Pagan Passions

by Randall Garrett

  CHAPTER FIVE

  There was a tingle like a mild electric shock. Forrester opened hismouth and then closed it again as the tingle stopped, and the sense offalling simply died away. He had closed his eyes on the way into thecurtain, and now he opened them again.

  He closed them very quickly, counted to ten, and took a deep breath.Then he opened them to look at the room he was in.

  It was unlike any room he had ever seen before. It didn't have theopulence of the High Priestess's rooms. I am a room, it seemed to say,and a room is what I was meant to be. I don't have to draw attention tomyself like my poorer sisters. I am content merely to exist as the roomof rooms, the very type and image of the Ideal Enclosure.

  The floors and walk of the place seemed to blend into each other at oddangles. Forrester's eyes couldn't quite follow them or understand them,and judging the size of the room was out of the question. There was agolden wash of light filling the room, though it didn't seem to comefrom anywhere in particular. It was, in fact, as if the room itself wereshining. Forrester blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light, or whateverit was, was changing color.

  Gradually, he realized that it went on doing that. He wasn't sure thathe liked it, but it was certainly different. The colors went from goldto pale rose to violet to blue, and so on, back to gold again, whilelittle eddies and swirls of light sparkled into rainbows here and there.

  Forrester began to feel dizzy again.

  There were various objects standing around here and there in the room,but Forrester couldn't quite tell what they were. Even their sizes weredifficult to judge, because of the shifting light and shape of the roomitself. There was only one thing that seemed reasonably certain.

  He was alone in the room.

  Set in one wall was a square of light that didn't change color quite asmuch as everything else. Forrester judged it to be a window and headedfor it. With his first step, he discovered something else about theplace.

  The carpeting was completely unique. Instead of fiber, the floor seemedto have been covered a foot deep with foam rubber. Forrester didn'texactly walk to the window; he bounced there. The sensation was almostenjoyable, he thought, when you got used to it. He wondered just howlong it took to get used to it and settled on eighty years as a goodfirst guess.

  He stood in front of the window. He looked out.

  He saw nothing but clouds and sky.

  It took a long while for him to decide what to do next, and when hefinally did come to a decision, it was the wrong one.

  He looked down.

  Below him there were tumbled rocks, ledges of ice and snow, cloudsand--far, far below--the flat land of the Earth. He wanted to shut hiseyes, but he couldn't. The whole vast stomach-churning panorama spreadout beneath him endlessly. The people below, if there were any, weren'teven big enough to be ants. They were completely invisible. Forrestertook a deep breath and gripped the side ledges of the window.

  And a voice behind him said: "Welcome, Mortal."

  Forrester almost went through the window. But he managed to regain hisbalance and turn around, saying angrily: "Don't _do_ that!" As the lastof the words left his lips, he became aware of the smiling figure facinghim.

  She was standing in a spotlight, Forrester thought at first. Then he sawthat the light was coming from the woman herself--or from her clothing.The dress she wore was a satinlike sheath that glowed with an aura evenbrighter than the room. Her blonde hair picked up the radiance andglowed, too, illuminating a face that was at once regal, inviting andpassionate. It was, Forrester thought, a hell of a disturbingcombination.

  The cloth of the dress clung to her figure as if it wanted to. Forresterdidn't blame it a bit; the dress showed off a figure that was not onlybeyond his wildest dreams, but a long way beyond what he had hithertoregarded as the bounds of possibility. From shoulder to toe, she wasperfection.

  This was also true of the woman from shoulder to crown.

  Forrester gulped and, automatically, went on one knee.

  "Please," he murmured. "Pardon me. I didn't mean--"

  "Quite all right," the Goddess murmured. "I understand perfectly."

  "But I--"

  "Never mind all that now," Venus said, with just a hint of impatience."Rise, William Forrester--or you who were William Forrester."

