She blinked, then smiled. "Oh, of course. History is replete with stories of great women. Let me think."
"What is greatness? Hera, wife of Zeus, of course. Venus, Goddess of Love, certainly. The Amazons, who dominated men, perhaps. There are so many, and they vary in their greatness."
"Let me tell you true, Mother. I have a task laid on by Zeus, to punish the mighty Atlas. I would find for him a wife, a gift of happiness, of misery. Thus there would be punishment, but lightened by womanly touch. Where would I look for such a one?"
"Zeus! At times I am angry, even at the Gods. Atlas did faithfully support his master. Yet Zeus has rewarded him with an unending toil! A fit mate for Atlas? I can think of only one, and that one who would resist such wedded bliss."
"You know of one! Her name, Mother, and I will find her!"
"You are eager, but beware. She has been courted by many, won by none. Her name is Atalanta. Huntress, runner, wrestler - skilled in arts of man and of woman. Yes, you might well search for Atalanta."
He was committed. Find Atalanta, woo her for Atlas, arrange the nuptials - and convince Zeus that he had fulfilled his task.
Little details must be worked out. A plan of action developed. A purported weakness of Atalanta - a love for golden apples - might well be exploited. Vulcan agreed to fashion these in his shop, and with his usual skill fashioned them in exquisite form.
Demo looked at them and was so enticed that he had a mind to keep them. Wisdom prevailed, and merely placed them in his pouch.
He inquired widely of those who might know, searched widely for the land wherein she dwelt. In due time he was rewarded. And finally he reached the very village she called home.
The dwellings were scattered, separated by green meadows and forest. Each small domicile resembled in its own way the home where he lived with his Mother.
But he did not find her in one of these.
They met in the square of the little village. He was astonished. With her reputation for physical superiority he expected - well, it doesn't matter.
What he found was a beautiful woman, tall and slender. Not muscle-bound, she. Not the heavy wrestler. Nor the huge-biceped brute he had visualized.
They talked.
"Ah, young sojourner. What brings you to our land? Do you seek adventure, riches? You'll not find them here, I assure you. But, while you tary, join with me in a race." She challenged him, as she did all newcomers to the village. Race with her, and if he but win she would acquiesce to his every demand.
Demo blinked. It was going to be so easy. Amazing! He had expected to cajole, beg, lie - even, terrible thought, to carry her off against her will.
The race began unpropitiously.
She darted ahead, turned with a smile - a sarcastic, mocking one.
"My, shall I help you? Perhaps your brogans are too heavy. Or is it those huge feet?"
Quickly he tossed one of the golden apples before her, slightly off to the side. The legends proved true.
She quickly deviated from the path, picked up the apple, continued on her way.
Happily, in those moments he gained. She was now only steps ahead!
Once more Demo tossed an apple. This time it went even more off the path. Nevertheless she ran after it, returned to the race.
She laughed.
"You think to distract me? I have but begun to run. But don't worry, I'll wait for you at the finish line."
And now they were abreast!
He tossed once more, the last of the apples.
His eyes widened. The fox imp rose from the roadside bushes, seized the apple, and disappeared again, chortling.
Atalanta would now be concerned only with the race! How could he possibly beat her! Ah, if only he had one more of the golden apples. Sadly he staggered on. There was no way he could beat her!
He had failed!
He reckoned not with Vulcan's skill!
Atalanta lost all thought of the race, ran madly after the fox imp. The imp, looking back, saw her quick approach and dropped the apple. It skipped sideways, dashed into the forest without a glance behind.
Atalanta seized the last apple, returned to the race to find herself bested. With good grace she bowed to the winner.
The nuptials were performed by a local priest. He wanted no pay, merely the reputation of having married the mighty Atlas to Atalanta.
As Atlas shifted the world on his shoulder Atalanta squeezed his brawny arm. The adoration on her face brought happiness to his eyes.
A perfect match, thought Demo.
"Give him a wife! I sent you to find the most horrible of tortures. How dare you suggest we reward his impiety by providing him with a wife! I've a mind to have you replace him for just a few hours, with the burden of the world on your shoulders!"
Zeus was, to put it kindly, miffed.
"But, Sire, think! If Atlas had such a wife as Hera . . . ?"
"Give him Hera? Well, you begin to interest me." Zeus looked around quickly. "Just jesting, my boy, of course. Now what have you in mind?"
"That he be wed to Atalanta."
"The huntress! Yes, yes indeed. Glad I thought of it. A delightful young lady. Enticing! Irresistible!" He paused, glanced around, spoke with lowered voice. "She will tire of him! At first, they will be attracted, of course. Of course, he will be so busy balancing the world, he'll have little time for her. Soon they'll quarrel and he'll feel miserable." Zeus smiled benevolently.
"Wonderful! My boy, you wisdom exceeds your years. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to permit your marriage to Athena. You, too, deserve such married bliss."
There seemed to be a slight snicker in his voice.
Demo ignored it. Finally, Zeus was beginning to mellow, to consider rewarding him for his services. What a kind and considerate God indeed!
Though she knew not where fate might lead, Ceres labored still to undo the evil marriage of Pluto to Persephone. In the heart of Pirithous she planted the seed of love, love for Persephone. There it grew and prospered.
The day came when Pirithous would tarry no longer. Whatever his fate might be, he would free his loved one from the grasp of the barbarous Pluto!
Theseus reasoned with his friend, but to no avail. Then, reluctantly, knowing full well the dangers, he joined him on that fated mission.
The entrance to the dark kingdom lies on the far shore of Oceanus. Nevertheless, there are secret ways, known to only the few. This knowledge Ceres had.
Dark caverns and dread marked their way. Creatures not of this world guarded narrow defiles, yet let them pass unharmed. Sulfurous fumes that might have brought them to a deadly sleep dissipated with their approach. Olden bridges, rotten and decayed, crossed deep caverns, yet none gave way with their weight. With each such success Theseus grew ever more alarmed.
"Friend, it is not as it should be! We are not opposed! Do you remember the ambush of the Sileni? I fear we are being led on."
