in good time."

Even as she spoke he closed his eyes, fell into fitful sleep in
which he dreamed he was in her arms; then, dreamed he was
carried in the arms of another, more hideous being.

He awoke with a start as the ravaged lips of the loathsome
monster touched his own. Sitting up he saw no one. Finally, in
the far corner of the room, he saw her. She rose slowly, from
the fireplace dipped warm soup from an iron kettle.

Bringing the bowl with her she sat on the edge of his cot,
slowly fed him the warm broth.

"He brought you here. Your friend. He brought you in from the
blizzard, frozen and cold, and left you with me. In spite of
cold and storm, he would not stay. He retreated into the
blinding storm as though escaping an enemy camp." She shook her
head in puzzlement.

"First, though, these words he said I should say to you." She
thought for a moment.

"The time is not now. You have your destiny to fulfill. By the
tarn shall all be resolved. Strange words, these. Do you
understand his meaning?"

"No, I understand only that a great white beast attacked me. I
fell, rolled into the frigid waters of the lake. I saw them,
doing battle on the lake shore. After that I remember the cold,
then nothing."

"He killed the great white bear. No mortal could achieve that
victory. You have a mighty friend and protector."

"No friend of mine. He has followed me, always near, ever
fearsome. I know not his purpose, but in some strange way our
fates are intertwined. Would I understood it better."

"Why sojourn you in these far reaches. Did none warn you of the
dangers?"

"I journey at the behest of Zeus. I seek Medusa, to invite her
to the great Olympian Ball, where she will reign as queen. Do
you know of her, know where I might find her?"

"Zeus! The Great Olympian Ball! I am Medusa. It is strange that
you have you not heard my story. Do you not know the danger you
face, merely being here with me?"

"I know nought of danger. I see but a damsel of excellent
beauty, and need fear only for my heart."

She smiled at his words, then her face took on a look of
sadness.

"I am condemned. I pass from wild happiness and joy to deepest
misery and sorrow. And those who look on me in my happy times
love me, and those who look on me in time of my distress grow
cold and fearful, and are no more. No one warned you! Ah, Zeus,
how can you be so unkind!" She sobbed.

"Look upon my face, for I am in a gentler mood. Beware, if you
hear me lament, or see an angry trickle from my eye, look not
upon me, but go your way swiftly." She placed the empty bowl on
the table.

"Do you see these glistening white walls? They were formed at a
time when I felt the miseries of the world upon me. The
glaciers, the icebergs, the frozen wastes - all these I formed.
At times, when I bask in the warmth of love, they fade, they
melt. Again alone, once deserted, I form them anew." She smiled
at him, touched his hand.

"I thought, perhaps, Zeus had sent you to me. Yet while you lay
abed in your sleep, in your dreams, I find you love another. It
is well, for my warmth shall not last. Come, let me show you my
chamber of horrors. A chamber of horrors of my own doing."

She conducted him out into the cold. All around statues stood
in various guises. All men. Warriors. Hunters. So detailed, so
well sculpted, they seemed to lack only breath to move and walk.

"These I have loved, and in my anger destroyed. They stand
there, a constant reminder of my uncontrollable nature. Even
now, as I look at them, my heart moans. Begone, Demo, quickly,
for a bottomless sorrow engulfs my heart. Quickly!  And do not
look upon my face, if you value your life!"

He started to turn toward her, but she grabbed his shoulder and
turned him away. Even as she did the touch of her hands sent a
chill through his body.

The warmth was gone!

"Tell Zeus Medusa shall attend the ball. Fare the well, young
man. Now, flee for your life."

The calm air was stirring, and pellets of frozen snow that had
been peppering the icy landscape were now blown wildly about.
The wind mounted in howling fury, and soon the blizzard was upon
him. He rushed southward, not daring to look back.

It was no longer the unseen companion alone he feared.



"You're back!", Zeus roared in evident surprise. "Well, yes,
you're back. Been expecting you. Eh, nothing unusual about
Medusa, I take it. I mean, nothing strange and, eh, stultifying?"

"A beautiful lady, sire. She welcomes your invitation, and
shall attend the ball."

"The ball, yes. She will attend the ball! Zounds! What to do?
Well, it may serve my purpose. I shall invite some special
friends. Oh yes, very special friends! My charming brother
Pluto. Serve him right. And a few other who have done me dirt.
The ball is in the third month. And Medusa is in such a mood
that month! Yes, I must invite some very special friends."

Zeus rubbed his hands together and smiled cherubically.

"Oh, Demo, of course you are invited."



What dreams do children dream?

Persephone sat quietly on a wooden bridge. Her legs dangled
down, her tiny white feet broke the surface of the stream. The
crystalline waters of the rivulet bathed them softly. A
hummingbird darted near the water's surface, a brilliant winged
jewel. At times it whirred motionless above the water. Then
angry at the reflected beauty below, dived heedlessly, only to
rise again as the rapid beat of its wings distorted the liquid
mirror.

Persephone smiled, watched with amused attention.

Another hummingbird approached, and soon the two flew away, the
first in angry pursuit. A tiny warrior protecting his domain.

Persephone closed her eyes, leaned back to bask in the warmth
of the sun. The music of the stream, the softness of the breeze,
the quiet solitude of her garden lulled her into a light slumber.

And as she slept, she dreamed.

Games of tag, of skipping ropes, of dolls ran through her mind.
Friends she had known, kitty cats, and puppy dogs. Climbing the
tall oak tree and seeing the big, wide world from its great
height. Swinging on the swing beneath the tree. The taste of
blackberries, of cherries, of fresh peaches.

The dreams of childhood.

Her mother, holding her, hugging her. Her mother's smile.

Colored stones, and crystals, and flowers. Beautiful dresses,
and grown-up parties yet to come.

A far-off day and the arrival of a handsome prince, a marriage,
living and playing together as children.

Children of her own, and she would mother them as her mother
had done for her. Cookies, and pies, and cream covered berries.

Dolls for her girls, and swords for her brave boys. She would
sew for them, and of a night tuck them into bed. She would tell
them strange stories of magic worlds, and real.

Ah, the happy world, the beautiful world.

What dreams do children dream?



"Grim!"

"Inexorable!"

"Pitiless!"

"Passionless!"

"Without feeling!"

"Devil!"

"These have I been called!"

Pluto sat in his chariot on the mountainside, the mounting
storm surrounding him. Gusting wind screamed, and pelting rain
drove from the skies. The fury of the storm matched the fury in
his voice.

"Without feeling! Then why burns this loneliness within me! Why
thirst I for the companionship denied me! Was it by choice this
form is mine!"

A sob was in his voice.

Gloomily he bowed his head, shook it. Reluctantly he took the
reins, returned once more to the nether regions where he held
sway.

Yes, even the devil weeps.

6. Escape from Tartarus

"Young man, I'm becoming increasingly dependent on you. You
have carried yourself well indeed. Athena may well have chosen a
worthy mate." Zeus' smile was effusive, his manner friendly and
brisk.

"I've just gotten word from the CIA (Clever Information
Activities) that something is astir in Tartarus. I do hope you
recall your history."

"Tartarus? Well, sire, I recall vaguely that the Titans dwell
therein. And that it lies far beneath even the depths of Hades."

"Astounding? The boy has genius! Ah, you must have cheated in
school. I'll bet you studied! Sneaky way to pass a course.
Regardless, right you are. But there is more." Zeus paced back
and forth silently, looking down, a slight frown on his face.

"The CIA tells me that Megalith, a veritable giant among
giants, has assumed power. . . . However, first, let me mention
a bit more geography."

Zeus sat at his desk, punched a few keys on his computer, and
displayed a map labeled Tartarus. "Computer, display the
boundaries."

The computer hummed and whirred for a moment, then displayed
the same map, but with boundaries highlighted.

Zeus smiled in delight. "Pac-man it isn't, but it's still a
great toy." He frowned momentarily. "Beats me at chess. I have
plans for that programmer. Long vacation with my brother Pluto."

"Computer, give us an image of Megalith, hear?"

The computer once more hummed and whirred. A few words appeared
on the screen. Zeus read them, grunted. "All right, all right!
I'll do it your way! Computer, display Megalith."

The computer did some more of the h & w routine, displayed a
muscular warrior, standing quietly, a bemused expression on his
face.

"Looks peaceful enough, doesn't he. Ah, beware! That quiet face
belies the turmoil within. He, young man, is plotting the escape
from Tartarus! The escape that must be thwarted!"

Zeus stared for a moment at the computer screen. He sighed.

"You know, of course, that these - the Titans - are our
forebears. I would we could live in peace with them, but it is
to no avail. Out of the goodness of my heart I granted them
asylum in Tartarus. Yet they are not appreciative. They want to
escape. What a strange term! Who would escape from Paradise!"

The computer displayed a pair of arms, waving desperately.

"Yes, yes, what is it. Oh, I mean, Computer, Speak."

"Oh Great and Mighty One, Master of the Universe, Benefactor of
all mankind, . . . ," the computer began in a subservient voice.

"Computer, cease. I know all that. Get to the point. Computer,
Speak."

"News of Tartarus, Master. Megalith has secretly had installed
an express elevator from the basement right up to the earth's
surface. He is even now contracting with the SkyHigh Elevator
company to extend it to the top of Olympus. Fortunately SkyHigh
is asking an exorbitant price. They have a monopoly on the
elevator trade, so they are likely to eventually obtain the
asking price. For now, however, Megalith is examining other
alternatives. He was visiting the local Ultralight assembly
plant. And it is said his agents have contacted the Rocketeers
Club. No additional data at this time, Sire."

"And now, back to our commercial. Oh Great and Mighty one,
Master of the Universe . . . " Zeus turned off the computer.

"He has already made his first move! An elevator indeed! And an
extension to the peaks of Olympus! Zounds!"

"My boy, my plans have changed. This may require more than the
skills of an earthling. I shall don human form, and I shall
accompany you. The might of Megalith must be met! Ah, I like the
sound of that! Permit me to repeat, The might of Megalith must
be met!" He let the words roll sonorously from his lips, a
slight smile on his face.

"Once considered the theater, you know. Actually, this God
thing is much more fun - sometimes."



Two figures moved cautiously to the bank of the river Styx.
Dark and smoothflowing the river arose from pale mists in the
distance, and faded once more into mists as pale.

The sojourners moved slowly along the river's edge. One, a
white-bearded elder, shuffled along supported by wooden rod. The
other, younger and vigorous, darted ahead, returned, then darted
ahead again.

"I think I shall tie a string to your leg, as though you were a
June bug. Just calm down. There is no danger."

"For you, perhaps not. Still, I know he is here. I can feel his
presence. In every sojourn he has been with me."

"Ah, the unseen companion! Yes, I too note an irksome presence.
Nevertheless, nothing shall come of it this day. Trust me."

Demo glanced at the old man, Zeus. For it was indeed these two,
long removed from the heights of Olympus. "Trust you . . . ? I
knew this used chariot salesman once . . . Well, never mind."
He noted the look of concentration on Zeus' visage. "No real
correspondence. I was just thinking out loud."

Zeus regarded the river Styx with distaste.

"Most foul stream, this. I was in a vile mood when I loosed it
from the bowels of the earth. Unpleasant odor, too. Fetid, in
fact. Perhaps Pluto is right, a little landscaping and
environmental cleanup are needed. I'll make a note . . ."

"Beware, my lad, that you drink not of these waters. Though you
be of the most placid nature, but a sip from this stream and you
shall rant against the world. Here has the essence of hate been
distilled, and it flows forever at the edge of Hades.

They were interrupted by the yapping of a dog, or perhaps a
pack of dogs. The yapping quickly changed to deep-throated
growls. "Ah hah! Cerberus! My puppy! Must have grown a bit by
now. How glad he will be to see me once more" Zeus was exuberant.

His face was that of an eager child. Plainly a wave of
nostalgia flooded his mind, and a wistful smile flitted across
his face. "To return to the innocence of childhood. How
wonderful it would be . . . . Here, boy! Come here!"

Demo shrank back!

The dog bounded toward them from a hidden cave. It rushed to
Zeus, licked his hand with one of its heads, while a second head
growled ominously at Demo. The third head maintained a
continuous vigil.

"Pet him, he's quite gentle." Zeus smiled. "Good doggy, good
doggy."

"Remember when I gave him to you, Zeus."

Startled, Demo and Zeus looked up. Their gaze encompassed the
towering height of Megalith.

"Yes, I remember." Zeus smiled delightedly. "He was just a
little bundle of fur. barely a handful, yet so warm, so loving.
He came to me, climbed upon my lap and quickly fell asleep. A
most wonderful present he was."

"Well," Zeus voice changed, and he ceased petting Cerberus. "So
it is true. You have left Tartarus. You know, of course, that I
can't permit it. I've already contacted the SkyHigh Elevator
Company, and they'll be removing the elevator by the end of the
month."

Megalith ignored the comment. "Your Mother Rhea sends you
greeting, as does your Father Cronus. They want you to know they
grow weary of the depths of Tartarus. They would breathe the air
of earth, drink the nectar of Olympus. Lift your decree of
banishment, Zeus. What manner of child are you, to so treat your
aged parents! Remember you not, your happy childhood?"

