Chapter Forty-Nine
Neptune waited impatiently for news of Minerva and Jane. He knew the Goddess of Wisdom had traveled to see the oracle at Delphi, and he wondered if her power would allow her to make use of the Pythia.
“If anyone can understand those riddles, it’s Minerva,” he boasted proudly to anyone who would listen. His mermaids smiled becomingly at him as he regaled them with tales of the goddess’ intellect, beauty, and sympathetic nature.
“Neptune adores her,” the mermaids would whispered to one another, giggling, as they combed each other’s hair with brushes made of coral branches, and made necklaces for the errant princess. He could only nod benevolently as he heard them gossip. After all, he was not ashamed to love someone like Minerva.
He knew his mermaids longed for a queen who would bring a feminine touch to the kingdom once more. It had been so long since they had someone to serve besides Neptune himself.
“I am due at council with the other gods this week,” he told his brightest mermaid, who soon shared the news with the others. “Perhaps I will see Minerva there, although something tells me she may be on a ...special mission...for us.” He had saved this tidbit, unsure if he should share his knowledge. All the mermaids were a merry bunch, and not in the least competitive with one another, but they did gossip so much amongst themselves.
“Ooh,” the mermaids sighed in unison, and he smiled. “A mission for Neptune...lucky Minerva. I wonder if she has gone to find our princess and bring her home?”
“I am sure she is,” he answered, smiling. “Imagine how lovely it would be to have her safe with us and prepare for her wedding someday. I have dreamed of it for such a long time.”
“But the army...our men...it’s all dangerous, is it not?” another mermaid asked. Her large, pale green eyes seemed worried.
“Minerva is the wisest of all the gods, although she lacks Jupiter’s power,” he reassured her. “I am sure she would never call out our new army unless it was necessary.”
“Hail to the Princess Jane,” Neptune cried suddenly, and the mermaids brought up her chant. “Hail Minerva!” The sea creatures came and joined in the chanting, each in their own special language, and Neptune smiled at his group.
In two days, he must go to the Sunlit Cloud and sit at council once more. He fervently hoped that Minerva would have succeeded in her task by then so that he would not have to explain just why she was absent from council. In all his centuries of attendance, she had never missed a council meeting, and he knew Jupiter would be furious.
“At least I’ve repaired all the damage to those infernal fishing boats, although the mermaids are a handful.” But he felt guilty. He had started some trouble, indeed, and he knew it, and he had no wish for the great Sky God to find out how he had placed his beloved daughter, his favorite child, in such peril.
“Please, please, be safe,” he muttered as the chanting ceased and the mermaids and sea creatures returned to their normal activities. The fish blinked in greeting at they swam past, slowing down to show their respect, for how could a fish curtsy or bow to the king?
The mermen continued to train according to his orders, lifting heavy stones to become stronger, and practicing their walking and running on land late at night, when most humans were sleeping. As yet, they were still awkward on land, but they were improving, and the king had to admit that this was an exciting time indeed. Though he feared the battle to come, he was also invigorated by the sense of purpose it gave him. He now had something to do that wasn’t merely pleasure, which was always enjoyable, but tended to sameness after a while.
His mermaids seemed to notice the new swagger of their men as they swam around them, and they smiled proudly as his army told them all stories of secret exercises on the shores. The new and vibrant spirit of the men inspired much romance and flirting among his courtiers, and this reminded him of Minerva. Neptune encouraged all the batting of eyelashes and jolly conversations, as it meant that, some months from now, there were bound to be more tiny girl and boy creatures born...and ready to serve him.
Neptune had not heard from Minerva by council day, and he dressed with care in his most subdued robes and took his most utilitarian trident as well. The crown he chose was his second-string crown, and it was devoid of engravings and gemstones. He wanted to avoid attention, whereas he normally courted it any way he could. He must protect Minerva, but what could he say? He thought of telling the whole truth, but he was not sure he had the courage.
