"I will not have it! Dare he taunt the master of the universe!
I will swat him like a fly! No! Too easy! He shall change places
with Prometheus! No, no! Even that is too easy. Boy, where are
you, come here! Now, right now! I have a chore for you. Yes,
such a chore!"
The sudden call to Olympus was unexpected. Not that Zeus ever
sent out invitations. Normally - if one could consider a summons
from Zeus to be normal - he had few cues and hints before Zeus
summoned him. This unceremonious summons came as a complete, and
not overly appreciated, surprise.
He noted immediately Zeus' red face, and the tumultuous tower
of black clouds above Olympus. This was going to be a real task!
"Atlas! A vulgar name! Do you know it? I'll tell you of Atlas!
Condemned! Condemned to hold the world forever upon his
shoulders! And he dares claim that I chose him for that task
because I had not the strength and stamina to perform it! How
dare he!"
Zeus paced back and forth, sputtering.
"He is to be punished. Right now, I have yet to decide the what
that punishment shall be. You, my lad, shall decide. I want you
to travel widely, to examine all the vilest, cruelest, most
atrocious forms of torture. Select from these the very worst.
That torture shall be imposed on the impudent lout."
"But, Sire, I . . . "
"Enough! Begone. And do not linger, or you may join him."
Never had he seen Zeus so angry. Once more he started to speak,
but with a wave of his hand Zeus dismissed him.
He landed in the midst of a patch of briars, extricated himself
slowly and carefully. "My, but he is peeved!"
Two mighty brothers served Zeus faithfully and well. Yet there
came a falling out, and the anger of Zeus could not be appeased.
One brother he chained to a mountain crag, and daily sent a
great eagle to tear and rend his flesh.
One he placed in eternal servitude, to carry upon his shoulders
the earth and heavens. And that was Atlas.
Torture, torment? More like Hades than Heaven! What a strange
and obscene task was this!
"Mother, the Gods at times have been cruel to man. What manner
of cruelty have they applied, what devices or creatures that
give pain?"
"A strange question. But, yes, the Gods work in strange ways."
A sparkle lit her eye.
"There is a legend that once, in long ago times, there lived on
earth only men. They grew proud and warlike, offended each the
other and offended all the Gods. Zeus became very angry, and
called unto him all the Gods. Long they parlayed, and angrily.
And at long last they decided on a torture so inhuman, so
merciless, so enduring that they hesitated to loose it upon even
these undeserving earthlings. At last Zeus authorized the
punishment."
She paused, stirred the pot in which vegetables were beginning
to boil.
"And that was?"
A smile crossed her face.
"A present was delivered to man. One that he looked on with
delight, and took to his heart. A present that has punished him
ever since. It was an object of unending torture; still, a
torture that poor weak man courted."
"A present, Mother?"
"Yes, he sent to man Pandora. Pandora, the first woman. And
since that day man has found himself unable to live without her.
She torments him, tantalizes him, arouses in him all emotions.
Yet he turns again and again to her." She laughed.
"Just as Athena torments you, yet you turn to her again and
again!"
"You tease me, Mother?"
"No, the legends say it's true. Woman was man's first
punishment. Disguised as a gift! Well, well, perhaps your Athena
will be more the gift, less the punishment!" She tousled his
hair, hummed to herself, glanced in amusement over her shoulder
at him, and laughed.
Demo smiled. Such pleasant punishment.
Yet, truly, how much pain. The wanting, the loneliness, the
feeling of emptiness when she was not near - before he met her
they did not exist. Now they were his constant companions.
A coin has two sides.
Gift and punishment indeed!
The more he thought, the more reasonable it seemed. The
punishment for Atlas, the ultimate punishment, would be to find
him a mate.
Of course, it was difficult. For one such as Atlas, who might
qualify?
There were children's' stories, tales, even legends, of women
such as these. But reality knew none such.
I have a task of great difficulty, he thought to himself. I'll
get busy on it after lunch. "Mother, haven't we anything to eat?"
"Mother, tell me of women."
"Women! Why . . . , eh, what in the world do you want to know?
