by M. M. Kin
Hypia slid the top off the box, seeing first the little ceramic animals, smooth from years of handling. And then the doll... Her eyes widened when she slid the lid all the way off, seeing several dried dates and prunes. No one could say that Skouros did not treat his children well. He made sure that everyone got some food however meager the ration, which was more than could be said for other families where some children were left to fend for themselves, sold into slavery, or daughters abandoned in favor of sons. She had heard stories of people refusing to feed their own parents and turning out the elders.
Why didn't Melissa eat? Had she simply given up on life? As Hypia stared at the food, she knew she couldn't let it go to waste. She loved her daughter, but Melissa was dead and gone. She slid the lid back into place and tucked it under her arm, rising off the small bed, placing her hand on the wall for leverage as she felt her knees buckle.
o0o
Zeus had to hear nagging from all directions wherever he went. He heard it from his siblings, children, and even his own mother. He was pecked on at least once a day, his family acting much like the birds did in their mad scramble for the last seeds of grain and what was left of the insects in Hellas. Whenever he tried to find some quiet time for himself, someone always showed up to nag him and ruin his good time. He had tried locking the doors to his villa, but Hephaistos had simply made it so that the doors would not lock anymore, and anybody could waltz in and get right in his face any damn time they pleased.
No matter how much he tried to defend himself, the harassment did not stop. Even the nymphs that normally would come to his bed at his behest now shunned and openly disdained him. Despite his exalted position as King of the Gods, everyone treated him like a pariah, speaking to him only to demand that he give in to Demeter's plea to have her daughter back.
Zeus took the form of an eagle and flew to the lands that lay to the east, where Demeter's wrath had not spread. At least not yet, some of the other gods warned, pointing to the ever-increasing radius of barren lands that spread out from the nexus, Olympia. Ugh, there was no reasoning with that woman!
Here, the land was warm and palm trees grew around lakes of deep azure blue set in oceans of brown and gold. Further east lay the lands of Mesopotamia, where different gods ruled over the people that resided there. Since the gods ruled over lands far more expansive than any mortal king could ever dream of, there generally was little to no dispute of territory, and the Olympians preferred the more mountainous and forested realm of Hellas to this hot and dry land. Still, it was not without its perks. Mesopotamia would not have existed if not for the twin rivers that fed the fertile region of the Levant.
He settled down in a verdant area, happy to see the lushness of his surroundings after the dearth of an almost-dead land. As he took human form, he inhaled the air, taking comfort in its warmth as he mentally compared it to the dry, frigid air of the deep winter that Demeter had blighted Hellas with.
It should take no time to find a pretty maiden to share the pleasure of his company, Zeus mused as he looked around at the tropical clime. His virility was practically a Gift on its own – he could sense females nearby. There was a rustling in the trees and foliage nearby, and he turned around, discerning the aura of several women. These auras were infused with magic much like that of nymphs, and the comely apparitions that emerged from the foliage certainly were equivalent to the nature-spirits of Hellas.
Their skin varied from light honey-brown to a more dusky tone, and their hair shone in the sunlight like polished ebony while their eyes were emerald-green surrounded by long, thick lashes. The trio was similar in appearance, but there were enough differences for Zeus to be able to discern them separately due to differences in height and proportions. The shortest one seemed to be the leader by the way she positioned herself in front of the other two. All of them were clad in misty veils of green, blue, and gold that left much of their flesh concealed, but were diaphanous enough to showcase their nubile curves.
They all smiled brilliantly at him before the leader started speaking. Her language was entirely unknown to him, and he responded in his own language. The desert nymph spoke in her own language again, her tone set in a query. Zeus shrugged apologetically, saying that he did not understand.
The dark-haired women chattered quietly amongst themselves before the tallest one shrugged, and the leader nodded her head. Zeus shot her a warm smile, knowing that his brilliant grin had its charm and usually put most women at ease. He could treat a woman very well – as long as he was interested in her, at least.
