On Olympus, in spite of all the stories and legends, idyllic
conditions do prevail. Zeus and Hera live in peaceful bonds of
matrimony. Mercury zooms off here and yon, now here, now yon.
Zephyrs blow gently. Paradise indeed.
But, occasionally, matters go astray. The essence of heaven is
flavored with a drop from misery's vial. And, oh, what
despondency, what black moods, and what strange and tragic
escapades a drop may launch!
Demo found himself at the center of one such escapade. He
quickly wished himself elsewhere. To no avail.
"We're going on a very short vacation, Hera and I. It's been
eons, literally, eons! So I just want you to take care of the
place while were gone. Keep an eye on things. Check the house
plants, make sure they are watered. Feed Cerberus's pup. That's
really about it. I suppose I ought not do it, but I'll give you
credit for a full - eh, for half a task." Zeus smiled happily.
"You told me . . . .," Hera paused, and angry look in her eye.
"You are right dear, you are absolutely right. A full task, my
boy. Out of the goodness of my heart." Zeus glanced petulantly
toward Hera. Fortunately she was examining her garb in the
mirror.
"Oh, one minor detail. You'll be baby-sitting Cupid during our
absence. Venus left him here to keep us company. He's a
wonderful little chap. I'm sure you'll get along splendidly."
Was there a smirk on Zeus' face, a touch of facetiousness in
his voice?
"Boy, why are you sitting on the throne of Zeus?"
Demo turned, startled.
"Eh, you see, I'm in charge. Zeus is on vacation, and I'm
filling in for him."
"Indeed! A likely story. Let's see your credentials!"
For a moment Demo hesitated. Then he stood erect, shoulders
back, as kingly as he knew how to stand.
"Who are you to question the credentials of an appointee of the
mighty Zeus. See, here in my hands he has left his thunderbolt,
symbol of his power. And in a moment I shall become angry and
cast it at you. Begone! And when you are allowed to return, do
so with a better grace, or I shall send you trapping, off to
visit . . . well, off to visit his brother Pluto. Now, off with
you, and quickly!"
Demo took the thunderbolt in his right hand, raised it high,
and made as furious a face as a 17 year old might make.
Apparently it was sufficient. The lackey backed quickly out of
immediate range, bowing low and rushing madly from the room as
he reached the entranceway.
Demo smiled.
Well, he thought, I could have done worse. A little more
practice is all I need. This Zeus surrogate role could be quite
pleasant.
It wouldn't be.
The clouds were difficult. In fact, he couldn't master them at
all.
With Zeus, merely to think an angry thought generated them.
They clustered, dark and ominous, above his head. Streaks of
lightning jumped from cloud to cloud.
Demo tried, but he could not really develop a seriously angry
thought. At one time he did almost generate a mild fog, thinking
about the fox-imp. With it's antic in mind, his better nature
overcame him, and he broke into laughter. Poor fox-imp. It had
been so concerned when Rough growled.
For two days were Zeus and Hera to vacation, and two trials
were imposed on Demo, one on each of those long days.
The first day Demo sat in the garden, relaxing, watching the
green grass grow. It was chore that pleased him, requiring
little physical or mental exertion. There are those who prefer
to sit and watch green grass wither. Not Demo. He really had no
mean bone in his body. At least, if he so had he to date hadn't
located it. Actually, he hadn't searched very thoroughly.
Nevertheless and regardless, here he sat, watching the green
grass grow. Occasionally he broke out his micrometer, measured a
blade or two. "I believe they are shirking. Hasn't changed a
single millimeter!"
Would that it could have lasted.
"Sire," Janus bowed. "There are two who would have your
counsel."
Demo nodded. "Oh, very well. Send them in. Oh, and bring me my
nectar."
The two who entered were unknown to him. One, the smaller,
limped. The taller, however, walked as unsteadily as did the
small one, and his red nose and blinking eyes suggested a state
of inebriation.
Demo frowned.
"Well, what would you have of me. Get on with it!"
"Sire, this picture, this picture so well crafted, is claimed
by Bacchus. By Bacchus, who can not draw a straight line, nor
walk one. He claims to have painted it, with all its intricacies
and beauty. He lies. I, and I alone, painted this picture. I
would take it with me to my island of Lemnos."