  Forrester rose. Sweat was pouring down his face. He made no effort towipe it away. "Were?" he asked, dazed. "But that's my name!"

  "It _was_," Venus said, in the same calm tone. "Henceforth, your name isDionysus."

  Forrester took a while to remember to swallow. "Dionysus?" he said atlast.

  There was another silence.

  Forrester, feeling that perhaps his first question could use someamplification, said: "Dionysus? Bacchus? You mean me?"

  "Quite right," Venus said. "That will be your name, and you'd betterbegin getting used to it."

  "Now wait a minute!" he said. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, butsomething occurs to me. I mean, it's the first thing I thought of, andI'm probably wrong, but just let me ask the questions, if you don'tmind, and maybe some of this will make some sense. Because just a fewhours ago I was doing very nicely on my own and I--"

  "What are your questions?" Venus said.

  Forrester swayed. "Dionysus/Bacchus himself," he said. "Won't he mindmy--"

  Venus laughed. "Mind your using his name? My goodness, no."

  "But--"

  "It's all because of the orgies," Venus said.

  Everything, he told himself, was getting just a little too much for him."Orgies?" he said.

  Venus nodded. "You see, there are all those orgies held in his honor.You know about those, of course."

  "Sure I do," Forrester said, watching everything narrowly. In just a fewseconds, he told himself hopefully, the whole room would vanish and hewould be in a nice, peaceful insane asylum.

  "Well, it isn't impossible for a God to be at all the orgies held in hishonor," Venus said. "Naturally not. But, at the same time, they are allrather boring--for a God, I mean. And that's why you're here," shefinished.

  Forrester said: "Oh." And then he said: "Oh?" The room hadn'tdisappeared yet, but he was willing to give it time.

  "Dionysus," Venus said patiently, as if she were explaining the matterto a small and rather ugly child, "gets tired of appearing at theorgies. He wants someone to take his place."

  The silence after that sentence was a very long one. Forrester couldthink of nothing to say but: "_Me?_"

  "You will be raised to the status of Godling," Venus said. "You rememberHercules and Achilles, don't you?"

  "Never met them," Forrester said vacantly.

  "Naturally," Venus said. "They were, however, ancient heroes, raised tothe status of Godling, just as you yourself will be. However, you willnot be honored or worshipped under your own name."

  Forrester nodded. "Naturally," he said, wondering what he was talkingabout. There was, he realized, the possibility that he was not insaneafter all, but he didn't want to think about that. It was much toopainful.

  "You will receive instructions in the use of certain powers," Venussaid. "These will enable you to perform your new duties."

  Duties.

  The word carried a strange connotation. Dionysus/Bacchus was the God ofwine, among other things, and women and song had been thrown in as anafterthought. The duties of a stand-in for a God like that sounded justa little bit overwhelming.

  "These--duties," he said. "Will they be temporary or permanent?"

  "Well," Venus said, "that depends." She smiled at him sweetly.

  "Depends?"

  "So far," Venus said, "our testing shows that you are capable ofhandling certain of the duties to be entrusted to you. But, for therest, everything depends on your own talents and devotion."

  "Ah," Forrester said, and then: "Testing?"

  "You don't suppose that we would pick a mortal for an important job likethis without making certain that he was capable of doing the job, doyou?"

  "Frankly," Forre
ster said, "I haven't got around to supposing anythingyet."

  Venus smiled again. "We have tested you," she said, "and so far youappear perfectly capable of exercising your powers."

  Forrester blinked. "Exercising?"

  "Exactly. As a street brawler, for instance, you do exceptionally well."

  "As a--"

  "How does your face feel?" she asked.

  "My what?" Forrester said. "Oh. Face. Fine. Street brawls, you said?"

  "I did," Venus said. "My goodness, the way you bashed that one bruiserwith your drink--that was really excellent. As a matter of fact, I feelit incumbent on me to tell you that I haven't enjoyed a fight so much inyears."

