Eros chuckled softly. It was just as well Aphrodite knew nothing of the “sacrifice” of Psyche. The chances were that Aphrodite would have responded to Hyppodamia’s prayers with a pardon for her. Her anger assuaged by Anerios’s abject submission, Aphrodite was not the kind to hold a grudge. But her basic indifference, once her power in Iolkas was assured, would have created endless trouble. Psyche had to be removed from Iolkas to ensure the peace and stability that Hyppodamia had convinced him were necessary for the prosperity of Aphrodite’s shrine—and for Psyche’s own good, too. At his wits’ end because of the trouble caused by trying to make her a priestess, Anerios might well have resorted to more drastic methods to be rid permanently of his daughter.
Poor Psyche, he had not wished to make her suffer, but sometimes one had to be cruel to be truly kind. She was the most amazing woman. Eros laughed suddenly, remembering the casual way she had sat on the altar, eating olives. Delight had drawn him out of hiding sooner than he intended. Then he stopped laughing, recalling his disappointment in the way she fainted when he came out of the trees where he had been waiting for the sacrificial procession to arrive.
Of course, the faint made transporting her to the house Aphrodite had built for him in the mountains above Olympus much easier. Violent struggles and intense terror created energies that could disrupt a translocation spell. But at first he had thought her courage might be less than would be necessary for her to grow accustomed and then to love something so dreadful—it had to be hidden in a black pall. The round answers and barbed pricks she offered once her initial shock had passed, however, promised well for the future. Still, he must remember she had pretended to be much calmer than she really was when she nibbled olives on the altar. He must be patient.
Eros stretched and yawned, then smiled as he rose and moved off toward the forest that bordered the garden. The thought of needing to muster patience was so strange—and so wonderful. There had been nothing he’d wanted for so many, many years, nothing to be impatient about. Now he could scarcely wait for the next day to dawn because the night when he could begin to woo Psyche would follow it. And for more than a week he had been alive, aware of every hour.
Emotions he thought he had forgotten swept him by turns—eagerness, anguish… When Psyche had said that the rich and handsome would be less jealous than the poor and ugly, he had been torn by the desire to reveal himself. But it was not his own jealousy he feared; it was hers. Better to be patient and win her to love the being, whatever it was, whose physical form was hidden from her.
From the dark under the trees, Eros looked back at the house. The door had been closed—Psyche’s hint that he should keep his promise and stay out? Irritation pricked him, knitting his brows and thinning his lips, and he began to laugh again over his vehemence. Even the sensations he had not lost completely, like irritation and amusement, were sharper and fresher. He laughed again, recalling how infuriated he had been after he managed to catch Psyche before she fell and hurt herself when he saw that the altar was heaped with grave goods.
[t had not been, as he said, consideration for Psyche that had kept him from remaining with her until she woke from her faint and trying to reassure her that she would be safe. He had actually had to go back to the altar on Mount Pelion to remove the jars of food and bolts of cloth, spindles and needles and yarn, and who knew what else, so that anyone returning to the altar would see that Aphrodite had accepted the offerings. In fact, he had had to make three trips to get all the grave goods stored. Even his Mother-enhanced power had been strained by such heavy use of the translocation spell.
Having thought of the offerings left with Psyche, Eros wondered again what her family had been thinking of to virtually cover her with funeral gifts. They knew Aphrodite did not favor blood sacrifice—she liked to get all those white heifers and rabbits and doves alive; they kept better that way. Aphrodite complained that stasis spells left an odd taste in slaughtered sacrifices. Besides, Eros had told Anerios and his sons that Psyche would be a bride, not a corpse:
Ah! Right! He remembered her denial that her menfolk had told her about the “bride of a monster” doom. The grave offerings were to convince her…no, not her, she would have accepted whatever fate had been set on her, poor child. Instead, the funeral goods were to convince Anerios’s townsfolk and noblemen that Psyche would die. It accounted, too, for the excessive display of grief by her mother and sisters, who, after all, must have found her a source of nothing but envy and trouble for years.