Pirithous listened, nodded.
"Such is my thought. Turn back, old friend. I shall press on alone. For good or evil, my fate lies ahead, in the bowels of this infernal region. Fare thee well, now go your way. And say a prayer to Zeus for the success of my mission."
Theseus placed his hand on Pirithous' shoulder. "We have fought many a battle, you and I. The times you have saved my life, and I yours, are innumerable. If fate calls you yonder, then you shall not go alone."
Would that loyalty and friendship were portents of success.
It was not to be.
Even the drawbridge was in place, and the great wooden door toPluto's castle, open. They entered warily.
Pluto grimaced in a friendly smile, if such it could be called.
"Welcome, for I have few such visitors. Come, join me. Sit on yonder bench, and let us discuss the purpose of your visit."
Woe unto those who sit upon the Chair of Forgetfulness!
Named rightly, even as the waters of Lethe, it cleanses the mind of all that went before!
And that the bench to which Pluto motioned them.
Pluto poured red wine into waiting glasses, rose to carry it to them. He nodded to the bench as he approached, reached the wine toward them.
Pirithousaccepted the glass, moved to the bench. Theseus frowned. Something was wrong. But what?
Finally he too moved to the bench, joined his friend.
"We came to . . . ." Pirithous was silent, glanced at Theseus. Shaking his head, he repeated, "We came to . . . ." He could not continue.
Theseus sat quietly, empty-eyed.
Without a sound Pluto took the wine glasses from lax hands, called his minion to carry away the glasses and wine.
He sat, looked at his visitors, then turned away.
They waited now for the coming of Hercules.
And Ceres waited, too.
She waited for a champion.
A champion to challenge Pluto's power.
14. Lover's Quarrels
Cupid launched his arrows with careful aim at times, at times with casual disregard.
Today he launched no arrows.
His quiver was empty.
"Zeus, you've got to straighten out the postoffice. I ordered a gross nearly an eon ago. And still they haven't arrived! Look at me! What good am I without my arrows? What is Olympus coming to?"
"Now, now, have patience, Little One. Let me see. Ah, I have it. Just stand by. Oh, Demo. I need you. I have such a nice chore for you. Demo, get yourself up here!"
Demo grimaced. Just before supper, and what a meal his mother had prepared. Surely there'll be nothing but leftovers when I get back. Ah, unfortunately, Zeus was not one to wait.
"My lad, we have a major problem. A work stoppage! Our mail system is old, archaic, obsolete - besides which, I don't like it. Fix it!"
Peremptorily Zeus turned, walked through the nearest wall and disappeared from view.
Demo blinked. Such abruptness would be unpardonable in a lesser entity. At times one must bear with Zeus. He had his - eh, eccentricities.
"It's the rain! No, it's the snow! No, it's the dark of night!" The postmaster explained the reasons for such poor service. His subservients listened quietly, nodded in ready agreement with each of his explanations. Then they all sat back, put their feet on their respective desks, and talked incessantly about ways of solving the problem.
"Eh, shouldn't they be out delivering the mail, " Demo inquired?
"Well, yes, but we need to think about this big problem. The mail can wait."
Demo looked at the postmaster, shook his head, and started for home. He stopped. "Is there any mail for myself or my Mother? I'll take it with me."
"Oh, you couldn't do that! Only we are authorized to deliver the mail. It'll be along in . . . , oh, in a week or so."
Cupid's arrow are very effective. In fact, they never fail. Unfortunately, they do have a minor weakness. Their effect is not permanent. Thus Cupid must wander from place to place, zapping the same targets from time to time.
That isn't to bad, as Cupid is fast, his aim is accurate, and in an odd sort of way the victim enjoys the wound.
However, since he has previously inoculated his subjects, he must use the same concoction as previously. Otherwise the spell may work, but for an entirely different object of desire.
The problem with the mail was introducing another complication.Cupid's spell was beginning to wear off for many a couple.
One such couple was Athena and Demo.
Not that they quarreled. Rather, as Athena phrased it, they discussed.
The discussion became loud, grew heated, and Athena paced angrily back and forth. "And I could have a God. But no! I choose a country bumpkin! An insensitive, heartless, country bumpkin."
Fire burned fiercely in her eyes as she glared at Demo.
"So he saved my life. Anyone could have done as well! Certainly that is no reason to condemn myself to live with him for an eternity. Look at him! Merely a mortal! And an immature, childish one at that!"
Demo blinked, swallowed.
He had never seen anyone so angry. Not even Theresa the time he spilled cold wine down her back. Well, maybe that time. Nevertheless, no other.
This was indeed a crisis! Plainly, the mail system must be rescued, and Cupid's arrows quickly delivered!
Demo began his task by doing extended research. His first stepwas to read. History of the Post Office. Operation of a PostOffice. Management books in general. Operations Research,Management Analysis, Industrial Engineering, Sex Life of the SeaTurtle - Oops! That book was misfiled, on the wrong shelf.Anyway, it was really dull reading.
He interviewed the customers of the Post Office. He interviewed those who delivered the mail. He interviewed the managers. The more they talked, the less he knew.
He attempted to examine the day-to-day operations. In spite of his credentials as Zeus' emissary, he found little cooperation.
Organization charts were missing. Long term plans were non-existent. Budgets were cursory documents. Balance sheets and Profit and Loss statements were fiction.
The warehouses bulged!
The mail was accumulating at a phenomenal rate. The mail was being delivered at a minuscule rate.
Fingerpointing was rampant!
Managers blamed workers. Workers blamed management. Zeus blamedDemo. The people blamed everyone.
And Cupid waited impatiently for his arrows!
What to do!
He discussed the situation with his Mother.
"Why, dear, there really seem to be two problems. Delivering the mail that has accumulated, and insuring that it doesn't accumulate in the future. Perhaps you could burn the backlog, and throw away all incoming mail for a while."
"Burn! Throw away! Mother, Zeus would be furious! Besides, what if I burned Cupid's arrows? Athena and I might never be united!"