For a moment Zeus stood silent, head bowed.

"You weave your words with delicate care, Megalith. I know it
is not for my parents you seek these things. You, who were born
in Tartarus, would have these worlds as your own. You would have
the Gods of Olympus give obeisance, the children of man serve
you."

Megalith reached down, patted the third head of Cerberus. The
dog snapped at his hand, and he withdrew it quickly, scowled.

"You recall, Zeus, when you allowed me to visit Olympus, when I
gave you the pup Cerberus?"

"I recall well. I was yet a child in many ways. Now, I have
matured, Megalith. Gifts do not buy my favor."

"And do you recall I left with you, also, the jug of the best
wine of Tantalus?"

"Good wine it was! A most amazing brew! To what purpose is your
question?"

"You drank of the jug, and it brought you dreams of Hera, and
of others. And even now those dreams return to tease your mind.
The wines of Tantalus will return, time after time. Nor can you
avoid them. Sleep now, Zeus, in a drunken stupor as the wine
works its magic."

Megalith smiled.

Indeed Zeus stretched out on the greensward, Cerberus whining
as he lay down beside him. A smile touched Zeus' lips.

"I have long planned my return. The wine of Tantalus was but
the first step. Now, while he sleeps, I shall roam once more
this earth, partake of its pleasures, prepare it for our coming.
And you, earthling, shall be my emissary. We are well met!"

"I serve Zeus, no other."

"Well said. See this pebble. Watch carefully, then mind your
tongue."

Megalith lifted a huge boulder in his right hand, looked at
Demo with a smile, lifted it high above the head of the sleeping
Zeus.

Quickly Demo notched an arrow.

Megalith laughed. "Dream on, Zeus, for the dream shall soon
end. As for you, blunt your arrows if you will. In a moment I
shall feed you to Cerberus."

The dog growled at mention of his name.



From the River Styx a form arose.

"Hold, Megalith!"

With a start Megalith gazed at the dark and menacing figure.

"You seduced my brother with your gifts, Megalith. I laughed,
for your wiles were of no value against me. You find the fields
of Tartarus confining. Lay down the stone then, and come with
me. For I have prepared a place for you in Hades."

A chill encompassed Demo.

He dared not look at the speaker. This one projected all the
aura of another he knew. Another who traveled with him, unseen,
on sojourn after sojourn.

The unseen companion!

Though shaken Megalith was not deterred from h is intent.

"You have no power over me. And you have no reason to love
Zeus, who banned you also to an inferior kingdom. Join me. We
shall rule the earth, and even Olympus."  Megalith smiled.

"True, I cannot harm you. I have no love for Zeus, as you say.
Yet you have erred. For there is one who loves Zeus beyond all
measure, and before that stone shall fall he shall tear your
heart from that giant body."

Megalith's eyes widened.

Indeed such a one even now waited, ever alert, ever faithful.

Beside Zeus, awake and watchful, Cerberus stood. Baleful eyes,
from each of his heads, glared at this creature who dared
threaten his sleeping master.

With a deep growl he crouched.

Megalith stepped backward, in desperation launched the great
stone downward.

It did not strike the helpless target. It's path was deflected.

The stone stuck not the hapless head of Zeus. For another
bravely placed himself in harm's way.

The stone struck the third head of Cerberus, crushing and
tearing. The dog moaned low, stood still over its helpless
master, then lunged forward.

The battle was long. The deep growls of Cerberus mixed with the
angry snarls of Megalith. The ground rocked under their fury,
and blood and sweat mingled in an ugly stream.

They rolled on the ground, tearing and ripping each his enemy.
The hills reverberated with the sound of their blows.

Megalith broke loose, rushed to the mountainside, seized a
boulder even huger than before.

He turned to meet the onslaught of the dying beast, brought the
stone down. Another head was crushed, and Cerberus staggered
back.

Megalith once more picked up a massive rock. Quickly now he
stepped around the dying dog, stood again over Zeus.

Demo launched his arrow. It fell, blunted, from the rough hide
of the Titan. Megalith looked at the boy, smiled a scornful
smile.  He raised the stone high above his head.

Before the stone could fall Cerberus struck. Wounded and
bleeding, still he launched his body at the Titan, knocked him
from his feet. His fangs closed on the throat of Megalith.

Megalith seized the dog's neck in both hands, his powerful
fingers cutting off the breath of life. The dog shuddered, yet
released not its death grip on the Titan's throat.

In moments it was over.

The Titan lay dead!

And Cerberus.

No. Yet he moved.

Slowly, painfully he inched his tortured body to the side of
the sleeping Zeus. He licked his master's hand, his tail wagging.

Closing his eyes he slept, to wake no more.

The silence was broken only by the call of a raven, flying high
above. Even Styx flowed quietly, as though in dread. The stream
reddened where the blood of giant, and of beast, mixed with its
dark waters.

Demo knelt by the sleeping Zeus, touched him hesitantly with
extended hand. "Sire, wake. The task is done."

Even as he spoke Zeus pulled himself erect, stroked the long
white beard he favored for his earthly form. He blinked, looked
at the motionless Megalith. With a sudden sob he held Cerberus
to him.

"'Tis well I sent you not out alone. I fear he would have done
you in neatly. That wine! I should have known! A devilish
concoction, well brewed to twist the mind of even the Gods. And
say you another interfered on my behalf, your unseen companion?
Strange indeed." He shook his head. "If that one be whom I think
there is little love lost between us."

"Have you ever owned a puppy, my boy. Wonderful! There is no
creature so loving, so caring of his master. Cerberus, Cerberus,
that you should die saving me." A tear trickled from his eye.

"Yes, child, for such loyalty even the Gods may weep."

For a moment Zeus sat quietly, Cerberus in his arms. A tear
trickled from Demo's eye as he thought of Rough, and the many
times the dog had protected him.

"I shall bury him at the base of yonder mountain. It shall
serve as his headstone. Let all who look upon its majesty
remember who sleeps at its foot." Zeus sighed.

"Well, well, it is over. And you, my boy. Well done. Well done.
This sojourn I shall long remember. And though you are, shall we
say, jumpy and at times overly eager I did indeed enjoy your
company. So I may  . . .

"Ah, listen, even now your Mother calls you. Is it fresh-cooked
venison I smell? Yes, yes indeed. Excellent cook, your Mother.
The berry pie that disappeared while cooling in the window . . .
slightly tart, but oh so tasty, very tasty!"



Ceres walked sad of mien upon the earth.

Time past, the mighty Pluto had rode roughshod across the land.
Had seized her daughter Persephone, carried her away to his
damned kingdom.

Long since had she accepted her daughter's fate. Yet she
remained forever disconsolate. At times she wept. No smile
touched her lips. And in her mind a plan developed.

The wiles of women have oft changed the course of man's world.
Even the Olympians would feel that power.

Carefully she gave thought to devices that would serve, to
those who might champion her cause. Finally, in desperation, she
turned to that power of powers.

White-faced, in dread, she prayed to Moira to unravel the evil
that had been done.

Her humble cottage was quiet, still. The silence was such as
she had never known. Even her breath was unheard.

In the silence she received her answer. Not in words, nor in
thoughts, but in a strange vision.

She stood on a high peak, surrounded by rolling fog. In that
fog she heard her daughter calling, but she could not tell from
whence came the call.

She answered, yet knew her voice to be unheard.

Faintly, another voice sounded through the fog. The voice of a
young man. "My lady, you are in pain. Can I help you?"

The vision faded, and she was once more in her little hut. She
sat by her kitchen table, laid down her head, and cried.

There would be an end to the cursed imprisonment of her child!
There was yet a champion who would stand against the fiend from
Hades. In time the one who had wrought this grievous crime would
suffer!

In her mind she saw darkly a deep cold tarn, its face hidden by
fog and mist. She knew.

There, by the tarn, the tragedy would end.

7. The Curse of Cronus

"My dear, it is but reasonable. It is the curse of Cronus, that
even the Gods shall age." He sighed.

"I have, in my infinite wisdom, ameliorated that curse to a
degree. The aging process is slowed, and eons are only days.
Still, aging continues. No, basically, it is not practical to
completely counter the process. I've certainly given it careful
thought. Do you think I enjoy it. Just look at me!"

Zeus frowned, paused in deep thought. Using his cane he limped
slowly to his throne.

"You really shouldn't  be so upset. Look at what it's doing to
me? Zeus - with a cane? Ridiculous!"

"But, sire, would you but look at me! How can I stand the
humiliation. Just look at me!" Venus stamped her foot in
exasperation.

"Yes, my dear, I am looking. Oh, yes! Eh, to be honest, I can't
even see a single wrinkle. Just a moment, let me put on my
eyeballs." He adjusted his bifocals carefully on his nose.

"My dear, you look delectable. Wrinkles! Bah!"

"You jest. I saw it only this morning. Right here, on my
forehead. Do examine me more closely."

Zeus pursued his examination with great gusto, until the
entrance of Hera distracted him. Gruffly he growled, "Well, if a
wrinkle is there, it is a beautiful one. Let me see? Ah, I have
it. I shall send for expert advise. Rest assured, I'll solve the
problem."

Hera watched suspiciously, finally spoke as Venus departed.

"What's that young snip want. You were certainly giving her a
thorough perusal. Which, I might add, you were relishing
mightily."

"The duties I must perform. They weigh on me heavily indeed, my
dear. Venus has detected a wrinkle. Sad, but the curse of
Cronus, you know."



With a suddenness that Demo had come to abhor he found himself
once more before the might of Zeus.

Arrow notched, bow drawn, he had the game on the dinner plate -
and then, whoosh, the forest, the buck, everything -
disappeared. And now he stood before Zeus, his arrow still ready
for its flight.

Zeus ducked precipitously behind his throne.

"Now, boy, now, now! Didn't mean to startle you. Eh, just
release the arrow - No! I mean, just return your arrow to its
quiver. There will be other bucks, I assure you."

Demo turned red, quickly returned the arrow to its pouch.

"My apologies, Sire. You called me at an awkward moment. No
offense was intended."

"Delighted, really delighted, to have you here once more. I
look back upon our last little adventure together with fond
remembrance. Fond remembrance? I like that combination. I'll
have to use it again sometime."

Demo waited quietly. Zeus rarely spent time in empty
conversation. Though it might seem like prattle, somewhere
hidden was meaning - and danger.

"Have I talked with you of Cronus? No, I think not. Well,
Cronus bore a grudge against us - myself, the other Gods. Some,
they say, get mad, others get even. Not Cronus - oh, no! Cronus
get mad? Never! Cronus get even? Perish the thought!"

Zeus stalked back and forth before the throne. His face was
turning red in exasperation, and sweat trickled from his brow.

Already the dark clouds were beginning to form above Olympus.

"Now you stop that!" Hera exclaimed. "And quit rambling! Do
tell the poor boy of Cronus'  monstrous gift to the Gods! And do
get on with it!"

"Hmmm, yes, my dear. Where was I?" He wiped his brow.

"Cronus was furious. F . U . R . I . O . U . S!"

"The boy knows how to spell. Be a bit more concise, Zeus. You
know, we have this garden party shortly. Quickly now!" Hera was
petulant.

"Of course the boy knows how to spell. Eh, don't you, my lad?"

"Oh, yes, Sire! My mother taught me well. She says . . . "

"Another time, boy. Another time." Zeus brushed off his
comments.

"He was furious. He had no intent to get even. No way! Even
would never do. It was his wish to lay upon us troubles ten
times greater than those he received. Even? Ha!"

"And so he did. The Curse of Cronus! Has a nice ring to it,
don't you think. I remember well the ceremony. In deep sonorous
tones he enunciated those very words - The Curse of Cronus - and
then repeated it three times. Melodramatic type, he was. I could
almost hear the deep swelling boom of a gong as he ended each
pronouncement." He paused, seemed to be thinking.

"I've tried awfully hard, you know, to emulate that voice. Very
impressive, really. Can't quiet hack it, though. Had something
to do with his bearing, too." He stopped, looked at Hera and
Demo, and blushed.

"Lift the curse, that's what I want from you. Now, be off and
take care of it. I have a garden party to officiate, you know."
He glanced placatingly at Hera. "Do be quick about it, for Venus
is terribly peeved. Although I didn't see a single wrinkle.
Lovely skin, lovely, . . . " He paused, noted Hera's angry
glare. "Reminds me - to a lesser degree, of course - of Hera's
beautifully smooth neck and shoulders."

Hera deigned to be placated. She smiled gracefully as she
accepted his compliment. Yet, she had a knowing look in her
eyes, and the boy noted how she shook her head.



Demo started to ask more questions, when he found himself,
drawn bow in hand, once more in his hunting pose. He sighed,
released the arrow.

Fresh venison, a new mission, and Cronus!

He cleaned the game carefully, working from habit without
thinking. His mind was far away. The Curse of Cronus - I must
lift the Curse of Cronus!

"Oh, yes, of course I know of Cronus," his mother appeared
peeved. "I may be a country girl, but I want you to know, I am
well read. Cronus was, of course, Zeus' old man. My, how they
quarreled! Some thought Zeus would be banned. And well he might
have been, if he hadn't moved first."