She blushed slightly, frowned.
"Well, you spoke of Pandora. I am sure there are other women in
history. Tell me of them."
She blinked, then smiled. "Oh, of course. History is replete
with stories of great women. Let me think."
"What is greatness? Hera, wife of Zeus, of course. Venus,
Goddess of Love, certainly. The Amazons, who dominated men,
perhaps. There are so many, and they vary in their greatness."
"Let me tell you true, Mother. I have a task laid on by Zeus,
to punish the mighty Atlas. I would find for him a wife, a gift
of happiness, of misery. Thus there would be punishment, but
lightened by womanly touch. Where would I look for such a one?"
"Zeus! At times I am angry, even at the Gods. Atlas did
faithfully support his master. Yet Zeus has rewarded him with an
unending toil! A fit mate for Atlas? I can think of only one,
and that one who would resist such wedded bliss."
"You know of one! Her name, Mother, and I will find her!"
"You are eager, but beware. She has been courted by many, won
by none. Her name is Atalanta. Huntress, runner, wrestler -
skilled in arts of man and of woman. Yes, you might well search
for Atalanta."
He was committed. Find Atalanta, woo her for Atlas, arrange the
nuptials - and convince Zeus that he had fulfilled his task.
Little details must be worked out. A plan of action developed.
A purported weakness of Atalanta - a love for golden apples -
might well be exploited. Vulcan agreed to fashion these in his
shop, and with his usual skill fashioned them in exquisite form.
Demo looked at them and was so enticed that he had a mind to
keep them. Wisdom prevailed, and merely placed them in his
pouch.
He inquired widely of those who might know, searched widely for
the land wherein she dwelt. In due time he was rewarded. And
finally he reached the very village she called home.
The dwellings were scattered, separated by green meadows and
forest. Each small domicile resembled in its own way the home
where he lived with his Mother.
But he did not find her in one of these.
They met in the square of the little village. He was
astonished. With her reputation for physical superiority he
expected - well, it doesn't matter.
What he found was a beautiful woman, tall and slender. Not
muscle-bound, she. Not the heavy wrestler. Nor the huge-biceped
brute he had visualized.
They talked.
"Ah, young sojourner. What brings you to our land? Do you seek
adventure, riches? You'll not find them here, I assure you. But,
while you tary, join with me in a race." She challenged him, as
she did all newcomers to the village. Race with her, and if he
but win she would acquiesce to his every demand.
Demo blinked. It was going to be so easy. Amazing! He had
expected to cajole, beg, lie - even, terrible thought, to carry
her off against her will.
The race began unpropitiously.
She darted ahead, turned with a smile - a sarcastic, mocking
one.
"My, shall I help you? Perhaps your brogans are too heavy. Or
is it those huge feet?"
Quickly he tossed one of the golden apples before her, slightly
off to the side. The legends proved true.
She quickly deviated from the path, picked up the apple,
continued on her way.
Happily, in those moments he gained. She was now only steps
ahead!
Once more Demo tossed an apple. This time it went even more off
the path. Nevertheless she ran after it, returned to the race.
She laughed.
"You think to distract me? I have but begun to run. But don't
worry, I'll wait for you at the finish line."
And now they were abreast!
He tossed once more, the last of the apples.
His eyes widened. The fox imp rose from the roadside bushes,
seized the apple, and disappeared again, chortling.
Atalanta would now be concerned only with the race! How could
he possibly beat her! Ah, if only he had one more of the golden
apples. Sadly he staggered on. There was no way he could beat
her!
He had failed!
He reckoned not with Vulcan's skill!
Atalanta lost all thought of the race, ran madly after the fox
imp. The imp, looking back, saw her quick approach and dropped
the apple. It skipped sideways, dashed into the forest without a
glance behind.
Atalanta seized the last apple, returned to the race to find
herself bested. With good grace she bowed to the winner.
The nuptials were performed by a local priest. He wanted no
pay, merely the reputation of having married the mighty Atlas to
Atalanta.
As Atlas shifted the world on his shoulder Atalanta squeezed
his brawny arm. The adoration on her face brought happiness to
his eyes.
