Title: The Tarn of Eternity
Author: Tymon, Frank
Language: English
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(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 for you. I'll take care of it, though." The
puff-fish whistled loudly, popped up above the water to peruse
its surface.

"Here he comes."

Demo followed the puff-fish's gaze. He wished he hadn't!

The shark was approaching at alarming speed. Its fin split the
water's smooth surface, drawing ever closer. Demo's eyes widened.

"Hey, that's a shark!"

"Yes, yes indeed! Actually, merely a minnow as sharks grow.
Actually, he was the only one in the area, so I flagged him
down. Oh, taxi, right this way."

The shark circled slowly, at times rising to the surface, its
cold eyes regarding Demo with hungry interest.

"None of that, now! Just come over here and let him ride upon
your back. Over to the island, and be quick about it. I don't
care to wait. And I do so enjoy shark steaks."

The shark stopped dead, then slowly swam alongside Demo, who
clambered aboard.

The trip was indeed swiftly completed. Though it ended swiftly,
not swiftly enough. Not before the shark, perhaps to show its
displeasure, several times dived deep.

Coughing and spewing saltwater, Demo suffered the torments
with little grace. As they reached the shallows off the island
he quickly dismounted, swam toward the waiting beach.

The shark swam with him, circling ahead and behind, and
occasionally taking a playful nip at Demo's heels. Amazing how
playful nips at one's heels improves one's swimming skills!

As he waded toward the shore a sudden wave roared in. Massive
torrents of water tore over him, knocked him to his knees. When
he groggily arose he saw before him, in all his oceanic
splendor, a figure of majestic proportions.

"You are on an errand for Zeus, are you shipmate? And may I
inquire to what port ye are bound? I may well give thee
favorable winds and gentle seas, if it so please me."

"Sire, I seek the master of the deeps, Poseidon himself. I have
this missive to convey to him."

"Well, now, you've laid your course well, and have made already
landfall. Lower your sails, matey, for I be Poseidon, he whom
you seek. Let me look upon this important missive. My, my, from
Zeus himself!"

Demo proffered the missive, astonished at his good luck in so
quickly completing his task.

Poseidon opened the package, pulled out a long roll of papyrus.
"Well, a letter from Zeus! I didn't know he could write!"

He read the Zeus' letter, looked contemplatively out to sea,
then read it once more. "Have you read this missive, my good
lad?"

"Oh, no, Sire. It would not do, you know!"

The calm look on Poseidon's face had disappeared. Anger seemed
to be mounting, and his face grew first red, then purple as an
angry sea.

"Then let me tell you what this is. This is a bill. And not an
ordinary bill. Our good Zeus says, says he: 'Your past bills for
the water I have supplied you have not been paid. Your rates are
therefore doubled, and the present bill also includes a penalty
for late payment and excess water usage. Return payment in full
with the boy, or suffer the consequences."

"How dare he! To send such a bill to Poseidon! I rule the waves
and all the water under them! Penalties! I am somewhat annoyed
by your missive, shipmate. Have you heard the term, keelhaul?
It's an old custom to keelhaul those who arouse the ire of
Poseidon. And, in the absence of Zeus, mayhap we shall keelhaul
his emissary."

Demo looked around. He saw no sign of emissary, none to serve
for the aforementioned keelhauling.

Demo shivered.

"Eh, Sire, he seems not to have an emissary handy.  Should I
see such an emissary, I shall most certainly direct him to you,
so that he may participate in the keelhauling. Anyway, now my
mission is complete, and I must report back to Zeus."

"Oh, no! I wouldn't think of such a thing. Come aboard, come
aboard! Ho the dinghy, we'll be going directly to the ship. Look
lively, now!"

Demo followed Poseidon's gaze. Where the sea had been empty now
floated a three master, its sails furled. And on the beach a
dinghy, manned by a scurvy looking crew of ill-clothed sailors.

"Yes, indeed. I can see you are impressed by her lines. Only
wait 'til you are on board. We shall have a sumptuous feast in
your honor. Ah, you haven't eaten until you've partaken of the
food from my galley. Come along!"

Demo examined, surreptitiously, the oarsmen. Though they rowed
with vigor, their faces remained expressionless, their eyes
empty. He felt as though he were looking on the spirits of
drowned sailors, condemned to these chores for eternity.

"Quickly, now, laddie! Up the ladder. Hold her steady, boys. I
wouldn't have the youngster get wet, not yet."

Somehow the last two words disturbed Demo. He wasn't exactly
sure why.

"Keelhauling, I didn't explain it to you, did I. Well, it's a
sport we indulge in at times. Gives the lads a chance to get in
their exercise. The way it works is, we take a . . . eh, a
volunteer. We tie his hands behind him, wrap a hawser around
him, and toss off the bow. The boys pull the hawser from stem to
stern, from starboard to larboard, all around the good ship back
to the bow once more. Jolly good fun!"

Demo listened wide-eyed and speechless.

"I see you are impressed! And so you should be. I've a very
good mind to let you volunteer. Give you a chance to show off
your mettle. Yes, I just may give you the chance." Poseidon's
voice held a tone of anger to match his angry face.

"And the sea is of like mind. Have you ever seen such waves!
Keelhauling today would indeed be great sport!"

"Sire, I fear I would provide poor sport indeed. With hands
free I swim like a rock. With them tied I fear I would never
surface at all."

"Well, don't fret. That happens all the time. Ruins the fun, of
course. Keep in mind, though, that we always give the volunteer
a solemn burial at sea. A very impressive ceremony. You would
truly appreciate it."

The prospect of participating in a keelhauling - in fact, of
being the keelhaulee - grew less and less desirable as Poseidon
explained the term.

"But, first, a good meal. We'll start with some bacon and eggs.
Delicious bacon, and the eggs are cooked in the bacon grease. A
delightful meal. And you probably thought we'd be dining on
cockles and mussels and nought from the dry land. No,  no! We
feed our guests well. Yes, indeed!"

The rolling of the ship as the waves struck, the thought of the
greasy bacon and greasy eggs - the very idea of eating -
nauseated Demo.



With a sigh he stared out at the watery scene.

The sea, which had been so blue and calm early in the day, now
frowned with graygreen surface and waves that reached, at times,
the foot of the crowsnest. The wind blew with a sonorous tone,
reminiscent of the dirges played at village funerals. And above
all the sky looked down with a gray visage, pockmarked with
black clouds.

From these, more and more frequently, lightning flashed to
better display the scene.

Flying fish swam deep, and dolphins sported not. Gulls and
terns were not to be seen.

And yet . . . .

And yet a bird flew. Battered by the wind, drenched by falling
rain, its powerful wings brought it ever closer to the ship. A
huge white bird . . . .

Demo eyes brightened. Could it be her? Here, in this dreadful
storm!

Indeed it was.

She landed beside them, assumed the form of a goddess.

"Well, uncle, you sail rough seas this day. I've come to ask of
you a favor, for I am in love and what Cupid cannot grant, the
mighty Poseidon may well provide."

"Ah, little niece, delightful to have you on board. The boy and
I were discussing some manly sport for later in the day. Perhaps
you can stay. It should be amusing."

"Come, Uncle, let us go forward to where the bow leaps from the
depths. I want to feel the force of the waves, the blast of the
windy gusts. No fair weather sailor I. Boy, stay! We shall
return."

With anxious mien Demo awaited their return. He was sure his
own fate was being discussed. Could she control even the power
of Poseidon? A shiver went through him, whether from the cold
rain and wind or from his own fears, he knew not.



"My boy, forgive me. I knew not your qualities. Athena, my
dearest niece, has told me of your exploits. My, you are much
too shy and retiring. If I had done the deeds she attributes to
you, I would blare them out for the world to hear. Come, join
Athena and myself at a table set to honor you."

The attitude of Poseidon had changed indeed. And the smile of
Athena erased all fear and doubt from Demo's mind. Even the sea
now grew calm, and the winds died to mere gentle breezes. Demo
thought, 'The wonder of a woman!'

"Before you return to Zeus - with a message I wish to dispatch
- I would have you assist me with a problem. I'm sure it will
take but a little of your time, and you shall certainly be
rewarded well."

"Sire, I would willingly serve, but . . . "

"Good, good! Then it's settled. Have you, perchance, heard of
Oceanus, and of my henchman Proteus!"

"Vaguely, I recall the names."

"Eh, you shall get to know them well. Perhaps you will know
them better than you would care to. I think so. Well, enough for
now. Let us enjoy the feast." Poseidon smiled.

They dined well. The wealth of the sea contributed to
Poseidon's table. Yet were missing the flesh of the sea calves,
a delicacy for which his table was famed. Amphitrite, Poseidon's
wife, commented on the lapse.

"Proteus, long our herdsman for the sea calves, has left us to
follow Oceanus. For Oceanus has returned, and attempts to
reclaim these watery regions from the rightful authority of my
beloved Poseidon. It is sad, for only strife can result, and the
death of heroes."

Poseidon glanced at her, then addressed Demo.

"I had intended to delay this conversation until after our
repast. However, since the subject is broached, let me appeal to
you." He sat silently for a moment, a slight frown on his face.

"These domains were passed to me from Oceanus, in the early
times when the Old Gods lost their powers. Even as Zeus was
given the heavens, and Pluto the netherworld, so received I the
raging waters, the ocean depths, and all creatures who take to
the sea. And the Titans, who had long held power, were exiled to
Tartarus."

His face grew grim.

"I have ruled well this maritime kingdom. The fisherman takes
his catch, the traveler sojourns on peaceful seas, the water
nymphs sing along the quiet streams. Yet Proteus, when still he
served me, prognosticated of evil times. In words strange and
cryptic he warned of a usurper who would wrest from me my very
throne."

Amphitrite patted his hand, and for a moment he smiled.

"Athena has told me of your services to Zeus, of your courage
and your deeds. I now am in dire stress, and would send you on a
task. A task to thwart the avarice of Oceanus, and end this
madness."

"My dolphin, my sea chariot, and my horses are at your
disposal. I have little guidance to provide, little help to
offer. You should know this. When Oceanus ruled these waves the
seas were wild and no ship dared sail. Under my rule calm seas
have greeted the sailor, and steady winds have filled his sail.
I would keep it so."

"Tomorrow, at break of day, my chariot and steeds shall be at
your disposal. My dolphin shall act as a guardian, to warn you
in times of danger, and protect as best he can. As for the rest,
it is left with you."



After the meal they went on deck. The seas were calm, sparkling
with strange luminescent lights where played the flying fish.
The moon rose, its light reflected from the water's surface.
Demo and Athena stood quietly at the bow of the ship, enthralled
even as we by the beauty and majesty of the sea.

Poseidon and Amphitrite watched the couple for a moment, then
looked at each other with a smile. "I think she chooses well,"
Amphitrite voiced quietly.

Poseidon nodded.

Demo walked with his hand in that of Athena, bathed in her
smile. Strange that Zeus did not interfere!

Premonitions occupied his mind, and even as he pressed the
warmth of her against him he shivered. Waiting for him, he knew,
was the unseen companion. And a destiny he could not fathom.

She sensed his mood, touched his cheek lightly with her hand.
"Would I could remove this curse from you. Understand that it is
not given even to me to see the final scene. Yet my love will be
with you. Ah, 'tis time. The moon is sinking into the sea, and I
must be a-wing ere it fade from sight. Fare the well, my
wanderer. Return safely to me."

He looked at the moon, now half hidden by the horizon. Turning
he found her gone. The beat of wings above the ship, and the
silhouette of an owl against the moon, marked her going.

Demo stood, disconsolate, listening to the quiet lap of the
waves against the bow, the groan of taut hawsers, the gentle
flap of furled sails in a light breeze. Tomorrow a different
adventure - one from which he might not return. Well, morning
comes swiftly. He sought his bunk, slept well, rocked by the
gentle swells of the vast ocean.



The chariot rode smoothly and swiftly over the surface of the
sea, pulled by a brace of stallions even a warrior might ride
eagerly. Led by the dolphin they raced he knew not where. To
search for Oceanus, whom he had never seen; to look for Proteus,
who changed form at will - what strange adventure this. Perhaps,
what hopeless adventure.

Yet they pressed on. The sun rose and lightened a glistening
sea, deep blue mirroring the blue of the sky. And as far as
sight could see, nothing. Only the endless surface, stretching
from horizon to horizon.

Still on the dolphin sped, close followed by the steeds. Never
had he ridden with such speed, never had he seen an ocean
without end. Sun overhead, he felt the warmth of its rays, even
though the cool ocean breeze gentled its beams and he felt only
comfort.

They came upon the shore so quickly that he was surprised. The
mighty stream rushed into the sea, a current that stretched even
beyond the sight of land. They had approached from the side.
Suddenly the dolphin leaped into the air, twisting sideward, and
swam slowly in a circle. The team slowed, halted the chariot at
land's edge.

What was he to find here? He recognized nothing. Beyond the
mouth of the river the trees grew profusely, hiding the upper
reaches from his view. The near shore was rock strewn, but
marked with wide sandy stretches. Inland the land rose slowly,
then reached a escarpment, a huge vertical stone wall.

He waded to the shore, looked for edible plants near the
river's brink. Strange plants grew in scattered clumps, but
nothing that he recognized. He sat down, gazed out to sea. On
the far horizon white cumulus clouds were forming. Finally he
picked some of the native plants, examined them carefully.
Perhaps they had some food value. They might serve for greens,
or even a salad. Reluctantly he munched on a leaf.

The taste was bland. Still, there seemed to be little else with
which to satisfy his appetite. At least, it would fill his
stomach.

He had eaten a handful, leaned back to rest, when he noted a
shadow on the sand. Quickly he looked up.

He had felt no alarm. Surely this monstrous creature was not
the unseen companion!

"I came swiftly, yet plainly not swiftly enough. I am sorry.
You have eaten the herb, and the curse of Glaucus is even now
working in your body.

"I pity you, young man. You have eaten of the herbs that
brought me to the state you see. Soon you will feel a mild
desire to enter the water. And if you resist it will grow ever
stronger. At last you will respond, and when you do, your body
will change as did mind. You too suffer the curse of Glaucus!

Demo stared at him in distaste. Yet, fearfully, he knew it was
true. Even now he felt the urge to enter the beckoning sea. His
mind saw visions of deep lagoons populated with swarms of fish,
great manta rays, swimming amidst brilliantly colored coral
reefs. His skin felt dry and sere. He must swim in the warm
ocean, or he would surely die.

Quickly he rose to his feet. Glaucus looked down, did not move.
Demo walked slowly to the beach, looked back at this, his weird
visitor. Finally, closing his eyes, he stepped into the water.

He felt the change begin even as the soft waves touched his
ankle. He rushed forward, threw himself headlong into the soft
waves lapping the shore. He heard a roaring in his ears, his
muscles ached, and for a moment his eyes were sightless.

It was done!

He did not ask. He looked at the scaly hands, the strangely
webbed fingers and toes. The curse of Glaucus. The adventure was
over. Athena was lost to him forever. Now he was but another
denizen of the deep, a strange monster in the ocean's depths.

The dolphin swam near.

"You are one of us, now. I know not whether the process can be
reversed. In any event, in this form I can take you to Proteus,
if it is your will?"

"Proteus? What matters it now. He would set upon me, for I
resemble nothing but a monster of the deep." Yet, reluctantly,
Demo swam with the dolphin through boundless seas 'til night
darkened the eastern sky.