She sighed, added a touch of herbs to the soup. "Mmmmm," she
commented. "It is tasty indeed. Not the ambrosia I'm sure Zeus
serves, but quite tasty. Here, give me your bowl."

"There was a curse, mother?"

"Yes, that there was. Zeus drove them out - his father, Cronus;
his mother, Rhea; all of the Titans. He stood by the wayside,
lightning bolt ever ready." She paused, her eyes seeing a prior
time, a time when the Gods were seen by man.

She filled the bowl with the warm soup, placed it before him.
"Now try some of that. Cronus indeed. This will take the years
off. And a slice of my bread."

She smiled as he began to eat, watched in pleasure as he
attacked the food with the zeal of hungry youth.

"Cronus stumbled, and Zeus raised his arm to cast the
thunderbolt. And then Cronus stood straight and tall and
majestic. He repeated, three times I think, with his arms
extended upward, 'The Curse of Cronus'. Doesn't it have such a
melodramatic sound to it? Especially if you pause between the
words." She once more intoned, "The Curse of Cronus", pausing
dramatically between the individual words.

"And the curse, mother, what was it?"

"That the Gods, for whom 'til now time did not exist, would now
- like other beings - age. Zeus laughed. Still, there are
rumors, and I understand he laughs no more." She lowered her
voice. "I'm told that, even now, he walks with a cane. Have you
seen it? Can this be true?"

Demo ignored the questions. "Mother, how would I find Cronus?"

"My child, you do not find Cronus. He finds you. It is
inevitable. It is from his touch that we pass from child to man
or woman, from youth to middle age, from middle age to an elder
estate. It is a process you would not desire to compress. No,
search not for Cronus. He is not well met!"

Demo pondered her words, the story she had told. Fable, or
fact? At one time he would have thought the former. Now he was
completely unsure. His simple world had turned strange.

Demo began his trip, knowing not the way, knowing not the guise
of him whom he sought. The fates were kind, and he found aid
along the way.

"Earthling, attend me!"

The voice was soft, yet commanding.

He breathed deeply as he gazed upon her. The beauty of Athena,
of Medusa, he had thought, could not be surpassed. He was wrong.

The diaphanous gown accentuated, rather than hid, the exquisite
form of the maiden who addressed him. The face was beautiful not
only in its own right, but in its every response to her
thoughts. Now with a slight blush, now calm and serene, now
smiling and happy - always with an innocence that beguiled and
attracted.

"I am Venus. It is for my sake that Zeus has dispatched you on
this dreadful sojourn. And dreadful must it be for you, for when
Cronus looks upon you the bonds of time will lock you in their
embrace. Yet there is no other way." She sobbed.

"Take this. When you tend Cronus, tell him from whence it came.
Then ask him, must the beautiful blond hair of Venus turn gray.
Once he loved me, a grandchild who was his pride. Perhaps he
still remembers. Give to him this mirror, for in it he shall see
my visage. And as I age, so shall indeed the image on which he
gazes. It is his curse. Let him reap its reward."

She expected no reply, and was gone so swiftly none was
possible.

He glanced at the mirror from the side of his eye. He blinked.
Truly, it was not his own image, but hers. He carefully placed
the mirror in his pouch. Perhaps, after all, Cronus would relent.



One might think that, to reach Tartarus, the path would be
first through Hades. And having passed through that monstrous
domain Tartarus would lie ahead.

Indeed, Tartarus lies far below even the inferior regions of
Hades. Solitary, neighborless - there is no common border, no
entry or exit. Tartarus stands alone. None may enter. None may
leave. To those who live therein its bounds are endless. To
those who dwell without it is but a speck, lacking depth,
lacking width, lacking height.

Demo searched. He found not Tartarus. He found not Cronus. And
so he slept. And as he slept, Cronus found him!

Each night he lay down to rest, tired from his travels. Each
morning he awoke, unrested, the weight of passing years pressing
down upon him. Yet, the sun had made its own journey, and it was
but the start of a new day. He felt in his bones aches he had
never known. The muscles that served well afore now weakened,
gave way under exertion.

The dreams began. A white bearded patriarch, severe of mien,
stood nightly at the foot of his bed, gestured  over his prone
body.

And with that gesture he felt his very bones grow tired. The
smooth skin of youth wrinkled, and his sharp eyes dimmed and
lost their luster.

"Return to Zeus. Tell him that the Curse of Cronus shall never
be lifted. Give up this quest, for on it you shall age each day
as though it were a year. Only the kindness of Cronus prevents
you from withering and dying before the dawn." The deep sonorous
voice ceased, the vision faded.

He touched his cheek, his forehead. Indeed wrinkles formed and
furrows! Beneath his chin a dewlap hung. His eyes grew tired,
and his voice weak. Nightmare, or visitation from Cronus?

By day his travels became ever more onerous. The pain of
arthritis attacked his joints, his breath was short, and at
times he wandered over his earlier trail unknowingly.

Demo noted, looking in the mirror of a calm pond, his thinning
hair, now turning gray. Dark pockets formed under each eye, and
his eyes were themselves bloodshot.

Perhaps, he thought, it is time to return home, there to rest.
Perhaps, there to lie down to an eternal rest.

Each night Cronus came. Each day Demo was left with a body
weakened and tired from the visit of Cronus.

His appearance had become so wretched that he avoided the quiet
ponds, that he see not his image. In desperation he called on
Zeus, then sighed. Even Zeus, mightiest of the Gods, labored
under the Curse of Cronus.



On a certain day, in a certain glade he walked, knowing not
where to turn. His thirst grew, and he noted water trickling
down the hillside ahead. At the base of the hill a small spring
formed a placid pool, and he leaned forward to drink of its
water.

"Not me! Let it not be me!"

The gaunt, ancient creature reflected in the still waters
screamed out the words.

He would turn away, and yet he could not. Fascinated he noted
the wrinkled face, the gnarled hands, the tired eyes.

My youth, to have fled so quickly! The Curse of Cronus indeed!

Night shadows were fast enveloping the land. He cut soft limbs
and foliage to make his bed. It mattered not. All beds to him
were hard. Emptying his pouch he nearly dropped the mirror of
Venus.

He caught it before it struck the ground. I need no more bad
luck, the thought crossed his mind.

The image of Venus brought tears to his eyes. The beauty
reflected in the mirror but days before had disappeared. Now was
seen but an old crone, straggly hair, wrinkled face, bent back.
Still the eyes tore at his soul.

The sad eyes that held remembrance of beauty beyond that of all
beings. They seemed to say, "If I could but forget what once I
was. Then I could more readily bear this plight."

He shuddered, held the mirror in his hand as he stretched out
on his forest bower. Sleep would come soon. And with sleep,
Cronus!

And so it was. Cronus stood silent at the foot of his sylvan
bed. He held an object in his hand, gazed at it in deep thought.

The mirror of Venus!

He had taken it from the bed where Demo lay. Slowly Cronus
lowered the mirrored, glanced at the boy. Demo stirred, looked
with tired eyes at his visitor.

"I know this one from long ago. I see, yet I know not the face,
nor the name. Is this your mother, boy?"

"No, sire, this is the face of another, the face of one you
once loved. The face of one you have condemned to misery. This
is the face of  your granddaughter, Venus, disfigured by the
Curse of Cronus."

Cronus' eyes widened, and he glanced once more at the mirror.
"I shall take this with me. Sleep, boy, this night I give you
rest."

Head bowed, he turned and walked away, fading into the night.

Demo slept.



He woke late, the sun high in the sky. Even then might he have
slept, except for the sound of the sparrows.

They hopped excitedly around an object gleaming on the forest
floor. He rose, walked to it, and they took wing in fright.

The mirror of Venus. Cronus had dropped it there before he
left. Strange. He had been so moved by the aged image therein.
Demo shook his head, picked up the mirror.

In shock, he almost let it fall.

The beauty of Venus, radiant and young, once more graced its
surface.

Eyes wide he glanced at the hand holding the mirror. The
gnarled fingers, wrinkled and old, were no more. The strong
hands of youth now held the mirror.

Quickly he rushed to the spring, examined his countenance.

Cronus had relented.

He heard a distant rumble of thunder, glanced anxiously to the
sky.

A voice, strong and yet soft, reached his ears.

"Well done, my son."  He knew the sojourn had ended.

And then he heard the words again. "Well done, my son." and
felt a hand shaking him.

"Yes, well done. The firewood you were to gather, where is it?
Do you know the sun is near its zenith, and you still lie abed."

"Yes, mother, I shall fetch it quickly."

He shook his head. Only a dream? He looked at his hand, the
hand of youth. As he sat on the edge of his bed his foot brushed
an object.

Absentmindedly he reached down, picked it up.

He found himself gazing on the beauty of Venus, a smile on her
face. The lips seemed to move, and expressed in a voice all
softness the gratitude shining in her eyes.

He smiled. No!

No! Not a dream.



As a child I nourished him. His body I made strong, agile; his
mind, quick. Strength I gave him, and the will to bear pain
without flinching. Almost, eternal life. But that was not to be.

Ceres was thinking to herself.

The voice I heard while praying - It is, I am sure, his voice.
The time is coming when this tragedy shall end. In some manner,
unknown to me, Fate will bring the paths together.

Ah, yet how powerful is the enemy! Zeus himself alone is more
powerful.



No, not true. Moira has mapped the path of each, be they God or
man. And Fate has given me a vision.

I knew not then to what purpose the boy's skills would be
needed. How quickly time has passed, and the wrong done my
daughter is yet to be avenged!

His shall be the duty.

I grow old, my limbs puny.

He is young, strong. My enemy shall be his enemy.

And for that enemy his name shall be Nemesis!

8. The Minotaur

"Being a well-educated earthling," Zeus began, a slight touch
of sarcasm in his voice, "You are undoubtedly familiar with the
legends of the Minotaur?"

"I have been told the legend by my mother, sire."

"Ah, a wise woman. And proud, I am sure, to have such a
stalwart, handsome offspring."

"At times she has expressed doubts. However, it is but a
motherly quirk, or so I believe."

"Fine, fine." Zeus seemed weary of the conversation, and yawned
loudly.

"Pardon me, my son. It isn't that you aren't a brilliant
conversationalist. I could listen to your childish prattle - eh
- to your exploits for hours on end. Shameful, I have so little
time for such pleasures. I must attend to my chores, you know.
Have to give the globe another kick before long, keep it
spinning." He paused long enough to sip at his nectar.

"Poor year, this. Lousy flavor. Must force myself to drink it,
I suppose." He took a large draught from the flask, smacked his
lips.

"Well, the annual circus is scheduled for later this spring.
I've decided that we shall have some unusual creatures to
entertain the Gods. They grow listless and tired with dull
repetitive acts. Dragons, unicorns - you know, all old hat. So I
thought I'd surprise them this time. A jolly old minotaur may
well jolt them a little. Yes it should." He mused aloud.

"Bring one back. Oh, don't hurt it, please. Want it in good
shape. And find out what it eats, will you? Hate to have it
starve on us. I suppose we could feed it nectar and mead. Might
not drink the nectar. This year's nectar is really poor. Not fit
for a minotaur." He took another draught, licked his lips, then
took an additional one.



"Where . . . ?" Demo started to ask, only to find himself
sitting on the ground in his front yard, addressing the air.

"Yes, dear?" his mother queried.

"Nothing. Mother, do you recall telling me of the minotaur?"

"Why, isn't that strange. They had a special on TV just last
night on the very subject. The nasty creature has wandered away
from the maze. No one knows to where. Frightful creature. I
certainly hope it doesn't come near here. I'd give it such a
whack."

She brandished her broom in the air, brought it down within
inches of Demo's foot.

He scrambled backward.

"No one knows where it is?"

"No, sonny. But you stay away from the woods for a while. It
may well be wandering out there. It could be very hungry. And no
one knows what it eats. It really has a nasty temper, or so they
say. I wonder why it has a nasty temper?"



Drat! Wandered off from the maze. Poor security, I'd say. Where
would I wander if I were a minotaur? He sat in quiet thought.

Food, of course, it must find food. No keepers to feed it now.
And water, certainly. The body of a bull, the upper torso of a
man. Boy, I bet it has a strange diet!

I could go over and look at the maze. Might be a clue or two
there. And I better talk to the keepers. They should have a
handle on its feeding habits.

And if I find it? What then? How does one capture a minotaur?
Or keep oneself from being devoured by it? Ahh, and I was so
happy as a simple hunter!

"Mother, I'm off again tomorrow."

"Oh, I wish Zeus would quit sending you on these silly errands.
And you should forget about that Athena. I hear she has a
vicious temper. Now Theresa, she is such a lovely girl. And so
docile. You'd make such a handsome couple," she finished
wistfully.

"Yes, mother. Do tell dear Theresa hello for me."



Morning came early. He rose grumpily, washed his face in the
wash basin, and carried it out the door to throw away the water.

He paused to look up at the stars, still brilliant in a dark
sky. Orion was low in the sky, and seemed to be pointing toward
the ocean's shore.