A perfect match, thought Demo.
"Give him a wife! I sent you to find the most horrible of
tortures. How dare you suggest we reward his impiety by
providing him with a wife! I've a mind to have you replace him
for just a few hours, with the burden of the world on your
shoulders!"
Zeus was, to put it kindly, miffed.
"But, Sire, think! If Atlas had such a wife as Hera . . . ?"
"Give him Hera? Well, you begin to interest me." Zeus looked
around quickly. "Just jesting, my boy, of course. Now what have
you in mind?"
"That he be wed to Atalanta."
"The huntress! Yes, yes indeed. Glad I thought of it. A
delightful young lady. Enticing! Irresistible!" He paused,
glanced around, spoke with lowered voice. "She will tire of him!
At first, they will be attracted, of course. Of course, he will
be so busy balancing the world, he'll have little time for her.
Soon they'll quarrel and he'll feel miserable." Zeus smiled
benevolently.
"Wonderful! My boy, you wisdom exceeds your years. In fact, the
more I think about it, the more I'm inclined to permit your
marriage to Athena. You, too, deserve such married bliss."
There seemed to be a slight snicker in his voice.
Demo ignored it. Finally, Zeus was beginning to mellow, to
consider rewarding him for his services. What a kind and
considerate God indeed!
Though she knew not where fate might lead, Ceres labored still
to undo the evil marriage of Pluto to Persephone. In the heart
of Pirithous she planted the seed of love, love for Persephone.
There it grew and prospered.
The day came when Pirithous would tarry no longer. Whatever his
fate might be, he would free his loved one from the grasp of the
barbarous Pluto!
Theseus reasoned with his friend, but to no avail. Then,
reluctantly, knowing full well the dangers, he joined him on
that fated mission.
The entrance to the dark kingdom lies on the far shore of
Oceanus. Nevertheless, there are secret ways, known to only the
few. This knowledge Ceres had.
Dark caverns and dread marked their way. Creatures not of this
world guarded narrow defiles, yet let them pass unharmed.
Sulfurous fumes that might have brought them to a deadly sleep
dissipated with their approach. Olden bridges, rotten and
decayed, crossed deep caverns, yet none gave way with their
weight. With each such success Theseus grew ever more alarmed.
"Friend, it is not as it should be! We are not opposed! Do you
remember the ambush of the Sileni? I fear we are being led on."
Pirithous listened, nodded.
"Such is my thought. Turn back, old friend. I shall press on
alone. For good or evil, my fate lies ahead, in the bowels of
this infernal region. Fare thee well, now go your way. And say a
prayer to Zeus for the success of my mission."
Theseus placed his hand on Pirithous' shoulder. "We have fought
many a battle, you and I. The times you have saved my life, and
I yours, are innumerable. If fate calls you yonder, then you
shall not go alone."
Would that loyalty and friendship were portents of success.
It was not to be.
Even the drawbridge was in place, and the great wooden door to
Pluto's castle, open. They entered warily.
Pluto grimaced in a friendly smile, if such it could be called.
"Welcome, for I have few such visitors. Come, join me. Sit on
yonder bench, and let us discuss the purpose of your visit."
Woe unto those who sit upon the Chair of Forgetfulness!
Named rightly, even as the waters of Lethe, it cleanses the
mind of all that went before!
And that the bench to which Pluto motioned them.
Pluto poured red wine into waiting glasses, rose to carry it to
them. He nodded to the bench as he approached, reached the wine
toward them.
Pirithousaccepted the glass, moved to the bench. Theseus
frowned. Something was wrong. But what?
Finally he too moved to the bench, joined his friend.
"We came to . . . ." Pirithous was silent, glanced at Theseus.
Shaking his head, he repeated, "We came to . . . ." He could not
continue.
Theseus sat quietly, empty-eyed.
Without a sound Pluto took the wine glasses from lax hands,
called his minion to carry away the glasses and wine.
He sat, looked at his visitors, then turned away.
They waited now for the coming of Hercules.
And Ceres waited, too.
She waited for a champion.
A champion to challenge Pluto's power.