"Down. We must go down. Here Proteus waits, prepares for the
coming of Oceanus. He works busily, his eight great arms ever
assembling the throne on which Oceanus would sit. Come with me
to the depths."

With each moment they swam ever deeper. The blue-green waters
of the surface darkened, took on a purplish tinge, grew ever
more impenetrable by the eye. Yet, far below, a light gleamed
dimly, or lights. And it was toward those lights they made their
way.

At first the fish had swam and played, delighted with their
company. Butterfly fish flitted by, seahorses danced in a
vertical ballet, and in the distance the sharks circled, ever
accompanied by the pilot fish.

With each fathom they penetrated the fish grew ever fewer, even
as did the light. The warm surface waters were no more, replaced
by chill drafts from far below. And colder still the waters as
their passage continued.

The source of light became more evident as they drew nigh. Red
and glowing lava, flowing in an endless stream, lit the massive
peak from which it flowed. The stream near the volcano's mouth
glowed brightly, and lava flow around the peak retained the glow
until the heat was quenched by the frigid waters.

Water and steam and bubbles swirled ever upward above the
melted stone, a seething cylinder of white illuminated by the
light beneath. And there, on the edge of the molten magma,
Proteus worked his work.

His giant squid-shaped body was limned by the magma's red
light. He coiled his tentacles around huge boulders, tore them
from their rest. These he sat in place, building a massive
throne, the throne of Oceanus.

The task progressed. Nevertheless, even as he worked the Gods
of fire struck out against the defilement of their melted
artistry. A belch of white-hot lava erupted, brushed aside the
mighty throne. In hasty retreat Proteus swam quickly, tentacles
drawn in to escape the edge of the crimson river. He drove
across the watery waste, propelled by the force of inky jet
fluids.

His passage brought him to the very spot whereat they waited.
His eyes looked upon them in neither curiosity nor fear. So long
as Demo and his dolphin guide did not interfere with Proteus'
movement they were ignored.

Demo watched the undersea volcano, the fiery eruption with its
steaming seawater, molten stones. Still, it was not the grandeur
of the scene that held his attention.

In the midst of the burning mass a dark object stood, arms
folded, eyes focused in deadly hatred on Demo.

The unseen companion!

With a shudder Demo closed his eyes, opened them once more. The
vision was gone. Only the angry red lava remained. He shook his
head, turned once more to the job at hand.

"Proteus, I am sent by Poseidon to reason with you."

The tentacles suddenly coiled spasmodically. The creature moved
cautiously away, halted, then approached once more.

"Poseidon knows full well why I have left his service. I served
him well as herdsman, and in reward the Golden Isles were to be
mine. They have gone to another, Glaucus, who is only a
trespasser in these watery depths."

"Glaucus, he who was transformed from human form to one such as
I?"

"Indeed! He whom I would drive from these waters with all good
will."

Demo was silent. Suddenly a spume of molten lava shot from the
peek of the volcano. The explosive eruption drove them back,
even as the red liquid followed a steamy path, lighting the
depths around them. Only Proteus observed nature's fury with
equanimity.

With a shudder Demo ignored the roiled waters. "Proteus, let me
deal with Glaucus. Should I convince him to return to the land
from whence he came, can you in your wisdom return him once more
to human form?"

"Willingly, willingly. I tell you, though, I know his kind.
He'll never give up the Golden Isles."

Turning to the dolphin Demo ignored the last remark. "Take me
to the isle where I first assumed this form. There I knew
Glaucus. Perhaps there he still remains."



Lying in the waves Demo gazed anxiously at the shore. There
grew the horrid plants, the occasion of his unhappy condition.
But nowhere was Glaucus to be seen. The waves gently washed upon
the deserted beach, and terns and gulls flew low above them in
search of food. High above white cumulus clouds floated in an
azure sky. Even as he gazed one began to obscure the brilliant
sun, casting a dark and cooling shadow on earth and sea.

The dolphin grew restless, swimming back and forth to release
its pent-up energy. "Go, search these seas for one such as I.
Tell him that a friend waits here. A friend who may well have a
remedy for this curse from which we suffer."

The dolphin willingly began his search. No lover of indolence
was he.

Diligent though he was, he searched to no avail. Glaucus was
not to be found. Eventually, nigh day's end, the dolphin swam
once more to Demo, confided to him his failure.

"Know you of Scylla? The six headed monster who takes her toll
on those following their trade on the sea? Go where she waits
her prey, and look there for Glaucus. For there was a time,
before Circe in anger molded this hideous creature, that Scylla
was a maiden fair. Yes, a maiden loved of Glaucus. Search for
him near that abode, for he will not wander far from his true
love."

Through the night Demo slept in the gentle tide, washed by warm
waves. The phosphorescent sea stretched as far as eye might
follow, dropping below a distant horizon. Flying fish played
above its surface, and seahorses danced beneath. All was silent,
save for the soft waves caressing the shore.

He dreamed.

Of Athena, of home, of what he had now become.

The roar of incoming waves awoke him. A seafog covered the
shoreline, and heavy waves were forming with the incoming tide.
He dove into the oncoming wave, swam deep to calmer waters.

There played bigeyed butterfly fish, colored with a palette of
white and black and orange. Silversides swam, and among  the
floating weeds wanderer crabs creep. Seahorses cavort, and at
times the young were exploded in droves from the fathers pouch.
Shoreward, where rocky outcrops lay, seasnails moved slowly,
devouring the algae on their way.

He sensed, rather than saw, their approach.

They came swiftly. The Dolphin swimming in happy glee, Glaucus
following at a more subdued pace. After explanations Glaucus
willingly accompanied him to Proteus lair.

The pact was sealed. Glaucus would be returned to his prior
form. Proteus was to return once more to Poseidon's service.
"And  myself?" Demo queried.

"It shall be as with Glaucus."

Proteus smiled, if one can say a squid smiles. At least, he
grimaced.

"How, then, do we deal with Oceanus? You know of his rekindled
ambition. What can be done to placate one such as he?"

They talked long, examining the problem each from his own
perspective. "It is a problem without solution!" exclaimed
Proteus. "He seems invincible. Yet even he must have some
weakness, some hidden defect that might be his downfall." Demo
spoke with little assurance.

"None. No, there is not niche in his armor. Any weakness in
another is lacking in him. I should know. Weekly, before the
Golden Isles fell to Glaucus, Oceanus and I played round after
round of golf on those shores. I observed him, talked to him,
learned of his history. He opened up to me. I tell you, no,
Oceanus has no weaknesses."

"What, of all things, does Oceanus most enjoy?"

Proteus sat quietly, only the tips of his tentacles wriggling.
"He enjoys thoroughly power. He likes, of course, a round of
golf. And to talk. Little else."

"Ah, let us wend our way to Poseidon. There is much to be done."



Indeed there was. Day after day they worked with Poseidon,
taught him skills foreign to his domain. With Proteus he visited
the Golden Isles, the throne intended for Oceanus, and learned
much along the way.

"Proteus, when comes Oceanus?"

"That I know not. But this I know, the waves shall not be
still, nor the ocean calm, with his coming."

Demo woke with the leaping and bounding of the three-master.
The ship moaned in the throes of an angry sea. The planks bent
and gave, and sea water sloshed in the hold. Above, the wind
tore at the furled sails. The hawsers, stretched taut, groaned
under the torment. Seabirds landed on the deck, sought shelter
from the storm.

"Is it now? Has he come?"

Proteus, now in human form, nodded. "It is surely Oceanus. I
will address him. He will listen to me." Proteus spoke with
little assurance, his eyes watching the ever wilder sea.

"Oceanus, 'tis I, your old friend, Proteus. We would meet with
you, on the Golden Isles. Poseidon is amenable to concessions.
He would negotiate with you. This day we sail for the Golden
Isles."

The words seemed to have little effect. Then, gradually, the
winds died, and the waves grew ever smaller. A light breeze
rose, steady, blowing toward the Golden Isles.

Quickly the sails were unfurled. The ship rode smoothly and
swiftly toward the distant shore. In the bilge sea water
continued to slop, gradually was dumped over the side.



"A gift, Zeus, from Poseidon." Demo handed Zeus a golf club,
handle of gold.

Zeus frowned. "And what of my missive?"

"Given to him, Sire. He acknowledges that his payment has,
indeed, been delayed. But, another matter might interest you. A
terrible battle ensued between Poseidon and Oceanus. The waters
of the oceansea thundered upon ship and shore. Islands
disappeared haplessly into the depths. Still they fought in ever
more desperate anger.

They labored for a day, and only with nightfall did Poseidon
finally dominate. 'Twas on the golf course of the Golden Isles,
and as result of his win Poseidon retains mastery of the seas.
Oceanus had the lead, then developed a nasty slice as they
neared the 15th hole."

"Oh, yes, it really was a nasty slice. Ball flew right off the
course."

"Golf, Poseidon, Oceanus? Who rules the watery domains as they
while away their time at such diversions?"

"I, your majesty. Great fun. Some minor problems. Washed away
the rock of Gibraltar, which Poseidon kindly replaced. And,
Sire, Poseidon invites you a golf match at your earliest
convenience, where he would negotiate with you over the bill you
submitted. I'd be more than pleased to run Olympus in your
absence."

"Yes, I understand." Zeus weighed the club in his hands, took a
hefty swing. "I'll surely join him. I doubt he knows that
Proteus gave me lessons years ago. 'Twill be a most enjoyable
game!"

He paused for a moment, eyes wide, as though watching a major
catastrophe. "You . . . in my absence!" With a frown he walked
toward the throne. "Where is my flagon of nectar. Good day, my
lad!"



The river Lethe flows dark and deep in the nether kingdom.
Strange stories of the power of those waters spread among
mankind.

One story was true.

Who drinks of those waters remembers no more.

Lost loves, friends, family - their vision fades away.

Hate, enemies, wars, catastrophes - all are gone.

Happiness, joy, taste of rare wines, flavor of good foods - all
fade.

Victories, defeats. Catastrophes, triumphs. Gone, all gone.

A blessing or a curse?

To each new dweller in Hades offers Pluto a goblet. In that
goblet the limpid water of Lethe. The only kindness offered in
the kingdom of the damned.

One bathed in those limpid waters, drank deep, and found no
peace.

Pluto.

Master of the evil domain. Keeper of the Portals of Hell.
Cursed to minister to the punishment of the damned, forever.

And cursed yet more with a heart that bled for the poor fools
whose actions had brought them to such sorry end.

The most damned of all souls in purgatory.

Pluto, master of that dread domain.

He had hoped with Persephone to escape in her arms the
ever-present misery.

Her sorrow brought misery the more.

"I can give to others the waters of Lethe. Only to others. As
for me, I must know all past evil deeds - and even more, must
know the evil yet to come."

The waters of Lethe failed him.

13. The Anger of Zeus

"I will not have it! Dare he taunt the master of the universe!
I will swat him like a fly! No! Too easy! He shall change places
with Prometheus! No, no! Even that is too easy. Boy, where are
you, come here! Now, right now! I have a chore for you. Yes,
such a chore!"

The sudden call to Olympus was unexpected. Not that Zeus ever
sent out invitations. Normally - if one could consider a summons
from Zeus to be normal - he had few cues and hints before Zeus
summoned him. This unceremonious summons came as a complete, and
not overly appreciated, surprise.

He noted immediately Zeus' red face, and the tumultuous tower
of black clouds above Olympus. This was going to be a real task!

"Atlas! A vulgar name! Do you know it? I'll tell you of Atlas!
Condemned! Condemned to hold the world forever upon his
shoulders! And he dares claim that I chose him for that task
because I had not the strength and stamina to perform it! How
dare he!"

Zeus paced back and forth, sputtering.

"He is to be punished. Right now, I have yet to decide the what
that punishment shall be. You, my lad, shall decide. I want you
to travel widely, to examine all the vilest, cruelest, most
atrocious forms of torture. Select from these the very worst.
That torture shall be imposed on the impudent lout."

"But, Sire, I . . . "

"Enough! Begone. And do not linger, or you may join him."

Never had he seen Zeus so angry. Once more he started to speak,
but with a wave of his hand Zeus dismissed him.

He landed in the midst of a patch of briars, extricated himself
slowly and carefully. "My, but he is peeved!"



Two mighty brothers served Zeus faithfully and well. Yet there
came a falling out, and the anger of Zeus could not be appeased.
One brother he chained to a mountain crag, and daily sent a
great eagle to tear and rend his flesh.

One he placed in eternal servitude, to carry upon his shoulders
the earth and heavens. And that was Atlas.

Torture, torment? More like Hades than Heaven! What a strange
and obscene task was this!

"Mother, the Gods at times have been cruel to man. What manner
of cruelty have they applied, what devices or creatures that
give pain?"

"A strange question. But, yes, the Gods work in strange ways."

A sparkle lit her eye.

"There is a legend that once, in long ago times, there lived on
earth only men. They grew proud and warlike, offended each the
other and offended all the Gods. Zeus became very angry, and
called unto him all the Gods. Long they parlayed, and angrily.
And at long last they decided on a torture so inhuman, so
merciless, so enduring that they hesitated to loose it upon even
these undeserving earthlings. At last Zeus authorized the
punishment."

She paused, stirred the pot in which vegetables were beginning
to boil.

"And that was?"

A smile crossed her face.

"A present was delivered to man. One that he looked on with
delight, and took to his heart. A present that has punished him
ever since. It was an object of unending torture; still, a
torture that poor weak man courted."

"A present, Mother?"

"Yes, he sent to man Pandora. Pandora, the first woman. And
since that day man has found himself unable to live without her.
She torments him, tantalizes him, arouses in him all emotions.
Yet he turns again and again to her." She laughed.

"Just as Athena torments you, yet you turn to her again and
again!"

"You tease me, Mother?"

"No, the legends say it's true. Woman was man's first
punishment. Disguised as a gift! Well, well, perhaps your Athena
will be more the gift, less the punishment!" She tousled his
hair, hummed to herself, glanced in amusement over her shoulder
at him, and laughed.

Demo smiled. Such pleasant punishment.

Yet, truly, how much pain. The wanting, the loneliness, the
feeling of emptiness when she was not near - before he met her
they did not exist. Now they were his constant companions.

A coin has two sides.

Gift and punishment indeed!

The more he thought, the more reasonable it seemed. The
punishment for Atlas, the ultimate punishment, would be to find
him a mate.

Of course, it was difficult. For one such as Atlas, who might
qualify?

There were children's' stories, tales, even legends, of women
such as these. But reality knew none such.

I have a task of great difficulty, he thought to himself. I'll
get busy on it after lunch. "Mother, haven't we anything to eat?"



"Mother, tell me of women."

"Women! Why . . . , eh, what in the world do you want to know?
She blushed slightly, frowned.

"Well, you spoke of Pandora. I am sure there are other women in
history. Tell me of them."

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 to
Pluto'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 step
was to read. History of the Post Office. Operation of a Post
Office. Management books in general. Operations Research,
Management Analysis, Industrial Engineering, Sex Life of the Sea
Turtle - 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 blamed
Demo. 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 of
Mercury."

"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. And
Cupid 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 to
Cupid, 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 into
Prometheus 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' prot‚g‚ 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?"

The youth stared at him for a moment. "All right, forget it!
Whatcha eatin'? What's in th' poke?" He gestured toward Demo's
pouch.

"Food, good food. Would you care for some tasty viands?"

"Vines? Did you say vines? That ain't vines you're eatin'.
Looks like meat to me. You got any more?"

"Yes, try it. You'll find it quite tasty. My mother dried it
under the sun, salted it herself."

