“You,” Pelops called to Homer even before his father hit the water, “help me!”
Pelops dove into the pool with Homer jumping in after. Quickly they bound the semiconscious murderer back to the pillar, cuffing his hands securely into the manacles.
“Are you sure he won’t be able to escape again?” Iole asked Pelops as soon as he and Homer were standing, dripping wet, beside her.
“Absolutely,” Pelops answered. “Immortal magic imprisoned him, freed him, and imprisoned him a second time. Hades himself enchanted the bow. I’m no archer.”
“Well, you look like one to me,” Pandy said.
“Never picked up a bow in my life,” Pelops said. “Or afterlife, as it were. It was all Hades’ enchantment. His kingdom is in chaos. He knew my father would be out of his pool so he asked me to help. I was only too happy, believe me.”
Tantalus was slowly regaining consciousness. Realizing he was back in his pool of forever ebbing water, overhung with never-to-be-eaten fruit, he began wailing and gnashing his teeth, hurling the most horrible insults at the group on the bank. His words caused even Alcie to blush deeply.
“And now, I must be off,” Pelops said over his father’s expletives. “My work here is done and I have a long walk back to the Elysian Fields. Good fortune befall you.”
He was gone as swiftly as he arrived.
“Should we follow?” Alcie asked.
“Persephone said to stay on the main road,” Pandy said after a moment. “I don’t know this place and even you don’t know the terrain, Alce, only the palace.”
“I hear you,” Alcie replied. “Main road it is. Besides, ivory-boy walks too fast. We’d never keep up.”
“What do you think Hera meant when she asked Tantalus if he was afraid of fire?” Iole posed, picking an apple—at which Tantalus called her a name even her huge brain couldn’t comprehend.
“I think it was a clue,” Pandy said, after a moment. “She knows we’re here. She knows we’re after Fear. There are only four main regions in Hades, right?”
“The Fields of Asphodel,” Iole began.
“No fire there,” Alcie cut in.
“Erebus, where we are now, and the Elysian Fields,” Pandy continued.
“No fire,” said Homer.
“That only leaves one place,” Pandy finished. “But Persephone told us …”
“To continue on the main road,” Alcie said. “To the palace. And I’m fine with that. Hera’s out to kill us anyway, why would we go wherever she’d lead us, right? Am I right? Show of hands? Who thinks I’m right? I’m picking fruit.”
As they all loaded up on fresh nectarines, pears, apples, and oranges—Tantalus cursing them so harshly that Homer threw a pomegranate hard at Tantalus’s head, knocking him out cold once again—no one said a word.
It was on everyone’s mind, however … Hera’s clue. The fourth region of the underworld. The name they casually joked about and used with blithe abandon because none of them ever actually thought they’d have to go there. The place where the fires were so hot, your skin was said to bubble merely by standing at the gates. Where the eyeballs of the imprisoned spirits popped over and over again. Where even your teeth turned to ash.
Tartarus.
Chapter Nine
Hygiene
They had only been back on the main road a short time before a large building loomed in front of them.
“So, the road just ends here?” Alcie said, staring at the strange temple-like structure that clearly blocked their path.
“Is this Hades’ palace?” Pandy asked, taking in the crumbling exterior plaster awash in hues of apricot and light green. She saw the strange vines that covered most of the front columns and hoped their journey to find the lord of the underworld might have just been cut very short.
“No way,” Alcie said, shaking her head.
“The road continues on the other side,” Iole said, pointing off to a line of dirt curving away from the far side of the building and off into the distance.
“Then let’s cut around,” Homer said, already leading Alcie a few steps into the grass and scrub.
“No,” said Pandy. “C’mon, you guys. Nothing just happens here. Nothing just happens wherever we go. Not to us. We were meant to hear that clue from Tantalus, as dopey as it might have been. Now we have this. The building sits on the road, we go inside the building. Besides, now I have to see what’s inside, so we explore every room if we have to.”