Perhaps it is an omen, he thought. I shall trek to the ocean.
After all, the minotaur may have plans to leave our land for one
more to his - it's - liking.

Demo tossed the water out into the darkness, heard it splash,
then a sudden sputtering and words not fit for ears of a young
man.

"Watch what you are about. If Pluto weren't so concerned I'd
just quit this foolishness." The fox imp was leaping up and
down, shaking itself to shed the water. "This is the second bath
I've had this year. Enough is enough! Going to catch a minotaur,
eh? At this rate I'm going to catch a cold!" He sneezed loudly.

"You'll be lucky to catch a mouse!"

Suddenly the imp was silent. He frowned, turned cautiously.

With a deep growl Rough pounced.

The imp squealed, rolled sideways, and dashed madly to the
closest tree. Clambering up the oak, the imp glared down at
Rough in anger. "I shall certainly sic Cerberus on you! What a
thrashing you will get! Call off your dog, boy. Quickly, now, or
I will send him where he would not go."

The threat seemed real. "Come here, Rough. You'd not care for
the taste of carrion."

"Carrion? Carrion, is it! The seasons pass, my boy. And you
near your destiny. I merely hope to be there when you meet that
destined fate. Yes, indeed! Then there'll be no talk of carrion!"

He looked carefully at Rough, who stood tense and ready at
Demo's side. When the imp thought the time  propitious he leaped
from the tree limb, danced a jig beneath the branches. All the
while watching Rough carefully. Demo held the dog tightly.
Finally the imp rushed angrily into the orchard, growling in a
high-pitched voice while glancing anxiously over its shoulder
for the approach of Rough. "Minotaur, indeed! Wait 'til I get on
the phone to Pluto!"



"Mother, I'm off to Minos. I want to see where the minotaur
lived."

"Well, for goodness sake, don't go inside. People just keep
popping in, and Theseus is the only one to pop out again. Must
be awfully crowded in there. If you pass by your Aunt Matilda's
place, tell her I'll see her next week."



He picked up his bike, kicked the tires, and started pedaling.
The phrase 'Minos or bust' came to mind, he didn't know why.
Probably some historical significance, he thought.

Naturally he had a flat before reaching midway on his trip.
"And no gas station within miles," he muttered aloud.

Never trusted these contraptions anyway. I guess I shouldn't
complain. It did save me a few hours. I'll drop it off at Aunt
Matilda's, and pick it up later.



"Oh, Demo, how tall you have grown. My, my! And so handsome. I
must introduce you to my neighbor's daughter. You'd make such a
perfect couple!" Aunt Matilda was plainly glad to see him.

"I really can't eat another bite. You are such a good cook,
Aunt Matilda. Oh, mother said she'll be over next week. I think
she wants to borrow a pattern from you. She's always sewing.
Wished she'd learn to darn. Look at the holes in these socks!"

It took some time to extricate himself from the enthusiastic
welcome of his Aunt. Eventually he left the bike in the garage
next to the chariot, bade her a fond farewell, and hurried on
his way. He'd be lucky to reach the maze by nightfall.

But he did. He crossed over the bridge, followed the winding
path over the ridge. And there it was.

The maze, from the outside at least, was rather impressive.
Huge massive walls of at least a man and a half in height. And
they seemed to extend indefinitely, eventually disappearing into
a wooded ravine. The keepers sat at the gate, talking together,
and glancing nervously around.

"I hear the minotaur has escaped?" Demo questioned.

"That it has. We were distracted. This lady was going by and
she . . . " He seemed to think better of his comment. "Anyway,
we were distracted. It snuck out, quiet like. Amazing, for a
bull. More like a tiger, stealthy quiet. It's sad, really. Never
trust a minotaur. They'll turn on you. And to think how many
years I've watched and guarded the creature. And my father
before me, and his before him. Minotaurs lack dependability.
I'll take a cat every time, myself. Don't eat nearly as much.
Nice pets. Catch mice, too. Of course, for all I know, so do
minotaurs. Nah, they couldn't be that spry!"

"How many stand guard here?"

"There are twelve of us. But what's to guard! He's gone, all
right. Didn't touch his food last night. Of course, I really
don't blame him. The ladies of the Minotaur Monitor Group
required that we feed him half hay, half fish or poultry. I
think he stuck at the hay. So he is half bull. Of course, that's
not the eating half. Anyway, the ladies had their way - and now
look how it's all turned out. Of course, I slipped him a glass
of wine at times, and he was appreciative of that, I want you to
know."

"I'd like to go inside, glance around if I may."

"Oh, no! Zeus forbid! The going in is easy - it's the coming
out that comes hard. None who went in have come out in my time.
Nor in my father's time. Before that, there are those who claim
Theseus went in, killed the minotaur, and came out. Well, I'll
have you know, if he went in it wasn't far in - and he snuck out
in a hurry. Cause the minotaur is alive and well, and wandering
around I don't know where on this damp night. I surely hope he
doesn't catch a cold. No, no, sir! You don't want to go in
there."

"Well, I thought about the coming out again. If you'll kindly
hold the end of this rope I'll take the other end in with me.
And when I'm ready to come out I'll just follow the rope right
back to here. No way I can get lost if you'll just hold on to
the trusty rope."

After some discussion the guards admitted Demo to the
entranceway. The chief guard held the rope end in his own hands,
and Demo proceeded to follow the maze. Every so often he pulled
on the rope. The tension in the line gave him a feeling of
confidence.

But circumstances outside the maze did not bode well for his
escapade.



"Ah, good evening again, ladies. Oh, you dropped your
handkerchief, miss. Let me get it for you." The chief guard
politely stepped forward to help the damsel in distress, in the
process laying down the rope.

Unfortunately, at that moment Demo tugged at the rope, to
insure his path to safety continued in place.

Tensionless, the rope lay loose on the smooth floor!

He frowned. Perhaps, he thought, I've left too much slack in
it. This time he pulled harder. The rope moved easily, coiled at
his feet. Demo's face whitened.

The chief guard turned in time to see the end of the rope
snaking into the maze. He rushed forward to grab it, reached the
entranceway in time to see it disappear down one of the many
openings that seemed to appear and then vanish before his
startled eyes.

He placed his hand on the entranceway, took a tentative step
inside, then quickly withdrew his foot.

"Ah, what a nice young lad he was! I wonder where he can be. I
do hope he starts back quickly, before the rope's end has
completely slipped within. Oh, well, time for supper. Do hope
the wife included a sip of wine. Relaxes one."

Demo looked dazedly at the rope coiled at his feet. The entire
length was there, even the grappling hook that the chief guard
had held so firmly in hand.

He sat down, stared at the walls that now seemed to press upon
him ever closer. Finally he stood up, used the rope to measure
their separation. After a while he measured it again. No, just
imagination. They hadn't moved. The narrow corridors maintained
a constant width, half a man's height.

All the same the appearance that the corridor became more and
more narrow stayed with him. Is there truly no escape from the
maze? How many had gone before, never to return. Did they die
here? Or does it lead to another land, another world? Well, I
shall not remain here. And I will escape this maze. But how? How?

He bowed his head, eventually fell into a disturbed sleep. He
dreamed of searching for Athena, hidden in the middle of an
impossible maze.

At times he dreamt he had found her, held her in his arms, as
she whispered in his ear. Love words? Or something else. What
was she saying?

Demo woke, glanced around.

Day was breaking and the sky above was brightening.
Nevertheless, something was wrong. This wasn't his home! This
was - ah, the maze. Slowly he stood up.

Athena. She had been trying to tell him something. Something
very important. She had whispered so low the words were unclear.
He shook his head, started to wander off in search of the
entranceway.

Then he stopped.

It was something about the rope. She whispered something about
the rope. I better take it with me.



The guards huddled around the fire, talking dispiritedly.

I suppose they'll transfer us back to headquarters. Can't stand
that place! Too many brass. Too much spick and polish."

"You may not be so lucky. Remember, the minotaur escaped. They
just might cut off our heads!"

"It wasn't our fault! How could we know it was coming out? Cut
off our heads? Do you really think so?"

"Hello. Would you share me a bite of bread?"

Startled, they quickly looked around.

The chief guard stood up in amazement as Demo leaped to his
side. "Are you real, sir. This is an experience. I've known none
who successfully navigated that maze. Tell me sir, how were you
able to do what none has done before you?"

Demo took the proffered loaf, tore off a section, and began to
eat.

The guards eagerly awaited his response.

"Athena. She whispered it to me in my sleep. I almost missed
it. Mother always told me, wash your ears. She's right, you
know. I nearly didn't hear it."

"Ah, sir, and what were the words you nearly didn't hear?"

"Take the rope," is what she said. "An excellent
recommendation, excellent."

They sat back in disappointment, glanced at one another and at
him.

"Now why does she want me to take the rope. That's what I asked
myself. And It came to mind that, with the rope and grapple I
could cross the walls, rather than following each corridor. That
way, if one corridor seemed to be getting me nowhere, I could
quickly climb over to the next one." He paused to twist off
another piece of bread.

The chief guard picked up the paltry remains and slowly ate the
crumbs.

"Nevertheless, after swapping corridors for a while I found
little evidence that I was making progress. And then another
thought hit me. Brilliant thought, really. And not Athena's, but
my own. I think." He paused, ruminating.

"Yes, I do believe it was my own."

The guards looked at each other in exasperation. Demo munched
their bread, then picked up the chief guard's wine bottle. The
latter half-heartedly attempted to retain it, but finally gave
it to Demo.

"Save me a draught, if you'd be so kind," he growled rather
sarcastically.

"Anyway, I started to climb to the next corridor. Just when I
got to the top of the wall it struck me. Why fool with those
twisting corridors. I'll merely jump from wall to wall and go in
a straight line until I reach the outer wall. So I noted my
shadow's direction from the rising sun, and headed south to the
wall whereat I entered last night. It didn't take long at all,
and here I am, and this wine is quite tasty. I fear I haven't
saved you a full draught."

"From wall to wall he went. He didn't solve the maze at all, he
jumped over it. I don't think that's really fair. Oh, well,
certainly effective," the chief guard grumbled. "Yes, you are
right, you saved me less than a draught."

He shook the empty bottle above his upturned lips, to no avail.

"I don't suppose you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"The minotaur? Well, the old boy has put on a little weight
over the past century. I'd wager he moved mostly downhill,
toward the sea. Much easier path to stroll, I'm thinking."

Demo nodded. As reasonable an assumption as any other. Off to
the sea, then.



 Demo heard the pounding waves long before reaching the shore.
As he broke out of the undergrowth onto the rock-strewn beach
his eyes widened.

The huge waves seemed almost upon him, then broke, ending in a
gentle flow lapping at his feet. The sea was not the gentle blue
of calmer days, but a deep and angry green. The skies were dark
on the far horizon where a powerful storm built and drove the
pounding waves. White froth leaped high into the sky where water
met solid boulders. And on one such boulder a creature sat. A
creature that blended well with the nature's fury.

The unseen companion, barely discernible through mist and froth.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply.

When he looked again the massive boulder was bare.

Still, something moved. Beyond, on the beach, something stood.

He rubbed his eyes, lurched forward, the unstable stones
twisting under his steps.

It had not moved, waited silently.

The minotaur!

"You don't have a bale of hay on you, by any chance? Or even a
steak? I've been eating this sea weed for days now. Not that
it's bad. Learned to enjoy it while in the Orient, years ago.
Great taste, yet enough is enough, really. By the way, I suppose
I do look rather strange. They tell me I'm a minotaur, whatever
that is. It does have some advantages, with four legs and all."
He reached down and picked up a handful of brown kelp, gnawed at
it judiciously.

"Has a flavor all its own. Quiet different from dried seaweed I
use to enjoy in Japan. Actually, I learned to enjoy it with
sesame seed and soy sauce. You wouldn't have either of those in
your pouch, I suppose. No, well, I didn't expect it. Should
never travel without them, though. Local supermarkets seem to
run out so quickly. Would you care to join me in a swim?"

Demo glanced out to the raging sea. The waves, which he had
thought to be huge before, now had doubled in height. Even the
boulders seemed to rock under the force of the surge of water.

"No, I think I'll stay here and play in the sand. I'm just not
in the mood for a swim today. The water does look lovely,
though. Why don't you indulge yourself?"

"No, no! Never swim alone! And old safety rule I picked up
somewhere. By the way, are you here vacationing?"

"Actually, I was looking for you."

The minotaur suddenly tensed, became alert.

"You aren't planning to take me back to that silly maze now,
are you? I'd walk around that place once each day, and its
windings back and forth made me seasick. I should never have
bought that place.

"Ahh, a real salesman! The Realtor was so very enthusiastic. A
month after I bought it he came to the door to ask how I liked
the property. I invited him inside, and haven't seen him since.
I guess the place did have a few good points at that.
Personally, though, I prefer view property. And I'll certainly
not go back! No indeed! Of course, they did feed me. But hay? Do
I look like I would enjoy the taste of hay?" He stared defiantly
at the boy.

"Oh, no! I definitely have no intent of taking you back there."