The suppliant tasted the dried venison, looked at Demo in
disbelief. "Hell, I'm going to the Salvation Army. You really
eat this stuff!"



A large horseless chariot pulled up alongside him. A woman
starred at him through some strange, clear material. She smiled,
then laughed. He looked around to see what caused her laughter.

Nothing untoward met his sight. Ill-dressed heathens strolled
aimlessly, it seemed, along the wide pathway. No, there was
nothing amusing to be seen.

Frowning, he continued to eat his dried venison. Two men
dismounted from the chariot, and it drove away, moaning in a
disquieting manner.

Inside the passengers were looking at him through the viewing
space in the rear.

Perhaps it is my garb. Here they dress strangely.

"Hare Krishna?"

One of the passengers who had descended addressed him.

"No, Demo."

"That's a new one. Is it Indian?"

"I don't think so. Greek."

"Greek? Well, new ones are popping up all over. Here, just to
show you I'm open-minded, I'll donate a couple of bucks. Good
luck."

The man walked off, murmuring, "Demo, and Greek! L A is the
place, I'll tell you!"



He approached a large building. It had openings through which
he could see, but could not enter. However, watching the strange
people he noted an entrance that resembled a whirligig. My, he
thought, how many years since I played with a whirligig. Anyway,
as people went in and out, the door rotated.

Finally, he entered the building.

A boy stood in front of a silver recess, leaned down, and a
gush of water rose, striking him on the mouth. Only then did
Demo realize he was thirsty. When the boy moved Demo approached
the recess, leaned down.

Demo frowned. Nothing had happened.

He leaned forward again. A man looked at him, "Hey, it ain't
broke again, is it?" The man pressed the button and a stream of
water struck Demo's face. He sputtered, then drank thirstily.

What part of Olympus is this, he thought. It resembles nothing
I've seen before.

Nevertheless, it was becoming gradually familiar. He entered a
little room that had the picture of a man on the door. After
watching a few moments he found himself well versed on the
facilities.

Fortunately, item after item followed a similar pattern. The
important thing was to watch. The paper given to him earlier
served as money. You used money to buy from machines and from
individuals. Of course, how to get money was unclear.

Then he thought of the boy who had asked him for a dollar. Of
course, just ask.

He tried it. At first he felt a little strange, for time after
time the individuals he asked seemed a little embarrassed,
finally provided either coins or paper. "Damn cults everywhere.
All right, here, just leave me alone."

The young supplicant soon found his purse bursting with paper.
It was a strange phenomenon. Ask for money, it is given to you.
Give it to machines, to individuals, and they give you products.
Not too unlike home, except for the first step.



Cronus frowned.

There is something I've overlooked, he thought to himself.
Something important. Well, tomorrow I'll get around to it.

The thought struck him.

Demo! He had been aging Demo! Then, he had helped his wife with
the sundial. Then . . . . Oh, ho! The boy! What of the boy?

"Ah, I've lost him!" He spoke aloud. "I've let him slip off,
and I didn't really note to where - rather, to when. Drat, it's
inconvenient. I suppose he'll show up by and by, sometime. Yes.
I wonder, what time?"

At that moment he heard his wife calling. Evening meal was
ready. Thank goodness, I am famished, thought he.

It was a delicious meal.

Demo left the building, watched the chariots stopped in the
broad streets, growls issuing from inside. At times other sounds
issued from the vehicles. Loud and raucous, the  sounds
repeated and repeated, as though some musical instruments were
being played out of tune. Accompanying these sounds were screams
and yells of tortured innocents.

He could only assume that, in some manner, the chariots had
malfunctioned.



Duane Golchick and Ralph Fulcere waited nervously outside the
bank door. The customers were thinning out as three o'clock
closing time neared. Finally the last of the stragglers left.

Duane and Ralph entered quickly.

"Say, I'm sorry, we were just closing." The guard smiled,
motioned them toward the door.

"Just walk over to the counter with us. Put your hands behind
your neck and hold 'em there." Duane spoke in a half snarl, held
a revolver in his hand.

The guard noticed the nervous motion of the gunbarrel. "Okay,
okay, don't be nervous. Whatever you say! Just take it easy! No
one's causing any trouble."

"All right, listen up!" Ralph shouted. "This is a holdup! Any
screams, any alarms, and we'll take you out. And we don't care
who we shoot first, so you heroes just give it a try. Open it
up, babe."

He indicated the gate leading behind the counters. The clerk
nervously fumbled with the catch, finally opened the gate.

Duane and Ralph cleaned out the drawers, stuffing bills into a
garbage bag. "On the floor, all of you. Hands straight out, legs
spread, face down. Lift a head, move a muscle, and you're
history!"

The left the building quietly. No one had moved. No one was
moving now. They ran for the car, parked in a nearby alley.



A man in blue stopped Demo.

"Those arrows real?"

"Oh, yes, very real. Deadly, too. I've killed many a buck with
them. Won a few tournaments, too."

"I thought so. You got a license to carry a deadly weapon? You
ain't some kind of kook, here to kill off as many as you can,
are you? Here, you better give me the bow."

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that! It's been in the family for
generations. My Father used it to kill the sea serpent. And his
Father before him to kill fire dragons. I just couldn't part
with it."

The policeman, for such he was, looked at Demo in astonishment.
"Oh, boy! One of those!"

He took out his communicator, called for reinforcements. "Were
standing in front of the alley next to Martin's Bank. Seems like
a loony. Anyway, so far he's not violent. Get some
reinforcements  over here, before he does go off his rocker. And
tell Sue warm up my pizza. I'll be in about two hours from now.
You let her know."

He had hardly signed off when he felt an object pressing
against his neck. "Your in our way, Mr. Man. Now just pull out
that gun and let it fall, real easy. Now, put your hands behind
your head. Up against the wall. Spread 'em!" Ralph was relishing
the situation.

"Get the gun and let's get out of here. You, get out of the
way." Duane motioned to Demo, who stepped politely aside.

The two men entered the car, rev'd up the engine, pulled out
into traffic.

"Stop them! Stop! Police!" The officer shouted.

Demo notched an arrow to his bow, drove it through the right
rear tire of the vehicle. He then repeated the process with the
left tire.

The car abruptly swerved, ran against the curb, jumped it.

Crashing into a store front, the engine died.

Almost at that instant the reinforcements arrived and hurried
to the car.

"My God, it must be the kook with the bow. Look sticking out of
those tire! See if anyone is hurt. I've got him in sight."

"Drop it, drop it now! I'll shoot!"

Demo glanced at the approaching form. This also was a blue
clothed one. He turned to his companion. "Is he talking to you?"

"Hey, it's all right. He's okay. Get them gorillas in the car.
Hurry, they're getting out!"

Everyone rushed madly toward the chariot. For a moment Demo
watched, then turned with a shrug. An interesting, but kind of
strange, sport.



"Hey, Guru, tell me what life signifies. You still chomping
that dried junk?" The boy who had asked for a dollar was
grinning at him.

"My name is Demo, not Guru. Yes, I rather enjoy dried venison."

"Look, Guru, no offense, eh? You got cover for the night? The Y
has some pads open. They get taken in a hurry, so you better
scat over there if you want one. Gonna rain before morning. Say,
I'm Randy. Look, I can't pronounce that Demo bit, so you're
Guru. Don't let it throw you."

"Cover? The Y? Ah, shelter from the rain? Yes, that would be
well. You are kind. Where is this Y?"

"Hell, I'll baby sit you a while. Just follow along, sport."

They located an available pad, and Demo found himself in a
dormitory filled with numerous unique individuals. The glances
he received indicated that he won honors for uniqueness.



It is a law of nature that, for things to go right, there is
only one viable path. For things to go wrong, the paths are
infinite. Demo continued down one of the infinite paths.

Cronus had indeed attempted to make contact, return Demo to his
own time and place. Cronus selected the right time without
difficulty. Place, however? Well, place threw him a curve.

Demo had gone wandering off.

Cronus had rather limited power so far as space is concerned.
Given sufficient time - of which he was the sole master - he
could examine the reaches of space. And examining the reaches of
space was his immediate goal.

He began the task methodically.

First, he returned himself to the time and space when he was
occupied with aging Demo. Then he moved forward (time-wise) to
that point in time when he was distracted. With care he then
gave careful thought to the next incident.

Unfortunately, he found himself in the predicament many of us
face from time to time.

He had a sudden mental lapse.

As the saying goes, the right words were on the tip of his
tongue. Stubbornly, unfortunately, they clung there tenaciously.
Grumbling, he vectored forward in time once more. I'll sleep on
it, he decided. Tomorrow is soon enough.

Demo, if he were asked, would not have agreed.



Randy woke him early. He knew it was early because it was dark.
Also, because he was sleepy. He was not by any stretch of the
imagination an early bird. Au contraire!

They left the building hurriedly.

"Nice place and all," Randy noted. "Just keep in mind, some
strange people stay here. I'd rather not meet them outside.
'Nough said?"

They walked along the pathway, which Randy called a sidewalk.
Demo noted that he himself was rapidly developing an extended
vocabulary of words, mainly from listening to Randy.

"Look, we got to scrounge some eatables, you know, food. Now
there's a place over on 5th . . . ." He paused as Demo smiled,
motioned toward his pouch.

"We can buy food. My pouch is full of paper, eh, money. Gifts!
Dollars!"

Randy stared at him for a moment, put his hand in the pouch and
pulled out a few bills. "All right, man! You are with it! Okay,
let's hit this place across the way. I could use a good meal for
a change."

The waitress smiled at them, looked at Demo's garb with
curiosity. "Look, no offense, but you Joe's got cash? The boss
is real mean about that!"

"Of course we got cash! Hey, show her, Guru!"

Demo pulled a handful of bills from his pouch, stuck them back
in.

The waitress stuck out her lower lip, nodded. "Okay, here's the
menu. What'll you have? The western omelette's not bad. Makes a
good meal."

Randy ordered the omelette and coffee.

"I'll have the omelette and milk," Demo decided.

"Hey, Guru, where'd you get that rig? What's your thing,
anyway? You're awful close mouthed."

"Randy, you ever hear of people traveling through time?"

"Oh, great! All right, forget it. Sorry I asked."

"No, really, I'm serious. I'm from Greece . . . from long time
ago Greece. Don't ask me how I got here. I really don't know.
And I don't know how to get back." Demo's disconsolate look
almost convinced Randy.

"You are one good actor. I'm ready to break out a hanky. Look,
I was out of line. You don't have to tell me anything. Hell,
I've told you practically nothing about me, now have I?"

They finished their omelettes, and Randy was sipping his coffee
when Demo glanced out the window.

"It's him! It's Cronus! I'm going back! Randy, thank you for
your help. Here, take this money."

Demo pulled out handsful of bills, laid them on the table in
front of Randy.

"Cronus! Come off it!" Randy glanced out the window.

A tall figure, dressed as was Demo, stood on the sidewalk. His
face was grim, and he was making some weird, ritualistic
motions. Randy looked toward Demo.

Demo was fading. At the moment he seemed at some point between
clear jello and fog, with fog gaining the upper hand.

Randy reached out to grab Demo. His hand passed through the
image in front of him, touched nothing.

He stood up, threw his arms around his new found friend.

A chill ran through him.

The room was darkening. His vision blurred.

"Not me! Leave me here! I belong here! I . . . ."

The words faded.

He was now part of the fog. He could see nothing, hear nothing.

But he knew things were happening.

Strange things.



The waitress stood beside the table, eyes wide. "Boss, I don't
feel too good today. I think I better take the rest of the day
off."

"You can't do that!  Cecilia is ill, Grace is on vacation!
Anyway, what's the problem?"

"Two boys! They were sitting here. I brought them omelets. Now
look! They're gone. They didn't pay me, I didn't see them leave,
they left all this money. Something is really weird. I think it
may be me."

"Nah! Here, let me check the washroom. Anyway, what if they
slipped out. That'll pay for the meal and leave you one real
fine tip."

In a moment he returned. "Ain't no one back there. Two of 'em,
eh? Look, don't let it bug you. They probably are just having
fun, playing a joke on you."

"Well, I don't like this kind of joke. All right, I'll stay.
Say, I sure feel odd."



Randy looked around wildly.

The city was gone, the restaurant, the building even.

Around him were trees, a nearby brook, some birds singing. Demo
was sitting on a log nearby.

"Man, what have you done to me? What is going on here. I don't
like this. No sir, I don't like this at all!"

"Randy! Randy, what in the world are you doing here? Cronus
must have brought you too. Oh, boy! What a mess."

"This . . . ." Randy hesitated.

"This th' place you were talking about. Look, I'm sorry. I
thought you were putting me on! I wonder why'd he bring me here?
How'm I gonna get back. Who is this Cronus? You tell him, I want
to see him, and right now. He can't push me around this way!"

"Just calm down, and for goodness sake, don't talk like that!
It's just an accident, just some kind of accident. I'm sure
he'll send you back. Well, I'm kind of sure . . . ."

He wasn't.

Randy languished. Rural atmosphere and bucolic settings were
great TV fare. Who wants to actually live such a life! No way!

Demo attempted to teach him hunting.

Randy proved that, with considerable effort and practice, he
would never be a hunter. The trees chosen as targets survived
unmarked. Arrows vanished into unlikely places.

Chariots in lieu of cars did not sell to well. First, Randy was
scared of horses. Second, he couldn't tell his gee from his haw.
Third, he wasn't interested.

However, one aspect of Demo's world did indeed interest Randy.

At the evening meal Theresa chanced by, was introduced, and
Randy's eyes lit up. Rural atmosphere, bucolic settings - in the
right company they could be tolerable.

He started by telling Theresa of all the wonders of the 20th
century. She suggested he drink less wine.

He explained to her the pleasures of flying. She gently
suggested he learn to drive a chariot.

He told her of the convenience of food dispensing machines. She
explained to him how gardens could be grown.

They fascinated each other.



Cronus made known to Demo that he could now handle sending
Randy back to his own time and place.

Demo explained this to Randy.

Randy looked at Theresa, who looked wide-eyed at Randy.

"No way! I'm here, and here I'll stay!"

Demo looked at them both, nonplused.

He reported the state of events to Cronus. Cronus consulted
with Zeus.

"Ridiculous," Zeus growled. "Ship him out!"

"Absolutely not!" Hera cried. "It's very romantic. Let him
stay."

Being a wise husband, Zeus recanted.

Should you have read of the mysterious disappearance of Randy
Bocksteil, and wondered what happened, you now have the details.

Randy became a mediocre farmer. He learned the rudiments of
hunting, of skinning and quartering deer.

He learned, alas, how to make the potent wine of the region.

When newcomers visit the village, and Randy has sampled his own
wine, he explains to them the wonders of the 20th century.

They suggest he drink less wine.



It was said of Dionysius that, if he did not steal it, he would
do without it.

It was said of Dionysius that, if he did not kill, he would
call the day a waste.

And so it was.

Dionysius came with a band of pirates from a peninsula lying
far to the west. He came at night, landing on the shores of
Greece in the early dawn of day. He killed a soldier guarding
that shore.

Dionysius killed without hatred, killed quickly. Some joyed in
toying with their victims, inflicting pain. They wished to
stretch out the victory. They reveled in  the growing fear felt
by their opponent. Watching in glee as their opponent realized
his impending fate and became increasingly desperate, they
delayed the inevitable. Then, when the game began to wear, they
cruelly and slowly mutilated their prey. Eventually, tiring of
the game, they dispatched the helpless victim.