The nymphs of Hellas knew just what he had done, thanks to Demeter. How could they not, being part of nature and thus affected by the Harvest Goddess' wrath even though they were not mortal? As riverbeds dried up, the Naiads would wither and had to seek another home or perish. The Dryads and Leimoneides became as parched as their forests and meadows were. They were in no mood to entertain Zeus, especially since he was the very source of their troubles. Even the Oreades that lived high up in the mountains and the lofty Aurai of the skies felt the barrenness of the earth, because all aspects of Nature were interconnected. It was a dismaying experience being a pariah among his former playgrounds, especially since his daughter was better off with Hades than she was with any other god. Couldn't Demeter see that? When Hades made a promise, he kept it, and he had vowed that Kora would always be safe.
He shook himself free of these thoughts, intent on enjoying this lovely day with these splendid ladies. If he could have all three of them, well, that would certainly be a memorable occasion indeed. It'd been too long – at least, for him – since he had been able to woo a woman because of what his sister was doing.
The leader lifted her hand, gesturing to herself.
“Layla,” she said, her voice soft and melodious, deep and almost purring.
“Layla.” It didn't sound quite the same coming from his own throat, but the woman nodded before she gestured to him, raising her eyebrow. He nodded and pointed to himself, smiling faintly.
“Zeus.” Always good to start off with a name, no?
Layla blinked and shared a glance with her companions before they whispered amongst themselves. Their facial expressions and quick tones did not bode well, but he had to hold back a frown, and maintained a smile, beaming at them and doing his damnedest to exude a relaxed, friendly aura.
“There is no need to worry. I bring you no harm.” He knew they did not speak his language, but he hoped his tone and open mien were reassuring enough. Layla simply regarded him with a frown before she spoke again, this time to him. Her words were rapid, and she pointed at him accusingly. To his chagrin, Layla blurted out Demeter's name somewhere in her angry chatter, and the mighty King of the Olympians knew that he was defeated.
The exotic nymphs looked at him, feminine disdain all too clear in their eyes. Before Zeus could attempt to plead his case, they were gone as quickly as they had appeared, and if anything, the thick foliage around the oasis actually seemed less verdant. He couldn't even sense their presence anymore.
“Damnit!” It was going to be a very long winter if things kept on like this...
o0o
The River Nile – known as H'pi to the people of ancient Aigyptos – was the lifeline of the people of this land. Because so much of the land was desert, it was important to respect the gods of the river and use its power correctly.
Before it reached the Mediterranean on its northward journey, the river broke into a delta, creating a fertile land that extended for miles beyond the coast. From the rich soil, the people of Aigyptos harvested many exotic plants and spices, much of which was traded with Hellas for things that were scarce in this desert country.
However, the merchants that traded with the Hellenic sailors were experiencing a drop in business. A couple of moons ago, they had been trying to offer less in exchange for receiving more, and they no longer wanted exotic linens, gems, or spices. Just food – basic flour, barley, fruit, and the like. The merchants and traders of
Aigyptos were getting annoyed with the sailors that came south. Trading was not what it used to be.
Atet frowned as he stood on the pier, seeing the familiar sight of a northern ship. He thrived on trade and was willing to strike all kinds of deals, but lately, his patience had been pushed. The harvests of Aigyptos had been meager this year; enough to feed the locals but not much left over to trade to the men from the north. If the sailors wanted more foodstuffs, they had better be prepared to pay a steep price for it.
The appearance of Tyre, the ship's captain, startled Atet. His shock only increased when he saw the helmsman and oarsmen. They were all lean, but not from the rigorous exercise that came with the occupation. He held back a comment on their appearance as he noted their gaunt cheeks. Having docked the ship, the oarsmen simply sat where they were, leaning across the oars and dozing.