"I'm glad to hear that. You see, I've been a captive behind
those walls so long! I want to see the world. I'm looking to
join a carnival and travel from place to place. After all, I'd
be  major attraction, don't you think?"

Demo listened in disbelief, and in sudden glee. "A carnival!
Not a carnival. What you want to do is join a circus. Now that
is the life. A three ring circus. The big top! Definitely, a
circus!"

"I have no delusions of grandeur. Don't you think that might be
presumptuous on my part. A little carnival would be sufficient."

"I have a . . . an acquaintance. I do believe we can have you
as the chief attraction in the center ring. In fact, I'm sure of
it. You would perform before the crown heads of Europe . . . I
mean, before Zeus and all the Gods on Olympus. Believe me, this
. . . acquaintance would be more than pleased to have you."

"Wonderful, wonderful! When can we start?"

"Right now. And if you'll let me ride on your back I think we
can make it in record time."



The gatekeeper was notably reluctant to allow their entrance.
Fortunately Hera was near and heard the argument. "Of course he
can come in. It isn't every day we have such handsome company.
And Zeus is looking forward to your return. He always is." She
said the last in a sardonic tone.

It puzzled Demo at times, how the words said one thing, but the
tone implied something quite different.

Hera announced them. "Zeus, your ringmaster and his chief
attraction have arrived."

Zeus, who was staring at his cups, looked up.

"Poor year for nectar. And now you're back. What else can go
wrong!"



The division had seemed fair and equitable. Zeus to receive the
Heavens, Poseidon the oceans, and himself the nether world. Oh,
they differed a bit in the dimensions, but when the dimensions
were so large what mattered it?

Pluto sat on his throne, reminiscing.

We were all young bucks in those days, before Cronus and Rhea
were driven out. Actually, as parents go, they hadn't been too
bad. Old fashioned, believed in discipline - they just wouldn't
give in to the whims of their children. It finally reached the
point that something had to be done.

Zeus got the word first.

The three of them were to be turned over as wards to the court!

Incorrigible!, Yes, that was the word they used!

Themis had been looking forward eagerly to the day. I should
never have dipped her pigtails in the ink. She resents that to
this very day. And how was I to know she would be the Goddess of
Justice and Law!

Yes, she was more than willing to take control of their lives!

Zeus laid out their counterplan, suggested the details of the
partition. He and Poseidon merely acquiesced. Zeus had always
been the smooth one.

They woke Cronus and Rhea in the dark of night, Zeus with that
mighty thunderbolt, the one Vulcan had fashioned at Cronus'
direction. A thunderbolt so powerful even the Titans such as
Cronus and Rhea could not stand against it.

Reluctantly Cronus and Rhea agreed to leave. Of course, they
pleaded with the children. He and Poseidon had felt remorse, had
almost backed down, allowed them to remain.

Zeus was adamant. He would provide the Titans a world of their
own, but to that world they must depart. And so depart they did,
off to Tartarus.

The exodus went smoothly, except for that little incident of
the Curse of Cronus. At first he thought it was merely a bad
joke. Ah, a few gray hairs and aching joints had long since
convinced him. It was no joke!



Well, well, time had passed. And now here he sat on the throne
of his realm. With a queen yet!

So he had stolen her away! It hadn't really been done with evil
intent. And he had made an honest woman of her, proper marriage
ceremony and all.

He'd never forget her mother. Angry? Whew, was she ever angry!
Nothing she could do, however. Zeus himself conducted the
ceremony. Couldn't be more official than that.

Food was delicious. Persephone hadn't eaten much. Of course,
every young girl is excited by her marriage, wouldn't expect her
to eat very heartily.

Joyful occasion, over all.

Except for two incidents.

Zeus had promised Persephone as a wedding present to give her
one wish. How would anyone guess that she would wish for six
months each year with her mother! Dreadful mistake, that wedding
present. Zeus was a bit muddled, plainly, when he let himself be
cajoled into such a promise.

The other incident hadn't been quite that bad.

Ceres came forward to give him her blessing.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, looked straight at him, and
intoned slowly - "One born of man shall aid her, and when you
follow him it will be to a foreordained destiny."

That was all. She smiled, turned away, and left the wedding
party.

He had brooded long over her words.

Zeus knew not of their content, or refused to divulge his
knowledge.

She was his bride, this his kingdom, and the only earthlings
were those poor souls whose lifely habits had condemned them to
his control.

Pluto, Ruler of Hades, to fear nothing.

Death could not claim him!

Even Zeus entered not into Pluto's domain!

So why this premonition, this uncertainty!

9. The Dragon's Breath

"My Boy, My Boy! Ah, I am indeed so proud of you! Such daring!
Such courage! And such wisdom! Well, I am all but shamed to send
you on the ridiculous chore I now have in mind."

Zeus rubbed his hands together, clapped them, and otherwise
exhibited an excess of glee.

"Yes, after surviving such adventures as that of the Minotaur,
the next task will be rather childish. Ah, well, even routine
chores must be done. I have the same problem, you know."

"Indeed, every day, day in and day out, I must spin the earth
around. I actually missed a day! Gave everyone quite a scare.
Ho! I made up for it. Spun it twice as fast the next day. I say,
that was jolly."

"Of course, the wife gave me whatfor. Oh, I deserved it. You
know, if you don't give it that spin each day, it starts to
wobble. I wonder if I didn't spin it for . . .?"

He looked around for his wife. "Of course, I would never
consider doing that. Eh, well, the next chore . . ."

"Dentistry! I hate the thought of it! My dentist tells me I
need to have some teeth replaced. Ridiculous! Five teeth, to be
exact."

"Of course, I couldn't possibly use ordinary repairs. Gold
teeth, now. I do like the sheen of gold. But, no, that wont do.
Very picky, these dentists. At times I've thought of driving
them out of Olympus, right down to another kingdom! Let 'em
visit Pluto for a while. My brother's very sociable."

"And that, in a nutshell, is the chore."

"To drive out the dentists?", Demo asked in confusion.

"Sorry, sorry. To continue, then." Zeus frowned. "You know,
you've really shown a great deal of brilliance. I'm surprised I
have to explain things in such detail. Never mind. Now listen
carefully."

He paused, sipped slowly from his flask the divine nectar of
the Gods. He frowned, and a large black cloud formed above him.
In a moment rain drops began to pellet them.

Hastily he looked up. "Ah, go away! Go away! Go bother Pluto!"

The cloud drifted rapidly away, darting from side to side in
uncertainty. Zeus reached up, produced a towel, and wiped his
visage.

"They've changed the flavor again. Can't leave well enough
alone. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. That's what I always
say. It's not like the good old days. They knew how to prepare
nectar then. I mean real nectar, with a kick."

He took another sip. "Well, well, one must make do."

"Cadmus. He killed this serpent, see. Knocked out its teeth,
sowed them like seed, and raised an . . . Oh, it doesn't matter!"

"The important thing is, five teeth remain. For all his
prowess, he didn't knock them out. My dentist says I must have
those. No substitutes. No plastic. The real McCoy. Dentists!"

"Anyway, they're right in your own back yard. T'other side of
the mountain from your home, actually. Easy day's trip. Just get
a gunny sack, go over and pick 'em up, and bring 'em back. Your
task, then - should you choose to accept it - is - get those
teeth."

Demo frowned. Somehow it seemed he had heard those words before.

Zeus smiled kindly, reached out and patted Demo's head.

"I do apologize. It's such a silly task! But necessary. So be
on your way."

Demo stood up, knowing he had been dismissed. The sudden
landing when dismissed from Olympus back to earthly surroundings
is best met standing and with flexed muscles.

As he departed he heard Zeus murmur, "Actually, this nectar
does have a certain bouquet, a body, an essence of its own."

He couldn't quite make out the last few words. " Hmmm, did I
tell the boy that the serpent isn't dead after all? Minor
detail."



"Mother, do you know aught of Cadmus?"

"Cadmus. Oh, yes, he lived down the valley a ways. Strange
fellow. Went around killing dragons and such. In fact, that was
his downfall. Poor soul. Why do you ask."

"Was he a dentist?"

"Oh, heavens no! Sorry, Zeus, no disrespect intended. Ah,
you're thinking of the dragon's teeth. Did I ever tell you about
that. It goes to show the ridiculous way some of the neighbors
behave. Let me see." She paused, a slight frown on her face.

"If you cross the mountain at lowpass and descend to where the
river forks, you'll see it."

Demo waited, but plainly she wanted him to ask.

"Yes, mother, what is it I will see?"

"The field, the very field where Cadmus sowed the dragon's
teeth. It grew him a dreadful crop, it did."

"Warriors! They sprang up from the ground! Fully armed, ready
for battle. Big, burly, rascals all. And he didn't even have to
water or fertilize. I wonder how big they might have been if he
had  used fertilizer?"

"Vicious tempers, though. Hardly spoke a civil word to him or
each other before they were hard at it, fighting like children.
He just stood and watched openmouthed. Couldn't believe adults
would behave so abominably. Did I pronounce that right?"

"Yes, mother, I think you did."

"Thank you. I really need to review my English - eh, Greek. One
does forget, you know."

"Cadmus, mother, and the dragon's teeth?"

"They went bonkers, killed each other off, except for half a
dozen. They looked around, and one said 'Hey, you could get hurt
out here.' and they walked off the field over to Cadmus. He put
them to work building some kind of city, Planned to live there,
I think. Anyway, he got one of the God's peeved. Wasn't too
smart, Cadmus."

"Really, mother. What happened?"

"Turned him and his wife into serpents. Kind of poetic justice
I suppose. He comes slithering around this way every so often. I
don't mind, cause he kills the mice. It is a little
disconcerting when he starts talking about the good old days,
though. And I have to be extra careful I don't step on him. He
always was the one to be underfoot."



Demo bartered with the village smithy for some metal tongs and
a hammer, stowed them in his pouch, and headed for lowpass. A
beautiful day, with bright sun and cooling breeze.

"Five teeth. Zeus is right, this is a silly task."

At lowpass he gazed out over the wide valley. The river flowed
roughly through its center, and the fork in the river was less
than half a day's travel away. With a satisfied grunt he began
the descent.

At first the trail ran steeply down. He half walked, half slid.
But eventually the incline became less intense, and he made good
progress. The path widened as it reached the green meadow. From
there it led with little deviation directly to the dragon's
woods.

In due time he reached the field. It was immediately
recognizable.

Rusted armor and scattered bones brought tears to his eyes. So
many brave men had died, and for nothing!

Here and there a small helmet rose only partway above the
ground. "Ah, bad seed, I suppose. Never ripened."

Then he heard it.

The sound came from the forest adjoining the field. A moan,
almost ghostly in quality.

"Do the spirits of these dead warriors dwell in yonder copses?"
he whispered to himself. Slowly he approached the forest edge.

It rushed from among the trees, fire breathing from its mouth.
Its huge body threshed from side to side, knocking giant trees
to the ground.

As it saw him it stopped, moaned again. "I see you have some
tongs there. Are you perchance a dentist. I've got this terrible
toothache." It had hardly finished speaking when it moaned once
more.

"No, I'm not a dentist. But, see here, maybe there is something
I can do. Do you know where I'll find a dead dragon. Killed by
Cadmus, if I rightly recall?"

"I am he, eh, it. Didn't kill me. Terrible dentist. Never,
never go to Cadmus for treatment. No anesthetic at all! just
yanked 'em out." The creature shuddered.

"The worst part is, he left five. He left the five I really had
wanted him to work on. Never, never, trust a dentist. Oh, boy,
do they ache."

Five, well that must be the five. Demo thought carefully.

"Well, hang in there. I think we can get you some help. Come
along now."



When they arrived at Olympus Zeus was out back.

"Just go through the gate right there," Hera smiled. "I'm sure
he'll be glad to see you. Shouldn't your pet be on a leash,
though? Keep him out of the flowers. And don't let him chase my
cat. She'll claw him good if he does."

She reached down and scratched her pet behind the ears. The
saber-toothed tiger purred softly, arched its back. With a
supercilious look it examined the dragon as though it were an
oversize mouse. Eventually it followed Hera out the door, merely
stopping once to glance disdainfully back.

Zeus was busy, feeding fuel to a small still. He opened a valve
at the base, filled his flask with the sparkling liquid.

"This is it. Just the right flavor. Just the right consistency.
Just the right strength." He slowly sipped, threw his head back
and took a larger swallow.

At that moment Demo and his companion entered the garden, and
the dragon groaned.

Zeus took the cup from his lips, stared wide-eyed at the
dragon, then looked at his drink. He closed his eyes, shook his
head, then looked at the dragon once more.

"Boy, do you notice something unusual behind you. I do believe
this nectar has muddled my senses."

"Oh, no sir. Nothing unusual. I've completed my task."

"Nothing unusual." He said the words sadly, emptied his flask
on the ground. "I was afraid you were going to say that." He
shook his head.

He looked once more at the dragon and frowned. "I'll drink no
more of that stuff."

"The teeth, boy, the gunny sack full of teeth. Where are they?"

"Right here, sir." Demo pointed to the dragon.

Zeus blinked, then smiled.

"Aaah! Yes! I understand. Well, now, that's all right. I had
some doubts there for a moment. Thank you, my boy." He refilled
his flagon.

