Pandora Gets Heart

by Carolyn Hennesy

  “I’m certain the bride would like me here, wouldn’t you, my friend?”

  Thetis, still hidden under her veil, gasped and reached for her father’s arm. Pandy looked for Iole but she was nowhere to be seen. In one corner of the hall, someone shouted an expletive. In another, a wine goblet clattered to the floor. In a small cluster of Thetis’s sisters, someone actually shoved someone else into a floral display. Then a voice boomed out above the growing commotion.

  “Eris.”

  At once the hall quieted down and all eyes turned toward the golden throne.

  “Should you manage to get past Hermes,” Zeus said calmly, after a pause, “which is highly unlikely, and should you succeed in circumventing the formidable barricade at the bottom of the stairs, you would then, sweeting, have to deal with me. And I can promise you that I shall make those following moments a study in agony that will seem to last an eternity. And it just might. Now, dear one, do you really want that?”

  Eris’s smile faltered slightly and her hands began to tremble with rage, but her eyes stayed on Zeus.

  “You were not invited to this wedding for the same reason you are not invited to any other. No one wants discord and strife on such joyous occasions. I’m terribly sorry your feelings are hurt, but I’m certain you can find a tavern or a schoolyard or gambling house and work a little mischief to make you feel better. So now, and I will not say it again, be gone!”

  Pandy glanced at Ares, now looking rather somber. Of course Ares only concerned himself with great battles, whole countries in conflict; he would never use his powers on something as insignificant as a wedding. “But,” Pandy thought, “Discord was the younger, more benign sibling of War, and Ares probably wanted Eris to stay just to have someone with the same interests to talk to.”

  The great hall was silent for several seconds. Then Eris licked her lips and, with a tiny snort, pointedly shifted her gaze from Zeus to the guests.

  “Well!” she sang out, her words now very crisp. “Of course I didn’t really want to stay. I just can’t, you see . . . so much else to do. Very full schedule. I just wanted to congratulate the happy couple, and now that I have done that, I’m afraid I really must be off.”

  She paused, looking around the room, her head cocked slightly as if she were deep in thought. Then she smiled again and, turning, walked swiftly from the hall.

  At once, calm settled back into the room, and Pandy heard a few “I’m sorry’s” from several guests close by.

  “Hephaestus?” called Zeus.

  “My lord?” Hephaestus called back.

  “How long to fix the doors?”

  Hephaestus looked at the wooden doors and stroked his beard.

  “Five ticks of a sundial, maybe less.”

  “Do so,” said Zeus, and Hephaestus and the doors disappeared. “Apollo, Ares, Hermes, and Prometheus, guard the entryway.”

  In a flash, the four immortals raced up the stairway and blocked the opening, facing inward so as not to miss the proceedings. As he settled, Prometheus happened to notice Pandy and winked in recognition. Pandy glanced at Hermes, who stared at her knowingly for an instant. Iole hurried up the stairs and slid in next to Pandy.

  “So exciting!” she gushed. “We’re seeing just how it all really happened!”

  “So now what?” Alcie said. “Eris is a bit of a wacko, but I didn’t see any Lust anywhere. What do we do?”

  “Athena’s toenails! You really didn’t pay attention in class, did you?” Pandy said.

  “Kumquats, so kill me already!”

  “Just watch,” Iole said.

  Peleus was making his way back to the dais, where Thetis waited. As he stepped up, Thetis took his hand and whispered, “You were very heroic.” Then she leaned close to his face, softly cooing, “I am so proud of you . . . my husband,” giving his fingers a tiny squeeze. Peleus genuinely smiled for the first time in two days and quickly reached for the second segment of her golden veil. As before, the mist dissolved and the nymph floated high above in her true shape. Thetis began to laugh softly, as did Peleus, and the third segment of the veil was dissipated quickly. Now only one remained, covering her face just below her mouth.