Having grown up poor, Atet recognized the signs of malnutrition. What was going on in Hellas? Yes, some years came with bad harvests, but that was a part of life, and one had to prepare accordingly. As he stood there listening to Tyre, he thought about the last couple of months and the shift in supply and demand. Tyre had no interest in the usual exotic offerings of Aigyptos. All he wanted was grains and whatever fruits and vegetables they could offer. And if cheese or dried meat could be spared, that would be simply wonderful, the captain said with emphasis.
Atet was about to say no, but Tyre beckoned him into a cabin. There were several wooden chests, and the captain went over to open one. The merchant's eyes widened as he saw gold and silver ingots along with certain valuable stones that could not be obtained from the sands and mines of Aigyptos. The other chests had similarly valuable items, and Atet stroked his beard. Even a sizable load of food had nowhere near as much value as what Tyre was offering him. Mentally, he weighed the profit margin to be gained from these valuables against the food Tyre was asking for.
Well. The last harvest hadn't been bad, after all. Just... meager, and besides, he had seen the crops growing over the last month, the priests said that the gods were happy. The H'pi had been generous this year with its annual deposit of the fertile silt that was needed to grow food in the harsh climate of the desert.
“Of course,” Atet said with the smile he reserved for closing a deal as he regarded the worn-looking captain. “It will take a bit of time, but I should have everything you ask for on the morrow.” His command of Greek was good, a vital necessity when one traded with them, and he had no problem communicating with Tyre.
The captain almost looked as if he would collapse from sheer relief and gratitude. He collected himself quickly, but not without effort.
“Of course. But would it be too much to ask if my crew could have some food now?”
“Oh, certainly not. Just have these chests be ready when I come back. Give me an hour.” Atet replied. Inwardly, he felt shocked again. They needed some food now? Did this mean they had nothing left in their stores? Before he was able to work his way up to the occupation of merchant, he had spent his teenage years aboard a ship, and had a practical knowledge of being a sailor, which benefited him as a merchant. Any seaman worth his salt knew to always pack enough rations for everyone, plus more in case a storm sent the ship off course.
“I will give you what you need,” Atet added solemnly, “but I need to know what is happening in Hellas. Trade has changed. And...” He glanced pointedly at Tyre's body. The captain sighed heavily, this motion seeming to drain all the energy from his body.
“The Harvest Goddess has been angered.” He seemed hesitant to say anything more, and Atet decided to not press him. Like the people of Hellas, the Aigyptians – and other races – had their share of vengeful gods. His grandfather had lived through the plagues that the god of the Hebrews set upon the Aigyptians for the Hebrews' many years of slavery, and Atet remembered these stories well. His grandfather had been the second son in their family to make it past infancy, and was thus spared the death that Yahweh visited upon the firstborn sons of Aigyptos.
The merchant could not help but wonder what would make a goddess so angry she would let her people starve, or what would cause a god let his people be enslaved. The gods could be capricious, and mortals couldn't do a damned thing about it if the deities were angry enough.
o0o
It had not rained for many days, but a rainbow hung in the sky, a faint iridescent ribbon that arced its way to Olympus. Rhea looked up from her courtyard, seeing the Messenger of the Gods float down from the heavens, her aura streaming the multi-hued trail of light she left behind her. She landed gracefully, her aura dimming so that she no longer exuded such brilliance. At the moment, her hair was its natural black color, but she was capable of changing the color any time she pleased.
“Greetings, Iris. Would you like to sit with me?” Rhea asked, gesturing to the table and the comfortable padded chairs. Iris smiled and nodded, following the older goddess to the table.
The table was set with a platter of ambrosia, stuffed olives, and pieces of fruit drizzled lightly with nectar. Despite its simplicity, it was still a far cry from what was left of the food down on Earth. There were mortals down there who would be willing to kill one another for such a meal, but the gods did not like to contemplate such matters. Various gods had gone to try to help their worshipers, attempting to use various aspects of their Gift – like making rain or creating heat – to try to coax the earth to become fruitful again as well as to comfort the mortals or keep them alive.