"Yes, I see. Well, take them, then. The teeth, that is. Fight
him. Hit him a nasty blow and take the teeth. Get on with it."

"Oh, no sir. He's more than willing to part with them. They
hurt dreadfully, he tells me. I told him  your dentist would
willingly remove them."

"Yes, of course." Somehow Zeus sounded disappointed.

Odd, he sounded disappointed at the completion of each task.

"Well," Zeus growled at the dragon. "Don't just stand there.
The phone's over yonder. Make an appointment and get them
pulled. I do hope the dentist isn't all booked up."



The palace had all the jewels, all the objects of art, all the
trappings a person could desire. But for a country girl raised
in a small hut it lacked a prime requisite.

It flat wasn't homey.

Such was Persephone's evaluation.

Even that could have, over time, been corrected.

A second problem concerned her even more.

Her husband.

He wasn't presentable.

His looks were atrocious, his bearing boorish, and he could
only be described as uncouth.

He had one slight redeeming grace.

In his own strange way, he loved her.

That fact, more than anything else, made her unhappy.

If he were but toying with her she could willingly have
despised, yes, even hated him!

His love was real.

He showed it in his every attempt to be kind, in his watchful
manner. If she seemed to only hunger, he sent for food. If she
were only tired, he prepared her bed. If she showed sorrow he
tried to bring joy.

How miserable to be married to a monster with a kind heart!

Her feelings vacillated.

At times she hated him for having abducted her, for keeping her
from her mother and the flowery garden where she had played.

At times she pitied him for the suffering he bore
uncomplainingly.

Only she knew the sadness in his soul as each new sinner moved
into his kingdom. Their pain he suffered too. Yet he was chained
forever to his duty, to be the Master of the Nether Regions.

In spite of her feelings she thought of different ploys,
plotted, to escape from this dark world.

In time that escape would occur.

As would regrets.

10. Heaven's Essence

On Olympus, in spite of all the stories and legends, idyllic
conditions do prevail. Zeus and Hera live in peaceful bonds of
matrimony. Mercury zooms off here and yon, now here, now yon.
Zephyrs blow gently. Paradise indeed.

But, occasionally, matters go astray. The essence of heaven is
flavored with a drop from misery's vial. And, oh, what
despondency, what black moods, and what strange and tragic
escapades a drop may  launch!

Demo found himself at the center of one such escapade. He
quickly wished himself elsewhere. To no avail.

"We're going on a very short vacation, Hera and I. It's been
eons, literally, eons! So I just want you to take care of the
place while were gone. Keep an eye on things. Check the house
plants, make sure they are watered. Feed Cerberus's pup. That's
really about it. I suppose I ought not do it, but I'll give you
credit for a full - eh, for half a task." Zeus smiled happily.

"You told me . . . .," Hera paused, and angry look in her eye.

"You are right dear, you are absolutely right. A full task, my
boy. Out of the goodness of my heart." Zeus glanced petulantly
toward Hera. Fortunately she was examining her garb in the
mirror.

"Oh, one minor detail. You'll be baby-sitting Cupid during our
absence. Venus left him here to keep us company. He's a
wonderful little chap. I'm sure you'll get along splendidly."

Was there a smirk on Zeus' face, a touch of facetiousness in
his voice?



"Boy, why are you sitting on the throne of Zeus?"

Demo turned, startled.

"Eh, you see, I'm in charge. Zeus is on vacation, and I'm
filling in for him."

"Indeed! A likely story. Let's see your credentials!"

For a moment Demo hesitated. Then he stood erect, shoulders
back, as kingly as he knew how to stand.

"Who are you to question the credentials of an appointee of the
mighty Zeus. See, here in my hands he has left his thunderbolt,
symbol of his power. And in a moment I shall become angry and
cast it at you. Begone! And when you are allowed to return, do
so with a better grace, or I shall send you trapping, off to
visit . . . well, off to visit his brother Pluto. Now, off with
you, and quickly!"

Demo took the thunderbolt in his right hand, raised it high,
and made as furious a face as a 17 year old might make.

Apparently it was sufficient. The lackey backed quickly out of
immediate range, bowing low and rushing madly from the room as
he reached the entranceway.

Demo smiled.

Well, he thought, I could have done worse. A little more
practice is all I need. This Zeus surrogate role could be quite
pleasant.

It wouldn't be.

The clouds were difficult. In fact, he couldn't master them at
all.

With Zeus, merely to think an angry thought generated them.
They clustered, dark and ominous, above his head. Streaks of
lightning jumped from cloud to cloud.



Demo tried, but he could not really develop a seriously angry
thought. At one time he did almost generate a mild fog, thinking
about the fox-imp. With it's antic in mind, his better nature
overcame him, and he broke into laughter. Poor fox-imp. It had
been so concerned when Rough growled.

For two days were Zeus and Hera to vacation, and two trials
were imposed on Demo, one on each of those long days.



The first day Demo sat in the garden, relaxing, watching the
green grass grow. It was chore that pleased him, requiring
little physical or mental exertion. There are those who prefer
to sit and watch green grass wither. Not Demo. He really had no
mean bone in his body. At least, if he so had he to date hadn't
located it. Actually, he hadn't searched very thoroughly.

Nevertheless and regardless, here he sat, watching the green
grass grow. Occasionally he broke out his micrometer, measured a
blade or two. "I believe they are shirking. Hasn't changed a
single millimeter!"

Would that it could have lasted.

"Sire," Janus bowed. "There are two who would have your
counsel."

Demo nodded. "Oh, very well. Send them in. Oh, and bring me my
nectar."

The two who entered were unknown to him. One, the smaller,
limped. The taller, however, walked as unsteadily as did the
small one, and his red nose and blinking eyes suggested a state
of inebriation.

Demo frowned.

"Well, what would you have of me. Get on with it!"

"Sire, this picture, this picture so well crafted, is claimed
by Bacchus. By Bacchus, who can not draw a straight line, nor
walk one. He claims to have painted it, with all its intricacies
and beauty. He lies. I, and I alone, painted this picture. I
would take it with me to my island of Lemnos."

"Poppycock! Preposterous! This limping lout knows that Zeus is
absent. He wishes to take advantage of your innocence. He is a
worker in metal, merely an artisan. His soul is burned by the
smithy's fire. Art! He knows nothing of art! This picture is of
my own design, and it contains my very soul. An artist, you
know, puts himself into his every product. Look! Here is beauty,
wonder, brilliance - would a smithy even aspire to such
qualities as reflected here!"

"Ho, yon wimpy wine sop would not know one end of the brush
from the other. More like he would paint the picture in wines of
many colors, not with the pigments you see on this my parchment.

The picture, limned on parchment stretched on a wooden frame,
depicted a forest scene. Near at hand the trunks of large trees,
and seen between them, in the distance, an open meadow. There
danced woodnymphs.

Demo examined the picture carefully, then turned it face away
from the purported owners.

"Tell me," he looked at Bacchus, "what is portrayed, and how so
portrayed?"

He listened quietly to the exposition of the sylvan scene, the
merry dance of the nymphs, the greens and browns and tone colors
that formed the hues.

"And you," turning to Vulcan, "describe to me this picture."

Vulcan closed his eyes and was silent. Then he spoke slowly,
almost as in a trance. "This is the picture of a maiden, her
golden hair lighted by a single beam filtered through the forest
foliage. All else is only background, merely there that she
might display her beauty. It is but a vision, unreal, of what
might be. Yes, it is only the picture of a maiden."

"Could each of you supply me with a picture similar in nature
that I might compare?"

Neither could respond to his request.

"Well, without more evidence I find that I cannot judge for one
or the other. Let me give further thought to the matter. Eh,
come back in 2 days. Zeus will be here, he'll resolve the
problem quickly."

"My Lord, we are both to leave this edifice this very day. Zeus
has so decreed. He was unhappy with our problem, and requested
that we bring it to your attention."

Demo frowned. To my attention!

"It's time for my ambrosia. Return when the sun begins its
descent. I'll give you and answer then.

He mused. He thought. He worried. He ate.

Delicious, this ambrosia. Not equivalent to his Mother's
cooking. But certainly good enough for Zeus.

He carved the food carefully, munching on each savory bite. And
as he carved a thought came to mind.



Okay, I've a solution. With my knife I shall rend the picture
from top to bottom and each may keep his half."

He took picture, laid it on the table before him, face up,
pulled out his hunting knife.

Bacchus rose, looked at the picture, then shrugged. "Very well,
Sire. It will serve me just as well. It is but an ornament to
decorate my wall."

Vulcan looked at Bacchus, at the picture, and then at Demo.

"No, I would have my picture. Still, let it remain whole.
Though Bacchus may own it, it shall ever be mine. Better it
decorate his wall in its entirety than suffer the sacrilege of
dissection."

"Upon further thought, Master Vulcan, I consider the picture to
be yours. You speak true, it is the picture of a maiden. All
else is there only for her. And you would lose your masterpiece
rather than see it destroyed. Take it."

"As for you, Master Bacchus, I find you to be deceitful in this
matter. I would have you accompany Master Vulcan. For six months
you will serve him. And he, in that six months, shall teach you
the rudiments of his art. Now, begone, for Cerberus' pup grows
hungry."

Was I right? Demo questioned himself. Perhaps, after all,
Bacchus did paint the scene. What would Zeus have done?

Ah, Zeus would have done much the same. And, being Zeus, he'd
be right by definition. So, of course, as Zeus' surrogate I too
am right by definition.

Demo smiled. This God stuff wasn't too bad at that.

So he thought!



Children are lovable. As babies they, sweet and cuddly, invite
one's kind adoration. As toddlers, though underfoot, they laugh
and chatter, bring brightness into our dull lives. Older, they
play, are now defiant, now dependent, as they seek to find their
place in the world.

Then, there was Cupid. Not quite the child. Yet not an adult.
Ever with the prankish nature of youth. Armed, nevertheless,
with a bow. Armed with arrows of the most pernicious kind. Sly,
at times. Open and outgoing at others, he shared the faults -
and the virtues - of his mother, Venus.



The second day started off nicely. Demo gave the world a little
extra twirl, and it hummed along smoothly. He did note a slight
wobble, and gave it a slight extra spin to compensate.

He checked the progress of the sun, the positions of the stars,
and kept a weather eye on earth and underworld.

No problems surfaced.

He was being lulled into an unwary mood.

The attack began!



It was ruthless! They came at him in droves, never giving him
time to think. His face whitened, reddened, turned blue.

Demo tried to think of the terms Zeus might use under such
circumstances. They didn't come.

Zeus' old flames - angry, petulant, pleading, demanding!

Demo was caught off guard.

They informed him that they had an audience. Zeus plainly had
forgotten to pass on the information to him. They waited
impatiently for the promised audience.

Zeus had promised faithfully, to each and every one, a place by
his side on the throne. Had promised the decision on this very
day. At these words Demo hair stood on end.

What kind of fit would Hera throw at even such a suggestion.
The heavens would split asunder from her anger! This problem had
to be resolved, and quickly, before the return of Zeus and Hera!

Nereids and naiads, they came. Sea nymphs and mountain nymphs.
Beauties from far off forgotten corners of the world, and others
from nearby. All with one thought in mind - to claim that
promised gift from Zeus!

"Ah, Ladies, charming Ladies - I must retire to my chambers and
give this matter careful thought. Return when the sun has
reached its zenith." Demo smiled, bowed, and escaped quickly
before their anger could be vented on him.



It would certainly be simpler if - well, dalliance on such a
scale! It had never entered his mind. Zeus?

Anyway, whether real or imagined, these angry young ladies were
convinced. What could be done?



Enter Cupid. Helpful child, he considered the dilemma faced by
Demo. In his childish way he quickly arrived  at a solution. A
solution of great moment to Demo.

Cupid's arrows flew!

Unfailingly they struck the heart of each victim! Unfailingly
they elicited a well-known result!

Love and ardor possessed each target. Love and ardor, no longer
for Zeus. Rather, for Demo!

Cupid's arrows flew! And flew!



The approach of noon weighed heavy on Demo. How best to
extricate Zeus from an untenable situation came not to mind.
What to do? A really deplorable situation, with very little room
for maneuvering. My, what would Hera say!

Aha! An idea came to mind. A contest, to chose one from the
mob! Cut the problem down to size. What kind of contest?

Of course!

These, the most beautiful of women - what else? A beauty
contest!

A problem still remained. Who dare judge such a contest?
Certainly not Demo! He shivered at the thought. The anger of the
losers might well be vented on him. No, someone better qualified
must decide. It had to be someone impartial, and unassailable.
Someone not subject to feminine wiles.

But who?

Oddly enough, Cupid entered the throne room at that very
instant.

Demo smiled.

A child! Why, of course, a child! Who could be angry at the
decision of a child? And certainly a child would hardly be
swayed as might an adult.

"Cupid, my lad, I have a chore for you."

Cupid listened carefully, nodded in understanding, and agreed
to participate in this new game. He would indeed judge the
beauty contest.

"Janus, bring on the ladies, if you please."

The meeting did not go as planned.