Nevertheless, he thought about his Mother's words. And thought of a brilliant solution to the first problem.
"Sire, we need to implement a two step process. First, we deliver all the outstanding mail. Second, we streamline the existing system to insure we don't again arrive at our present situation again."
"Fine, I like that. Do it!" Zeus seemed very agreeable.
"Well, yes, Sire. By the way, I'll need the services ofMercury."
"Of Mercury! He's my private messenger! How dare you! How long will you need his services? Ridiculous! When can I have him back? And how do you propose to use him?"
"We'll loan him to the Post Office Department. He'll distribute the backlog quickly and easily, and then we have only the second problem to solve."
Zeus frowned, then finally agreed.
Mercury's transfer to the Postal Department was delayed. Not because he objected; rather, because of the normal bureaucratic delays. Eventually the paperwork was completed and the transfer made.
The results were astounding. Within a day half of the backlog was distributed. It seemed that the initial problem was well on its way to being solved.
Appearances are deceiving!
On the second day the mail distribution once more failed. AndCupid had not yet received his arrows!
Demo hurried to talk to the Postmaster.
"What has happened? Where is Mercury? The mail is once more piling up!"
"No problem. It'll all be delivered in time. As for Mercury, he was ruining the morale of our normal deliverers. I really couldn't tolerate that, so I placed him in another department. He is currently acting as our censor. Keeps his eye open for anything that might be controversial. Why, he just found a package of arrows! Never should have let them get into the system. Directed to a Mr. Cupid, on Zeus' staff. Might well have been an attempted assassination planned!"
"Arrow? Cupid?" Demo's eyes brightened. "Ah, where are they?What did you do with them?"
"Turned them over to security. Right now they are rounding up this Cupid character. It'll go hard with him, I assure you!"
The arrest of Cupid created a furor on Olympus. Zeus was nonplused. Hera, horrified! Venus, however, was the practical mother. "Zeus, you must go his bail. I know it is high. Still, I am sure there are some celestial bailbondsmen who'll cover it for a fraction of the total amount."
Reluctantly Zeus provided the gold.
The problem still remained. Find the arrows!
Demo rushed to Hades, where The Great Detective, better known as TGD, a detective of somewhat dubious character had established office. "Sir, you are famous for the divorce cases you have supported, for the furtive tracing of vanished criminals - indeed, for tracking down lost people and lost items. Your skills are badly needed in support of Zeus!"
TGD smiled. "I am pleased that Zeus has need of me. I would be better pleased if he were to allow me to relocate my office to Olympus. However, for a reasonable fee, I shall be glad to locate the arrows."
"The arrows? How did you know? Well, yes, the arrows must be found. The world is approaching a level of desperation never seen before."
"Great! Then my price shall be adjusted accordingly. Now, where were they last seen? In whose hands? What was the intended disposition by that person?"
"Come, boy, just the facts. Don't waste my time.
Though taken aback, Demo quickly supplied the information.
"We must act quickly! The game, to plagiarize, is afoot. Hand me my cape, my cap, and yonder cane. Been at this too many years, you know. Eh, my pipe, also, if you please."
"But . . . , eh, where are we going?"
"Don't be dense, lad. Where else - we're going to collect those arrows. I don't charge by the hour, I charge by the case. So I don't care to waste time. Come along, now, Wat . . . - Beg your pardon, come along now, Demo."
Demo came along.
TGD had dealings with the postal system before. His interrogation of the Postmaster was cruel. Without hesitation he attacked when any sign of deviousness, confusion, or simple lack of clarity surfaced.
"My dear sir, you're talking pure balderdash! Come, come, to the point, man. Who was the last man known unequivocally to have had possession of those arrows? None of this 'It seems like,' or 'I think it was,' or any of that tomfoolishness. Who do you recall with certainty last had the arrows!"
TGD augured in on the key contact, step by step. With each new suspect he reiterated the above questions. His eyes were brightening. He plainly had a clue!
Demo listened and watched. He was impressed by TGD's step-by-step, inexorable closing in on the culprit.
Mercury recalled finding the package of arrows. In his job as censor he had decided to notify the Postmaster. The latter had called in the security department, and the arrows were transferred to them.
"To whom did you specifically deliver the arrows?" TGD queried.
"Why, to Janus, of course. As doorkeeper Janus is in full charge of security. Would I have delivered them to anyone else!"
TGD smiled. "Thank you, of course you delivered them to Janus.Eh, did you ask for a receipt?"
"Ask for a receipt! From Zeus' own doorkeeper! Never!"
"Ummm. Yes, I understand. Thank you, you have been most helpful."
"How long have you worked as doorkeeper, Mr. Janus?"
"Oh, for eons. Yes, for eons and eons! I've always been Zeus' doorkeeper, you know. He'd never have another. Very pleased with me, he is.
"Except that time I closed the door on his foot. Terrible episode, really. Never cared for those sandals, myself. Don't really offer much protection. Lost th' toenail on his big toe, he did! It grew back, of course! My, but he was in a dither. Said some dreadfully rude things to me. Even, would you believe it, threatened to replace me!" Janus feelings had been hurt, perhaps even more so than Zeus' big toe.
"Yes, I'm sure. Now about the arrows, Mercury gave them to you, did he not?"
"Of course he did. Dreadful conspiracy going on. Arrows are dangerous things indeed. I gave them to Ate for delivery to Zeus. Blessed if I know what she did with them. Be very careless, letting them lie around. Particularly after the release of that dreadful Cupid. Was he plotting an insurrection, do you think?"
TGD smile, turned to Demo. "We are closing in. Ate! Yes, I might have known. The very essence of mischief. Let us first discuss the matter with Zeus. We'll get no straight answers from Ate, of that I am sure!"
Zeus received them with poor grace.
The love that Hera held for him was growing ever thinner. He glared at Cupid with undisguised anger. "You should have had a backup supply. Ridiculous to run out of arrows. They really aren't that costly!"
TGD grilled Zeus with the same methodical approach he used for all. And even Zeus was impressed, and finally cooperated.