Dionysius' pirate companions were of such nature. He despised
them, traveled with them only for his own ends.

Once they had made shore, dispatched the guard, he left them to
their own devices. He began a sojourn to the mountains. To the
mountains where lived Demo.



Demo pursued the deer in the foothills. They had migrated down
from the mountains during the night. He found their spoor beside
a clear branch whose cold waters they had come to drink.

Demo followed the trail from the branch deeper into the green
copses. The deer were cautious, kept moving. He pursued them as
they drifted toward the distant seaside. At times the wind
shifted, and they caught his scent. They scurried quickly into
the deeper forest.

He moved carefully from tree trunk to tree trunk, keeping the
obscuring bushes between himself and the herd. Finally the
distance was right, and he drew his bow.

Even as the arrow flew the deer began to bolt.

Too late for the buck he had chosen! It fell to the ground with
a shudder as the arrow entered its heart. He moved forward
quickly to bleed the carcass.

Only then did he see the cause for the deers' alarm!

Dionysius stepped from the shadow of a tree trunk,  sword in
hand.

"Good shooting. Don't reach for another arrow. I believe I
shall take that buck. Be so kind as to carve it for me. And I
would not try to use knife against sword. At least, not until
the buck has been carved. Then you may try what you like. Lay
down the bow!"

Reluctantly Demo unstrung his bow, placed it on the ground.

I deserve to lose that buck. To have failed to watch, listen
carefully! He stalked angrily to the deer, began cleaning the
meat.

While cutting he watched the robber with careful eyes. If the
fellow dropped his guard! Forlorn hope. It did not happen. Then
he noticed something new.

The birds on the shoreward side became suddenly noisy, then
broke into flight. Their flight was followed only by silence.

Something, or someone, was approaching!

He went on with his task, while his eyes searched feverishly to
see who approached.

She stepped into view at the edge of the small clearing.
Smiling she approached.

"Demo, I was told you hunted here. Ah, what a fine buck! You
never miss, do you?"

"Theresa, go home! Quickly!"

He stood erect, stepped between her and the swordsman.

The latter smiled, swished his sword through the air in
melodramatic gesture. "Not so quickly, my lady. We haven't yet
been properly introduced. Boy, where are your manners?"

Theresa shrank back, took a deep breath, turned toward the
forest.

"You run, the boy dies!" Dionysius' voice was gruff, angry.

Slowly she turned back, eyes wide with fear as she glanced at
Demo.

"Theresa, run! Now!"

She obeyed!

"Boy, you call for your own death!" Dionysius growled angrily.

Dashing into the forest, she ran with all possible speed toward
the village. In the fields at the village's edge she saw her
father with other farmers.

"Demo! He's in danger. A swordsman has him prisoner."

They gathered their tools, and her father his longbow. "Show
us!" her father commanded, grim-faced.

They arrived in time to see Demo toss the buck's haunch at
Dionysius. He fell back to ward it off, even as his sword was
impaled by the meat.

Demo lunged forward, wrestled with Dionysius before the latter
could free his sword. His own knife fell to ground.

Suddenly Dionysius released the sword, dove to the ground and
seized the fallen knife.

He smiled as he stepped toward Demo.

Only then did he note the ring of farmers at the forest's edge.
And most of all he noted the longbow, drawn, in the hands of
Theresa's father.

Dionysius, stopped, bowed. "Here, boy, you'll need this to
finish cutting the meat."

He extended the knife, hilt first.

Demo took it, cautiously, backed off.

The farmers quickly tied their captive, led him back to the
village. A messenger was dispatched, and soldiers came quickly.
Dionysius sojourn had ended

18. The Fates

"Now, my boy," Zeus began with a friendly smile and a pat on
the shoulder. "Now, you see, I have this problem. Nothing to
tumble Olympus, of course. Still, a problem. And you are going
to have the privilege of resolving it. It may well be your claim
to fame. No, just joking! It's really minor." He glanced around,
lowered his voice.

"My boy, it involves women. Now, I'm not a misogynist - eh, the
dictionary is on that stand over there.  In spite of being . .
." He halted, glanced carefully around once more. "In spite of
being married to Hera, I do love and respect beautiful women."

"However, I am Zeus! I am master of the heavens, of earth - and
if Pluto would fight fair, of even the nether world! And in
spite of that these three - Women! - are flaunting their power
as though I  were impotent. Powerless!"

The clouds were forming one on top of another over Olympus.
Suddenly Hera entered, and angry look on her face. "Not over my
flower bed. You've already washed away two of them. Stop it!
Right now!"

Zeus blinked. "Yes, of course, my dear. Merely explaining a few
things to the boy here." He took a deep breath, let it out
slowly while watching the clouds with anxious eye. They slowly
began to dissipate. Zeus smiled a wan smile.

"Lovely woman. A little impetuous at times. Loves that garden."

"Let me see. We were talking about this little task. Well, what
I'd really like for you to do is to bring me some items. It's
kind of a game, really. Yes, a game. A scavenger hunt!"

"And you, my boy, you will undoubtedly be successful. Three
items. Simple little items. Nothing controversial. No indeed.
Wouldn't think of it."

"Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt?"

"No. No, sir. Never."

"Really great fun. I recall when I and this bevy of Naiads . .
. Well, no need to trouble your mind over that . . ." Zeus was
silent for a moment, a slight smile on his lips as he reminisced.

"On a scavenger hunt you go out and locate the items you have
been told to bring back. And you bring them back, and you win.
That simple. So be on your way, now. Don't slam the door."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir. The items, sir?"

"Oh, of course. A pair of scissors. I told you, nothing rare or
controversial. Thread. Yes, plain, ordinary old thread. And a
spinning wheel. A little large and awkward. But, I assure you,
not too much so for a youth of strength and stamina. Three
items. I think you'll enjoy this scavenger hunt. I really do."

"There are those - you'll find this unbelievable, but have
faith - There are those who believe they have the power of life
and death. Well, I'll have you know it lies in my hands. Do you
doubt? Shall I demonstrate?" Zeus face was reddening, and clouds
were once more forming above Olympus.

In fact, he noted them. "Ah, well, yes, have to watch that.
Let's not become perturbed. Oh, Heavens no. My boy, enjoy your
scavenger hunt." He waved grandly.

"Oh, let me help you a little. Three sisters, and I'll not tell
you their names, have the very objects for which you search.
Lovely ladies, and I'm sure they'll do all they can to bring
your search to a quick end. Very quick."



He found himself in the midst of a glade. And well it was, for
rain was beginning to fall, and the trees protected him from the
cold drops. Scissors, thread, and a spinning wheel. Why, he
thought, I can get those from Mother.

Suddenly a shudder ran through him. He did not move. He knew.
The unseen companion was there. Waiting, waiting - waiting for
what? What event would trigger the inhuman hatred radiated by
this strange creature. Always there. Never fully seen.

He rose slowly, glanced fearfully around the glade. "Come out,
if you dare. I await your pleasure."

He thought he heard the rustle of leaves. Quickly he glanced
upward. The leaves were indeed moving. This time they were
stirred by a vagrant breeze. He shook his head.

He knew - though he knew not how - that the scissors, thread,
and spinning wheel of his mother would not serve. These must
come from the three sisters. The lovely ladies mentioned by
Zeus. In the back of his mind he thought of stories he had
heard. Perhaps, at some early age, he had heard of the three
sisters. Sadly, he could not remember. Who are they, and where
do they dwell?

Startled, he looked up. The leaves were again moving. This
time, no breeze caused this disturbance.

A large bird, perhaps a white owl, flew rapidly through the
forest and in its wake soft white down marked a trail. A trail
he knew he must follow.

The skies darkened as he stalked deeper and deeper into the
forest. In time the wooded vales grew even darker, and the sky
no longer came to view. A thought formed in his mind, he knew
not how. He knew for whom he searched.

The thought brought sweat to his brow. The Sisters of  Night!
How often had he heard the legends, the strange tales. How often
had they spun the thread, how often cut it! It must be they. The
Sisters of Night!

He was lost. The trail was no longer marked ahead, and behind
was only darkness. Slowly he inched forward, hoping for a clue.
A simple indication of which way to proceed.

He heard the sound and joy almost made him sing out. She has
returned, he thought, glancing to his right. And then he froze.
Indeed he had heard  sound. And indeed was something there.
Something huge and monstrous, too near to be imagination; too
far to be clearly seen. The unseen companion! With him still!

He notched his arrow. It was too late. Even as he moved the
rain fell heavy and he could make out, not even the trees before
him. He waited. Only silence. No further sounds were heard. With
a sigh he returned the arrow to its pouch.

A flash of lightning lit a rocky rise before him, and he noted
the mouth of a huge cave. Slowly he inched up to the opening,
slowing stared into its depth.

Though nothing met his eyes, yet there seemed a light, a small
flickering light, somewhere in its deep within. Cautiously he
moved forward.

"Welcome, Welcome, Young man! We've been waiting. What kept you
so long? Hurry along now, The thread is growing short. Come
along."

He blinked. She wasn't there a moment ago! Waiting for me? I
don't understand!

"Madame, there is a mistake. You couldn't have been waiting for
me. I don't know you. I had no intention of stopping here. I . .
."

She smiled. And though she were old and wrinkled, her eyes
brightened like a happy child's. "Come along. You'll understand
by and by. Come along."

She led him ever deeper into the cavern. The flickering light
grew ever brighter, and seemed to flicker no more. Finally his
companion motioned for him to stop. "Mustn't frighten them.
'Twould be terrible if they made a mistake. Terrible!"

"Clotho, he has arrived. Lachesis, welcome him. Come, my dear."
She led him forward, and he bowed to the ladies who looked up
from their labor, glanced at him without emotion or even
interest.

"Girls, girls, are we that old! Look at him. Isn't he a
handsome one. Ah, how sad. To die so young!"

"Atropos, your were always one to talk too much. Here are your
scissors. Now get on with it!"

Clotho was busy spinning a thread. Her spindle moved slowly at
times, then rapidly. Lachesis, bent forward, examining the
thread, comparing its length to an unseen measuring stick.
"Right about there, sister dear. Oh, give him another inch. No
harm done. He is a handsome young man."

Atropos looked at the scissors handed her, sighed. "I would it
were otherwise, young man. But we are duty bound. Nothing can
stay us from our labor."

Wide-eyed he stood as the scissors opened, approached the
thread. "Wait! Zeus, Zeus, He wants you. You must cease
immediately. He eagerly awaits your company."

"Zeus! Olympus! Parties! Dancing! He wants us. Child, you can't
mean it. 'Twas he who banished us to this cold, dank cave. And
now he wishes our return? Well, he's plainly drunk too much of
that nectar. I knew it would eventually get to him. Clotho, have
you a thread for Zeus?"

"Oh, never. Well, I admit, I tried. After all, it wasn't at all
nice of him to send us here. Anyway, it kept unraveling."

"Lachesis, give the boy another foot or two. Oh, give him an
extra yard. Boy, we'll get dressed as soon as we've put away our
tools. Zeus wants to see us!"

"Eh, please, don't put away your tools. He is extremely
interested in your skills. You must bring them along."

"Learned to appreciate us, has he? My, how many eons has it
taken! Oh, very well."



He led the way and in due time they arrived at Olympus. "Wait
at the gate, I'll announce your coming." He smiled at their
activities.

Clotho was practicing her curtsies, Lachesis her bows. Atropos
smiled a broad smile, then a more reserved one, then tried a
calm yet quiet visage.

"Zeus, sir, I have them. I have them."

"Well done. Amazing. No! Not really. I always knew you had the
right stuff. Of course, to scavenge the items I fear you had to
terminate the owners. It is sad. Still, what can one do? Bring
them in, bring them in. Scissors, thread, and spinning wheel!
Wonderful, wonderful!"

"Oh, no sir. I didn't have to terminate them. In fact, they're
here. Come in ladies, and receive your welcome."

Zeus opened his mouth, closed it. He looked at the three
Sisters of Night. He looked at Demo.

"Yes, brought them with you. Yes, very thoughtful of you. Thank
you, my boy, thank you. Don't call me, I'll call you."

With that Demo found himself in his own home, in his own room,
rolling off his own bed with a thud.

Rough barked joyously, leaped upon him in frantic welcome.

"Ah, that Zeus! I really wish he'd not do it that way," he said
aloud. "Mother, I'm hungry!"



19. The Stables

"I'm delighted, my boy, that your chores are almost completed.
Delighted!" Zeus didn't look delighted. Rather, he seemed put
out. Jolly voice and all, but that scowl!

"Now, this next task. Represents a logistic problem, really.
Time consuming, rather than difficult. Your qualifications are
such that you'll have little trouble, I'm sure." Zeus smiled, as
though at some secret humorous thought.

"I'm into some real estate deals. Brought a few places down on
earth. Boy, was I taken on this one. Oh, was I taken. Shysters
and developers! I must visit Pluto one day and see if he has
room for any more. They are overrunning his place, I'm afraid."
For a moment Zeus fell silent. His thoughts were evidently on
his brother's domain, and the shysters and developers dwelling
therein. A bright smile lit his face.

"To the matter at hand. I brought this ranch. Excellent
property, very reasonable price. Closed escrow and all that.
Then I thought to look inside the stables. Gad!"

"Poor suffering creatures. Horses, excellent horses.
Unfortunately, locked in those stables for eons. Eons and eons.
Maybe longer. To summarize, the place was not entirely sanitary.
Now be off with you and get it cleaned up." He guffawed rather
loudly.

"Oh, here. This may help." Zeus handed Demo a broom, a mop, and
a clothespin. "For the nose, you understand."

Demo arrived unceremoniously at the stable doors. He was
greeted by the local population, consisting of many and varied
forms of flies. Black flies, white flies, colorless flies - all
eager to make his acquaintance.

Shooing them away he slowly opened the stable doors, quickly
closed them.

Impossible! No mortal could possibly clean up this mess. Still
hadn't a hero, long ago, faced a similar problem?

Yes, yes indeed. And he had solved it. Solved it by merely
changing the course of a stream. Simple enough. Now where might
he find a stream.

There was one, and at not too great a distance.

Well, it is only a creek. Nevertheless, it's all I have. So
let's give it a try.

He worked diligently, opening a channel to the very door of the
huge barn. As night drew near he began to dam the creek, forcing
its waters to divert to his newly dug channel.

The youthful civil engineer  smiled.

The water was beginning to flow. Quickly he hurried to the
stable, dared the flies, and threw wide the doors at both ends
of the edifice. Fortunately he wore the clothespin.

The water was moving ever closer. The chore was indeed a simple
one.

He looked up, and frowned.

The sky had darkened, and even now huge raindrops began to
fall. The mild creek was rising higher and higher. The dam,
built to withstand that creek, was faced with an ever deepening,
ever angrier river.

The water reached the top of the dam, flowed now heavily
through the channel, washed at the very entrance to the stables.

Suddenly the dam began to move, at first slowly. A crack
appeared in the middle. It widened.

Water began to seep through the crack.

Water began to pour through the crack.

The crack was gone!

The dam was gone!

Demo sat down, stared in disbelief.

In moments his hours of work destroyed! The rock, the mud, the
good green sod - all gone.

And the stable, fly infested, standing as before.

Even as he looked a swarm of flies rose, moved in his
direction.

Quickly he retreated.

This required rethinking! Not so simple a chore as he had
thought!

Back to Olympus! I must talk to Zeus! No way!



He arrived at Olympus. Zeus was absent. "He is on a . . .," his
gardener smiled, ". . . on a hunting trip." He  winked.