  As he slowly reached for it, Pandy glanced behind her, beyond the massive legs of Ares and Hermes and out through the entryway. Eris was nowhere to be seen, but for a split second, Pandy thought she caught a faint reddish glow in the treetops on the hillside below the formal gardens. The oohs and aahs of the guests made her turn quickly. Peleus had barely touched the mist and it dissolved so fast that he was almost shocked to see Thetis’s beautiful face smiling brightly before him. As the cheers, shouts, and applause rang out (Hera forced Zeus to clap) and Peleus bent to kiss his now willing bride, Pandy had an overwhelming urge to turn again toward the gardens. Amongst the low-lying flowers and strewn rose petals, her eyes caught no movement at first . . .

  . . . and then she saw it.

  A small red ball was rolling up the main path, toward the entryway. Slow at first, it was picking up speed with every moment, and as the joyous commotion in the hall reached its zenith, Pandy grabbed Alcie’s and Iole’s arms and they turned immediately to see the red ball hurtling toward them. Faster and faster the ball was rolling, now only several meters away. In the doorway, Prometheus looked down at the three serving girls, all of whom were looking in the opposite direction from the scene in the hall. As he whipped his head around, Hermes caught his movement and both immortals saw the red ball now almost airborne along the path.

  Hermes and Prometheus closed their feet together, trying to stop it, but they were too late and the ball flew past them in a red blur. Apollo and Hermes shouted warnings at the same time as the ball raced down the stairs. Immortals panicked and hurried out of its way, tripping and falling over each other. Peleus instinctively stepped in front of his bride as several of her sisters began screaming, but the ball was moving in another direction. It swerved and dodged, rolling this way, then that, at lightning speed, almost with a mind of its own, until finally it came to a sudden and full stop at the feet of Athena . . . who did not flinch.

  Immediately, everyone backed away to form a large circle around her as all eyes were trained on the ball. When nothing happened after several moments, Athena huffed and bent slowly to pick it up. Before she could touch it, the ball began to tremble slightly, then shake; then steam began to rush out from a crack that had split one side. Several guests fell back, grasping each other’s arms; others clutched their own garments, gasping loudly. Lifting her enormous sword, Athena aimed the point at the ball. Suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, the shaking stopped and the steam disappeared. The crack split wider and the ball fell to pieces, revealing a bright flash. Even those who couldn’t see clearly heard the loud thunk as an object enclosed inside the ball hit the blue tiles and rolled in a lazy arc, coming to rest against the tip of Athena’s blade.

  And everyone stared down at the small, perfect, golden . . .

  . . . apple.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “To The . . .”

  “Gods. Prunes!” Alcie whispered. “Where have I been?”

  “Meaning?” Iole said. The girls stood at the staircase railing, watching the crowd stare down at the apple.

  “I had clues in front of me this entire time. I gotta start thinking more,” Alcie answered quietly. “This is that wedding. Even if I wasn’t paying attention in class, I know enough to know about that . . . this . . . wedding.” She was trying to get another glimpse of the golden fruit as Athena, her brows furrowed, rolled it to and fro with her sword.

  “So,” Iole said, arching one eyebrow, “you’re all caught up now?”

  “Fully informed, thank you very much.”

  “Pandy, what do we do?” Iole asked.

  Pandy was silent. She knew what was about to happen, but she still didn’t know exactly where Lust was hiding—if it was even in the room. Yet, looking at her friends, she realized that she felt incredibly ineffectual. For hours, all
she or any of them had been doing was observing and looking for clues. She’d taken no serious action of any kind. With great effort she reminded herself that this was not the moment to spring, that biding their time was all that they could do until they were certain of something, anything, but she’d never felt so . . . bound . . . in her life.

  “We let it play out,” she sighed, staring across the hall into the middle of the crowd. “Watch.”

  Athena bent and swiftly scooped up the apple. Holding it by the tiny golden stem, she twirled it slowly in front of her. She stopped, suddenly noticing something, and out of nowhere, a delicate smile appeared on her face.

  “What’s that on the side?” Ares called to her.

  “Nothing,” Athena said softly, hiding the apple from view with her hand. “It’s nothing.”

  “Something’s written on it,” Hebe said, standing close by.

  “Athena,” said Triton from across the wide circle, “what does it say?”

  Athena, as if she never wanted to look anywhere but at the apple, tore her gaze away and looked at Triton, still smiling.

  “It says, ‘To The Fairest.’ ”

  “Here we go,” Pandy murmured.