Then again, Jupiter may have already used his omniscience to see where his daughter was: they were so close, after all. But Jupiter had many cares, and he had to decide on which areas to focus his gifts. Noone, not even a God such as Jupiter, could see everything at once. Neptune decided he would wait and see how the meeting went, and try to keep his head down as best he could.
He floated up to the surface with a heavy heart, and raised his trident high above the water so that it pointed toward the Sunlit Cloud. In an instant, a ray of light caught the diamond set into the tip of the simple, iron scepter, and Neptune floated upward through the prism of light it created. He felt butterflies in his godly stomach as he floated up over the Emerald Sea, and he arrived at the Sunlit Cloud just in time to walk quickly into council and take his appointed seat.
Chapter Fifty
Jupiter was magnanimous on this day. He was now quite, quite in love with the Irish milkmaid he’d begun to visit. Her influence was a softening one upon his usually fierce disposition. Her gentle voice and feminine, practical ways were fully enchanting. He spent many hours with her each week, neglecting some of his duties, but that was what happened when one fell in love with a human being.
The milkmaid waited in her modest cottage for Jupiter, who came in the form of a bird, or at times, a small animal of the forest. Once it was certain they were alone, he changed into his own self, and presented the girl with stunning gifts he had selected himself. She was given jewels from India, spices from the West Indies, and the softest cottons and silks to make her dresses from. Her cheeks glowed fair pink as she hugged his godly bulk and chided him, ever so gently, in her sweet Irish brogue, for his indulgence of her.
Jupiter was distracted during council. Minerva was absent, and no one could hope to emulate her effortless ability to run the meetings and set the agenda. He did the best he could with the half-finished agenda she had left for him. He was too happy to be truly angry about much of anything.
“I’ll keep it short today,” he decided, thinking of the girl who milked her cows and swept her wooden floors and waited in Kerry for him to come.
Everyone seemed to sparkle as they noticed the twinkle in his eye and the way he seemed in such a hurry to get the meeting started and finished. They think they are in for an easy ride this time, and perhaps they are right at that, he mused. Although, it was best to not get too overconfident when it came to the great God of The Sky.
Jupiter smiled indulgently as Venus swanned in, a little late, but with her usual grace. She had not done anything that would anger Jupiter this time. At least, as far as he knew. The Birth of Venus was safe and sound in the Uffizi, and Venus had told him she simply covered it in a dark scarf when she wandered the museum late at night to drink in the beauty that was her reason for being.
Neptune smiled shyly at him, and he returned the smile. He was no longer angry with his brother. Jupiter was worried about Minerva, but he could take care of that with his omniscience after council.
“Council is called to order,” Jupiter announced. “Please tell me your good and bad deeds for the month, and for goodness’ sake, be quick about it.”
“I have done nothing to interfere with the humans this month,” Venus announced proudly. “In fact, I’ve helped one mortal woman, who was in love with a priest and pining away, to find another, more practical, object of her affections. I gave her a little extra spark of grace and beauty this month, so that all men who met her would be enchanted, and then I let her choose the best.” Venus wore silver today,
and her hair was braided with rose tourmaline. Jupiter had to admit that she was the epitome of desirability.
“That’s nice, Venus,” Jupiter answered distractedly. How inconvenient it would be if Venus worked such spells on his little milkmaid so that all the farmers and workmen could not stay away from her. Hastily, he moved to the next order of business, not bothering to hear anyone else’s deeds or misdeeds.
“Moving on...” he said, and there was, suddenly, a great feeling of...coldness...in the Sunlit Cloud. Something seemed to darken the sky, and it was not Jupiter, for he was looking around, as puzzled as everyone else. “What the devil?” he muttered as Pluto walked into the Council, his ghosts trailing behind him.
“Indeed,” Pluto said. “What the devil indeed?” He stood and faced the gods, who looked down at their folded hands. Jupiter watched as Venus closed her eyes tight and looked as though she might faint away. Pluto always brought bad luck and a sense of doom wherever he went. His gods and goddesses hated the sight of him, and it had been a long time since he had come to this place.