Suddenly a loud screech disturbed their ears.

"Oh, dear!" The gardener wrung his hands. "That's Hera! The
flowers are growing so poorly. I've spent hours tending them.
But they will not grow in this kind of soil. I've told Zeus a
thousand times. Olympus is just too pure!"

Hera entered.

"I will not have my flowers drooping, my bushes wilting! I may
well have my gardener in that condition if he tends not to my
garden!"

The gardener cringed.

"What are you doing here. Did not Zeus send you out on another
of his ridiculous chores. Begone, then, for I am not fit company
today!" She stomped back to her patio, giving one last angry
look at the gardener.

Demo frowned. "Well, I wish I could help. Anyway, I'm not much
of a gardener. I know we use fertilizer on our plants. Mostly we
use . . . ." He paused. A thought had entered his mind.

"Sir, perhaps this is your lucky day!"



"This boy, eh, the one who sold you the fertilizer for the
vinyard and for Hera's garden," Zeus paused, a slight frown on
his face. The clouds above Olympus darkened, and a low rumble of
thunder sounded in the distance. "This boy wasn't too smart, you
say?"

"Oh, no! Smart? Ha!"

"At first he wanted ambrosia, wine, women - for fertilizer!
Ridiculous! He talked! And talked. The more he talked the less
he decided to charge. We waited quietly." The gardener smiled.

"His charges dropped?"

"His charges dropped!"

"Still we waited! Aha! Finally he agreed that it was all ours,
if we would give him just one bottle of wine and agree to move
everything within 3 days! Oh, he was a cute rascal! We just
outwitted him. Yes, eventually, he came our way. Merely a matter
of waiting." The gardener's smile broadened.

"Yes," Zeus mused. "A cute rascal, indeed!"

"So, this callow youth, this dunce from the barnyards,
practically gave away his, eh, merchandise?"

"And did you, eh, move all this fertilizer? Within 3 days?"

"Oh, yes, sire. Indeed we did. We didn't want to give him the
chance of changing his mind. I had to call on all the Gods -
save yourself, Sire - to get the job done. Such dedication. Even
Hera carried her share. Lovely wife, Sire, lovely!"

The gardener smiled. Zeus nodded somewhat glumly.

"And we gave him 5 bottles of wine to insure he gave no further
thought to the fertilizer or the stables."

"What! What is this! Stables! Did you say Stables!" Zeus brow
was dark, and the clouds above Olympus now roiled and flashes of
lighting lit the dour sky.

"Why, yes, sire. It seems that, through negligence, the stables
had not been cleaned in - well, in a long time. One might say
they were a bit ripe."

"And the horses! Poor things! They were indeed in need of
washing and curry-combing."

"But, to the matter at hand. Yes, stables they were. And full
to the brim with excellent fertilizer. Oh, such gardens as we
shall have this spring! I'm sure you will be well pleased."

Zeus sniffed the air. Zeus seemed to be not well pleased. He
was muttering to himself.

"Callow youth? Stables? Fertilizer? I will have his head . . .!
Buying it from him with my own goods! Inconceivable!"

"Had all the Gods and Goddesses hard at work. That's something
I've never accomplished. Ah, perhaps he might fit in well at
Olympus!"



Dionysius sat quietly in the prow of the boat. The ferryman was
silent, merely guided the craft on its way. The craft moved of
its own volition.

"How come I here? Who are you? And what is this body of water
on which we float?"

The ferryman stared at him in steely silence.

Dionysius glanced around, studied the ferryman, the boat, the
dark liquid on which they floated.

"I was condemned, and the execution was for tomorrow. I had
venison for supper - stupid cook burned it badly, gravy was
tasteless. Then I slept. Someone roused me and we went to the
execution chamber. They readied me for the blade. I remember
cursing them soundly, one and all. I was bound and the
executioner made ready. Did I faint? Did you rescue me, or was
it another? What pay do you expect for this service? I am a poor
man, so don't expect too much!"

Although the air was dark and gloomy Dionysius was beginning to
feel cheerful.

"However it was done, I am thankful. And you shall all be
rewarded. Before I stabbed the old priest I learned from him the
location of the temple's treasure. I saw it with my own eyes.
Jewels, money, golden goblets and silver. Yes, indeed, you shall
be rewarded."

He smiled.

He sniffed the air.

"The sewers must lead into this stream, the smell of burning
sulfur irritates my eyes. How much farther until we reach shore?
There is a strangely unpleasant odor about this place. I like it
not. Will you speak, or shall I toss you into this filthy
stream!"

He rose, stepped toward the silent figure.

Suddenly he stopped.

The ferryman neither shrank from his approach, nor responded.
His face was hidden by the hood he wore. Yet his eyes shone from
beneath that hood.

The look from those eyes froze Dionysius in midstep.

"No! No! It is a bedtime story to frighten children. What are
you telling me . . .  ."

His gaze shifted from stream to boat, from boat to ferryman,
from ferryman to stream.

"It is a fairy tale, nothing else. Take me to the shore!" His
voice was once more threatening.

Suddenly he sat down, held his head between his two hands,
sobbed quietly.

"It's true, isn't it? This river - Styx is its name. You are
the ferryman. This gloom is not the dark of night. It's all
true!"

Suddenly a thought came to mind.

"Then you are . . . You are Charon. And I must have - yes, here
it is. Your toll. Take me then to the Elysian Fields. Quickly,
take me away from this dreadful place."

He extended Charon's toll.

The figure made no move to accept.

Rather, a deep and melancholy voice responded. "Your stop is
not the Elysian shore."

Dionysius gazed at the dark figure, at the coin. Reluctantly he
let the coin fall, watched it disappear into the depths of the
murky water.

He was silent.

What more was there to say!

20. The Demon's Lair

There are dark grottoes in the high mountains. And tarns, deep
and cold, bottomless pits of murky water. And in some few
favored spots, dark grottoes and murky tarns together.

Such was the site at which Demo stood.

Here dwelt one whom even Olympians fear. This was the Demon's
Lair.

The village folk had long remembered legends. Hoary legends,
whispered around campfires during winter storm. Used to frighten
children to mind their manners. But only legends. Or so Demo had
long believed.

Something - no one spoke a name - there was. Or something there
had been. Something that preceded even the Titans, that ancient
race from whom the Olympians were descended.

The Titans, so the tales went, had not conquered it. Rather,
they had duped it, deceived it, and encaged it in bars not of
this world. Bars that, until now, had held. Bars that,
perchance, were weakening with the passage of eons.

Whispered conversations on earth, whispered conversations on
the pristine streets of Olympus, told of an ominous presence.
Not seen, nor heard - still dread of this unknown creature
stalked the night as might stalk even the creature itself.

Idle chatter of fearful children? Old wives tales from the back
woods? Or something else, something evil. Something so powerful
that even the gates of Olympus stood not against it.

No one knew.

And that was why Demo stood at the gate to the demon's lair.
Zeus would know what manner of creature was there imprisoned.
Zeus would know what manner of prison held such a creature in
throe.

Who better to send than Demo? If he succeeded, another task
marked off. If he failed, one less concern as Athena chose
another.



Demo gazed into the still water of the tarn, touched its
surface with his hand. He gasped at the chilling cold that
seized his entire arm.

Was this then the tarn of which he had been forewarned? Would
here the strange tie between himself and the unseen companion be
severed - or brought to its inevitable conclusion?

It seemed fitting!

No drearier spot had he seen. No gloomier grotto existed in
these mountains. If doom hung over his head, it could not choose
a place more suitable than this!

He resigned himself to the inevitable!

The sun slipped swiftly behind the western peaks, and cool
night breezes stirred the leaves. Swallows swooped in the
darkening sky, and night creatures called one to another as day
ended.

Come morning and he would search further. For now, a fire,
food, and a night's rest.

The flames reflected from the precipice's base, their  warmth
welcomed as cool night crept in. Beyond the fire light
nightsounds rose and fell, now near, now far.

He added wood to the fire, wrapped himself in his Eddie Bauer
mummy bag. Ah, how pleasant to sleep after a long day's journey.

It was a sleep beleaguered by dreams. Dreams of he who dwelled
in the deep tarn. In the dreams the creature came forth, looked
down on the sleeping youth. It's eyes were cold, held deadly
enmity.

Yet, it did not strike. Motionless it observed him, turned, and
descended once more into the frigid waters.

Morning came early. Demo sat up, wide-eyed. From the tarn's
brink to his resting place he saw footprints. A great weight had
pressed them, even into the dryer ground. They turned back, led
once more to the tarn.

Demo closed his eyes, breathed deeply. What manner of creature,
and why had it turned away, doing him no harm? The footprints,
though huge, seemed hardly those of some monstrous being capable
of frightening even the Lords of Olympus.

Demo stirred the ashes to reveal hot colds beneath, fed twigs
and breathed gently on them to kindle a fire. As he placed
larger branches on the flames he heard behind him the sound of
measured footsteps.

With a start he turned.

The man looking down at him loomed tall and ominous. He showed
no emotion. Rather, his face was calm, nor did his demeanor
suggest threat. Slowly Demo rose, glanced toward his bow and
quiver.

The man smiled.

"It would avail thee not. Rest easy. I mean you no harm. You,
in turn, may be of aid to me. Why am I here, summoned from an
age yet to be, a world far removed? Did you summon me? I think
not. You are only a child! What can you tell me of this place,
and of that one who stole from the cold waters in the dark of
night?"

"Who are you? You were summoned? How so? From an age yet to be,
a world far removed? I understand not your words. Still, if you
were summoned I can think only that it was the work of Zeus. No,
perhaps not. Athena may have brought you here to provide succor
for me on this strange sojourn."

The tall man squatted before the fire, warmed his outstretched
hands. "Strange names, these. Zeus? Athena? I know them not. And
how might I, Beowulf, provide succor to one such as you, when I
seem unable to even help myself. I sit here, lost, knowing
neither north nor south, east nor west."

He spoke quietly, calmly. For all the strangeness of these
proceedings, his face showed no fear, his eyes reflected only
constant vigil.

"I can tell you why I am here. Zeus sent me to find what
creature is imprisoned beneath these waters, and what manner of
prison it be. It is plain, from your words; and from the prints
upon the shore, it is imprisoned no more."

Beowulf responded musingly. "I walked 'neath moonlight across
the moors, alone. The sound of wings, and huge white owl flew
by. And then the moors were gone, moonlight faded, and I stand
upon this forsaken shore of some strange pond. I feel overcoming
me a dread that once before I felt, only once before. And that
when I fought 'neath murky waters with the mother of Grendl. Is
there no end? Have I come here once more to meet a fiend in
mortal combat? And each more powerful than that which went
before?"

Demo eyes lit up. "It was Athena. She knew of you, though you
had never been. And if she has brought you here, it is with good
cause. Grendl, and the mother of Grendl. Who, or what, are these
of which you speak?"

"Fiends, creatures of night and corruption, that prey on good
folk, weak and helpless. Alone I have met them, and that in
their own lair, and brought upon them such destruction as they
had sown. Monstrous though they were, yet did I feel not dread
as I feel in this dark cove. What manner of creature dwells in
yonder tarn. In my mind my thoughts are dark, and Wyrd himself
peoples them."

"Wyrd? I know of Zeus, of Pluto, and of others of like ilk. I
know not Wyrd."

For a moment Beowulf sat silent, eyes on the ground before him.
"Wyrd is he who awaits us. Before all, he was. When all has
faded and passed on, he will be. Though I fear him, I shall not
bow to his power. Strangely, I believe he dwells here. I know
not why."

Demo spoke now, glancing at the tarn in apprehension. "Legends
have it that, before the Titans ruled, another walked this
world, held it in a grasp of iron. Then the Titans beguiled him
in some strange manner, and with fetters formed of dreams
entangled him. After that, that he might never again escape they
locked him away in caverns far beneath Tartarus' depths."

He gazed at Beowulf, back at the tarn.

"It is said he once more walks the earth, and he is not a
stranger even to the streets of Olympus. Nameless among us,
perhaps Wyrd  is the name he bears."

Beowulf took from its sheath his sword. Light reflected from
its surface in strange patterns, and the sword's edge seemed
alive and moving in the sun's rays.

"I grow old. Yet, it seems, there is one more toil, one battle
more. Well, so be it. Every man dies. But it is given to some to
live and die for a cause.  For a cause that makes their having
lived worthwhile. Boy, I will stand beside thee. Against this
one none has ever prevailed. How will fare a boy, and an old
man?"

He laughed. "Well, well, until I came none had prevailed
against Grendl. Nor against Grendl's mother. Be of good cheer.
We shall do what flesh and blood can do. And if that be not
enough, then surely we shall die as men, sword in hand!"



The day passed swiftly, and shadows were lengthening. Demo
built a fire, warmed the food his mother had hastily packed.
Beowulf ate of dried meat he carried.

"Your friend, I think, will return once more this night. Sleep
by your fire. I shall rest against the trunk of that oak, and
when he comes I will greet him. If your Zeus be powerful, pray
unto him, for this night one walks the earth as evil incarnate.
And of us three, I fear none shall view a rising sun."

Beowulf rose, walked to the tall oak, sat at its base. He lay
the naked sword across his lap, closed his eyes. Whatever dread
he felt, it showed not in his demeanor or action. Though he
slept Demo knew no sound or motion would escape his attention.
It was the sleep of one ever alert, ready for the life and death
struggle that might lie ahead.

A fog rose from the cold surface of the tarn, and driven by a
light breeze, drifted onto the shore. Demo huddled close to the
fire, eyes watching anxiously that fog-shrouded tarn, the
mist-shrouded trees. His hand clutched his bow, and an arrow lay
beside him, ready to be notched.

With sunset the grotto lost all semblance of light. Vague winds
rustled tree limbs, calls of night birds sounded, and other
sounds. Sounds that brought quick apprehension to his mind. And
then they faded - then returned once more.

Suddenly Demo sat up!

He had fallen asleep. A noise, a movement? Something had surely
wakened him.

The crescent moon had risen, and in its light the trees and
bushes cast soft shadows.

 Quickly he glanced toward the huge oak.

Beowulf was gone!

Slowly he turned his eyes toward the tarn.

It was there!

Moving toward him with deliberate stride, dark except where the
moonlight reflected from its eyes.

Quickly he notched his arrow, drew the bow.

Nearer it came, and nearer. It seemed nearly upon him when he
loosed his arrow. It struck the creature full in the chest,
dropped harmlessly to the ground.

"Athena, farewell!"

The creature's claws touched his arm, cutting effortlessly
through cloth and through flesh.



"Face me, worm of death. I've traveled through space and time
to challenge you, and you return to your lair only through me."

The creature rose, loosed the boy. It turned to face Beowulf.

Throughout the forest the scream of anger sounded!

It charged the waiting swordsman.

Claws extended, fangs bared, it leaped with fury on its foe.

Quickly they were joined by sound of blows, the whistle of
Beowulf's blade in air. With every motion the sword gleamed with
a strange and changing light. Now a deep and glowing red. Then a
green that seemed to flow its length, changing to sunlight
yellow. And all besmeared with the blood of Wyrd!

Blood flowed, both red and green!

Beowulf fell before the onslaught, rose again.

Demo watched, transfixed. Even in the horror of nightmare was
not seen such fearsome battle!

 Wounded both and bleeding, and still the battle continued!

The moon dropped from view, and the gentle stars looked down on
the frenzied struggle.