  “Excuse me! Pardon me! Step to the left, if you would . . . thank you very much. Pardon me!”

  Aphrodite’s voice sounded like wind chimes as it carried throughout the hall. From her vantage point, Pandy saw a ripple in the crowd and flashes of white and rose-colored robes as Aphrodite began to move toward Athena.

  At the back of the hall, Pandy caught a whirl of blue as Hera rose up off her throne, her arms waving madly as she yelled something toward Zeus. As Hera began to stride toward Athena, rolling up the sleeves of her deep cerulean robes, her words became audible.

  “You better not have gotten that for her,” she called back over her shoulder. “Getting her married off was present enough!”

  “It is not my doing, my stuffed grape leaf of love,” Zeus said as he watched his wife hurry away. Unlike Aphrodite’s insistent but gentle parting of the throng, Hera was actually sending guests flying into walls and floral displays if they didn’t get out of her path fast enough.

  “I don’t care if your power is greater than all the rest of us combined, husband,” she was yelling to herself. “I will kick your big and powerful butt!”

  Pandy, Alcie, and Iole watched the two goddesses move through the hall. Hera arrived first at Athena’s side.

  “For the fairest? I’ll just take that, if you don’t mind, dearest,” she said, making a quick grab for the apple.

  But Athena was too swift and dropped the apple into her palm. Pandy saw that the moment her hand closed around the apple, Athena’s knuckles went white and her body tensed.

  “With all respect due to you, Queen of Heaven,” Athena said, holding the apple high. “I don’t think so.”

  “Hear me, Gray Eyes—”

  “Of course you wouldn’t give it to her,” Aphrodite said, gliding up. “It says ‘To The Fairest,’ and I think we all can agree on who that—”

  “You would disobey the wife of Zeus? Acknowledged as the most beautiful of all the immortals?”

  “Right, well, we all know that’s not true. Give me the apple, Theeny,” said Aphrodite.

  “Alpha, I’d disobey you in a heartbeat,” said Athena, glaring at Hera, “because you’re not going to do anything about it, and beta, this is obviously meant for me . . .”

  “Me!” Aphrodite said.

  “Me, you shield-wielding savage!”

  “. . . because it rolled right to me!”

  “You are not the fairest!” spat Hera.

  “It landed at my feet!” Athena screamed. “That means it’s supposed to be for—”

  “You don’t even look right in a gown with that silly sword!”

  “Hellooo!” Aphrodite called out. “Goddess of Love and BEAUTY! Right here!”

  And while Athena was distracted, still arguing with Hera, Aphrodite reached up and snatched the apple out of Athena’s hand. As her flesh touched the golden fruit, Aphrodite lurched forward in an ungainly way, a gasp escaping her lips. Before anyone could even blink, the tip of Athena’s sword sliced neatly between two strands of Aphrodite’s twelve-strand necklace of perfectly matched pearls and pressed not so lightly into the flawless white skin of Aphrodite’s throat.

  “Theeny, you wouldn’t!” Aphrodite gasped.

  “Try me.”

  “Give me . . . that,” Hera growled as she viciously snatched the apple away from Aphrodite. Grasping it, Hera let out a truly ungoddesslike yelp as her body shook once, violently. Athena redirected her blade at Hera as Aphrodite slapped at Athena’s arms.

  “Heeeey!” came a loud screech from the main wine bar.

  The crowd quickly parted to reveal Dionysus lying on his stomach on top of the bar, his head turned toward the fracas. His lips were pushed out as his face mashed into the wooden bar top.

  “Anyone even consider actually giving it to the—uuurrrrrppp—excuse me, bride?”

  The three goddesses gaped at him with blank expressions for a moment, then broke into a simultaneous derisive laugh and went at one another again as the wedding guests watched in astonishment.

  Suddenly, as she and Aphrodite were flailing about like children, trying to grab the apple from Hera, Athena paused.

  “Listen . . . listen!” She wheezed ever so slightly. “I have an idea.”

  “What is it, you big bully?” Aphrodite said.

  “We shall allow the assembled populace to decide.”

  “Who?” asked Hera.