With Pandy leading the way, the group headed through an open archway and saw that it was, after all, only one room, but it was enormous. There was another open archway directly across from the first, and the road did indeed continue on, but that wasn’t the most surprising feature.
“Whoa,” whispered Homer.
“This is like … I’ve never seen anything like this,” Pandy murmured.
“Iole, I don’t think we’re in Hades anymore,” Alcie said.
“Oh, but we are. We are,” Iole countered, knowing at one glance full well where they were.
To Pandy’s mind, it was the most beautiful interior space she’d ever seen, far surpassing the grandeur of Zeus’s hall on Mount Olympus, the Garden of the Jinn, or even the wedding-decorated hall of King Peleus. There were so many rich carpets on the floor that they overlapped, creating little hills of softness as four or five topped each other, all displaying the most intricate of designs in pure silk. The walls, too, were hung with silk tapestries, each one depicting two people, Pandy was certain. They were set in some kind of scene, although she couldn’t quite tell in the dim light what the people were actually doing. But the tapestries, what she could see of them, weren’t what fascinated her most. Her view was also obstructed by the same vines as those covering the outside columns—thick, leafy, and vibrant mottled green—which were literally crawling as she watched, down from the four upper corners of the room. They slithered before her eyes, finding crevices and tiny outcroppings in the rock walls as if they had minds of their own—like serpents with huge red, orange, and purple flowers instead of heads, and large yellow protrusions for fangs. As she watched, one or two of the flowers would suddenly blacken, wither, and die. Then, just as quickly, another bloom or two would burst forth along another vine somewhere else. There was a constant motion of slithering, withering, and bursts of color.
“Those are pure gold,” Pandy said, pointing to the two oil lamps hanging from the ceiling, each three times the size of a chariot wheel.
“How can you tell?” Alcie asked.
“Because I’m bronze and you’re copper, and they shine a whole lot brighter than we do.”
There was also a large opening in the ceiling from which light, muted but still stronger than any they’d seen in Erebus thus far, shone down into the center of the room. There, illuminated in a shaft as if weak sunlight was breaking through a cloud, stood a water basin one meter high and perhaps two meters long. It was bone dry.
All at once, they heard a cough off to one side, and then a snore followed by a soft but stern voice telling someone to be quiet. Pandy took two steps toward the nearest wall and peered into the shadows.
“We’re not alone,” she said softly.
“No kidding,” Alcie said, gazing intently into the darkness on the other side.
There were dozens and dozens of people—women, Pandy realized because of their dress and hair—sitting, leaning, lying on the ground, lying on each other, or lying on vines. Each one had a large urn at her side or on her lap. Several were trying to use their urns as pillows with little success. Most were asleep, but some held quiet monosyllabic conversations of which Pandy only heard snippets. Every once in a while, one of the women would stretch like a cat and find a new position, or a flower would pop to life under someone’s leg or arm, causing a bit of a startle. But these women were nearly insensible to everything around them.
“Look,” said Iole, nodding toward the basin.
A woman they hadn’t noticed before was now walking towa
rd the basin. Only then did Pandy hear the trickle of water. In the same shaft of dim light, she saw a fountain on the back wall, the water streaming into a small pool. The woman was carrying an urn, like the ones on the floor around the perimeter of the room, and she was trying to bring water from the fountain to the basin. But, Pandy and the others saw, her urn was leaking badly and as she reached the basin, holding the urn up and over to empty its contents, there was not a single drop left. As the woman held it high, the light from the ceiling shone through hundreds of small holes that perforated the bottom. Sadly, the woman, who hadn’t even noticed there were strangers present, began her walk back to the fountain.
“I know this,” Pandy said to herself, taking in the entire scene. “This is familiar. But it’s all wrong.”
“Everything in Hades has been wrong thus far,” Iole said. As Pandy and Alcie looked at her, she shrugged just a little. “That is to say, everything that I’ve seen when I didn’t have a brain coated with lead. This one is easy …”
But Pandy had turned away, not realizing that Iole was about to tell her exactly what was wrong with the scene. She needed answers, but the woman at the fountain seemed so dejected, so lost in her drudgery that Pandy didn’t want to disturb her; she instead approached the woman seated nearest to her along the walls.
