by Eileen Glass
“Do not let him see you. Do not come out of your closet if he comes back. Understand?”
Seph nods. Speaking usually makes it worse.
“My boy, you can’t imagine…” She clutches him close. Seph’s face transforms with repulsion, trying not to think of where his face is and what’s very near. Her breasts are practically atop his head! But she holds him tightly as if he were still a little boy and not a growing man.
“Our family is dangerous. Do not think gods have sweet, caring families like mortals. They are short-lived, child. And they age. So the temptation is not there, you see. Their virility fades. A god, however, is frozen in development. And Zeus is only an adolescent man. That’s why he grew the beard, you know. To seem older and more kingly. He is a panting, thoughtless, selfish teen boy, but with the intelligence and power of a man. And he does not have emotions. Not since Chronos died.”
Chronos is his grandfather. All the main gods are the descendants of Chronos, who swallowed his own children until Zeus freed them.
To say that gods don’t have loving families like mortals is a bit of an understatement. Zeus cut Chronos apart with his own scythe, and now the old god’s children are looking after the world, letting the mortals learn and grow.
“You would be his pet, child. His sexual slave. And only until Hera found you and put an end to it.”
He can’t take it anymore. He has to talk.
“Mother, I know, I’m sorry. Okay? I-I just wanted to look at him. Just once. I didn’t let him see me. I knew it was a bad idea. I just wanted to see… who Zeus was. I’m sorry.”
She pats his back. It feels exactly like it did when he was nine. Back then, he looked forward to growing up and getting bigger. He didn’t realize he would never age into a man, not in his mother’s terms.
Sometimes he hates it here.
But she does protect him, and Seph would be lost without his mother.
“Alright then. Pack up your things. We’re going.”
She lets him go.
“What? Going where?”
“To the villa out in the country. You like it there, yes? You can race the horses. Or go hunting in the woods if you like.”
“I hate hunting.” Seph makes a face.
“Only since you got that rabbit,” his mother says with a sigh. “Where is he anyway? I haven’t stepped on him, have I?”
Once Seph had a cat napping in the yard when one of his ‘incestuous cousins’ showed up. And that is a memory they never talk about, for Seph will never forgive her. But it wasn’t on purpose, and she still feels bad.
“No, he’s in the closet.”
“Good. Well, put him in his little carrier then, and I’ll have the slaves pack our things. Come down for dinner, and we’ll be off.”
“Mother, uh, wait!”
Though he’d rather let her rant and pace in peace, as she often does when her temper rises, he has to call her back.
It’s time.
He’s not her little boy anymore.
“I don’t want to leave.”
She looks confused. “Why not?”
“I like it here.”
“Pff.” She waves her hand and turns, ducking to get outside the door safely.
“No, Mom! I like it here! I’m not going, okay? I’m staying right here.”
She doesn’t grow any bigger. If anything, she’s shrinking but gradually. She regards him with stern eyes, and Seph finds himself regretting this action. Just like how he regretted that day he asked her to call him Seph from now on, and she laughed like he was telling a joke.
“Oh? Why is that, Persephone?”
“Teysus,” Seph answers. “I love him.”
She scoffs, tossing her head. He knew she would. But this is serious.
“No, Mother, I love him. I’m not going anywhere. We’re… we’re going to get a house together. His father and uncles have already provided it. I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to tell you, and for his cousins to leave, and then I’m going to move in.”
“Oh my.” She touches her head with her wrist. “Sweet boy. Sweet, sweet boy.”
She’s shrinking at a greater rate. Zeus, her better, made her inflate like a cat hissing at a large dog. But her son standing up to her doesn’t cause any riled emotion. Besides… what? Pity?
Seph isn’t sure. It’s love, but not as equals. He’s always a boy to her.
“Mother, I’m not backing down about this.”
“Come on,” she says and steps into the room again. She’s almost her normal size.
“No.”
“Come on, we’re going to have the talk again.”
“No, that’s not about this,” Seph says, and more firmly. He tries to take on that powerful tone he heard from his father. To speak from deeper within his chest, to have that mysterious element of unbreakable will. But he only sounds like a big boy starting a tantrum.
She takes him by the arm and forces him to sit on the bed with her. Resisting would only make him look more puny and petulant.
“Persephone. Please.” She has that tired tone of a tutor explaining the same simple concept over and over. “You are a god. Not a mortal. You can live with a mortal, you can play with a mortal, you can make love to a mortal… But you cannot truly love a mortal. We’ve been over this.”
“I do love him, mother. We’re going to live together.”
“Well, maybe I’d let you if we could stay, but we can’t.”
“Mother—”
“No, son.” Her voice is final. “You cannot love a mortal. You will love him a few decades, and then what? His body will get weak, you know.”
Seph groans. “I’ve heard all this before. It doesn’t change my mind.”
“Yeah? Well listen to it again. He’s going to get old and ugly and weak, and you’re going to be just you. Just as you are.” She takes on an airy, mocking tone, dismissing his love with a simple hand sweep. “And then what? What will you have in common, baby boy? Do you think he’ll want to race horses with you? When he has bad knees and low energy? Do you think he’ll still want to make love the same? Can you imagine what it will be like? You—mounting some old, stinky, hairy butt—”
“Mom!”