The ladies entered. They sat around the room, stood, fidgeted.
Each was unique, beautiful in an individual way. In look and
action they differed. Yet they all did one thing in common.

They stared at Demo with undisguised desire, boldly caressing
him with ardent gazes.

Demo felt the hair on his neck rise, and a shiver raced down
his spine. With an effort he announced, "There is insufficient
space in the throne room for all you fair ladies. So we propose
to have a beauty contest, the winner to set beside Zeus and
guide him in matters of the heart. Cupid has volunteered to be
the judge."

They seemed little interested. Rather, they watched Demo's
every move with strangely glistening eyes. At his direction they
paraded across the throne room.

Cupid made notes, assigned points for various and sundry
qualities, and finally arrived at a conclusion. He brought his
notepad to Demo, stood quietly beside the throne, cherubic in
appearance. That alone should have forewarned Demo.

It was a tie! All the contestants had attained identical scores!

Demo's eyes opened wide, and he quivered. This was unexpected!
He hesitatingly announced the result, readied himself for the
angry outburst he expected.

There were a few yawns. Some of the ladies engaged in quiet
gossip. All continued to regard him with interest.

There was no outburst.

"Who cares." A comment came from the back of the room.

"Sit beside Zeus! I'd much rather keep company with a charming
boy." The lady stared meaningfully at Demo.

"Hardly!" Another beauty stood up. "He is certainly mine!"

In moments the room was filled with rancorous voices, angry and
loud. Turmoil followed, and the crowd quickly moved to the outer
court, accompanied by pummeling and hair pulling.

Demo sat wide-eyed, glaring at Cupid.

The boy smiled. "Well, I must practice my archery."

He strolled away, humming softly.

Was that a smirk I noted, Demo thought. I'm sure not. After
all, he is only a child.

I think I'll cut his bow string.



A maiden clothed in white gazed with tear-dimmed eye across an
endless plane. Sulfurous fumes rose from boiling liquid ponds
dotting that dread surface. Manlike creatures, yet men no more,
staggered blindly from place to place. In their ceaseless walk
they fell hapless into the open pits and screaming in agony
clambered out, only to resume their endless wandering.

With a sob the maiden turned to her companion. Hideous though
the manlike creatures were, the visage of her comrade was more
hideous still. A body twisted, scaly, not of this world,
well-suited to this dark and gloomy clime, supported the
grotesque head.

"Have you no pity? Is there nothing to be done for these, the
suffering?"

A voice between whine and growl responded. "They chose, while
on the earth, their own brand of eternity. I am but the keeper.
Yet, for the kindness of your soul, shall their pain be eased
for a brief moment. I shall give them sleep. I can do no more."

"And for me? I who would choose another world, I who have not
yet passed through death's portal - what have you to offer me?"

"I offered you a goblet from the River Lethe. That would have
soothed your tears, and washed away all memory of yesterday, and
of all yesterdays. Sadly, you would not drink. Perhaps it is
better." He spoke musingly, as though unsure.

"You know full well that you are to abide with me until once
more the sun pass through one half his journey. Then may you
return to your mother's lodging, to green grass and gardens, for
a time. Were it within my power the confines of Hades would be
such a garden, that here you might too find beauty. It cannot
be!"

The creatures of the nether region lay quiet now, a short
respite from their eternal pain. Tears welled from the eyes of
Persephone. Where they fell bloomed sweet violets, even bloomed
in Hades.

But too quickly they wilted and died.

11. The Sound of Regulus



"My dear boy, how are you? This weather! I must apologize. I've
been despondent, down in the dumps. I'll try to cheer up, really
I will. Tomorrow you shall have sunshine." And in fact Zeus did
indeed sound cheerful.

"Your poor dear Mother! I know she washed today, and then to
have that awful deluge! Well, well, I shall have to make amends.
Ah, she does cook such delicious berry pie! Ummm! Ah, I have it!
You will soon notice, on the hillside to the south - I'll
arrange to have the most scrumptious berries grow. Tell her to
pick from that patch. Ah, those pies!" He paused, leaned back on
the throne, eyes closed. The smile reflected that even the
memory of the pies was appealing.

"But I mustn't waste your time. My snake charmer, poor soul,
has lost his snake. Not literally. It has just grown old
(Cronus, you know) and can't hear his flute to well. So he needs
a snake. And he won't settle for just any type of snake. No, he
tells me the regulus is the only one that will do. Would you be
so kind as to dash off to the Cush and pick up one for him. The
northwest corner, I believe. No, sorry, that's the northeast
corner. I think. Oh,  never mind, you'll find it all right. It's
called the Nubian Desert. And do hurry back.  He'll be so  very
pleased. Yes, he will. And so will I." Zeus smiled benevolently,
and Demo knew it was time to go.

It was.

With a final word, "What you don't hear can't hurt you," Zeus
waved good-bye and Demo found himself partially immersed in a
sand dune. Slowly, cautiously Demo worked his way out of the
dune, slid down the side. Overhead the bright sun beamed down as
the heat became ever more oppressive.

In the distance he heard a steady beating sound, drumlike yet
metallic. It disturbed him. The dull monotonous beat,
reminiscent of the clang of shields, spear butt struck,
announcing doom and death song.

Demo shivered. It did not bode well. Where had Zeus placed him,
and where would he find the regulus? And the last words from
Zeus, what did they portend. "What you don't hear cannot harm
you." Strange words indeed.

But he heard well, and what he heard was that steady beat, and
suddenly the sound of footstep in the sand. He turned to greet
in friendly manner the native of this strange land.

Striding toward him, tall and imperious, spear in hand, a dark
yet ghostly white sinister figure!

"Are you of Cush,   or are you from the Northland?" The voice
was emotionless, but the spear point bore upon his chest, a
handsbreath away.

"Neither. At least, I think neither. I am Demo, and I am here
on a mission for Zeus. I know nothing of Cush, nor of the
Northland. I am here to find the regulus, to take with me to
Zeus. I mean you no harm, and implore your aid."

The stranger listened stoically to his plea. He silently
marched in a wide circle around Demo, always at spear length.
Seeing no weapons he sat down at the edge of the sand dune.

"Zeus? Is that the name of the pharaoh? Are you an emissary of
this pharaoh, Zeus?"

"Of Zeus, yes. But he is no pharaoh. He is, well, he is Zeus.
And I'm here to perform this little chore for him."

"Strange, you don't resemble us. Neither the Nuba nor the
Mirikan. Nor the people of the Northland. Very well, I'll take
you to Jebel Bakhal. There your fate will be decided." He rose
slowly.

"Come, perhaps your blood shall stain the sands of Cush. Others
shall decide. That way!" The tall stranger pointed with the
spear, waited for Demo to move out. As Demo hesitated the spear
point was thrust forward, stopped a finger's width from his
skin.

Demo nodded, moved quickly in the indicated direction.

So this is Cush, he thought. And somewhere in Cush I'll find
the Regulus. Or will it find me? Ah, the sun is blazing. Would I
were swimming in the streams of home!



Heat, dreadful heat!

Heat, humidity, and air that pressed upon the chest - how shall
I escape?

Here, prisoner of love though she were, she knew only
suffering. She glanced at the creature by her side. Pluto gazed
out upon his kingdom deep in thought.

The moans of unremitting misery rose from countless throats, at
times drowned by the screams of horror, the imprecations against
Pluto and all his minions. Persephone cowered at the sounds,
pressed palms to her ears, to no avail.

Pluto sighed, rose slowly. Sad-eyed he gazed upon the woman
child by his side. Why had he brought her here? Though his, she
would never be his. Though loved, she would never love. What a
fool, to have stolen her from Ceres! And yet, he would not exist
without her.

God, ruler of the nether world. Then why the sadness, why the
remorse?

Pluto sighed.

Dunes gave way to wasteland, sand strewn with stones. And this
in time to regions where grew sparse vegetation, small trees.
Soon copses of thorn trees rose. And beyond, shimmering as an
illusion, dark hills faintly seen.

Though his companion strode seemingly without effort through
sand and stone Demo grew ever more weary. And even as the sun
neared the horizon and a light breeze tokened cooler air he
paused, exhausted.

His companion eyed him suspiciously, once more walked in a wide
circle around him. "Uhmm, sit. The river is beyond. We shall
sleep here this night. And tomorrow we shall know your fate.
Here."

He was offered dried food, a mixture of fruit and nut and meat.
There was little taste, but at least sustenance. "I need water,"
he breathed.

"No. Tomorrow there shall be water. Here there is none. Sleep
now. When the moon rises we shall move on. Over there." He
motioned toward a slight rise between dark boulders and above
one of the scattered termite hills.

Demo lay down, shivering in the air, rapidly cooling with the
setting sun. The sandy earth, still warm from the sun's rays,
was welcome. And he fell rapidly into a strange sleep broken by
even stranger dreams.

A dream in which a giant with a spear stood over him, spear
raised. And a bright glow enveloped the giant's head, gleaming
white.

Suddenly he sat up.

It was no dream.

The point of the spear touched his stomach and he slid hastily
away. His companion stood at his feet, and the full moon gleamed
brightly behind his head. "Quickly, we will be in Jebel Barkal
by daylight. Quickly."



"Ah, Regulus!" They looked, one to the other. "The Master of
the Cobras! The Guardian of the Desert!"

These were the priests, the wise men. Each wore the mystic
crown, the sun disk with the protecting uraei, the twin cobras,
sacred to Amun. All of gold, even the band of the crown. Clothed
in gowns of white, trimmed with gold. The chief priest held a
golden rod, nearly equal in height to himself.

The pillars supporting the roof were gold, and at the peak of
each pillar the ram's head, above which was the sun disk, and a
single cobra seeming to view with disdain those before him.

"Tell us of this Zeus. What has he to do with Regulus? Why
would Regulus deign to visit this one in his far off kingdom?
What manner of Pharaoh is this Zeus?"

"Zeus? Zeus is the Father of the Universe. All that is, is,
because Zeus so wills. You and I and Regulus and  . . . and
everything. We are but the product of Zeus' power."

Ezah raise his spear, a look of shock on his face.

"Wait, wait! Do you speak of Amun? Is this Zeus but a different
face of Amun? There is no Zeus here. And all that you say, that
is the work of Amun. We know not this Zeus."

"Yes, it may be. In my land the supreme being is called Zeus.
In your land the name may well be Amun. And he has sent me."

They whispered, looked at him askance, whispered again.

"You are but a stripling. Ezah could dispose of you with one
blow. He could pierce you with his spear, and you would be no
more. What kind of emissary is this for a God to send our
temple, this temple dedicated to Amun?"

"I, well, I have chores to perform. And this was laid on me as
one of those chores. I have no special magic, no special skills
- I am merely the chosen one."

"The Chosen One!"

They all stood, and the high priest, wide-eyed, bowed.

"Amun has sent you, then. And the will of Amun must be obeyed!
Tomorrow you shall be led to the Nubian Desert, to the abode of
Regulus. And there we will leave you. For none returns who
enters the lair of Regulus."



Sleep was fitful, with dreams that began and ended with a
strange serpent eyeing him malevolently. And a hiss that made
his blood run cold. He woke often, fell once more to sleep. The
moon shone, cold and  bright. A slight breeze blew, at times
gusting to drive grains of sand across his face, into his
nostrils. At times he sensed a musty smell, strange and
frightening. The odor of Regulus. He was sure of it, though he
knew not why.

Morning came cold with the desert night. But quickly the sun
warmed the land an air, and day creatures awoke. Ezah stood
silently by his side. They ate, drank a tea sweet with the taste
of a strange honey, and Ezah rose. "I brought you here, and I
have been chosen to lead you to your destruction. North and East
toward the sea. But long before we reach that sea you shall
enter the Nubian Desert. There I turn back. And you, Amun
willing, you shall meet Regulus. And may Amun protect you, for
none other can!"

The earth changed from hard surface coated with sand to sand
alone. With each step Demo sank ever deeper into the entrapping
grains. As he struggled to keep up with Ezah the sweat dripped
in a steady stream from his brow, into his eyes, at times
blinding him. He could taste the salt, mingled with the desert
dust. Each breath drew in dry dust, clogging his nostrils,
coating his throat.

Suddenly Ezah raised his spear high, stopped short of a ridge.

"I have gone far beyond the borders, far beyond my realm. But I
can go no farther. Yonder ridge marks the bounds of his lair. I
know not how he looks, nor how he attacks his prey. I am told on
the far side of the ridge lies but a graveyard, dotted with the
remains of those who dared approach Regulus. I have but one
weapon, this spear. Take it, and may it render you good service.
Before you go pray to Amun, or to your Zeus. Now I must leave
you."

Demo accepted the long spear and watched in dismal mood as Ezah
turned and quickly disappeared in the direction from which they
had come. Reluctantly Demo move toward the ridge, using the
spear as a cane to aid his passage.

As he reached the peak his foot slipped. He fell forward  in
the sand. He rolled headlong over the ridge, and downward.
Rolled into the lair of Regulus. Stopped finally. Buried in a
dune of sand. Sand clogged his nostrils, forced its way between
his lips, packed even his ears.