The first thing that hit her was the stench.
When Pandy had been standing in the middle of the cavernous hall, the smell had somehow been masked, but as she got closer, it nearly knocked her over. Rotten food, body odor pushing its way through caked-on grime and dirt, putrid breath, human waste—all of these combining into the pure scent of filth. It poured off the women slouching, slacking, lying, and leaning against the walls and one another. It rolled off in great waves that hit Pandy and made her gasp. She brought the hem of her cloak up to her nose to block the stink, but it didn’t work in the least; she didn’t know if she could get any closer. She was close enough, however, to see that not only were these women covered in filth, but they also had insects, worms, maggots, slugs, snails, and leeches crawling all over their skin, hair, and clothes. Suppressing the urge to vomit, she called to the woman nearest—one who was leaning her back against the wall, her dirty, blackened legs stretched out.
“Excuse me, but could you tell me …?”
“Not talking now,” the woman said without even bothering to open her eyes. “Relaxing now.”
Pandy moved farther down the row of bodies.
“Pardon me …?”
“Don’t bother me.”
“Excuse me …?”
“Can you get the caterpillar out of my nose?”
“Uh …”
“I’m too tired; talk to my sister.”
“Which one is your sister?” Pandy asked, perking up slightly, thinking that there might possibly be a ray of hope if there was one woman with some answers, but mostly again feeling the urge to retch.
“All of them.”
She scanned the women closest to her, then walked back to Alcie, Iole, and Homer.
“I probably should have asked everyone around the entire room,” she said. “But I saw a leech stuck to one woman’s eyelid and that was it for me. I know I’ve seen this before. Well, not seen exactly, but heard … maybe.”
“I can tell you exactly what the problem—” Iole began.
“Who are you?” came a voice from near the fountain. They all turned to see the woman with the punctured urn move through the light toward the basin, staring at them. Her voice was light, but her tone was one of utter exhaustion. “Have you come to help?”
There was a snicker from a corner of the room.
“Good luck,” said someone.
“I’d like to see anyone get me up off this floor,” said another.
Pandy went to the woman and introduced herself, Alcie, Iole, and Homer.
“I’m sorry,” said the woman, “but if you’re here to help, please do it quickly.”
“We’d like to help,” Pandy said. “But we don’t know what the trouble is.”
“First of all, if you want to talk you’ll have to walk with me. I’m afraid I’m unable to stop moving. Part of the curse, you know.”
“You’re cursed?” Alcie asked.
“Not me exactly,” said the woman, dipping her urn into the fountain. “They are. My sisters that you see sprawled around you. Or at least they’re supposed to be. But something’s happened. My name is Hypermnestra and …”
“I know you,” Pandy interrupted. “Wait, I know this one. Iole, you know this one!”
“I’ve been trying to tell you,” Iole said.
“Well, somebody tell me,” Alcie sighed.
“It all began …,” Iole started.
“No, let me,” Pandy said as they all moved with Hypermnestra back and forth from the fountain to the basin. “I know you so well because my mother used your story to get me to take a bath when I was little. Okay, not you so much, but your sisters. Wait! You’re the only one who shouldn’t be working!”
“I know,” Hypermnestra sighed.
“Story, if you don’t mind,” said Alcie.
“Oh, right. Well, when I was really little, I hated taking baths. Sabina, our house slave, couldn’t even get me into the water—and I’d do practically anything for her. Anyway, finally my mother had had enough and she told me your tale. Guys, guys, these are the Danaids! Fifty sisters who were forced to marry the fifty sons of their uncle.”
“Cousins. Creepy,” said Alcie.
“But, your father—right, Hypermnestra?—didn’t want any of you to marry your cousins!”
“He only agreed to it after our uncle came with all his sons to fight for our hands. There was going to be terrible bloodshed in the town that had sworn to protect us, so father finally said yes.”