They wear equal expressions of disgust, but her’s is for emphasis and Seph’s is visceral.
“If you can’t stand me talking about it, you’re certainly not ready to live it! Persephone—this boy, uh, what’s his name?”
Seph sighs. “Teysus, Mom. He’s only been delivering apples every spring and summer we’ve ever lived here. And we used to play together as boys. You said he was handsome back then. Fourteen years ago, but I remember it.”
“Yes, well, I remember his father now, and he’s not that handsome, is he? That pot-bellied, furry old man? You could shave him to make a rug! All except for his head, of course! You really want to see him with his clothes off?” Her eyes widen with imagined horror. “Well, you go ahead, son. Because that’s what you’ll be walking hand-in-hand with, just ten years from now. Twenty, if he ages handsomely. But son, you will still be exactly the same.”
He’s prepared for this. He’s lost this argument before, and thus has the correct response.
“I’ll love Teysus exactly the same too. I won’t forget him, Mom. It’s more than that. I love his personality. I love his smile. I want to spend every day with him for the rest of his life, even if I have to watch him die.”
Her mouth gapes.
I’ve cornered her, he thinks, as she grasps her dress material over her lap.
But her lips lift with a bemused smile.
“Well, listen to you! Such a romantic!” She messes up his hair like she used to do when he was a small boy and did something funny. “My sweet boy! My baby child!”
“Mother, stop.”
“Oh. I trained you right, didn’t I? Now listen—” She stands. Her face is serious again. “We don’t have time, my love. You will have to pine away for your boy from afar. Because if I—”
Seph tries to speak.
“Listen! Even if I let you find out for yourself what it’s like and let you discover your love is not nearly as deep as you think it is, Zeus—the dirty dog—is going to marry you. Not I, Persephone. Don’t hate me for this. For goodness sakes, I’m the one fighting for your right to live with a little mortal boy, or whoever you choose. Why, I’d look forward to the day you came back to my doorstep and I said, ‘I told you so.’ That would be fine by me. But Zeus is another matter.”
Three
The villa is nice. It’s several smaller houses connected by a large court, with four decorative pillars rising high into the sky. And then the main house, where they stay, is not so plain either. Though, smaller on the inside than their mansion. The villa’s beauty, his mother says, is not meant to compete with the nature around it, and that is attested by the fact that it is only one story high and the trees grow thickly all around.
This was his favorite place to hunt before he met Hibus, a young rabbit some mortal girls were playing with. They had several of them hopping around in a flower bed, the girls laughing to watch the young bunnies play and chew flowers. Hibus broke free of their herding efforts, darting across the courtyard to Seph’s shadow. He must have thought the god was a friendly tree. He did not run when Seph bent to pick him up. And Seph has not killed a rabbit or prey creature since.
Though, admittedly, he does enjoy the occasional venison on his table still.
He used to feel guilty for this action, but alas, admitted that it was foolish to avoid meat entirely, like his mother said. Now he only eats much, much less. And that is because of his friendship with the white bunny.
He pets Hibus’s ears and sets him in a small flower pot. The bunny sits up on his back legs, sniffing, and cautiously tastes the closest flower. Seph sits on the bench beside him, eating an apple. From the last basket Teysus delivered. It was over a week ago. He did not get to say goodbye.
And Seph misses him. He asked one of the slaves to give him a note. He hopes it was delivered correctly. He has been crying for days, swearing his heart will never heal.
But the ache is a little less today.
And watching Hibus helps.
‘Pets only die and make you sad,’ his mother said, those several years ago. Hibus is an old rabbit now, and Seph worries about his health constantly.
‘They do when you step on them,’ he had retorted, and Hibus was allowed to stay.
But it does get lonely being reminded that your friends and pets and everyone around you except for your mother is going to die soon and leave you lonely.
Seph offers a little piece of apple to the curious bunny. And he hears his mother’s heavy footsteps behind him.
“Persephone, you’re going to follow the nymphs into the fields. And follow them home. You can work if you want, or don’t. It’s their job, not yours.”
She says this often, because Seph likes to help and learn what others do around the house.
“Where are you going?” When he turns, he sees the large empty basket carried on one arm. Slaves make a procession behind her, carrying pitchers, crates, and more baskets, all empty.
“Collecting tribute,” she says. “When we were here last, I ordered the mortals to make me a temple and commanded the priests to respect me instead of the forest spirits. We shall see how the message was kept. I expect some fine things for the house, several new clothes for us both, and perhaps a little more livestock to give fresh blood to the herd. Is there anything specific you’d like? I’m getting new pillows for my bed. The ones we had already are way too flat.”
“No,” Seph answers, shaking his head. Though he’s relieved to hear she’ll be gone. It might not be fair to hate her for what Zeus says, but Seph was looking forward to living in the village. With mortals. And trying things on his own for a time.
“Alright.”
She stands there. And Seph faces forward again. He can feel her standing there, looking at him.
“Go on then, Persephone. With the field nymphs. Look, they’re waiting for you.”