  Wondering whether he should be complimented or just a little ashamed ofhimself, Forrester said nothing at all. The idea that he had been underthe personal supervision of Aphrodite herself bothered him more than hecould say. The brawl was the first thing that came to mind. It didn'tseem like the sort of thing a Goddess of Love ought to have beenwatching.

  And then he thought of the High Priestess.

  He felt a blush creeping up around his collar, and was thankful onlythat it was not visible under the tan of his skin. He remembered who hadordered the sacrificial rites, and thought bitterly and guiltily aboutspectator sports.

  But his face remained perfectly calm.

  "So far," Venus said, "I must say that you have come through with flyingcolors. You should be proud of yourself."

  Forrester didn't feel exactly proud. He wanted to crawl into a hole anddie there.

  "Well," he said, "I--"

  "But there is more," Aphrodite said.

  "More?"

  The idea didn't sound attractive. In spite of what one of the tests hadinvolved, the notion of any more tests was just a little fatiguing.Besides, Forrester was not at all sure that he would be at his best,when he knew that dispassionate observers were chronicling his techniqueand his every movement.

  How much more, he wondered, could he take?

  And, he reflected, how much more of _what_?

  "We must be certain," Aphrodite said, "that you can prove yourselfworthy of the dignity of a Godling."

  "Ah," Forrester said cleverly. "So there are going to be more tests?"

  "There are," Venus said. "After all, you will be expected to act as the_alter persona_ of Dionysus. That involves responsibilities almostbeyond the ken of a mortal."

  Wine, Forrester thought wildly, women and song.

  He wondered if he were going to be asked to sing something. He couldn'tremember anything except the _Star Spangled Banner_ and an exceptionallysilly rhyme from his childhood. Neither of them seemed just right forthe occasion.

  "You must learn to behave as a true God," Venus said. "And we must knowwhether you are fitted for the part."

  Forrester nodded. The one thing keeping him sane, he reflected, was thehope of insanity. But the room was still there, and Venus was standingnear him, talking quietly away.

  "Thus," she said, "there must be further tests, so that we may be sureof your capacities."

  Capacities? Just what was _that_ supposed to mean? "I see," he lied."And suppose I fail?"

  "Fail?"

  "Suppose I don't live up to expectations," Forrester said.

  "Well, then," Venus declared, "I'm afraid the Gods might be angry withyou."

  Forrester had no doubt whatever as to the meaning of the words. Eitherhe lived up to expectations or he didn't live at all. The Gods' angerwas not a small affair, and it seldom satisfied itself with smallresults. When a God got angry with you, you simply hoped the resultwould be quick. You didn't really dare hope it would also be temporary.

  Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. If he had been doing his ownpicking, he thought a little sadly, the job of tryout stand-in forDionysus was not the job he would have chosen. But then, the choicewasn't his, and it never had been. It was the Gods who had picked him.

  Unfortunately, if he failed, the mistake wouldn't be laid at the door ofthe Gods. It would be laid at the door of William Forrester, togetherwith a nice, big, black funeral wreath.

  But it didn't sound too bad at that, he told himself hopefully. Afterall, it wasn't every day that a man was offered the job of stand-in fora God, not every day that a man was offered the chance of passing a lotof strenuous and embarrassing tests, and dying if he failed.

  He told himself sternly to look on the positive side, but all he couldthink of was the succession of tests still to come. What would they belike? How could he ever pass them all? What would be thought necessaryto establish a man as a first-rate double for Dionysus?

  Looks, he thought, were obviously the first thing, and he certainly hadthose. For a second he almost wished he could see Ed Symes and apologizefor getting mad when Ed had told him he looked like Bacchus.

  But then, he reflected, he didn't want to go too far. The idea ofapologizing to Ed Symes, no matter who his sister was, made Forrester'sgorge rise about five and a half feet.