"Demo, I am sure you will succeed. Indeed, he is TGD. Must get him to find my wife's earrings. We'll work on that later."
"Yes, Ate did mention the arrows to me. Told her to get them toCupid, right away. But he claims never to have received them!"
Of course, Ate, true to the reputation for mischievousness, had never delivered the arrows to Cupid. The noose was tightening. The culprit was now identified!
"Ate, did Mercury give you the arrows?"
"Oh, no. Janus gave them to me. Perfect arrows, well designed for their purpose. Plainly they belonged to Cupid. Talked to Zeus about it, and I delivered them to Cupid the very next day."
TGD was taken aback. In spite of Ate's reputation he recognized some semblance of truth in the words.
Cupid denied all. "Never received them from Ate. Never even saw Ate. Dastardly lie, that's all. Finger pointing! Would ruin my reputation! Ridiculous!"
Sitting quietly TGD listened, nodded. "Lovely place you have here. Would you show me the house?"
"Delighted," Cupid smiled. "I decorated it myself."
Demo found himself blushing at the many statues and pictures.They had plainly been developed with Cupid's tastes in mind.
TGD, however, had other things in mind.
"You've no mail slot in your front door."
"No, I'm a bit old fashioned. Mailbox is down by the road.Retains something of the old rural atmosphere, you know."
They wandered through the house, from one erotic treasure to another. Then they walked outside.
TGD admired the lawn, the trees, the white picket fence. He opened the gate, reached in the mailbox, and extracted a package. "Here, my boy. Your arrows."
Demo's eyes widened.
"Astounding, my dear TGD! But, how did you know? The mailbox?No mail is being delivered!"
"Elementary, friend Demo. Of course you knew no mail was being delivered. I know that. Cupid knows that. So Cupid doesn't bother to check his mail." TGD smiled.
"And Ate certainly knew that! And I know Ate!"
"Thank you, lad. Never has my kingdom been so peaceful!" Zeus was well pleased.
"Ah, sire, it is truly wonderful. Athena smiled at me! Oh, by the way, the earrings. TGD says not to worry. Hera is wearing them."
"Wearing them! No wonder she couldn't find them in her jewelry box! I really must pay more attention to my wife.
"Oh, as for the postal department! I abolished it. Mercury is now running the Celestial Parcel Service. Deliveries guaranteed to reach destination before being dispatched! How's that for a gimmick!"
15. Giver of Fire
Man weeps.
The beast of the fields ate of his flesh, and no where could he hide. By day the pterodactyls swooped from the skies to take their toll. By night the wolves, in vicious packs, invaded even man's caves and carried off their prey.
Man weeps.
The sound was low, smothered by the wind.
But one heard.
Prometheus.
He took a brand from the fires of Olympus, laid it at the mouth of the cave where man shivered in cold and fear. And the wolves grew wary, approached not. And man maintained as sacred the fire given to them by Prometheus. Priests and priestesses watched without cessation that the fire should be fed. Let the flames but flicker, and they stirred the ashes. Should the burning brands be too few they replenished them. And should the flames die they brought forth the bellows, blew life giving air on the coals below, and the fire burned bright. They never failed in their chores.
Except,
Once.
Then, the fire died!
"Lad, you must never tell a soul of this task. As Zeus, master of the universe, I make no mistakes. But, at an earlier time, I took an action that I have since regretted. Prometheus, the giver of fire, as you earthlings know him. I punished him severely. Even to this day he suffers."
Zeus seemed to be downcast. "Anyway, the fire he gave to man has burned out, flickered out, been blown out - whatever. Yet, after careful thought, I have decided that man should have fire. Prometheus must be freed to once again pass a lighted brand to mankind. I can't free him, as that would cast doubt on my infallibility. So, you do it. Off with you, now!"
There is a mountain, far removed from human haunts. There, time after time, a tragedy repeats itself. Prometheus, the giant benefactor to mankind, waits. Chains bind him to the mountain. He waits and watches, watches the sky.
High in the sky, barely visible, a black dot can be seen. Suddenly it falls, faster and faster, and as suddenly slows, wings widespread. An eagle. A giant bird, with fierce talons, merciless curved beak, strikes at the helpless captor.
Its talons rip, its beak slashes, and Prometheus gasps in pain. The eagle tears at skin and muscle, at bone, and finally tears from living flesh an organ. It flies away, the liver of its victim in its beak.
Day ends, night passes, an lo the body of Prometheus has healed. And now he waits again the coming of the eagle.
Demo began his hike to the Edge of the World, that region where juts the great mountain upward to the sky.
He carried with him dried venison. No bread had he. Mankind's fires were no more. Raw fruit and vegetables. Sun dried meat and fish.
At home his Mother sat before the stove, her frustration plain on her red face. Without fire she could not cook. Without fire the night became ever dark, and days were too short.
Prometheus must be freed!
"These boltcutters will handle any chains you'll run into, young man. Well tempered metal, endorsed by Vulcan when he started this franchise. His personal guarantee on every one sold. Money back, no questions asked, if you aren't satisfied. Now, what more could you ask?" The salesman was solicitous and persistent.
Finally Demo nodded, paid the asking price, and added the boltcutter to his pouch of goodies.
He had chanced on the Vulcan Franchised Technology hardware store while passing through the village. Fortunately it carried the type of equipment he required.
"And keep in mind, with the extinguished fires, there'll be no more of these produced. It'll become a collector's item, worth much more than the original cost. You are getting a bargain!"
The sight of the giant, some scars still open and bleeding, brought tears to Demo's eyes. Quickly he climbed upward, reached the cliff to which Prometheus was pinned.
Demo looked at the chains, at his boltcutter.
It was too small!
He examined the pitons that maintained the chains in place.Hammered deep in the rock, they seemed mounted to last forever.Demo shook his head. What could be done?
At that moment he heard a strange sound, growing ever louder. Looking upward he saw an object. It fell from the sky, swifter and swifter still.
And then, wings spread, in eagle form it lashed at its assigned prey!