Now he notices the girls gathered at a far house, waiting to go to the fields. A nymph looks just like a young girl, except they live a lot longer, they don’t age until they die, and they can converse with spirits and things.
This used to be their home. But when Demeter arrived, she built her home on top of it.
The nymphs do not resent his family for this, even if they should. Nymphs have an almost heartless understanding of nature, and they do not spare the small animals the deaths that provide their meat. Nor do they expect themselves to deny a goddess of her right to everyone’s property.
Nymphs are at peace with the natural place of everything.
They are also entirely female, and Seph does not understand where they come from. His mother said they’re born out of the woods. As adults, just as they are. Many mortal men, gods, and creatures fall in love with them, but that won’t be so for Seph.
With a great sigh, he collects Hibus and starts walking that way.
Yet another reason he wishes they hadn’t gone to the villa. Besides the slaves his mother brought from the house, the residents of this villa are all nymphs.
This is going to be a long, terrible summer.
But at least he will be safe from Zeus.
Who would Zeus choose to make me marry?
Seph has some time to think about it as he sets Hibus down under a tree and ties his back foot to a peg in the ground. He is a tame, loyal bunny, but a bunny can find trouble if a dog faraway barks, or a shadow moves too suddenly. And then he will be lost in the forest forever if Seph can’t find him. Hawks are a concern too, but the skies are clear.
Thimena, the leader of these nymphs, is quite amused when he asks for a scythe. But he works quickly, without asking how, for he has already had practice from when he befriended Fimus, a young slave boy. Oh, he had a crush on him. Such a pretty face. But as a young teen, Seph learned about the social castes and how his affection for Fimus meant that the young boy couldn’t say no.
And he did say no. After Seph explained over and over again that it was okay and he wanted an honest answer. He didn’t want the slave’s body only. He wanted a kiss. He wanted to be kissed.
But he said no.
Teysus was the first boy who said yes.
They were going to live together.
And they would have done more than feel each other up under their clothes, in the dark, while his mother thought they were sleeping.
The rhythmic motion of the scythe helps with his thinking. His emotions are worked through his muscles and drift out of his mind instead of staying inside to fester. But he does not sweat with exhaustion, nor from the heat of the sun, which is bright on a windy summer day.
When the nymphs break for lunch, they offer him bread and cheese, impressed with how well he’s worked. He turns down the meal and continues to cut the wheat with his scythe.
It is so relaxing.
A god, even a puny one, never feels his muscles ache or his skin burn.
The nymphs happily take a long lunch, benefiting from his labor. They feed and pet little Hibus, giggling for his cuteness. A cautious glance that way is certainly warranted. The nymphs are not girls no matter what they look like, and they would not feel guilty about slaughtering the pleasant rabbit to provide meat for their cheese and bread.
But they don’t seem to be starting a fire pit, and they do know that the little bunny is claimed by a god. So he is safe. And Seph keeps working.
Until a flash of white appears under his blade as it sweeps past. Underneath the thickly growing wheat seems to be an unusual flower.
A beautiful flower. Tall, with a yellow center, angled directly at him, and somehow it missed the blade. Even though it grows higher than the wheat cut all around it.
Seph sets the scythe down rather than making the next cut. He bends to one knee, wondering how it could grow here. How did it get enough sun among the wheat? And just
a single flower? Are there others, and he has been cutting them down this whole time?
His heart aches for Teysus and the life he wanted, but this seems to be a comfort offered from the Earth. As if Mother Gaia took notice of him herself.
He cradles the flower and draws in its scent. His desire to work dissipates. And so does his sadness, in a way. Though it is really just the acceptance that this is how things are. He is a god. And his mother is right. He does not want to see Teysus’s father naked. So how can he be sure he would still love his friend as he grew old?
He can’t. And his mother is so much older and wiser than him.
Oh, it would have been fun pretending to be a mortal young man. For several years, sure.
But he would have seen the truth of his mother’s words eventually.
Then who? he thinks, letting the flower go. One of my cousins, I suppose. Maybe it will be a good thing if Zeus marries me after all.
It is better than being alone all the time and your closest friend being a bunny.
“Child, get away from there!” calls Thimena, and she runs at him with quick girlish steps, gathering her dress above her knees. Three more girls follow like a gaggle after their mother. They look weak and too pretty to know hard work, but Thimena’s hands seizing him are nearly as strong as his mother’s. The four nymphs grab him around his arms and waist as solidly as though he’d fallen off a ledge, and they pull him back with no wait for protest.
“Why? What is it? Is it poisonous?” It must be. “Thimena,” he says in a stronger tone again, mimicking his father. “What is wrong?”
“It is a narcissus flower,” she replies hurriedly. “It is a flower made by the gods.”
They have only walked halfway back to the tree where the other nymphs wait with their arms crossed and their expressions worried, when a young girl points to the sky and yells, “Look!”
Above the tree and beyond the field, there are gray clouds forming where none were before.
The danger is real.
“Is that Zeus? My father?”
Thimena worries her lip, her eyes searching.
“Let’s get him to the house,” she says, speaking to the girls and disregarding him completely. “His mother will have put up protection. Come on, let’s hurry.”