Rhea had tried to use her Gift over the earth, but her own ability over Nature was weak compared to her daughter, especially because rage fueled Demeter's power. She could only raise small amounts of food from the earth at once, and was able to keep a limited amount of mortals alive this way. Unfortunately, Demeter had blighted the earth so much that for Rhea, using her Gift was like having her energy literally drained dry. Every time she used her Gift, she felt exhausted afterward and needed a few days and ambrosia and nectar to rejuvenate, otherwise recovery took much longer.
She had talked to her sons, pleaded with them and cajoled them to correct their respective mistakes. Hades said his decision was made, that Zeus and Demeter had their own problems, that he would not be involved. Just like that, he left. Zeus on the other hand hemmed and hawed, going between excuses and half-hearted admissions that he was wrong. Yet he would not apologize to his own sister. His demand was that she restore the earth to its good graces before he apologized and would go to Hades himself to see about returning Kora. Of course, Demeter could only be outraged by this presumptuous offer of a bargain. And that was that, so her three children remained stubborn while Hellas starved.
She didn't know if she could influence her daughter. Zeus was the closest to her out of all her children by the sheer fact that he alone had been saved from a miserable existence in Kronos's pit. She hadn't known her husband would try to harm any children they would have when the Fates told him of his prophecy because he had refused to share it with her at first; that a child of his would overthrow him just as he had overthrown his own father. He had sliced Ouranos into so many pieces with his sickle and scattered the parts to the four winds. Naturally such a prophecy issued by the Fates themselves would send this mighty Titan into a panic.
Their first child was a girl, and Rhea thought that perhaps Kronos would not see a little girl as a threat. And then Hades had been born. Kronos cat his two young children into a pit, hidden from her with a malicious use of his Gift. Every time afterward, she tried to save her children, but Kronos would not be denied his attempted aversion of the prophecy. He could not kill his children – Gaea would know if their blood had been spilled – so he did what he thought was the next best thing.
She had searched for them, of course, but he had hidden them too well. With Zeus, she had replaced his body with one made of earth to resemble the babe before getting her husband drunk. Thus he threw a lump of dirt and stone into the pit without realizing the trick his wife had played on him.
The ordeal in
the pit had affected her children profoundly, all in different ways. Zeus alone felt closest to her; her other children had grown up without her and did not have the familiarity she shared with her son. She could not help but feel bad for her youngest child, but she also had a family to take care of. She was mother, grandmother, sister, cousin, and aunt to the entire Olympian-Titan brood, and right now, most of that family was angry with Zeus.
“Iris, I have a favor to ask of you. I would like you to send a message to Demeter and ask her to come see me.”
“Certainly.” Most other gods would have told Rhea to not bother, that there was no use in attempting to reason with Demeter or even threaten her, but Iris was a messenger of peace. She was also the preferred messenger among the goddesses, especially those who had no care for Hermes's mischievousness.
Now that everyone knew where Demeter was, anyone was free to try to petition her. At their own risk, of course. The Harvest Goddess threatened to castrate any god who dared to ask her to just forgive Zeus, to let things be. Rhea sympathized with her daughter, having had five children taken from her and Kronos being far too powerful for her to stand up to, but she hadn't lashed out at the mortals for what her husband had done.
After sharing lunch with Rhea, Iris rose to her feet. Whenever she took flight, she glowed with all the colors of the rainbow. No matter how often Rhea saw it, she never became tired of the sight. After Iris took flight, a trail of iridescent ribbon remained, starting from where she had been standing moments before. Rhea reached out, seeing her skin take a reddish hue from the infrared side of the trail. Before the rainbow faded, she played with the other colors, seeing the play of different hues on her skin. It provided a nice albeit fleeting distraction.
o0o
Stay calm, Rhea told herself as she stared at her daughter's sullen and hostile countenance. It was all too clear that Demeter was more than prepared for confrontation.