In despair Demo saw Beowulf fall, his sword dropping from his
hand.

Demo lunged forward quickly, was struck down as quickly. He
felt a bump rising on his head where the blow had landed. He
crawled forward, fell, lay still. The creature turned once more
to Beowulf, its blood-drenched claws extended.

From the tree tops the white object plummeted, opened wide its
wings and flew into the face of the fiend. Startled, the monster
fell, rolled over and quickly slipped into the frigid waters of
the tarn.

Athena stood beside Demo. Their eyes looked in sorrow at the
prostrate body of Beowulf.

Even as they moved forward to help him he sat up, his hand
searching for and seizing the hilt of his sword. Without a word
he stood, shook his head, staggered to the brink of the tarn.

Sword clutched in hand, a look of resignation on his face, he
dove into the Demon's Lair!

For a brief moment the water was still, not even a breeze
disturbing its surface.

Without warning it erupted!

A huge shape rended its surface, fell back with a scream of
anger! The green blood blended with the dark water of the tarn.

For hours the battle continued. The once calm tarn was now an
ocean of waves and froth, and thunder sound above it. From
beneath those waters rumbles of anger rose. Sulfurous fumes
lifted from its surface, killed the trees bordering the dark
waters.



Then nought but silence!

Athena's voice was sad. "He will drive Wyrd once more into
those bonds that have so long endured. For all his heroism, for
all his strength, Beowulf cannot survive the conflict, and even
I cannot save him." She gazed, sad-eyed, at the fateful tarn.

 "Yet, he shall return at last in another time, another place.
Indeed he will one day slay the Grendl, the Grendl's mother -
archfiends of another era."

Her eyes were turned to the heavens, seemed to look beyond the
visible.

"Beyond that, the day will come when the fire dragon itself
shall fall to his sword. Only then shall Wyrd have him, as Wyrd
must have us all."

"Come, Zeus waits."



"Wyrd. Yes, yes, the Worm of Death. But, even the Titans knew
it only as a legend. Well, never mind. It is once more returned
to its lair, once more imprisoned."

Zeus seemed to have other thoughts on his mind.

"How did you manage, my boy. No, no, I don't have time! Golf
tournament this afternoon. Poseidon has won the last two. Still,
the score is getting closer. Oh, would you care to caddy. No, I
suppose you are a little tired. Good night, my son."

"Good night, my son."

Demo looked up at his mother, rolled over and pulled the
blankets close. Such strange dreams.

His fingers gingerly rubbed the lump on his head.



Theresa entered the room timidly, eyes downcast.

"Is Demo home. I need to talk to him."

Metaneira's eyes held a question? "He's out back with Rough. Is
something wrong?"

"I . . . I like Demo. I really wouldn't hurt him for the world.
I am sorry, I . . . . Please, I can't marry him. Metaneira, I am
sorry. There is another. Oh, what can I say, what shall I do!"

"Theresa, don't cry. Perhaps all will work out for the best.
But, yes, you should tell him. He is a brave lad. I'm sure he
will take it like a man. Why don't you wipe your eyes, then go
out back and talk to him. Be brave, girl!"

As Theresa went out the back door Metaneira looked up, shook
her fist. "Athena, you are a conniver. Who have you sent to poor
Theresa? I should have known. Oh, well, you may make a
delightful daughter-in-law."

She shook her head, looked out the back door.



Theresa and Demo were standing quietly, his arms around her.

"It's all right, little sister. You see, I think it's always
been this way. I've always felt toward you like a big brother. I
don't think I could really have been anything else." Demo spoke
quietly.

He liked Theresa, always had. Not as a lover. No, more as the
little girl next door than as an attractive and mature young
lady. Even now he could not see her other than as the little
girl.

"Who is he, Theresa? Are you sure?"

"You know him. Randy. He is so strange and wonderful and I knew
when we first met."

He smiled, placing his hand under her chin he lifted it up. "If
he ever mistreats you, you let me know. And tell him big brother
will beat him to a pulp if he isn't nice to you. Understand?"

She half sobbed, half laughed.

"Yes, big brother."

She hugged him, her arms around his neck, then kissed him on
the lips, pressing against him. For a moment they stood thus.

"You know, big brother, I think I could have made you love me -
another way. I'm very glad I didn't. I'll always need a big
brother."

"I'll be here."



21. Dream Shadows

In sleep reality is dreams, dreams reality. And Demo knew not
whether he slept, and all was but a dream. Or, whether, waking,
his mind did dream of dreams.

It had started - as had all his recent adventures - with a
summons from Zeus. And when Zeus spoke Demo felt that, perhaps,
he had indulged in too much of Olympic nectar.

"Boy, the world is not what it seems. Look around you. What do
you see?"

The question, of course, was purely rhetorical. Zeus went on
with no hesitation.

"You see Olympus, of course. And, if you had my powers, you
might look down and see earth. Or even let your gaze penetrate
to the nether kingdom of my brother, Pluto. With a little more
effort Tartarus comes in view. And that, think you, is the
universe. Ah, and that is where you err."

Zeus was plainly morose. He had a problem that bothered him.
And rather than attacking the problem head-on, he was talking
his way around it.

"Ah, indeed, Sire! Just the other day I was telling my mother .
. . ."

"Yes, yes, but what I mean is, there is also the unseen. The
world in transition. It was, and now is not. Yet, in a strange
sort of way, it is. Understand? (More rhetorical questions.) It
will be, eventually; it hasn't become, yet. It's a world  in . .
. well, it's a world in transition. And during the transition,
it isn't. Hmmm, very simple, actually. Must make a note of that,
- A world in transition - should go over well at the club."

He reached above his head, unrolled a long papyrus, and jotted
a few notes on the bottom. As he let go the papyrus rewound,
disappearing when the last page was snugly wrapped. Zeus smiled,
took a slight bow, and tossed his pen into the air. It, too,
disappeared. But, not, unfortunately, before several drops of
ink splattered the divine face. With a growl Zeus reached up and
a white towel appeared. He started to wipe away the ink.

"Drop that! Not with my clean towel!"

Hera rushed into the room, seized the towel, handing Zeus
instead a well-used one. With a sigh he wiped away the ink,
dropped the towel into the waste disposer. The waste disposer
growled, wagged its tail, and devoured the towel with a single
gulp.

"Anyway, that's where you need to go. It's the one region
outside of my domain. I just don't have any power there, because
it really doesn't exist, you understand. Well, it exists, kind
of, to be scientifically precise."

Zeus prided himself on his scientific knowledge.

"And, Sire, what is the purpose of my visit."

"That, my boy, is a good question. Let us see if we can
fabricate a good answer." He paused, walked back and forth
twice, did a hop and a skip and a slight curtsy.

"I don't know! You will have to define your mission yourself.
You see, this transition world, this shadow land - that's it,
that's what I wanted to say. Shadow land! It is that. That is
where you are to go. And what are you to do? Improvise!
Improvise, my lad!"

"Yes sir, but to what end?"

"That tomorrow may come."

"That tomorrow may come?"

"Great! You've got it! Farewell, and a safe journey!"

Transitions? Shadow land? So that tomorrow will come? Has Zeus
reached his dotage! Demo would ask more, except that he found
himself suddenly alone. Alone, but where? Surely this was not
his own world.



The gray fog swirled, settled, then swirled again. Dimly
objects could be seen. And movement. They were there, or so it
seemed. Yet, what objects? And what moved?

Silence accompanied the fog. Or, perhaps, preceded it.
Regardless, the only sound was his own breathing.

A light was approaching. Small, at first almost non-existent,
it loomed larger, though no brighter. A silhouette, vague and
distorted, carried the lantern. At times both disappeared as the
fog thickened.

The approach stopped. Plainly they sensed his presence. The
lantern was held higher, and he could catch glimpses of a
woman's face. There was  anxiety in her eyes, even fear, as she
gazed at him.

"Sir, whence cometh thou? Thee be not of our world. Flee to thy
home, for he walks the moors this night!"

"I . . . I am sent by Zeus. You say one walks this night? Who
walks the moors this night? And why should I fear?"

"None is safe alone in the dark. If you have not where to go
then come with me. Quickly, quickly!"

He followed her down dark alleys, twisting streets. The earth
was wet, and muddy water flowed in rivulets crisscrossing their
way. Varied smells, of vegetables, of cooked meats, and of
decay, tinted the air. At times lights were visible through
small barred windows along their way.

The fog became ever more intense. She held his hand that he not
go astray. Her hand was small and cold. He enwrapped it in his
own to give it warmth. She smiled at his concern.

They passed a pond where floated debris, bodies of dogs and
cats, and perhaps objects of more unsavory character. As they
reached the far edge of the pond she turned to the right,
slipped and shuffled down a mucky side street.

She slid the door open and motioned him to remove his footwear.
When they stepped inside she took a soiled towel from its rack,
wiped his feet and her own.

The room was small. A straw mat covered the floor, and cheap
cotton tapestry decorated the walls. A small barred window
looked out from the back wall. A mat unrolled on the floor
beneath the window served for sleeping.

She closed the door, dropped a strong wooden bar in place to
block it from opening. "He will not enter. Still may the Powers
help whomever he meets on these dark streets. You are fortunate
I took you in. Others might have taken you for a changeling, and
left you to your own devices. Many a young maid has lost her
life by mating with handsome changelings!"

"You are most kind. No, no changeling I. My name is Demo, and I
am here on a mission. When it is done I must once more depart."

She seemed little interested in his mission, regarded his face
and figure with marked curiosity.

"Thy clothes are not as ours. Thy skin is dark from rays of
sun, and here there is no sun. And thee speaketh strangely, with
words and accent unknown in this land." She stopped, a bemused
look on her face.

"What call you this land and its people? What is your name?"

She smiled at his questions.

"This is the world of Brume, and we are named Brumians. As for
me, you may call me Mist. It is only a title, not my name. Our
names we hold sacred, and to give them to others invites dire
consequences. Yes, to Mist I shall answer."

"Well, I suppose I should likewise be as reticent. Anyway, my
name is . . ."

Quickly she put her hand to his lips. "Speak it not again! You
are a stranger, a sojourner in a strange land, and its customs
are not of your world. You need not believe in our customs, but
do not needlessly court danger. I shall name you."

She walked around him, a smile touching her lips. "Thou art
tall, youthful, strong. Thou traveleth from far lands to our
world. I name thee Wanderer."

She opened the back window and the white vapors of fog crept
in. Sliding a small door to the side she removed a pot and some
utensils. Toward the center of the room she removed a block of
floormat, revealing a pit in which firewood lay.

Soon the room was warmed, and the aroma of a thick soup
tantalized his nostrils. Gladly did he eat, little noticing that
only spoonsful remained for her. "Ah, you cook like my own
mother! What meat is this?"

"Do not concern yourself. It is nourishing, and harmless to
you. It is the night season, and you may share my pad. Though
you may think me forward, ask nought of me, for I am pledged.
Only my company can I grant thee."

He slept. The fire died, the fog shrouded the room.

Of early morning he woke to find her fast asleep beside him. He
reached out to tuck the blanket around her shoulders.

His eyes widened. Taking a deep breath he drew back his hand in
consternation and sudden dread.

The shoulder was without substance. His hand felt cold and
clammy air, nought else, passed through to touch the mat beneath.

She woke, looked at him with sad and pensive eyes. "Doth thee
understand. Thou are not as we. We are but shadows, and thou art
real. Waking, we can have semblance of reality. Sleeping, it
fades.  But touch me once more, for now I am."

Reluctantly he reached out for the hand she extended. Though
cold, it was solid now as his own.

The sadness on her face disturbed him. Quietly he squeezed her
hand, smiled. "There is much I don't understand. You have been
kind to me. Still, I have a mission, and it must be done. I . .
. "

The rattling of the door interrupted him. It started suddenly,
grew in intensity. Mist moved to the far corner, dread on her
face.

Demo frowned, took up his bow and notched an arrow. Slowly he
drew the bow, waited.

The door held. In moments the rattling ceased. From without
they heard a growl, followed then only by silence.

"Stay. Don't go out. He walks the street this night." Mist held
his arm, eyes wide.

"Who is he? Why should I fear?"

"He is like you. He also comes from elsewhere. Yet, he is not
like you. For you are kind. He destroys all he meets. And he is
real, not shadow. When he came our world stopped. No longer do
we move from the unreal to the real. We linger here in this
shadow world, with no yesterday and no tomorrow."

He looked at her, startled. "No tomorrow? Strange! He said
something very much like that - that tomorrow may come. Strange!"

"I cannot stay here, for I have my job to do. When I leave,
close and bolt the door quickly. I pray we shall meet again.
Time passes, and  now I must do that for which I came. Peace!"

Then he opened the door, swiftly stepped out into the fog. He
glanced up and down the alley, as far as he could see. Only fog.

A sound behind him caught his attention.

Turning swiftly, he found Mist closing the door, stepping to
his side. "You shall not go alone!"

Arguments came to his mind. He was silent, for he realized she
would not listen. "Stay close behind me. I search for him, the
one from elsewhere. I know not why, but I feel that my mission
is with him."

"You need not search. He will surely find us."

Demo moved down the street, ever watchful. Silence held sway,
and the fog clung to them like wet cloth. At times lights could
be seen, rapidly disappearing as the drear dawn came. Dawn
brought little change. The fog still enmeshed a silent world, a
world seemingly populated by Mist and himself.

The chill he felt came not from the fog. A coldness along his
spine, a prickling on the back of his neck, forewarned him.
Something there was, something evil and fearsome, close at hand!

"No!" Mist cried as she ran forward toward an object barely
visible. Demo reached out to stop her. His hand touched only
cold fog, and she was gone.

He followed her quickly, then stopped. The scream of utter
terror rose, ceased quickly. All was silent. For a moment he
closed his eyes. He knew full well he would see her no more.

Mist. A strange name. And yet a kind and gentle person. Now
gone. To fight the unseen companion to protect himself had been
his goal. No longer. Anger enveloped him. Mist was dead. The
Demon must die!

Demo gazed from side to side, trying to penetrate the white
barrier before his eyes. To no avail. Then, glancing down, he
noted footprints. Footprints not made by man!

Slowly, his eyes on the ground ahead of him, he followed the
trail. Where Mist had trodden he could not tell. She left no
trace of her passage.

Looming huge in the fog and early morning gloom, ahead an
object stood in his path. This was the creature she feared. The
one that surely had destroyed her!

It was coming slowly closer. Plainly it recognized his
presence. Smoothly he strung his bow, notched an arrow.

Demo waited quietly.

A shudder enveloped his body, and his eyes widened.

He knew this one. An aura emitted from it, one that was not new
to him.

Surely, this was the unseen companion!

Without hesitation he released his arrow.

The laughter that came from out the fog held little humor.
"Your puny weapons are merely playthings. I would end you now,
if it were not that the fates have written, and it is by the
tarn you shall meet your destiny. If you survive this world, or
non-world! I leave you now, earthling. Find your way back to
Olympus and Zeus. If you can!"

The unearthly laughter sounded once more, then faded, as did
the figure half displayed in the swirling fog.

In his ears was but silence, and his eyes saw only the swirling
fog.

'That tomorrow may come.' The words repeated themselves in his
brain. What had Zeus intended? Was the unseen companion the evil
influence dominating this strange world? Or were there other,
still hidden, culprits. "Zeus, you have indeed given me a
strange chore. I know not where to turn!  If only I could lift
this fog!"

He wandered through the streets. Glancing at a pond in passing
he recognized it.  He knew that he had merely retraced his
steps, neared Mist's dwelling. With a sigh he found the door,
entered.