Jupiter eyed his brother with distaste. They were alike on the surface, the same strong, bronzed features, the same natural arrogance...but there the similarities ended. His brother had been banned from council for years because he was a bully—not unlike Jupiter himself, but still—and a troublemaker, and a killer. He was always quick to scheme, and to lie, and to deny his own deeds, and even quicker to reveal the sinful deeds of the Gods of Sea and Sky that led to the deaths of citizens—often accidentally. He crowed over the gods’ weaknesses, which only led to an increase in the number of his subjects, and a strengthening of his powers.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” Jupiter thundered, and the cloud grew even darker. The ghosts sneered at Jupiter, and he wished he could destroy them. However, they were already the undead, and he could not harm them. They cursed him as they floated, telling him he had wounded their master’s pride, and banished him.
“What on Earth indeed?” Pluto smirked. “How perceptive you are, my dear brother, to choose those words...”
“Tell your ghosts to wait outside, or you can all go!” Jupiter barked. He hated the sight of the transparent beings who seemed to shimmer and fade, then come back into sharp focus just as they disappeared again.
“Go,” Pluto told them, and the sulking ghosts trailed out of the room with doleful expressions, moving their lips in silent protest.
“Jupiter,” Pluto said forcefully, “you have maligned my name, and taken what was rightfully mine, by birth, driving me down to the Underworld.”
“That was not my doing. It was our Father, and you know this!” Jupiter barked.
“I have embraced my kingdom nonetheless, along with the good Queen Proserpina,” Pluto added. “I have avoided councils as you dictated, but I have had enough, and so have my good subjects.”
“You know why you were banished, my brother,” Jupiter hissed. “Though you will never admit to the truth of it.” He wished he could strike Pluto down right where he stood so that his reign of evil would cease forever. For Pluto had done far more than steal his beautiful daughter. He had done something terrible...so terrible...to the Goddess of Love, no one ever spoke of it now.
“What is it you want, Pluto?” Jupiter spat as the gods and goddesses stared down, listening.
“I want equality with the Gods of Sea and Sky. We are all part of the Trinity, and we must all be honored at council in equal measure.”
“There is no way!” Jupiter yelled, thinking of Venus, who looked pale and forlorn. Lightning bolts began to descend from the clouds around them, interspersed with loud cracks of thunder. The sky was charcoal gray now and it began to rain the sharpest rain, as though they were all being stabbed with knives made of ice.
“You are death!” Jupiter screamed. “You are murder, suicide, illness, abduction, violence, and death! No one wants you here, and you belong down there, a mere parasite, feeding on the dead.”
“You shall never be my equal!” Pluto answered, his voice cutting through the roars of thunder. Jupiter thought it was a voice from hell. Guttural, full of rage and danger. “You have no idea of my power, of how strong I have grown, fed on the souls of all the worlds.”
“Get out!” Jupiter yelled, striking his brother with lightning, a small bolt that knocked him off the cloud and sent him reeling toward the Underworld once more.
As he fell, his sycophant ghosts flew under him, gently supporting his bulk with their gossamer bodies. They tended him and his wound as they floated downward. The bolt had left a nasty hole in his brother’s shoulder. It had gone clean through.
“He’ll pay for this. I’ll kill him!” Pluto hissed in his hearing as he slipped under the Earth back to his home. “I’ll destroy all of you,” he screamed as he fell. Jupiter flinched at the raw hatred of his words. “There must be a way! And, if I can’t, I’ll destroy everyone else that matters to all of you, one by one. I have done it before, and I’ll do it again.”
Jupiter sent the gods and goddesses away and set about restoring the weather. “Prepare for war!” he told them as they filed out of the room. “This is only the beginning.”
* * * *
Neptune asked to speak to Jupiter. He knew he had no choice but to confess his problems, for they all needed Minerva’s wisdom now. He would also offer Jupiter his army of mermen to fight Pluto. But Jupiter was not in the mood to listen. He told Neptune to come back another time, and he turned away from him without another glance. Jupiter was clearly possessed with rage, and he snapped that he had no time for his prattle.