The mountains trembled at the thunderous scream of the tortured giant. He quivered, threw himself against the bonds that held him!
Agony on his face, he screamed once more!
Demo put hands over ears to escape the misery and pain that voice held. It did not suffice!
He looked, grief-stricken, at the bleeding, gaping wound. He gazed in wonder at the pain-filled face, the reddened eyes!
Prometheus eyes closed. Sweat poured from his brow. Slowly he slipped down, unconscious from the pain. Only the chains supported him.
"Zeus, that you could impose such horror! I cannot understand! But he shall be freed! I must act quickly!" Demo talked to himself as he worked.
Though his boltcutter was useless Demo was not ready to give up. He took hammer and metal chisels from his pack, began to work on the most worn of the links of chain.
Even as he worked he noted the change in Prometheus. The wound healed! By nightfall no sign remained, except the fearful scars, to show that the vicious attack had ever occurred!
Tomorrow, the eagle would return!
The boy worked throughout the night on the link. In early morning it gave, opened!
Prometheus pulled against the links, and one arm was free. With both hands he wrestled with the remaining chain on his left arm. In moments the piton was freed from the mountain wall! Quickly he wrestled with the leg irons, wrenched them from their place against the cliff.
Prometheus, his bonds broken, glanced wildly around. His eyes reflected fear, madness. He watched the skies, searching for something fearful and inescapable.
But no eagle flew.
Demo motioned downward, toward the path leading to the valley below. Quickly he led the way! "Follow me! Follow me! Quickly!"
Prometheus, walking awkwardly, using skills long lost to captivity.
They reached the valley, began the long journey to the sea.
Suddenly they felt a shadow encompass them. Demo frowned.
Prometheus had thrown himself on the ground, curled up like a child. He was sobbing.
Glancing toward the sky Demo realized why!
Now the eagle flew!
Closer and closer, its wings spread wide, it zoomed downward.Its prey lay still, paralyzed by fear, waiting its strike.
Demo notched his arrow, loosed it against the huge bird.
The arrow struck home!
With an angry squawk the bird turned from its prey to its attacker. Demo fell as it swooped near, rolled over!
Too late!
It had his leg, was pulling him aloft!
Prometheus, an expression of fear on his face, yet reached out, seized the wing of his enemy. He pulled the eagle to the ground.
Demo was released, quickly rolled over. He watched, wide-eyed, as Prometheus unleashed his pent-up anger on his tormentor.
They fought long and hard, and feathers and blood mingled on the valley's floor! At long last the eagle stood atop the giant, its talons at his stomach!
Yet, even as it tore at the flesh of the giant, Prometheus seized its throat in powerful hands, cut off the breath of life.
In moments the eagle lay dead!
Demo looked at the face of the conqueror. He shuddered!
The eyes of Prometheus still held unreasoning fear. No semblance of reason was displayed in those haunted eyes! The long, ever-enduring torment had not destroyed his body.
It had destroyed his mind!
The hope that man might once more have fire was dashed!
Prometheus, for all his size and strength, was helpless.
"Come, there is nothing left to do here. I'll help you. To yonder stream."
Demo led him from the site, down to a green meadow where flowed a quiet brook. There he washed the giant's wounds, gave him wine to drink, watched him as he slept.
Like a child Prometheus followed Demo. At first ever watchful, his frightened eyes on the sky. With time he relaxed, only sporadically tensed, glanced anxiously upward.
He did not speak.
He did chores as directed. He searched for berries, edible plants, honey. He fetched water from a nearby spring.
Within the immediate area he worked diligently. He would not go beyond sight of Demo. When he reached a distance that seemed to great he would halt, bow his head, and return.
Broken, frightened, the hero was dead! Only the shell lived.
The wild beast became ever braver. Fire, that strange creature that turned night into day, no longer existed. Mankind huddled by night in their abodes, listening, frightened, at the night sounds.
The wolves became bolder. They hunted in larger and larger packs, killed sheep at will. Soon village dogs became their prey. And children who wandered alone into the night. Even men, traveling alone, were subject to the deadly raid of the wolf pack.
Prometheus and Demo came under attack. They slept in the open, under the stars. Demo woke to hear the call of the wolves as they assembled for the hunt. He grimaced, felt for his bow and arrows.
Prometheus slept. Childlike, he trusted to Demo for his protection.
The howls soon ceased. That silence, more than the wild calls, frightened Demo. He notched an arrow to his bow, sat with back against a huge oak. He watched the edges of the clearing, looking for sign of motion.
He wasn't to be disappointed.
They came in the false dawn, quietly creeping to the edge of the open space. Demo saw in the dim light their movement. He let fly an arrow, prepared another. The yelp of the injured wolf signaled the attack.
One more arrow flew and a wolf fell. The pack was upon him! He had not time to draw his bow again.
With an angry roar Prometheus awoke. His huge form towering high, he seized a fallen tree trunk, raised it above his head.
He met the oncoming horde with battering blows, growls more fierce than that of beast. Quickly, leaving fallen comrades behind, the wolves scattered.
Prometheus sat down, shivered as though cold.
"Why is there no fire? They would fear the fire."
Demo stared!
Under the fierce attack Prometheus had regained his will to live, to fight!
"The fire you gave man is extinguished. He failed to keep its flame burning, failed to protect it. He took it for granted, and none would be its keeper.
"There is no fire!"
Prometheus lay down the great log, breathed deeply.
"I took from Vulcan's furnace, from the hottest flames, the heart of fire. I gave it to man for his care and nurture, to protect him from the creatures of the wild. I gave it to him to protect him from the night, and those things that creep in the darkness. And now he has let it die? What fools are these mortals, to disdain a such a gift?"
"Man grows lazy and irresponsible. He thinks all things come to him with no effort on his part. He values little those gifts that he receives. At last he knows, now, what he has lost."
"In my own hand I carried the fiery coals. Look!"
He thrust out the palms of both hands, and Demo stared in the dawning light of morning at the charred and blackened skin.
"Vulcan will not so easily be fooled again! Yet," Prometheus mused, looking at Demo, "Perhaps it can be done."