He sat quietly on the mat, fell asleep.



Dreams, interrupted by moments of awareness, disturbed his
rest. Dreams of Mist, of the unseen companion, finally of
Athena. She spoke strange words to him, words couched in
riddles. "Prometheus knew the answer. As did your unseen
companion. Quickly, before the fire die."

He woke, sweat streaming from his body. From the center of the
room a wisp of smoke rose from the dying fire. 'Before the fire
die?' Strange words. 'Prometheus knew, the unseen companion
knew?' What did they know?

Wide-eyed, he looked at the fading fire. Suddenly he reached
down, pulled a fiery brand from center, and tossed it at the
wall. In moments the building was burning.

He rushed out of the building. The conflagration spread
rapidly, and the once empty, fog-shrouded streets were filled
with dim forms rushing helter-skelter to and fro.

Even as the flames spread the fog began to dissipate. An early
morning  sun could be seen shining on the horizon. Where strange
shadows had moved along the streets now people were to be seen.
Smiles replaced looks of dreary misery. Indeed Prometheus had
known!

Still, there remained much to do. 'That tomorrow may come?'
What action must be taken 'that tomorrow may come'? The fog was
indeed gone. Only a burned out city remained. No tomorrow, this!

What else had Athena whispered to him while he slept. Something
very important. Nothing came to mind. He moved westward, drawn
by an unknown force. The answer was to be found beyond the
western horizon. If there were an answer.

The mountains loomed large to the west. He began that westward
trek, barely reached the foothills before the sun began to sink
behind the jagged peaks. Looking for a place to sleep safely, he
noted an opening, the mouth of a cave.

He entered cautiously.

"There is no cause for fear. Welcome. I've awaited your coming."

An old man spoke the words softly, calmly. His countenance
belied the words.

Clad in the armor of a warrior, with face stern, marked by
steel and fire, the old man projected a sense of authority.

Demo stepped forward slowly.

"Sire, I know you not. Yet you have awaited me?"

"One who has traveled far with you forecast your arrival. In
due time you shall know him. Much will be revealed - by the
tarn. But that another day, another world."

The unseen companion! He had been here, spoken to this one.
What strange fate forever brought their paths together? And what
was the secret of the tarn?

Demo shook his head.

"I rule this domain, ignored by the Gods, unknownst to mankind.
This is the field of atonement. All pass through here. Some
quickly. Some remain long. For a moment you have lifted the
mists. Nevertheless, they shall return. I have halted all
transitions until your coming. The souls who depart your world
and pass through here would press on. And so shall they, in due
time."

"What would you have of me, Sire?"

The warrior stood, pulled from its sheath a sword. "Vulcan did
temper this sword with blood. And each who leaves your world
must first feel this edge. It has proven strong and sharp.
Still, time and usage take their toil, and it is now it is only
a blunt instrument, useless for its purpose."

"Sire, I am no swordsmith."

The warrior held the blade in hand, extended the handle toward
Demo. "Take it. Return it to Zeus. Tell him one whose name
remains forever unspoken would have the broken sword of Cadmus.
Let Vulcan fashion it and put thereon an edge that will not
fail. 'Til you return, Clothos shall spin no more, nor Lachesis
measure, nor Atropos wield her shears. And none shall pass
through these portals to tomorrow."

The warrior held the blade high, brought it down flat against
his knee, and the metal snapped. He handed the broken weapon to
Demo. "The gate is there."

He pointed to the darker recesses of the cave. "Quickly, now,
to Olympus. I wait impatiently."



Zeus listened in quiet amazement, the broken sword in his hand.
In anger he tossed it down and it faded into oblivion. "You
shall meet with it by the tarn, in good time. It is not given to
me to know of this shadow land. Of its existence only am I
informed. The Ancient Ones - they knew! Strangely, they told me
nothing! Must even the Gods pass through those portals? I know
not. Here, take it. The sword of Cadmus. It, too, was broken.
Well, Vulcan has applied his skills. This edge shall never dull."



The warrior examined the sword with critical eye. "The
craftsmanship of Vulcan leaves little to be desired. I see the
break in the blade. It matters not. There is no weakness now.
You have done well."

His visage reflected an expression that might be construed as a
smile. "My broken sword lies by the tarn. It may well be of
service, at the appointed time. Now, on your way. For I must
return to my dreadful chore."



Zeus was morose. "It is a drear vision you bring to me. Still,
let us live for today. If it were hidden from the Gods, then it
concerns them not. Return to your own, my boy. The flowers
bloom, soft winds blow, and spring creeps upon the land. And, I
assure you, there will be no fog!"



22. The Escape

It is said that none enter, that none leave, the confines of
Hades except they be conveyed by the ferryman. Yet, in time
past, ancient time, one entered unattended that eternal prison.
He entered in search of his own true love, and pleaded with his
songs. So sweetly sung were they that Pluto, that stern master
of the nether regions, granted safe passage to him, and to the
one he loved. For Pluto, most hideous of living beings, yet
within his monstrous form knew the pangs of love.

Yet did another depart those infernal regions with no aid from
that dark ferryman.

This is the tale of that departure, of what transpired before.
And here lie the tangled threads, and the first strange steps on
the dark path to the Tarn of Eternity.



Legends relate the sad story of the kidnapping of Persephone,
the story of the evil Pluto. And the legends tell true. But they
ignore the role of Venus, and of Cupid. And they are not
guiltless.

Persephone did dwell in the Vale of Enna, gathered there the
wildwood flowers.

Pluto, master of Hades, dwelt alone in his nether kingdom.

Powerful, emotionless, dedicated only to his duty, this ruler
of the dead traveled from time to time, his coach pulled by
giant black steeds. And one such a trip Venus espied him. Angry
because she had no power to move him she turned to Cupid.

"This one knows not of love, lives in serenity. I would he
suffer the pangs of unrequited love. Loose your sharpest arrow.
Let him suffer as suffer those mortals ferried through the
portals of his empire."

Cupid grinned impudently. Ever pleased to show his skill he
notched arrow to cord. True and straight it flew.

Pluto felt a yearning he did not understand. Disturbed, he
flogged his steeds, flew tempestuously he knew not where,
seeking he knew not what.

Wild, the horses flew. And in their flight they entered the
Vale of Enna, paused to drink from the pond therein.

Carrying wildflowers in her arms, with laughter and song did
Persephone approach the chariot, tossed in childlike simplicity
flowers to the occupant. "Come, play with me. I have no
playmate. I need a friend."

She looked on his loathsome form with neither fear nor
disfavor. To her he was merely a welcome playmate, though not of
human form. She asked nothing of him, only that he share this
little while.

He gazed upon her, and in his heart Cupid's poisoned arrow
worked its magic.

The innocent beauty of that face, the warm and happy spirit
shining through those clear eyes, brought to him feelings he had
never known. He thought to hold her close, to stroke that soft
hair, to caress with gentle touch her smooth skin.

And within him, too, aroused the desires of a man. For though
her face was that of youth, her body was of sculptured beauty
that Venus might envy.

When Pluto beheld her all thoughts save one departed his mind.
This was to be his bride!



He tarried there, danced in parody of handsome prince, sang in
voice marred and croaking. She mocked him not; rather, smiled.

Of flowers garlands she made, given to him in innocent pride.
She sang sweet songs of light and sunshine, of crystal stars and
mellow moon, of flowers that did not die, with blossoms that
forever bloom.

He told her sad tales of a dark and lonesome realm, of those
for whom hope was no more, and of a keeper who sat in solitude
in mastery of that realm. A keeper who, more than all dwellers
therein, was prisoner of that realm.

From her eye, soft flowed a tear. From her hand, a gentle
touch. He thought not to ask for more.

They parted, though never long. Always his mighty steeds drove
through time and space, returning once more to that quiet
retreat. The love he felt for the innocent child grew ever
stronger. Still, he approached her, not in courtship, but as a
friend.

"Your arrow has flown true. It lacked the needed potency. He
loves her as does a brother. Once more loose your bow, and into
his heart drive desire, passion. And I shall open wide her eyes,
that she may see him as the monstrous form he is. He joys in her
presence, feels not the pain of unrequited love. As he has
ignored me, she shall reject him!"

Venus caused once more Cupid's arrow to fly. An arrow not
tinged with sweet love, rather poisoned with selfish lust. And
even as the arrow flew she closed the eyes of Persephone, let
her dream of handsome prince. Handsome prince, of looks far
removed from those of this dread companion.



Pluto lurched back in alarm as desire mixed with tender
thoughts, new and uncontrollable needs surfaced.

Persephone opened wide her eyes, saw him now in a new light. No
handsome prince he, no proper comrade. With a scream she rose
from beside him, rushed blindly toward the garden gate.

He seized her, dragged her to that golden chariot. Madly he lay
whip on flesh, driving the mighty steeds as never had they been
driven. Thus he carried her to his own domain.

She resisted not, for his was the greater strength. As his
chariot reached the gates of the garden she sighed. In arms she
held her kitten, a white small ball of fur. As they passed
through the gate she set it free. "May the Gods grant you
freedom and happiness, for mine is no more."

Pluto heard her words with deep remorse. Nevertheless, the
spell cast of Venus overpowered the germ of kindness in his
heart. And yet, though he desired her, his love was more
powerful. "Only when the Gods have granted you to me in marriage
shall you be mine."

In due time it came about. Still, Persephone was granted one
wedding wish. Quickly, before it could be withdrawn, she prayed
to be returned to her mother for half of each year. And so it
was.



In time she accepted her exile with good grace. Yet, because
Cupid had never used his arrows on her heart, she felt no love
for her captor. At times, perhaps, pity.

Time as earthlings know it does not exist for denizens of the
nether world. Those suffering suffer not by day or night, but by
eternity. The Curse of Cronus, lifted from the Gods, still left
its mark upon these sufferers, and age beyond age they carried.

And even Persephone, though shielded by the Gods, felt the
power of Cronus, saw wrinkles gently forming. Invisible to
Pluto, who saw only through the eyes of love, this aging process.



One innocent pleasure Persephone had.

The dread ferryman in his duties came ever to the kingdom's
portals. And there he heard the happenings on earth, and fables
of happenings in Heaven.

These tales he passed on to Persephone, for she longed to know
of the world she had left behind.

And one day he brought to her a tale that left her heart cold.

Ceres, her mother, was nearing the end of her days. She prayed
daily to the Gods that she might see, before her departure, her
beloved daughter.

The bargain had been made. Six long months must Persephone
dwell within the nether realm. The Gods would not relent.

Still, Persephone would see her mother. She pleaded with the
ferryman. To no avail. He listened not to her pleas. He carried
only passengers from the portal to deep within. None carried he
to the portal.

She wandered though Hades with sad mien, searching for a path
to the other side. She found none.

While in her search, she met the shades of the departed. On one
such meeting she heard the name, Orpheus.

Suddenly her eyes widened. Orpheus! The only living man to
enter Hades without the attendant ferryman!

Slowly, from tormented souls, from the ferryman, even from
Pluto himself, she gathered details of that entry. How he came,
singing his songs, and melted even the heart of Pluto.

Ah, how did he enter? What secret way, unknown to any other,
had led him into this Stygian realm?

The heights of Taenarus! Earthly legends told of a path, a path
of unknown origin. Through terrain unlike any known to man it
twisted its uncertain way. Boulders coughed from deep within the
earth's core blocked its passage. Edged stones marred its
surface. And the path winds into a cave, whose very mouth is
enshrouded in darkness.

From its mouth sulfurous fumes rise, and dark clouds of noxious
gases besmirch the sky. Bones of man and beast lie scattered
midst pools of murky water.

It is thought that this fissure penetrates the very bowels of
earth. Even into the domain of Pluto, the fearsome kingdom of
Hades.

Through this portal creatures of the afterworld are unleashed
on earth's dwellers. Ghosts of those long gone, strange beings
never dreamed of by human kind, spirits weird, and other
creatures lacking even a name.

Orpheus must have entered through this portal. Through the cave
of Orpheus may I escape to my world!

Thus thought Persephone. And she planned her escape. Each day
she wandered through the dark domain, mapping its drear
geography in her mind.

She waited.

In due time Pluto was called to an accounting at Olympus. In
his absence she began the ascent, up through the dark and evil
passages. Ever upward with uncertain step and only hope to
guide.

Guardians did cross her path, challenged her passage. But when
informed that she was queen, and in Pluto's absence master of
that dread domain, none dared stay her way.

She reached the portal, followed the rough and strenuous path
leading downward from the heights of Taenarus. Always she gazed
fearfully behind.

He would come!



23. The Extra Task

"Well done!," Zeus roared. "Every task completed!"

He paused. "Hmmm! I've lost count. Every task . . .  . Well,
I'm sure you won't mind just one more to, eh, help me out."

"Yes, yes, every task, that is, except one, a minor one I
overlooked."

Chagrined he listened as Zeus stated the Final task.

"Perhaps you have noticed, in your sojourns, that you have had
a companion. An unseen watcher. A sneaky follower. A sly,
disreputable creature! Destroy it! That is your final task. Now,
begone!"

Imperiously he waved his hand, and as it fell he faded slowly
into oblivion. Why was he smiling so happily?



It happened so quickly that Demo had not time to complain, not
even time to think. He stood on the mountain path once more,
alone.

Or, perhaps, not alone. The wind gusted, leaves rustling along
the pathway. Above the tree tops bowed in obeisance to the
intermittent breeze. The smell of rain was in the air. And a
sulfurous smell. One he had noted to often before.

He sensed, rather than saw, the unseen companion. In anger he
raised his bow, but could not decide where to dispatch the
arrow. With a shrug he lowered it, returned the arrow to its
pouch.

"In due time I will succeed. I must!" he breathed.

He felt tired. He had labored mightily through the twelve
tasks. Rest was delayed for their completion. And now a further
task lay on him.

For a moment he leaned against the trunk of a tall pine, his
eyes closed. His arms ached, his back and neck, and his felt the
need to lie down, to rest.

But he dare not! Somewhere, waiting, his nemesis. And when and
how he might strike he knew not.

He trudged disconsolately along the mountain path. In the
distance the howl of a wolf broke the silence. The quivering
wail was answered quickly from neighboring hills. The pack was
assembling for some nightly raid. A dust devil traveled a
crooked path on the trail ahead, ended with leaves falling on
the floor. A deer stopped at the edge of the trail, sniffed at
the air, then retreated.

Demo moved cautiously forward, each step a chore. Strong though
he was his energy seemed to be waning. Startled, he remained
motionless. This is not right, he thought. I have gone days
without rest, and still felt stronger than today. Am I ill, have
I eaten something that has weakened me.

He felt a vertigo, nearly stumbled. He shuffled forward, each
foot scuffing along the pathway.

As Demo proceeded he noted a shadow on his path. The sitting
sun limned the figure of a young girl sitting on a log by the
path, rubbing her ankle. Plainly she was suffering, and with the
approaching night, in dire circumstances. Exhausted though he
was, he could not ignore her plight.

"My lady, you are in pain. Can I help you?" he inquired.

"No! No. Begone, handsome youth! I carry with me dangers you
cannot understand. Even to talk to me invites disaster. Go
quickly on your way!"

Her voice was taut with emotion, with fear. Her breath came in
quick pants, and her face was distraught. She bowed her head in
hopeless resignation.

He started to turn, noted the tears in her eyes, and so
remained.

"Here, I have medication for your ankle. It will ease the pain."