"Poppycock! Preposterous! This limping lout knows that Zeus is
absent. He wishes to take advantage of your innocence. He is a
worker in metal, merely an artisan. His soul is burned by the
smithy's fire. Art! He knows nothing of art! This picture is of
my own design, and it contains my very soul. An artist, you
know, puts himself into his every product. Look! Here is beauty,
wonder, brilliance - would a smithy even aspire to such
qualities as reflected here!"
"Ho, yon wimpy wine sop would not know one end of the brush
from the other. More like he would paint the picture in wines of
many colors, not with the pigments you see on this my parchment.
The picture, limned on parchment stretched on a wooden frame,
depicted a forest scene. Near at hand the trunks of large trees,
and seen between them, in the distance, an open meadow. There
danced woodnymphs.
Demo examined the picture carefully, then turned it face away
from the purported owners.
"Tell me," he looked at Bacchus, "what is portrayed, and how so
portrayed?"
He listened quietly to the exposition of the sylvan scene, the
merry dance of the nymphs, the greens and browns and tone colors
that formed the hues.
"And you," turning to Vulcan, "describe to me this picture."
Vulcan closed his eyes and was silent. Then he spoke slowly,
almost as in a trance. "This is the picture of a maiden, her
golden hair lighted by a single beam filtered through the forest
foliage. All else is only background, merely there that she
might display her beauty. It is but a vision, unreal, of what
might be. Yes, it is only the picture of a maiden."
"Could each of you supply me with a picture similar in nature
that I might compare?"
Neither could respond to his request.
"Well, without more evidence I find that I cannot judge for one
or the other. Let me give further thought to the matter. Eh,
come back in 2 days. Zeus will be here, he'll resolve the
problem quickly."
"My Lord, we are both to leave this edifice this very day. Zeus
has so decreed. He was unhappy with our problem, and requested
that we bring it to your attention."
Demo frowned. To my attention!
"It's time for my ambrosia. Return when the sun begins its
descent. I'll give you and answer then.
He mused. He thought. He worried. He ate.
Delicious, this ambrosia. Not equivalent to his Mother's
cooking. But certainly good enough for Zeus.
He carved the food carefully, munching on each savory bite. And
as he carved a thought came to mind.
Okay, I've a solution. With my knife I shall rend the picture
from top to bottom and each may keep his half."
He took picture, laid it on the table before him, face up,
pulled out his hunting knife.
Bacchus rose, looked at the picture, then shrugged. "Very well,
Sire. It will serve me just as well. It is but an ornament to
decorate my wall."
Vulcan looked at Bacchus, at the picture, and then at Demo.
"No, I would have my picture. Still, let it remain whole.
Though Bacchus may own it, it shall ever be mine. Better it
decorate his wall in its entirety than suffer the sacrilege of
dissection."
"Upon further thought, Master Vulcan, I consider the picture to
be yours. You speak true, it is the picture of a maiden. All
else is there only for her. And you would lose your masterpiece
rather than see it destroyed. Take it."
"As for you, Master Bacchus, I find you to be deceitful in this
matter. I would have you accompany Master Vulcan. For six months
you will serve him. And he, in that six months, shall teach you
the rudiments of his art. Now, begone, for Cerberus' pup grows
hungry."
Was I right? Demo questioned himself. Perhaps, after all,
Bacchus did paint the scene. What would Zeus have done?
Ah, Zeus would have done much the same. And, being Zeus, he'd
be right by definition. So, of course, as Zeus' surrogate I too
am right by definition.
Demo smiled. This God stuff wasn't too bad at that.
So he thought!
Children are lovable. As babies they, sweet and cuddly, invite
one's kind adoration. As toddlers, though underfoot, they laugh
and chatter, bring brightness into our dull lives. Older, they
play, are now defiant, now dependent, as they seek to find their
place in the world.
Then, there was Cupid. Not quite the child. Yet not an adult.
Ever with the prankish nature of youth. Armed, nevertheless,
with a bow. Armed with arrows of the most pernicious kind. Sly,
at times. Open and outgoing at others, he shared the faults -
and the virtues - of his mother, Venus.
The second day started off nicely. Demo gave the world a little
extra twirl, and it hummed along smoothly. He did note a slight
wobble, and gave it a slight extra spin to compensate.
He checked the progress of the sun, the positions of the stars,
and kept a weather eye on earth and underworld.
No problems surfaced.
He was being lulled into an unwary mood.
The attack began!