A light came on in the chamber to the right of the midline of the house. She was going to bed. Eros yawned and stretched again. The Mother’s gift notwithstanding, he had done more in the last week and a half than in he knew not how many years. Smiling at looking forward to even so common a thing as going to bed, Eros dismissed the cloud with the same words that lifted Hecate’s spell of invisibility and invoked the one that would bring him back to Aphrodite’s palace in Olympus.
A cherubic child, thumb in mouth, was asleep in the middle of his bed. Eros sighed; apparently he was not going to get to bed, at least right away. But he was too happy, too much aware that his happiness was owing to the task Aphrodite had set him—even if she did not know it—to resent what must be a summons.
He smiled at the little angel, tripped as he walked to the bed to rouse it, and then shook his head when he saw the havoc wrought among his game boards and pieces—not that it mattered; he never cared much for them, except that they had been gifts from Aphrodite intended to help him pass the dull hours. He leaned over and stroked the child’s curls.
“Does Lady Aphrodite want me, little one?”
The child yawned and squirmed. “If you are not too weary, the lady said.”
“Off to your bed, then. I will tell her you faithfully brought her message.”
“Carry me,” the child demanded.
Eros laughed and lifted him. “I should spank you. Look at the mess you have made.”
The little head nodded trustfully against his shoulder. “You took so long.”
Eros frowned over that, wondering if the child had been waiting for him all day? It was odd that Aphrodite had been so persistent. Having handed his burden to the old woman in charge of the little pages, Eros made his way to the front of the house. The reception rooms beyond the courtyard were all dark, however, and Eros crossed to the other wing of the palace. Here the corridor was alight and he could see that the door of the antechamber to Aphrodite’s private suite was open. He quickened his pace. A shadow fell across the doorway, and Aphrodite emerged, looking very anxious.
“Eros! Thank the Mother you have come.”
He hurried closer, took the hand she held out to him. “Is something wrong, Aphrodite?”
“No, not really, but where have you been? I have been worried about you.”
He laughed. “Mostly in Iolkas. Yesterday I was watching to be sure Anerios fulfilled every vow and promise of submission. Today I was cleaning up some spells that lasted longer than I expected. Before that—I really don’t remember, exactly, but I’ve been back here several times. I must have missed your message, if you left one for me. But why were you so worried? I’ve been gone longer times before.”
“Never when you were so sad. The last time I spoke to you, I felt as if you could not wait to close your eyes and turn away from me…forever.”
“Oh.” He smiled, thinking she was more perceptive than he had realized. “No. I have never wanted to turn away from you, Aphrodite. Only from my own life.”
“Eros…”
He shook his head and his smile broadened into a grin. “But no longer.” He went down on one knee and held up his hands as if in worship. “Oh, wise and puissant one. Oh, Aphrodite,” he chanted, “you knew the answer.”
“Eros!” She drew back a little shocked.
He burst out laughing, jumped to his feet, and hugged her hard. “No, I haven’t lost my mind. Once you sent me to Iolkas, I was too busy to be sad. For a while I wondered whether I w
ould have to defend your temple single-handed. When you said you were worried about me, I thought you were afraid I had got hurt bringing Anerios to heel. I am not as likely as you to get spears thrown at me. Still, I must tell you that I was right when I said Anerios was the type to try. Fortunately your spell hit him too fast. He had brought the spear to throw, but he dropped it to admire the sow.”
“The sow?”
“The inappropriate object he fell in love with. You remember, don’t you, that that was what you agreed would be the best method to tame him? It was indeed. The trouble in Iolkas is settled. Your power is supreme there and will not be questioned again. When your priestesses say ‘toad,’ Anerios will jump as high as she desires.”
“Oh.” She uttered a little giggle. “I had forgotten I said that.” Then she turned and drew him into the room, gestured for him to sit, and curled herself onto her favorite cushioned long chair. “Tell me.”
“I had a bit of luck to begin with. When I arrived on Mount Pelion, I was attacked by a bear.”
Since he was clearly unhurt, Aphrodite laughed. “Not everyone counts it lucky to be attacked by a bear.”