He tried to stand, to break out from the smothering blanket. He
moved his arms and legs as though swimming. He was blind, knew
neither up nor down. His heart pounded as he held his breath,
for fear of breathing in only the deadly grains.

He felt the spear's shaft, held it tight, moved it from side to
side. And suddenly through slitted eyes he noted light.

For a moment he lay still, then gradually worked his way
upward, upward to the light.

Hours passed. Or days. He had no sense of time, only of
desperation. And finally he emerged from the imprisoning grains.

He forced the grit from his mouth, his nostrils. Rubbing
carefully he cleared his eyelids, blinked slowly to regain once
more his sight. His heard a continuous roar and he looked around
to find the source. Then he realized it came from within him. He
could hear no external sound! Both ears were plugged with grit,
with desert silt and sand!

He found that, ears plugged, his sense of balance was lacking.
With each step he wobbled from side to side, both from lack of
balance and from the loose particles beneath his feet.

He could see now, though dimly. His eyes burned and teared. If
he only had water to wash his eyes.

And his mouth! Dry, filled with the taste of earth and silt and
minute particles of rock. And the rising wind was driving even
more grit into his face, into his lungs. He turned his back to
the wind, gazed at the bleak landscape of Regulus' Lair.

For the most part there was nought to see but bare desert
waste. And yet, dotted here and yon, remains of those who had
gone before. A skull, whitened by the windblown grit. The rib
cage, each bone in place, lying half buried at the base of  a
dune. And the horizon darkening as the wind's intensity mounted.

Though he could hear nothing the felt the driven grains
striking even through his clothes. And dust devils rose from the
desert floor, danced their dance, and faded in the distance. The
sun was blotted out as the gusting wind lifted silt and sand and
dust into the sky.

He lay down, desolate and knowing not which way to turn. But
even as he lay on the desert floor the sand began to blanket
him. With an effort he stood erect.

How could he find Regulus? Indeed, with the blowing wind, the
shifting dunes, and the desert heat how could he do anything.
Zeus, he though, I have failed you. I'll see home no more.



Amun the powerful ruled those desert wastes. Amun the merciless
drove the sand across its surface. But Amun could relent.
Perhaps the pleas of Mut, Goddess Mother, perhaps but a whim,
yet the winds died and dark clouds gathered, poured briefly
their life giving waters on the scene below.

The huge drops fell, pelting the desert floor, drenching Demo
in the deluge of a rare thundershower. And bringing a new and
different danger.

For the rain fell in torrents, and water rushed down gullies,
down ravines, flushing sand and rocks before it. A wall of water
loomed above Demo's head, coming ever closer. He clambered up
the side of a dune, fell. He rolled down, but managed again and
again to regain his footing. Finally he reached the top.

Standing there he gazed at the raging waters in disbelief. They
ate at the dune as though a wild beast. Waves rose an bit away
the sand beneath his feet. The dune shrank, began to merge with
the surrounding water. The rain had ended, but the stream
continued unabated.

And then, as suddenly as it had risen, the stream sank into the
desert leaving but moist pools behind. Demo looked in disbelief
at the sudden calm. Hurriedly he drank muddy water from a pool
at the base of the dune. Even as he drank the thirsty soil
soaked up the water. Small pools disappeared under his gaze, and
larger ones shrank rapidly.

He knew the winds must have hummed, the torrents roared - and
yet he had heard nothing, the silt and grit pounded into his
ears. And he was sure that now there was silence - how much he
wanted but to listen to that silence. He smiled at the idea,
then frowned. How dare I smile at a time like this, he thought
to himself.

Distracted by his thoughts he did not note the ripples on the
largest pool. Ripples which emanated from movement beneath the
surface. Movement that ever became more violent. Nor did he hear
the hiss that bubbled up from the depths. Aroused by the
torrential rains, the rushing waters, the blast of thunder,
Regulus awakened.



"He's seldom gone this long. Demo is such an able hunter. I do
believe if there were but one deer in the forest Demo would find
it. We're never without venison, you know." She was proud of her
son, of his prowess as a hunter.

"But this time the hunt has been long. And I dreamed of Moira
last night." She shuddered. "May I never again have such a
dream!"

"Moira? I don't know Moira."

"No, and be glad you don't! But enough of that. Come, you shall
help me cook the last of our venison. I do hope Demo returns
soon with his kill. He's always so proud, you know. Rough, leave
those chickens alone!"



Hissing and writhing Regulus rose from the pool, slithered out
on the sand. He gazed at Demo balefully. Demo neither saw nor
heard. For him the world was silent.

But then he noticed something. A faint musty odor, and odor
which he remembered from his dreams.

Demo quickly stood up, looked toward the pool of water. And saw
Regulus rising, the brown drops shedding from his slick skin.
Wide-eyed Demo held the spear level, pointed toward the strange
apparition.

Regulus regarded the spear point with concern, hissed mightily.
With consternation he observed Demo, hissed once more.

"Most unusual," he commented, "I must be losing my touch."

He slithered over the sand, undulating from side to side in his
progress. He approached Demo, but kept a distance beyond the
spearlength. With slow sinuous motion he glided around the boy.

"Hisss! Hissssss!" he breathed, watched nonplused at the lack
of response. "You seem not to understand, my boy. Have I failed
in some manner to properly enunciate the sound? Perhaps my lungs
are waterlogged! Know you not that none survive who hear the
hiss of Regulus? How dare you continue to stand there,
impervious. Bad mannered, to say the least."

He grumbled, still continued his slow and torturous
encirclement of his intended prey.

"You must be Regulus," Demo commented, in part to himself. "I
would hope, though my ears are so confoundedly stopped up I
can't hear you, that you can hear me.  I'm sent by Zeus to
invite you to come live on Mount Olympus. No nasty sand storms -
and absolutely no floods! Look at you, dripping and with wet
sand sticking to your every scale! You could slither comfortably
through the smooth green grass, dance to the flute, and sip
nectar in sun."

Though Demo was hardly a salesman he was suddenly aided by the
elements. A dark cloud was forming above, accompanied by
thunder, lightning, wind - and sudden rainfall.

Regulus wriggled from side to side, glissaded down one dune, up
another. But there was no place to hide. Grumpily he returned to
a spot before Demo, nodded his head in agreement. Whatever
Olympus had to offer, it would be an improvement.



Hardly had the contract been made than Demo found himself once
more in Zeus' presence, accompanied by the sinuous serpent.

"Well, well, I'm pleased. So this is the Nubian Demon. I beg
your pardon, but it is the reputation you have earned. Regulus,
isn't it? Of course. Ah, you shall like it here. Yes, indeed.
But please stop that infernal hissing. You see, it really
doesn't work up here. Just crawl into that basket over there.
And please, pull the top over you. My, what a surprise you shall
be to my charmer.

"As for you, Demo, once more well done. I'm amazed at your
resourcefulness. But do keep in mind that my little black cloud
was helpful. Good day, my boy."

With a sudden thump Demo found himself once more in his own
front yard. The fall had ended so abruptly the sand-and-silt
plugged ears were cleared, and he could hear once more.

"Demo, I told you to stay out of that tree. My, I hope you
haven't broken anything. Well get up from there and come to eat.
We have such wonderful company. Theresa is staying for supper."

Rough licked his cheek and grinned a dog grin.



Evening came early.

They ate their supper in a strangely quiet mode.

Afterward his mother looked at him for a moment, turned away,
wiped a tear from her eye.

"Mother, are you ill? What is wrong!" Demo rose quickly,
stepped to her side.

"Demo, I have a story to tell you. Sit down, don't interrupt
me."

She sighed, paused as though uncertain how to continue.

"Today an old woman visited our home. A very old woman. Her
name is Ceres. Perhaps you have heard the name."

He shook his head.

"An old woman, but a very good woman. One known to me since
youth. At one time she served as your nursemaid. A good
nursemaid! Would that I had known how good!"

She stood up, paced back and forth in a disturbed manner.

"You were a weak baby, with very little chance for life. I
feared that you would not survive. I prayed to the Gods. And
then she came to me, brought to us by your Father. He had met
her in the forest, where she wept for her lost daughter. She
nurtured you, raised you for me, put strength in your bones and
muscles. Nearly, she gave you gifts no human dare dream of."

This time she sobbed, head bowed.

"But I, foolish woman, feared her ministrations, feared for
you. I ask her to leave my house and I took you away, and action
I shall ever regret."

"Nevertheless, I had promised, that should you survive, she
might one day ask of you a service.

"This day she came, and so asked. I queried of her, what might
that service be, yet she answered not. She said only this, that
should you accomplish the chores of Zeus, one task more must you
perform, and then the debt would be paid."

Demo smiled.

"Mother, if I complete the tasks laid on by Zeus, what matter a
simple task laid on by an old woman. The promise has been made,
the service shall be rendered. In due time she will, I'm sure,
inform me of that which must be done. Do not be concerned."

His mother hugged him close.

During the night he heard her sobs.

He felt for the first time a gloom, a foreboding, that one
insurmountable task lay ahead. He fell to sleep with difficulty,
woke often. And he dreamed.

In the night he dreamed of rushing through the dark forest,
pursued by he knew not what. Knowing that, before the long
night's end, he must turn and face that dread pursuer.













12. Poseidon's Wrath

"A family reunion would be nice. I really don't get around as
much as I used to. The job, you know. Duties. Responsibilities.
You humans! You just don't understand how vexing it can be,
being a God. Why, every day, day in and day out, I've got to
have the sun rise. No big chore, but it's only one of many."
Zeus shook his head.

"The moon, if I don't watch her, goes wandering off. Messes up
the tides terribly. Disconcerting to young lovers, too!"

He looked, head cocked to the side, at Demo.

"So, what may I ask, do you want here at Olympus?"

For a moment Demo was nonplused.

"Sire, I gathered you had sent for me. I came not of my own
volition. Perhaps some other has need of my services . . . ?"

"Somebody is playing games, and they are surely going to get
themselves into a mess of trouble. Yes! A mess . . . of . . .
trouble!" Zeus glanced around, a thoughtful expression on his
face.

A titter sounded from the inner hallway.

Zeus glanced at Demo to see whether he had noted the sound.

Demo was silent. Best to leave all surmises alone. After all,
he thought, who am I to criticize the dalliances of Zeus.

Zeus smiled.

"Anyway, you are here, so let's get you started on another
exciting excursion. By the way, you've really done remarkably
well, and I am proud of you. Here, let me give you a slight
token."

He thought a moment, smiled once more, and waved his hands
nonchalantly in the air. The medal was large and shiny as Zeus
slipped the supporting chain over Demo's head. Demo took the
medal in his hands, read the legend thereon. Although the words
were difficult to read in an inverted position he managed to
decipher them.

"For Ungodly Support to the Gods."

Zeus kissed him on one cheek, then the other. "I'm never sure
the order in which I'm supposed to do that. Never mind. If I got
it wrong, we'll merely change the ritual."

He glanced rather anxiously toward the hallway.

"Young man, rather quickly now. I want you to drop in on
Poseidon. Lovely fellow, you'll like him. Eh, don't ever discuss
fishing with him. He has a dread of the subject. I was fishing
one day and he nibbled at the bait, and . . . Anyway, a subject
not to be discussed. Where was I . . . ?" Zeus glared at Demo as
though the boy had stolen his train of thought.

"Take this bag with you, and give it into his hands, and his
only. He'll know what to do. By the way, do you own a bathing
suit?"

Zeus, Olympus, and all else seemed to be fading away. Demo
seemed to hear, faintly, Zeus scolding. "Now, you know you
aren't supposed to play with my powers. You just leave that
young man alone, my dear. I'm such an ogre when I'm jealous."



He landed with a splash.

Zeus' aim was plainly off.

Almost always he had landed in his home, the forest. But this?

The middle of a stream, of course. He slipped under the water,
propelled himself upward, glancing quickly around at the height
of his watery leap. A shudder went through him.

No river, this!

Neither shores, nor the green forest, nor the high mountains of
home!

Water, only water! Deep blue water, extending as far as eye
could see. Blue . . .  and salty. Surely he had landed in the
ocean!

"Zeus, Oh, Zeus! I do think you may have erred . . . only
slightly, of course. Zeus . . . ?"

"Who dares call on Zeus, when he swims in my domain? How come
you here, earthling? Where is your ship? Do you not fear my
watchdogs, the great sharks that guard my kingdom. And why call
you on Zeus. Poseidon rules these waves!

"I . . . My name is Demo. I was merely doing an errand for
Zeus. And, through some mischance, I landed in these waters.
Perhaps you can direct me to the nearest shore?"

"Mischance, eh? Well, Zeus is putting on the years . . . Odd,
but he may be losing his grip. Oughta spend more time at the
seashore. Relaxing. Yes indeed." The voice seemed to emanate
from a puff-fish, which floated rather nonchalantly at arms
length away.

"The nearest shore. Of course. You earthlings. I would invite
you down for a meal, but you lack the necessary organs to join
me. Toward the setting sun. A small island. I'll race you!"

Demo looked to the west. Water, only water.

"Is it, well, very far?"

"No, no! Just a good swim away. Ah, forgive me. It could be a
bit strenuous

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