It was ruthless! They came at him in droves, never giving him
time to think. His face whitened, reddened, turned blue.
Demo tried to think of the terms Zeus might use under such
circumstances. They didn't come.
Zeus' old flames - angry, petulant, pleading, demanding!
Demo was caught off guard.
They informed him that they had an audience. Zeus plainly had
forgotten to pass on the information to him. They waited
impatiently for the promised audience.
Zeus had promised faithfully, to each and every one, a place by
his side on the throne. Had promised the decision on this very
day. At these words Demo hair stood on end.
What kind of fit would Hera throw at even such a suggestion.
The heavens would split asunder from her anger! This problem had
to be resolved, and quickly, before the return of Zeus and Hera!
Nereids and naiads, they came. Sea nymphs and mountain nymphs.
Beauties from far off forgotten corners of the world, and others
from nearby. All with one thought in mind - to claim that
promised gift from Zeus!
"Ah, Ladies, charming Ladies - I must retire to my chambers and
give this matter careful thought. Return when the sun has
reached its zenith." Demo smiled, bowed, and escaped quickly
before their anger could be vented on him.
It would certainly be simpler if - well, dalliance on such a
scale! It had never entered his mind. Zeus?
Anyway, whether real or imagined, these angry young ladies were
convinced. What could be done?
Enter Cupid. Helpful child, he considered the dilemma faced by
Demo. In his childish way he quickly arrived at a solution. A
solution of great moment to Demo.
Cupid's arrows flew!
Unfailingly they struck the heart of each victim! Unfailingly
they elicited a well-known result!
Love and ardor possessed each target. Love and ardor, no longer
for Zeus. Rather, for Demo!
Cupid's arrows flew! And flew!
The approach of noon weighed heavy on Demo. How best to
extricate Zeus from an untenable situation came not to mind.
What to do? A really deplorable situation, with very little room
for maneuvering. My, what would Hera say!
Aha! An idea came to mind. A contest, to chose one from the
mob! Cut the problem down to size. What kind of contest?
Of course!
These, the most beautiful of women - what else? A beauty
contest!
A problem still remained. Who dare judge such a contest?
Certainly not Demo! He shivered at the thought. The anger of the
losers might well be vented on him. No, someone better qualified
must decide. It had to be someone impartial, and unassailable.
Someone not subject to feminine wiles.
But who?
Oddly enough, Cupid entered the throne room at that very
instant.
Demo smiled.
A child! Why, of course, a child! Who could be angry at the
decision of a child? And certainly a child would hardly be
swayed as might an adult.
"Cupid, my lad, I have a chore for you."
Cupid listened carefully, nodded in understanding, and agreed
to participate in this new game. He would indeed judge the
beauty contest.
"Janus, bring on the ladies, if you please."
The meeting did not go as planned.
The ladies entered. They sat around the room, stood, fidgeted.
Each was unique, beautiful in an individual way. In look and
action they differed. Yet they all did one thing in common.
They stared at Demo with undisguised desire, boldly caressing
him with ardent gazes.
Demo felt the hair on his neck rise, and a shiver raced down
his spine. With an effort he announced, "There is insufficient
space in the throne room for all you fair ladies. So we propose
to have a beauty contest, the winner to set beside Zeus and
guide him in matters of the heart. Cupid has volunteered to be
the judge."
They seemed little interested. Rather, they watched Demo's
every move with strangely glistening eyes. At his direction they
paraded across the throne room.
Cupid made notes, assigned points for various and sundry
qualities, and finally arrived at a conclusion. He brought his
notepad to Demo, stood quietly beside the throne, cherubic in
appearance. That alone should have forewarned Demo.
It was a tie! All the contestants had attained identical scores!
Demo's eyes opened wide, and he quivered. This was unexpected!
He hesitatingly announced the result, readied himself for the
angry outburst he expected.
There were a few yawns. Some of the ladies engaged in quiet
gossip. All continued to regard him with interest.
There was no outburst.
"Who cares." A comment came from the back of the room.
"Sit beside Zeus! I'd much rather keep company with a charming
boy." The lady stared meaningfully at Demo.
"Hardly!" Another beauty stood up. "He is certainly mine!"
In moments the room was filled with rancorous voices, angry and
loud. Turmoil followed, and the crowd quickly moved to the outer
court, accompanied by pummeling and hair pulling.
Demo sat wide-eyed, glaring at Cupid.