“But, on the night of your big wedding he gave each of you a dagger and told you to kill your new husbands after the ceremony.”
“Father. He meant well, but he was always a little shortsighted.”
“And each of your sisters did it,” Pandy continued. “You were the only one who spared your husband’s life.”
“What can I say?” Hypermnestra shrugged. “I liked him.”
“And for that, you were excluded from the curse. But your sisters—and this is where my mother really got me—when each of your sisters died, she was brought here, given a pitcher full of holes and told to carry water to fill up a basin. The first one to do it would be able to take a bath, but until that time they would be covered in grime, dirt, and … and … icky stuff. She described the worms and the bugs, the dirt under their toenails. She even tried to describe the smell. Gods, did she fail that one! My mother said that if I ever missed another bath, worms were going to start eating me and snails were going to crawl into my mouth. And … other stuff.”
“Never really liked your mother,” Alcie said under her breath. The she looked around the room. “So—we’re surrounded by forty-nine murderesses?”
“I’m afraid so,” Hypermnestra said. “They’re not really bad, you know. They simply didn’t want their husbands chosen for them, so they took the first piece of advice they were given and went a little off course. Now, they have a never-ending task.”
“Except you’re the one executing it,” said Iole. “Why is that?”
“I don’t know,” said Hypermnestra. “Not long ago, I was in the Elysian Fields with my husband, Lynceus, and Hercules and his wife, Deianeira, playing a game of possum lawn bowling. Because I refused to participate in my sisters’ shame, and my husband and I lived noble lives, we were allowed to visit the Fields when we died. Anyway, we were all having a fine time when suddenly Hera appeared, and the next thing I knew, I found myself here in my sisters’ prison. As soon as I materialized, one of them shoved her urn into my hands and stepped out of this shaft of light. Then all the others followed. Completely against my will, I have been forced to perform their punishment for—I don’t know how long now.”
“Why can’t
you just walk away?” Alcie asked.
“I tried once, believe me. It was not my punishment, I thought. Hades would not want me to carry out their task, and so I left the light. It was then that I discovered Hades has devised a most convincing way to keep my sisters at their chore. Someone must always be in the light.”
“What? Why?” said Pandy.
“I could show you,” Hypermnestra said. “But it might kill you. None of you are already dead, correct?”
“Yes. We’re only here to capture the evil of Fear,” Pandy said, watching Hypermnestra try to fill her urn for the tenth time. “It’s a very long story.”
“Well, I don’t want to be the cause of your death, in any event,” the woman said. Pandy saw the gentleness and dignity with which this woman carried herself, as exhausted as she must have been.
“I don’t understand,” said Iole. “If you’ve replaced only one of your sisters, why are they all able to relax? Why aren’t the other forty-eight working along with you? Or if only one is needed, why don’t they take turns?”
“They are tied together as a group,” Hypermnestra replied. “Because they committed the same act at the same time, each has been forced to perform the exact same task for eternity as punishment. It is only logical that, if something were to ever go wrong—which it most definitely has—they should, as a group, slack off.”
Pandy flashed on the moments when she herself was forced to move against her will, flopping backward and forward like a dying fish, in the Chamber of Despair. Like Pandy, Hypermnestra couldn’t stop for even a moment.
“We have to help you,” Pandy said finally.
“I appreciate that, but it sounds like you have more pressing matters to attend to,” Hypermnestra said with a sad smile. “Besides, Hades will right the havoc that Hera has created soon enough, I’m certain.”
Suddenly, a vine sprung up from the earth right where Dido was standing. He’d given up walking back and forth with his mistress and was waiting patiently by the basin. The vine immediately issued two huge red flowers underneath Dido’s stomach, which caused the frightened dog to leap to one side. This caused Homer, walking next to Dido at that moment, to stumble out of the way … directly into the shaft of light. His right arm flailed out and knocked Hypermnestra backward into the shadows.
Pandora Gets Frightened Page 8