Demo frowned. No more was Prometheus leaning on him to take the lead.
"You have access to Olympus. Zeus has given you the key, for you seem to be a favorite of his. And once on Olympus, you have access to Vulcan. You could prepare the way for me, distract Vulcan, and I could once more draw fire from that deadly furnace. Let us plan together."
They sat, discussed, argued, compromised.
It was decided. Demo would return to Olympus, persuade Zeus to call an audience with Vulcan. And in Vulcan's absence, once more would Prometheus carry fire to mankind.
The best laid schemes of man and firegiver go oft astray.
Zeus would have none of it! "I want no involvement on my part.Otherwise, do what you will."
They sat, discussed, argued, compromised.
Demo was amazed! That Zeus would condone such activity on Demo's part seemed unbelievable. Perhaps, as Prometheus implied, he was a favorite!
Regardless, Vulcan would be called to an audience. He would be detained long enough for Prometheus to wend his way to that great furnace wherein lie the eternal fires. And once more would Prometheus give to man the gift of fire.
Vulcan looked morosely at the raging fires in his furnace. Flames huge and red leaped, frolicked, and disappeared to be followed by others of blue and white. They cast gigantic shadows, grotesque and ever changing.
Usually he admired the display, relaxed as might others to the sound of music.
Tonight he did not relax.
Zeus desired his company.
Rarely did Zeus call upon him. Even more rarely was he invited into the presence of that most august God. It did not please him. Here, at his furnace shaping objects from hardest metal, he felt at home. Let others court the company and favors of Zeus.
Nevertheless, he would go. Perhaps there was a chore to be done, a mighty sword to fashion, a shield to form from molten metal. Or, more likely, some damaged tool to repair, welding broken parts to make a whole.
He stoked the fire, breathing the hot flames as though perfume. Wiping sweat from his moist brow he hurried to ready himself for his audience with Zeus.
Prometheus waited.
With Vulcan's departure he slipped into the celestial foundry, inched ever closer to the heart of that huge factory. The furnace glowed from the fire within.
Prometheus entrance was noted.
He knew not of the guard.
Vulcan had led a life of abuse, mistrust, and rejection. He himself trusted no one. Though crippled he remained agile and able, and used his skill with fire and metal to fabricate an object of strange shape and size.
The object was formed of the strongest metals. Its joints were cunningly hinged to allow motion. Its appearance was that of man - rather, that of giant. For it was huge. Huge and massive.
Silently it stood guard in the empty foundry. A dead, useless metal statue, a scarecrow for the vagrant birds that might pass by.
It had one more characteristic.
It lived!
Vulcan had withdrawn from the huge furnace a heart of fire, ensconced it in the body of his creation. That burning, beating heart gave it an existence of its own.
Prometheus' entrance was noted.
Noted by Vulcan's metal monster!
Prometheus stalked quickly to the fiery confines of Vulcan's furnace. Opening the door to its sizzling interior, he flinched back from the blast of flames and heat.
Quickly he picked up the long shovel, thrust it into the midst of the flames. Slowly he withdrew it, the very heart of scorching mass centered in the scoop.
Vulcan's creation struck!
The metal monster, moving silently, steadily, had positioned itself behind Prometheus. Even as he captured the heart of the furnace its arms enfolded him.
Prometheus dropped the shovel!
The white-hot mass of fire rolled onto the floor, began to melt the stones that supported it.
Prometheus threw himself backward, tipping over his attacker!
They rolled on the floor. The creature dug its iron talons intoPrometheus stomach.
Prometheus screamed!
The memory of the eagle engulfed him!
Once again he was chained to the crag, the eagle coming ever closer.
Now it struck!
Its talons, tearing, ripping . . . !
He seized the metal arm, bending and ripping at the fingers!One by one they gave way to his strength.
Even as the last finger gave way, the other arm now enwrapped his throat! His breathing grew ever more difficult. And Vulcan's monster wrestled him closer and closer to the deadly ball of scorching fire.
He felt the heat on his skin, burning and charring! Now his chest was barely inches from the fire! It touched his skin!
Abruptly he reached out, seized the burning mass in his huge hands!
He lifted the deadly cargo above his head!
Burning through skin and flesh, charring bone, it lit the hellish scene!
With an effort he loosed the deadly mass behind his back!
If fell on the head of Vulcan's creation.
The struggle was over!
A molten mass, the metal monster lay inanimate upon the floor!
With crippled hands Prometheus once more shoveled the burning heart of the furnace. Without a backward glance he rushed from the site of battle.
Arriving on earth he deposited his burden in the bowels of Mt. Vesuvius. There would it ever burn. And from that burning mass man once more distributed fire to hearth and kiln.
"My boy, you handled that quite well. Certainly left Vulcan's foundry in a mess, though. By the way, I sent Aesculapius over to care for Prometheus' hands. It will take time, but Aesculapius works wonders. Gad, his rates are high! Do you know how much he charges for house calls! Never mind, it's enough, I assure you!" Zeus grumbled to even think of the cost.
"Stay healthy." He growled morosely.
16. Wading in the River Styx
Odor of dying algae, of rotting plants, of stagnant waters - all drift above the long, dark stretches of the river Styx. No beauty here.
And in these waters lived creatures not of this world, but of Hades, round which the river flowed, and flows forever. Doomed through eternity to these putrid stream, they had yet one recompense.
Who dared wade the River Styx, he was their prey.
"My boy, take this package over to the guardshack just across the Styx. They are expecting it; by the way, be sure to get a receipt. They hate to sign receipts. Still, it messes up our accounts if we don't have them. The boat is anchored right by the pier, and the oars are stowed beneath the seat."
Zeus started to turn away, then hesitated. "Oh, well! Boy, don't drag your hands in the water. And don't even think about taking a dip. You'd be dreadfully sorry!"
An extremely simple chore, this. Why all the fuss?
Each river has its peculiarities. The Nile, known for its annual flooding. The Lethe, notorious for the effect on those who drink its waters.