Eros grinned. “For my purposes it was good luck. For the poor beast too; it had been hurt and was sick and suffering. Anyway, I killed it, and because it seems to have been plaguing the countryside, that brought me a welcome into Anerios’s palace and made me worthy of his personal attention. Thus I was able to learn quickly that in all but his pride and his desire to have no one, not even a goddess, set above him in authority, he was a good ruler. Hyppodamia said so too and begged that if it were possible and would not conflict with your best interests, your curse not deprive him of his throne—at least, not in such a way as to put the rulership into contention.”
Aphrodite frowned. “That is not Hyppodamia’s business. I do not wish my priestesses to meddle with who rules. This time the ruler brought the trouble to my shrine, but if my priestesses favor this man above that, every temple will soon be neck deep in trouble.”
“In the past, I would have agreed. And even now, if the quarrel rises from among the people without reference to any temple, neutrality is best. But more and more the great mages are meddling—particularly Zeus, Athena, and Poseidon. If you wish to keep your worshippers faithful, I think you will have to instruct your priestesses to pay attention to the political climate, particularly to those who espouse the worship of other gods.”
The frown on Aphrodite’s forehead deepened. “Is it worth it?” she asked. “I enjoy the sacrifices, but to me they are not worth contesting with Zeus or any of the others.” She smiled sensuously. “I can get what I want in other ways.”
“That is most certainly true.” Eros chuckled. “And would double your pleasure in the getting. Still, it would not be right to abandon a faithful priestess. And in Iolkas, where the trouble had been created by the king and it was the priestess who suffered, I felt I had to take into consideration what Hyppodamia desired. Fortunately what she desired fell in exactly with what you had ordered.”
He went on to explain why civil war was almost certain had Anerios and his family been expelled and pointed out that Hyppodamia feared that in the violence of a war the temple might have been destroyed before Aphrodite could muster protection for it.
Aphrodite watched his face and listened to his voice more than to the sense of what he said. She was glad, of course, that her priestesses would be safe and that more worshippers than ever would bring offerings, but she would have sacrificed that shrine and others, too, to have brought back the lilt in Eros’s voice and the light in his eyes. They glittered like emeralds and his whole face was alive as he explained how he had used her spells to rout the attacks by Anerios’s men and how that had enhanced her power. He was enjoying the memory of his strength and cleverness, but Aphrodite knew the change in him was owing to more than that. Something had happened in Iolkas that had nothing to do with her shrine or her influence.
Probing delicately, she asked, “Did you enjoy wearing the disguise?”
Eros’s long lashes dropped over his eyes. “In a way. I had the pleasure of being bathed by several young ladies of Anerios’s household and not one of them made an improper gesture or suggestion.” He glanced up, then down, and the corners of his perfect lips curved up. “It is very interesting and enlivening to have a lovely woman look down her nose at you and ask why you deserve her favor. Have you ever thought of going awooing instead of being pursued?”
“No, I fear I am too proud.”
Aphrodite’s lips, as enchanting as those she was looking at, trembled with fond amusement. So Eros had at long last begun a new love affair. She was glad, but she had no interest in obtaining any more information. Assured that, at least for the immediate present, Eros was happy, Aphrodite cared nothing about the man or woman he found enthralling. Neither was in the habit of confiding the details of love affairs to the other—unless something went painfully wrong and comfort was needed.
The hint that Eros needed to overcome reluctance in a lover before he could value what was usually laid at his feet without his asking was amusing. Aphrodite thought he was quite mad—she enjoyed doing nothing, yet being pursued by a passionate lover. However, it was entirely his affair and she was relieved to return to her own interests with her growing concern for him assuaged.
“But the reason,” Aphrodite continued, “aside from wondering why I had not seen you in so long, that I sent the child to wait for you is that I have had an unusual number of callers this past week.”
“I am surprised and flattered that you had time to worry about me.”
“Well, I was in a fine temper and could have used your good sense. Hephaestus came—”
“Hephaestus put you into a temper?”