  "However," Aphrodite went on, as if she had just thought of somethingtoo unimportant to bother mentioning, "don't worry about it. My father'sthunderbolt needn't concern you. I have every confidence that you willprove yourself."

  She smiled radiantly at him.

  The idea occurred to Forrester that she just didn't think that amortal's mortality was important. But the idea didn't stay long. Beingreassured by a Goddess, he told himself confusedly, was very reassuring.

  Venus was looking him up and down speculatively, and Forrester suddenlythought a new test was coming. A little gentle sweat began to break outon his forehead again, but his face stayed calm. He took a deep breathand tried to concentrate on gathering strength. The High Priestess hadbeen something special but, Forrester thought, she had not really calledout his _all_. Venus was clearly another matter.

  But Venus said only: "Those clothes," in a considering sort of tone.

  "Clothes?" Forrester said, trying to readjust in a hurry.

  "You certainly can't go in those clothes. Hera would object quiteviolently, I'm afraid. She's awfully stuffy about such things."

  The intimate details about the Gods intrigued Forrester. "Stuffy? Hera?"

  "Confidentially," Venus said, "at times, the All-Mother can be anabsolute bitch."

  She went over to one of the light-swirled walls, and a part of the lightseemed to fade as she did so. Of course, she did nothing so crude asopening a door. When she started for the wall there was no closetapparent there, but when she arrived it was there, solid, and open.

  It was just that simple.

  She took out a white robe and started back. Forrester took his eyes fromher with an effort and watched the closet disappear again. By the timeshe had reached him, it was only a part of the swirling wall again.

  And the hospital attendants were nowhere in sight.

  She handed Forrester the robe. He took it warily, but it seemed realenough. At any rate, it was as real as anything else that was happeningto him, he thought.

  It was a simple tunic, cut in the style of the ancient Greek _chiton_,and open at one side instead of the front. Forrester turned it in hishands. At the waist and shoulder there was a golden clasp to hold it inplace. The clasp wasn't figured in any special way. The material itselfwas odd: it was an almost fluorescent white and, though it was perfectlyopaque, it was thinner than any paper Forrester had ever seen in public.It almost didn't seem to be there when he rubbed it between his thumband forefinger.

  "Well, don't just stand there," Venus said. "Get started."

  "Started?" Forrester said.

  "Get dressed. The others are waiting for you."

  "Others?"

  But she didn't answer. Forrester looked frantically around the room foranything that looked even remotely like a dressing room. As a lastresort, he was willing to settle for a screen. No room, no screen. Hewas willing to settle for a chair he could crouch behind. There wasnone.

  He looked hopefully at the Goddess. Perhaps, he thought, she would leavewh
ile he dressed. She showed no sign of doing so. He cleared his throatand jerked at his collar nervously.

  "Now, now," Venus said sternly. "Don't tell me the presence of yourGoddess embarrasses you." She raised her head imperiously. "Hurry itup."

  Very slowly, he began taking off his clothes. There was, after all,nothing to be ashamed of, he told himself. As a matter of fact, Venusought to be getting used to the sight of him undressing by this time.

  Somehow, he finally managed to get the _chiton_ on straight. Venuslooked him over and nodded her approval.

  "Come along now," she said. "They're waiting for us. And one thing:don't get nervous, for Hera's sake. You're all right."

  "Oh," Forrester said. "Sure. Perfectly all right. Right as rain."

  "Well, you are. As a matter of fact, I think you'll make a fineDionysus."

  She led him toward a wall opposite where the closet had been. As theyapproached it, a section of it became bluer and bluer. With a sinkingfeeling, Forrester told himself that he knew what was coming.

  He did. The wall dissolved into the shimmering blue haze of a Veil ofHeaven, just like the one that had transported him from New York to hispresent position. Where that was, he wasn't entirely sure, butremembering his one look out the window, he suspected it was MountOlympus.

  But there wasn't any time for thinking. Venus took his hand coolly asthey reached the blue haze. Then both of them stepped through.