He rubbed the ointment on the red swollen skin, and her eyes
widened as the pain began to recede.

"Oh, sir, I am fleeing from a most horrifying creature. There
are no words that can describe it. Should it finds you with me,
it will destroy you. Please, go on your way. You have been very
kind, now leave quickly. Let me climb down the mountain alone."

For a moment he hesitated, took a step away from her and down
the mountain. If I stay to help her it will endanger my chances
of completing the final task. I must go on now!

His thoughts said leave. His heart said stay. The sad face of
the hapless maiden held his eyes. He could not walk away.

"I too have known fear and loneliness. I cannot leave you thus.
I will help you, no matter what pursues. And should it overtake
us, I shall leave my mark on it." He touches his arrows for
reassurance.

They slowly descend the mountain, and she leans heavily on him
as she hobbles along the rock-strewn path. At times winding
steeply, narrow. Then leveling and wide. When they reached a
precipice overlooking the site of a beautiful, dark pond they
paused.

A gnarled pine grew on the crag, leaning outward. In time the
wind and rain would loosen its roots and would plunge off the
overhang. For now a swallow nested safely within its branches.

Demo looked down at the tarn so far below. For a moment he
closed his eyes,  drew a deep breath. This is the place. The
wait is over. He sighed.



There are ponds where birds sing in happy summer frolic. Where
nests are built in bordering bushes, and eggs laid. Ponds where
the fish leap, and frogs sing their merry songs of night. Here
lightning bugs brighten the surface, court the light of
reflected stars. Here the waters are clear and cool. The farmer
stores milk here to keep it cold. Children play along its banks
with happy laughter. By summer day they swim in its depths. Here
by night lovers sit 'neath honey moon and whisper soft words of
adoration.

And there are ponds of rougher nature where the fisherman plies
his trade. Ponds where flowering plants hide snakes that glide
upon the waters and feed on the creatures swimming below. Where
turtles wait for unsuspecting geese or ducks and drag them to
their death in waters deep. Here young men come to gig frogs, to
seine for bait for tomorrow's fishing, to joke and carouse and
wrestle man to man.

There, too, are tarns hidden in dark recesses and grottoes.
Tarns deep and still where legends grow and strange stories are
whispered. Here in the eventide one sees the will of the wisp.
At times the call of the loon breaks the evening air.  Stories
better left untold are found here. Of strange sights in the dark
of night. Of spirits of those gone. Of evil incarnate, and hate
incessant.

Such a one was the tarn that lay below. Tales were told of
blood mingling with the murky waters. Tales of bands of evil
note frequenting its shores. Tales of bodies weighted with
stone, resting forever on the bottom.

The escarpment extended outward from the mountain, formed a
lookout overlooking the dark waters. The escarpment, of solid
rock, attracted those despondent, invited them to end their woes
with a plunge into the waiting waters. Too many responded to
that fatal invitation.



"Here is the land of my mother, Ceres. I am Persephone, her
only daughter. And I have been away so long." She sobbed.

Ceres. He knew the name. Where had he heard it? Ah, his Mother.
A nursemaid, long ago, and a weak and sickly child. Was this
then the needed task, to protect her daughter from a ruthless
enemy? How strange the fates! Every move seemed programmed,
every action preplanned long ago. And the results? Were they too
preprogrammed? Our lives it seems are in the stars, and we
neither control nor understand our fate. There was now no
question in his mind. This is the Tarn of Eternity! It is here
all shall be resolved!

"Finally, now I am getting closer to home. I shall see her once
more before she dies. The trip has been long. Soon it is over."

He felt the sadness in her words. And felt something else,
something more foreboding.

A hint of a strange odor, a scent that he knew too well. The
unseen companion was close, very close!

Even as she spoke a dark form emerged from the heavy bushes
beside the path.

Unthinkingly he knew. This was the unseen companion!



Demo's mother slept fitfully throughout the night. Dreams,
rather, nightmares, repeatedly aroused her. She saw, again and
again, her son. And something else.

Something huge and grotesque, evil and deadly. Something with
an unreasoning hatred for her son.

She arose before sunrise, sat on the edge of her bed in deep
thought, spoke aloud to herself. "I could try to go to him.
Sadly, I am old, weak. I would be but a further burden.

Rough sat at her feet, licked her hand. She reached down
absently, patted his head. Her eyes widened.

"Rough, go to him. What I cannot do, you can. Protect him with
your life. Quickly now! Find your master! Go!"

The dog whined as she opened the door, looked up at her. Then
turning, with a low growl, Rough loped quickly toward the high
mountains.

Whatever danger threatened Demo, he would share. Whatever enemy
imperiled his master, he too would face.

She sighed, whispered, "Perhaps, perhaps . . . "



Misshapen head, twisted body, covered with hide plated with
metallic scales, it stood tall above them.

But he is not the only one to recognize the creature.

Beside him Persephone starts, cries out. "No, let me be free of
you!"

A gasping chortle issued from the swollen lips of the creature.
"Ah, princess, it is fit we meet here by the Tarn of Eternity.
Only its waters can still the fires of Hell. And even they
cannot still my love for you."

The words, meant to express deep feelings, were grotesque when
voiced in a broken, harsh whine by the monstrosity. And yet Demo
noted, the eyes held a devotion that was real.

"Pluto, go back to your world. Leave me to live in peace with
my mother. I will never return to Hades. Better a short life on
earth than eternity in Hades."

"Persephone, I will never release you. My love for you is
without an end. You will be mine forever."

This travesty on words of love, voiced by a creature totally
devoid of humanity, brought tears to the eyes of the young
maiden.

The final task! Destroy the unseen companion! Pluto! Brother of
Zeus! More powerful than any save Zeus himself!

A tear came to Demo's eye. No mortal could accomplish this
task! Yet, though he die in the struggle, he was committed.
Athena, remember me, for I have loved you!

He was no longer tired. He drew strength from the imminent
danger.

He took a deep breath, drew an arrow from its pouch, notched it
to the string.

"You jest! What power is in your weapons?" once more Pluto
speaks.

"I have followed you far, and your arrows have not found their
mark. Do you not know, that nothing you can do will destroy me.
I am immortal. I dwell in Hades, Master of that infernal region.
Only the waters of the Tarn of Eternity can quench those flames."

He laughed, loud and harshly, without humor.

"Now stand up, tall and brave." he sneered, "I tire of this
childish game, and you are about to die."

As Pluto lifted his huge fist Demo drew the bowstring. A
threshing from the side of the pathway, distracted him.

He paused.

Before either he or Pluto could move another interfered.

From the brush a deep growl was heard, and in a moment Rough
stood in the path of the threatening fiend. He crouched, eyes
blazing.

And sprang!

Caught in mid air by a blow from the monstrous figure, Rough
fell, rolled over, lay quiet. Demo released his arrow!

It struck, then fell blunted from Pluto's thick hide.

"I struck the animal only a light blow. I too had Cerberus, and
of all creatures only he loved me. The dog shall live. But not
you, earthling."

Pluto once more turned toward Demo, his deadly intention
evident.

"No, Pluto, no more! I can stand no more of you, no more of
your evil ways."

Persephone rushes by Demo, dodges by Pluto.

Frozen, Demo stands motionless. Still, there is one who acts.
With a desperate lunge Pluto tries to stop the maiden.

Too late!

She flings herself from the edge of the cliff!

Down she falls, down, finally to plummet into the cold depths
of the Tarn of Eternity.

Pluto turns, dives into those murky waters. Plummets downward
to rescue her from their frigid embrace!

As the waves touch him he screams.

The waters roil and tear at him as though the tarn were a
living creature, a beast of prey. Blood stains the roiled
surface.

Demo rushes down the tortured pathway,  his lungs and throat
burning. A stone turns and he falls, slipping over the edge of
the escarpment. The roiling waters of the Tarn of Eternity licks
hungrily at the boulders below. They crash against the shore,
waiting for their next prey.

Slowly, painfully, he regains the path, continues his
precipitous journey. Finally arriving at the rock strewn shore,
he throws himself down as the air rushes through his burning
throat.

There is no sign of life on the Tarn. The water, never still,
moves in chaotic pattern. Swirls and streams, whirlpools and
rapids, never still.

Then it rises from the deepest, coldest depths. Pluto!

Pluto swims slowly, uncertainly, moving toward the shore where
Demo now sits. Demo rises, defiant. A broken sword from some
ancient war, lay on the ground, and he seizes it in desperation.

And then he remembers. The broken sword of the warrior!
Unsullied by its mishap, the broken blade still shines. Holding
the weapon in his hand he waits on the shore, watches the
tumultuous waters of the tarn.

Even in his torture, Pluto swims in desperate search for
Persephone. But the dark green waters hide their prey.

And then he sees her!

Quickly, thrashing his way to  the drowning girl, Pluto dives
beneath the murky depths. He lifts her from the water's deadly
embrace. Cradled in Pluto's arms, her face white above the dark
surface, she seems more dead than living. Thrashing the deadly
waves Pluto brings her to the shore.

Demo raises the broken sword high, waiting!

Pluto stalks onto the shore carrying her like a doll, gently,
in his huge arms. Turning to Demo, Pluto growls in the angry
voice he could not renounce, "Save her." He lays her softly on
the ground, lays her gently on the sandy beach.

Throwing aside the sword Demo falls to his knees beside the
child.

Demo turns her on her stomach , ministers to her. And finally
he is rewarded by the slightest movement, a sign of life. Soon
she begins to cough, to breathe.

Pluto stands quietly, watching. What on another creature might
have been a smile touches his lips. On his cheek a trickle of
liquid. Water from the Tarn of Eternity?

"She lives." He utters, half question, half statement.

"Yes, she lives."

There was no question now. The tears were real.

For a moment Pluto turns away, then turns once more to look at
her. "I grant you your life, earthling. Care for her. Help her,
human. For this I spare your life. Quickly, now, for as I
forecast, the Tarn of Eternity is quenching the fires of hell,
and quenching the very life from me. Yet I pass on willingly,
that she may live."

He pauses, looks out toward the center of the Tarn.

"These waters, as foretold, have destroyed me."

Though Demo had paid attention only to Persephone, he had still
noted the horrible oozing of Pluto's blood from a thousand
wounds.

"It is over. I go to my fate. Tell her this. With her
departure, what hope in Hades dwelt no longer lingers. And tell
her, that in my own way, I loved and love her still."

He turns.

With a dignity born of valor he wades into the dark waters,
marches stolidly into the ravenous waters that swirl and froth
and tear at his body. Their waves lap ever higher until,
silently, he disappears beneath the surface, into their clouded
depths.

And, though he were a denizen of Hell, one could but think,
'True love deserves better.'

Quickly Demo turned to the maiden. In those few moment her
breathing once more has ceased. Loosing her bodice he turns her
over, lets the dank water seep from her lips.

Almost he gives up hope. And then she once more stirs, moans.

She moves, half sat, wide-eyed. Gently he holds her hand.

She looks wildly around.

"Where is he? Is he gone?"



He told her of Pluto's last words, of how Pluto died - evil,
misshapen, cast out from the heavens. Of how he knowingly cast
himself into the deadly waters of the Tarn of Eternity for her
sake.

Hated by all. Destroyed, though, not by any of these, not by
the power of his enemies. Destroyed by the one small touch of
goodness left in him, the ability to love.

Bemused she looked at the now placid surface of the tarn.

Pensively she gazed at the quiet, dark waters. And though she
is silent he noted the quiet tears upon her cheeks. Then she
rose slowly, walked to the water's edge, and reached out to a
green weed growing there.

"Mother, grant me beauty." She whispered the words.

And as she touched the plant a white flower bloomed, fell into
her outstretched hand.

"As you have died for love, oh Pluto, I pity you. And though
you will be remembered for the evil of your ways, and as master
of the infernal regions, one consolation you shall have."

She tossed the flower with its large white petals out on the
now still waters.

"When the water lilies bloom, you shall be remembered, not for
your vices, but for your one saving grace.

"You will be remembered for this, that you gave up eternity to
save the one you loved." She paused, a sob in her voice.

"Rest well, Oh Prince of Darkness."

 A tear trickled down her cheek, and her voice was tremulous.

Even as she spoke the face of the pond rippled, and the white
beauty of the water lilies spread. Quickly they carpeted the
waters along the shore. Gently rocking with the ebb and flow of
the ripples they spread their beauty ever farther.

She sat by the quiet waters, stared vacant-eyed toward its
farther shore. Turning, she glanced at Demo.

"I remember, when I was a little girl, a poem. It was of a
brave warrior, and the woman he loved."

She spoke the stanzas, not to him; softly to herself. Her
voice, partially choked by emotion, blended with the soft wind
and the rippling waves of the tarn.



"For love of maiden fair,

"He walks untrodden ways,

"And fights with dragons in the air,

"And evil ogres he slays.



"For love of maiden fair,

"He sailed on unknown seas,

"And dared the demon in his lair.

" 'Mongst haunted, ghostly trees.



"For love of maiden fair,

"He lay him down to die,

"And asked a token only there,

"A teardrop from her eye.



"For love of gallant youth,

"More than a tear she gave,

"She would not live with constant ruth -

"Slept by him in his grave."



"There will be no poem for him!"

As she spoke a break occurred in her voice, and a sadness.
Perhaps she had not loved Pluto, but surely she had pitied him.

"He was ugly, hated, feared. I, who knew him best, held him in
awe. And yet, for all his faults, he was gentle. Though master
of that dark domain, he wept for those within. Though he had
power, he had not the power to set them free.

"He loved me. A strange love, perhaps. When I returned for that
brief moment to my mother, he wept. And when I returned to him
once more, his face was radiant.

"Did I love him?"

She was silent. Yet, tears flowed from her eyes.

"Love? What is Love?"

She walked restlessly by the tarn, breathed deeply.

 "Mother, I would rest. Take me home." She sobbed.

Demo listened silently, head bowed. Though a tragedy had now
ended, still there was tragedy. How strange indeed this life,
where evil destroyed did not bring happiness. Where maiden
rescued did not bring joy. Where task performed did not bring
triumph.

He picked up the broken sword, gazed at it musingly. With a
half smile he shook his head, tossed it aside.

Finally he turned to comfort her, but she was gone. Where she
had stood a rose bush grew. Its single blossom, one deep red
rose, hung low in sorrow. A vagrant wave gently kissed its soft
petals.

With a sigh Demo turned to climb again the mountain. Above its
peaks a lone white cloud drifted. Sun's rays lit the tree tops.

The final task was done.



"Rough, you've come back . . . , alone! Oh, and you're hurt."
She dropped to her knees beside the dog, felt of his legs, ribs.
"At least there aren't any bones broken."

She stood up, thinking.

"You wouldn't have deserted him if he were in danger. I'm sure
of that. So he sent you home. I only wish I knew that he is
safe. Well, come, boy, I have some food for you."

She patted the dog, took him inside. After feeding him she
stood in the open door.

A tear formed in her eye, and she wiped it away.

"Athena, if you truly love him, protect him."



24. Finale

The flutter of wings broke the silence, and she was there
beside him. Athena! She reached out her hand, and he held it.
This time neither Zeus nor Pluto intervened. In moments they
were flying upward, ever upward, to far off Olympus.

He glanced back to the tarn below. The water lilies had covered
its surface. The waves lapped gently at the sandy shore, washed
tenderly the wild rose.

A few red petals fell softly into the quiet waters, mingled
with the white waterlilies floating there.



Worldwide Book Rights
(C) 1995 Frank Tymon





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