And then there is the river Styx.
It has a well-deserved reputation. The environmentalists have been picketing since time immemorial. They complain, legitimately, about the odor, the sludge, the inhabitants - all the little things that help make the Styx unique.
They picket Pluto.
Pluto suggests they picket Zeus, instead. To emphasize his point he releases Cerberus.
Hurriedly they scatter, not taking time to even look back.
They picket Zeus.
Zeus takes it all with gentle and tolerant attitude. His is a measured reaction. He assigns to each picket a little black cloud, from which rain continuously falls. Umbrellas are discouraged by random gusts of wind.
The pickets persist.
Zeus smiles.
The clouds grow larger, the winds gust more strongly.
The temperature begins to fall. The continuous rain ends, is replaced by snow showers. The winds now blow steadily from the cold north.
The pickets persist.
Zeus' smile broadens.
The clouds merge. The winds now reach blizzard force, and the snow changes from soft flakes to frozen pellets. The temperature drops, then drops again.
The pickets assemble, discuss, and rapidly disperse.
Zeus smirks, makes a snowball, which he then playfully tosses into the air. He then builds a snowman. He gives it a picket sign to carry.
Humming, Zeus returns to his throne.
There is no snow by the river Styx. Nor rain. Nor cooling breeze.
The air is stagnant, hot, thick with the odor of rotted plants, the breath of Hades' denizens.
Demo, with the back of his hand, wipes the sweat from his brow. Ah, how delightful it would be to splash even this putrid water on his forehead. Or even to swim in its cooling depths! What was it Zeus had said? Something about being dreadfully sorry?
He rows slowly, moving the oar against water with the consistency of mud. To lift the oar for the next stroke is nearly as difficult as to row.
Then he cannot lift it at all!
Frowning Demo yanked at the oar. It gave slightly, then slipped back into the dank water. With an effort he used the side of the boat as a point of leverage, once more brought up the oar.
Covered with slime, strange plant growth, it broke the surface of the water. But there is something else, a red long and sinewy coil wrapped tightly around the oar. Grimacing, Demo tried to scrape the enwrapping red plant from its hold.
The red plant suddenly uncoiled, extended upward, and quickly enwrapped his forearm. Wide-eyed Demo attempted to pull free.
The hold on his arm tightened!
He was being pulled to the side of the boat!
Slowly the boat began to tip. He lost his footing, fell against the gunwale. The boat began to rock, and with each rock the putrid water of the river Styx splashed in.
As Demo pulled hard more and more of the red plant became exposed.
With a start Demo stared into enormous green eyes!
This was no plant!
Rather, a denizen of the weird waters! A denizen with an appetite for Demo!
A grin appeared on its face. Rather, a smirk. It licked its lips in anticipation.
With one arm held captive by the creature, Demo was unable to use his bow and arrows. Nevertheless, he was not completely helpless.
With his free hand he pulled an arrow from its pouch, stabbed at the entwining red tentacle. Surprised and in pain, the creature uncoiled its hold, slid back into the dark stream.
Demo sat down in the boat, sweat appearing on his forehead. For a moment he sat still. Then he noticed that the boat was drifting away from the shore.
With a start he once more manned his oars!
It was useless. The slow flowing waters of the Styx had now branched off. This was a different river entirely!
He recognized it! Fearfully his eyes opened wide!
The Meander! A river that went on forever. Purposeless, endless, going on forever!
He looked back.
No trace of the Styx was to be seen!
From the far shore he heard unearthly laughter!
An object he knew too well blended with the shadows there. The unseen companion!
Night fell, the air cooled. Birds flew low in pursuit of mosquito swarms. From the swampy shores growls and moans, strange shrieks and lonesome howls disturbed the darkness. The water lapped intermittently against the boat's side. Fish, or creatures adapted to the Meander, leaped above the water, splashed back to the surface. Nightbirds winged closed to the boat, dived toward Demo, then veered away.
Finally, lulled by the boat's rocking, he fell asleep.
The frigid night air woke him. The vast waste of the river was coated by a low-lying white fog. Above, a cold and desolate moon shone full on the quiet scene below. At times white fluffy clouds blocked its rays, then drifted on.
As morning approached a light breeze began to blow. The surface fog, like disturbed ghosts, scattered, drifted, faded away. False morning lit the sky, only to fade.
A red and angry sun rose on the horizon. Twisted, bent, huge trees brooded along the river bank. The sun's rays hardly penetrated into the depth of the forest. Birds flew high, dashing wildly away as a hawk fell into their midst. A large fish leaped from the waters' surface, splashed back and disappeared.
His empty stomach growled in anger over lack of breakfast. The thought of meat and eggs cooking on his mother's fire would not leave his mind.
He searched his pouch, found only day old remnants of bread, which he quickly devoured. Still, visions of venison roasting, of warm loaves of bread from the oven - enough! He must quit this foolish dreaming, must find a way to return!
Listlessly the young man let his hand dip into the water. Only were he able to catch a fish, anything to provide sustenance.
With a start he felt an object brush against his fingers. Quickly he grasped it, pulled it to the surface. Perhaps a fish, careless of predators.
"No!"
He thrust it from him! The headless body of a man! Shuddering he watched it slip away. In his mind he recalled the story of one so killed, doomed to the endless wandering of the Meander.
The broad river seemed to wind endlessly, going nowhere. Along its low banks huge trees dipped their limbs in the muddy water. A turtle swam by near the shore, then dived below. In the tree limbs above birds sang their mating calls. Serenely the placid river flowed. A lifeless stretch of jungle bordered it.
But was it lifeless!
Something moved among the brush and tree trunks. At first he thought of the unseen companion. No, this was different.
He watched carefully.
Farther along, more movement! Something, or someone, was following his boat!
They stayed well back from the shore. Still, from time to time he saw again the movement, glimpsed once more a stern visage.
He tensed as the current moved him closer still to that shore and its unknown inhabitants.
The boat ground to a stop, its lower hull lodged on the shallow bottom.
Demo took a deep breath, using the oar tried to pry the boat from its anchorage.