Eros was truly surprised. Under pressure from Zeus and Hera, Aphrodite had married their crippled son many years in the past. She had been fond of Hephaestus, but had not understood—despite Eros’s warning—that vows of marriage meant a great deal more to Hephaestus than to his father. Her own infidelities, as meaningless to her as a smile cast at a stranger in the street, hurt Hephaestus deeply, and he had revenged himself for her repayment of a debt to Ares by entrapping them together and holding them up to ridicule.
Aphrodite had been thoroughly annoyed—particularly since Hephaestus was not exactly pure himself, although she later acknowledged he had taken no lovers while they lived together. She had dissolved the marriage and had gone back to her own establishment and the comfort that Eros offered, and he had been very careful indeed to refrain from saying, “I told you so.” But as time passed, Aphrodite and Hephaestus had become reconciled; they found they could be good friends now that they were not bound in marriage.
“No, not Hephaestus,” Aphrodite replied. “Well, not at first. Dionysus was here when Hephaestus arrived, and—”
“Dionysus?” Eros was surprised and a little annoyed. Had Hecate sent Dionysus to warn Aphrodite that he had bought a spell from her? “What in the world did Dionysus want?”
“Who can ever tell what Dionysus wants? Perhaps he wanted—or needed…”
“You?” Eros asked, astonished at the relief he felt that he would not need to explain to Aphrodite why he wanted the spell of darkness. Was he trying to hide Psyche from Aphrodite? Why? She had never cared whom he bedded. But loved?
Aphrodite had shuddered delicately at his question. “No. He’s as indifferent to me as to any man or woman. I had always accounted him hermaphrodite; he is so beautiful and graceful—feminine, and yet not feminine at all.” She looked at Eros, eyes wide. “But there was desire in him this time. Only, I could not read it. I thought maybe you had awakened him?”
“Not I,” Eros said. “He was never interested in me, although he was willing enough to be friendly. I like him…only…”
“Only it is uncomfortable to look into his eyes. He is a true seer, you know, but his Gift is so erratic that he cannot control it—or he has never cared to learn how. In any case, it’
s near useless to him and can drive others mad. But I would guess that he had Seen something. He was only idling until Hephaestus came, and then he wouldn’t go when I hinted he should. I sent for you. I thought you would draw him away, but you weren’t here.”
“He wouldn’t go?” Eros repeated. “But that’s not like Dionysus at all. Usually he’s too quick to think he’s not wanted.”
“Yes, which is why I felt he had an incomplete Seeing. He knew Hephaestus would come here, and he knew that what Hephaestus would ask was important to him—but he didn’t see what it was. So he began to tease Hephaestus—and poor Hephaestus doesn’t take we’ll to teasing. I really needed you, Eros, and you weren’t there.”
“I’m sorry, Aphrodite, I didn’t know.”
The words were the right ones, and he meant them—and yet did not mean them, Aphrodite thought with a sense of shock. He was sorry he had not been there when she wanted him, but he did not wish he had been there. Aphrodite realized that the love affair he had started in Iolkas was more important to him than her need. Jealousy pricked her. Eros had had many love affairs since he had come to live with her, but this was the first time he’d put his lover above her.
“And don’t care, either?” she snapped.
“Of course I care,” Eros said, looking surprised. “But I was doing necessary business for you. I wasn’t off amusing myself. I cannot feel guilty for not being in two places at once. My, my,”—his fine brows lifted—“whatever happened has put you into a temper.”
Perhaps she was misreading him, Aphrodite thought. He had not been “alive” in so long. It was true enough that no matter how great their powers, the mages were not gods and could not be in two places at once. She shrugged.
“Yes, because I am still not certain what to do, and I have no idea what Dionysus made of, or will do about, the problem Hephaestus brought to me. It seems that Poseidon answered a prayer from a king called Minos of Crete, who requested that Poseidon send a bull from the sea to confirm him as ruler. Minos’s brothers had questioned his right to the throne and he wanted a sign from a divinity. Minos promised to sacrifice that bull to Poseidon—and then reneged on the promise because Poseidon had sent a truly magnificent animal, one of Apollo’s, I think. Apparently Minos intended to breed from the beast and improve his own herds.”
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