Neptune returned to the Sea, thinking of Minerva’s ring, and wondering what Pluto would do for revenge. He also loathed the thought of his daughter, out in the world, as yet unprotected. The Gods of the Underworld would stop at nothing now.
Chapter Fifty-One
Pluto had tried to gain equality for the last time. He had gone to the Sunlit Cloud to make his case, one final time. If he failed, he would destroy Jupiter’s world. He knew that. If Jupiter had permitted him to rule equally, as befitted his power, he would perhaps have veered away from his plan to destroy Minerva by letting the witch kill the girl. He had taken some time to think over the matter, and decided to postpone the Great War if some resolution was attained. Pluto knew his power had increased tenfold, and that the other gods and goddesses were aware of his strength. Why did they deny him his birthright?
Now, he would go forward, training an army of River-dwellers to fight and kill, and worse, to doom their enemies to life in the mists of the Underworld where they would suffer and pine for all eternity under his cruel dominion. He would instruct Hecate to cease merely watching the witch through the crystal ball and playing mild tricks. She might go further, much further, than that.
He longed to sit on Jupiter’s throne. He longed to roam the Sunlit Cloud and feel the warm, golden sunlight on his skin. He longed to see tears of fear in the beautiful, liquid eyes of Venus. He would rule with an iron hand, but first he would start the Great War, and he would win it.
He already had Proserpina. She had been unwilling, at first, but she had given in to him in the end, and now he must also have Minerva. These daughters of Jupiter would be his captives, and Jupiter would be weaker for the battle to come. It was time to prepare his magic, to make his curses, and time to kill the daughter of Neptune, but not before she lead them to the Goddess of Wisdom, who would, along with the fair Venus, make a pretty ornament for his court.
Jupiter would unravel at the thought of his pristine daughter, whom he loved above all else—or so Proserpina had sadly admitted—haunting the shores of the River, serving Pluto as once she served Jupiter.
Blake used the tea until there was none left. It seemed to make him terribly passive, and he did not go to the farmhouse to see Jane. He did not do much of anything. For three blissful days and nights, he slept and dreamed, rising only to order the servants around, as his father might have done. When he drank, he felt as carefr
ee as a little babe, safe in its cradle.
Then, on the fourth night, there was no tea left, and he tossed and turned, falling into nightmares that left him crying and miserable. He had gone to the farmhouse in his nightmare, and she was gone. His love was gone, and now he dreamed of her, turned to stone just as his father had been.
His nightmares made him tired and cross during the day, and he found himself torn between rage at Jane and tender love. That morning, when he arose, out of sorts and sad, his servants had told him that the girl and her little companion had left the town. They had stolen off without as much as a goodbye to anyone. Blake knew his bad dream was real, and he felt misery creep into his heart.
There were some in the village who blamed the strange, beautiful girl for his father’s death, mentioning to him that she was the only one they knew who practiced magic, but he could not accept that she would do such a thing, and he scolded them roundly for even speaking that was about Jane. To think of her in such a light was painful beyond words. He tried to put it out of his mind, but the thoughts always crept back.
“Is she a witch?” he would ask himself when he was alone and sleepless, tortured by doubts. “Did she leave because she was afraid, or for some other reason?” He needed more tea to soothe the doubts and fears, and so he garbed himself and went to The Crown of Thorns where Lady Brandon waited for him. She gave him more tea and listened to him so attentively, so much like the sweet, angelic creature she appeared as in his dreams. Her plain features grew bright and animated when she was happy, and she always seemed happy when they were together.
He saw under the glare of lanterns that she painted her cheeks and lips, and he was surprised. He could see where the colors were not blended well enough, and he wondered that such a fine lady should paint her face like a harlot, but he said nothing. He had few friends, and he needed her now...to listen to him when he spoke of Jane. No one else seemed kind enough to understand what losing her, so close after his father’s death, had done to his wretched heart.
The Secret of the Emerald Sea Page 18