A small stream flowed into the river within feet of his position.
The bushes along the stream were moving! The motion came ever closer!
He climbed into the water, attempted to free the boat again.
It was to no avail!
He turned to the shore. They stood silently, stoic, watching.
Waiting!
The Sileni!
A distant cousin of the centaurs, with much the same appearance. Their lower haunches were horselike, while torso and head were that of man. Their history was dim, their homeland unknown.
There was no escape! The boat was lodged tightly. He stood, waded slowly to the shore.
"We rarely see visitors from the outside." This Sileni stood tall above his companions. "And on the river Meander some come and go, never to be seen again. What seek you on this river?"
"Ill fate sent me to this stream. I merely wished to cross the river Styx, carrying a missive sent by Zeus. Strange forces diverted my passage, and I floated unwillingly here."
"Tarry with us a bit. To follow the Meander is useless. It never ends, never repeats a passage. An eternity is too short to follow all its windings. Perhaps we can aid you, help you return to the river Styx. Though it, too, is a river of ill repute."
The hospitality of the Sileni pleased him. They fed him well, gave him cot on which to sleep. During his sleep they dragged the boat to shore.
"Your coming has been foretold. One waits now to talk with you, for there is much you do not know. Egeria, the last of the Caminae, would speak with you. There is the matter of the Tarn."
With a start Demo regarded the speaker. "Egeria! I do not understand. The Caminae are long gone, long departed!"
The conversation with Egeria confused him. She told him of things to come, but in words that were mystic and full of cryptic allusions. Yet she spoke of the tarn, where he must inevitably meet a foreordained fate.
"The tasks shall lie behind you, yet will there be another task. By your kindness to a stranger shall you be led to danger never faced by man. Though you be brave, follow the dictates of your heart. Heed my words. For this were you brought to me. It was foretold before your birth." The ancient woman stared at him through blinkless eyes.
Although he had listened he knew well that he did not understand. "Heed the dictates of your heart." What dictates of his heart? And if all had been foretold why should he not be informed of those inevitable results? He gazed at her, started to ask questions, then reconsidered.
"The Sileni shall return you to your craft. Lie down, in the bottom. Do not take oar in hand. When darkness descends you shall once more be on the river Styx. Your mission shall be quickly done. Tell Zeus that Egeria has opened your eyes."
It transpired as she explained. Zeus, when he delivered her message, bowed his head. "The Moira draws maps on sandy beaches, and man and Gods dare not deviate. My boy, believe that I wish you well. You understand, I cannot intervene in what will be."
Perhaps for the first time Demo felt real fear!
17. Lost in Time
Cronus hiccuped.
It doesn't happen often, and it rarely has much significance.
Only this time, it had significance. This time, Cronus was busy.
He was adding a slight touch of gray to Demo's hair.
Cronus, to those not knowing, has time as his domain. Even the gods respond to his wiles, and age even as you and I.
And Cronus was gently aging Demo.
Cronus hiccuped.
He had taken a liking to the boy since they had met on an earlier task imposed by Zeus on Demo. So Cronus had not acted in spite. It was only that Cronus is the master of time, and when he hiccuped he inadvertently sent Demo flying into a time far removed. Even this would hardly have been a problem, for Cronus could easily have returned him. But, as only one way exists for a project to go right, and many ways for it to go wrong, this project went wrong.
Cronus was distracted by his wife. He quickly followed her to adjust a timepiece that kept erratic time. "My dear, it really isn't the sundial that's at fault. It's the sun. It refuses to travel at a constant rate. I've talked to Zeus. Unfortunately, It's low on his priority list."
Then Cronus went off to his study, and his hobby of clock collecting. Demo was, for the moment, forgotten. In his study Cronus maintained clocks of every size, every design, every motif. Electronic clocks, grandfather clocks, wall clocks, floor clocks, round clocks, square clocks - even clocks that kept time. But no two displayed exactly the same time. For, you see, time isn't at all the same. Here it has one value, there another, and elsewhere still a third. But, most assuredly, one of the numerous clocks ticked the right time. Only Cronus knew which one.
"Which studio you with? They shooting here today?"
Demo looked quizzically at his interrogator. Since becoming Zeus' protg he found that languages were no problem. All the same, always there were references, words, and phrases of which he had no ken.
"I know not of studios, and the next shooting is at the great fair, a full moon away. There I shall surely prove champion of all of Greece, perhaps of all the civilized world."
"Ah-ha! Your advertising a coming film, right. The Great Fair. Well, I'll try to take it in. Your doing good, pal. I'll tell you, though, that costume really needs some work."
The stranger smiled and walked away.
Demo frowned.
No city of Greece was this. Grass grew not, and chariots dashed madly, teamless, down streets of solid rock, The people wore clothing of strange design, talked in a weird dialect, and gazed at him in benign amusement. The buildings were as none he had ever seen. They, too, were made of stone or even metal, and their height gave challenge to proud Olympus.
Suddenly he noted, passing high overhead, a dragon of strange construction, growling deeply as it passed. Passersby gave it no heed. Plainly the monster had already fed, was returning to its lair for rest.
A chariot smashed into the side of another, and high-pitched screams as of the wild geese filled the air. The chariots lined up, one behind the other, all emitting similar shrills.
Something here is akilter, he thought.
He noted men being disgorged by the shrilling chariots, shouting each to the other and making aggressive motions with closed fists.
Then arrived chariots with fires of red and blue flashing upon their heads, screaming like night creatures in tales he had been told.
These in turn disgorged men adorned in blue cloth, with shining metal decorations on their chests. These men in turned carried sticks, and screamed and shouted at those who had gone before.
In due time the horseless chariots moved away, the mass chasing in single file the leader. And endless sequence followed madly after the leading chariot. Was this a race, or a new form of war?
Along the pathway a bench attracted his attention, and he sat down, took dried venison from his poke. A young man, perhaps his own age, approached.
"Hey, got a dollar? I'd like to borrow a dollar for a while."
"What, pray, is a dollar?"