  “The guests, you goat!” said Athena. “We’ll do it the mortal way. We’ll all take a vote.”

  “All right,” said Hera after a moment.

  “Goody,” said Aphrodite, taking a quick count of all of her suitors and lovers in the room. “I’m a shoo-in.”

  The first immortal Athena grabbed was Ocean. As the three goddesses stood before him, Hera began winking wildly, Aphrodite puffed out her stomach to make her magic girdle (known for its seductive powers) a focal point, and Athena rested both hands on the hilt of her sword.

  “Choose!” said Hera.

  Ocean looked, blindsided and terrified, from one to the next to the last.

  “You have got to be k-k-kidding!” he finally stammered. Then he dissolved into a saltwater puddle, which flowed toward the nearest exit.

  “Uncle!” cried Athena, watching Poseidon rushing his tank-bearers toward the stairs.

  “Not a chance!”

  “Why not?” Aphrodite called out.

  “And risk the wrath of the other two?” Poseidon answered. “I’d rather look into the eyes of Medusa!”

  “Ouch,” Alcie muttered.

  “Can’t take it personally, Alce,” Iole said. “You haven’t been born yet, and he doesn’t know Medusa is your aunt.”

  “Right. Not personal. Right. Still kinda tacky, though, right, Pandy?”

  But Pandy was watching the goddesses as they chased after the guests, many of whom were heading slyly and slowly for the exits. They had fallen upon the God of Wine, still lying on top of the bar.

  “Pick one, you besotted lout!” Hera yelled, digging her finger into his side.

  “All right!” Dionysus mumbled. “All right. Stop poking. I’ll pick one!”

  There was silence as everyone close by held their breath.

  “I think the fairest is,” he slurred, raising his goblet full of crimson liquid, “the red! See? The wine!”

  Athena moved to strike him with the flat edge of her sword, but Dionysus, with a smelly belch, fell backward off the bar.

  “Look at Athena,” Pandy said.

  “Why?” said Iole.

  “The other two . . . I get it. Of course Aphrodite would think the apple is for her. And Hera’s ego is the size of Egypt, so no big mystery there. But Athena is too wise to let something like this go to her head. And she knows . . . she knows . . . she’s not, like, the super, all-time, woo-
woo fairest. But then she touched it!”

  At that moment, Hephaestus appeared with the newly repaired doors and began pounding behind them.

  “So, it’s the apple?” Alcie said, cupping her hands around her mouth to be heard.

  “It has to be. Aphrodite and Hera . . . you saw them; they felt its effects as soon as they got it. And did you see how Athena’s face changed when she held it? She is always so serious and . . . and . . .”

  “Tense, resolute, reserved, decorous . . . grave?” Iole offered.

  “Yep,” Pandy agreed loudly. “But holding the apple, she glowed.”

  “So we go get it,” Alcie said.

  But Pandy hesitated.

  Suddenly a cry went up from Thetis. Pandy couldn’t hear exactly what she was saying, but she was gesturing to the departing crowd, Hephaestus hammering away, and the three goddesses racing all over the hall. She fell sobbing into Peleus’s shoulder.

  “ENOUGH!”

  Those guests still in the hall stood stock-still.

  Zeus was off his throne and walking toward Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite.

  “This has gone on long enough!” he bellowed. “Everyone . . . attend!”

  In an instant, all the guests who had managed to escape were back in the hall, including Ocean, dripping wet.

  “This was mildly amusing for about two ticks of a sundial. Now the three of you are displaying as much selfishness and self-centeredness as I could stomach for the rest of eternity. Aphrodite . . . well, never mind.”

  Aphrodite only smiled.

  Then Zeus turned on Hera.

  “You, wife. I expected better of you. But then, I always do and I am always disappointed.”

  “Oh!” Hera sniffed.

  “But Athena. You of whom I am most proud. What has become of my daughter? To be reduced to this . . . begging for favor, scrabbling about, threatening your family?”

  “I don’t know,” Athena said slowly, kicking at the floor. “I just want it. Is that so wrong?”

  “It is when you ruin everything around you,” Zeus said, glowering. Pandy flashed back to the first time she saw that glower, when it was directed right at her as she stood facing Zeus for the first time.