Echidna turned to Iole.
“You will help the bride with what ever she needs. You will help her attendants, you will not speak to anyone, and you will stay out of the way. Understood?”
“Absolutely,” said Iole.
“Both of you, this way,” Hypatia said as she and Ireneus led Homer and Iole off.
“You two come with me,” Echidna said, motioning for Pandy and Alcie to follow. After several minutes of walking very slowly, Alcie couldn’t help herself—she started silently mimicking Echidna’s walk, then she would lie down on the path and pretend to sleep, then wake with a start and rush to catch up, or lean against a tree, fall asleep, then rush to catch up, or pretend to run in place. Pandy started laughing so hard she had to hit Alcie to make her quit. It was only fifty or so meters from the fork in the path, but it was easily ten minutes before Echidna finally rounded a large tree trunk and stopped.
“Whoa!” said Pandy.
“Oranges!”
Across a small clearing was the entrance to an enormous black cave.
Many servants were rushing to and fro, like oversized ants, carrying trays, bowls, large stirring spoons, huge ladles, and so forth. Everyone’s hair was tied tightly back away from his or her face, which was flushed and glowing with nervous tension and heat from several enormous cooking cauldrons. From inside the cave could be heard much shouting, orders being called out and answered. Suddenly, there was a scream, followed by the loud clang of something falling over, and a big puff of smoke filled the opening.
A wild-looking black-haired youth shot out of the cave and headed toward Echidna, furiously waving his hands. He was wearing an officious-looking white silk headband.
“I cannot work with him in there, Echidna!” he screeched. “I cannot bring out the very essence of my culinary creations if he’s going to be pawing through everything! We’re in a cave . . . a cave! And he’s literally trampling on my genius!”
“Myron . . . Myron, calm down,” Echidna said, using a low, even voice for the first time. “It is his home, after all.”
At that moment, scattering servants in all directions, a colossal centaur raced through the cave opening, a giant skewer of meat in one hand. Turning quickly on his hind legs, he threw the roast on its red-hot metal spit back into the crowd of workers, sending them flying.
“Oh!” Pandy nudged Alcie. “This . . . this is fantastic! Alcie, do you know who that is?”
“You deal with him, Echidna,” Myron said, tears forming in his eyes as he walked off into the woods. “I am simply too spent. And my heart is just broken.”
Echidna sighed heavily.
“Excuse me,” she said, cautiously crossing to the centaur, now pacing back and forth before the cave opening. “Excuse me, Master Chiron?”
“Figs,” said Alcie quietly.
“You know it,” Pandy agreed. Even Pandy had stayed awake when Master Epeus had talked about Chiron, without question the most famous and important centaur in Greek history. Whereas other of these half man– half horse beings were infamous for their savagery, Chiron was known for his wisdom and kindness. He was so learned that many noble and wealthy families sent their sons to be raised by this marvelous creature, his most famous pupil being Hercules.
“They’re making a mess!” The centaur galloped to her, the veins in his lower body pulsing through his black horse hair. “I have tried to be patient. But they’re using my private food stores, my private utensils. They’ve even disrupted my library! I was told my private things would be left alone!”
“I know, and you’re right. I will put a stop to that nonsense immediately. But we both know how important this day is. And there is truly no space in the palace,” Echidna said, beginning to purr. “So if you would just be a little indulgent, I promise you we will leave everything just as we found it. You will never know we were even here!”
Chiron ran his hands through his bushy black hair and pawed at the ground.
“The things I do for my king,” he snorted. “And I wasn’t even invited!”
“I’ll work on that,” Echidna answered quickly. “I’ll see what I can do . . . maybe a nice spot on an upper balcony somewhere?”
Chiron looked at her like she was a little bug. Then he slowly moved off to a large, flat rock and settled down, staring out at the forest.
“Myron!” Echidna called. “Myron, it’s fine now. Come back.”
“You cannot tell me, Echidna,” he said, flouncing back, hands on his hips, “that in that lovely, massive palace there isn’t just one corner for me? I have never been forced to work culinary miracles in a cave!”
“Myron, we have already been over this,” Echidna said calmly. “The rooms are all being used, every one of them. The bride’s family alone is using every last sleeping pallet, and they’re sleeping five to a room, Myron. Naturally, the gifts had to go somewhere out of sight, and the only space left was the food preparation room. It will all be over tomorrow. Be a love and say you understand?”
Myron closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
“I cannot tolerate much more of this, Echidna,” he choked out dramatically. His eyes were moist as he slowly backed away, beating lightly on his chest, as if his burden was almost too much to bear. “I am an artist . . . an artist!”
“Yes, Myron. But dear, it’s day two. No more big feasts, just nibblies to keep the immortals happy during the unveiling of the bride! You don’t have to put so much stress on yourself.”
“Stress is my life!” Myron said, throwing his arms in the air as he walked back into the cave.
“Aphrodite’s toenails . . . let me make it through this. All right, you two.” Echidna turned to Pandy and Alcie. “Start putting canapés on serving trays. When Ireneus brings your fresh togas and armbands, put them on. You can stow your clothing and accoutrements here at the staging area. The guests will start arriving in twenty minutes by my calculation of the sundial, and I want the two of you at the palace, trays in hand and ready. Understood?”
“Yes,” Pandy said.
“Got it,” said Alcie.
Echidna moved off, and Pandy heard her muttering something about a vacation in Syria.
Pandy was walking toward the cave opening when she realized that Alcie wasn’t beside her. Looking back, she saw Alcie walking slowly toward Chiron, now dozing peacefully.
“Master Chiron?” Alcie said softly.
“Hmmph?” the centaur woke with a start.
“I have to tell you that you are, without question, one of my favorite historical figures. I actually paid attention in class when Master Epeus talked about you. I just wanna ask . . . how cool was it to work with some of those heroes of the Trojan War? I mean, one of the greatest was—”
“The what?” Chiron asked.
“The Troj—”
Pandy grabbed Alcie by her arm and jerked her away.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Pandy said. “She gets a little insane when she hasn’t eaten. Sorry to bother you.”
“What?” said Alcie as Pandy pushed her toward the cave.
“The Troj—the TW obviously hasn’t happened yet, you doofball!”
“Uh-oh.”
“Yeah! Nice going. You probably just changed history, and now we won’t be born!”
CHAPTER SIX
Odd Jobs
After finding Homer a clean white serving toga (size extra-large, and it was still a little tight), Hypatia led him over to the main wine bar in the great hall of King Peleus’s palace.
“You’ll work here, behind this bar,” Hypatia said, her eyes bulging out of her razor-thin face. Her voice was crisp and she pronounced her words slowly and perfectly. “You will speak to no one except to say that we are serving four delightful wines. A hearty red with a hint of oak and berries. A lighter red, slightly brassy, with a touch of lavender. An amusing pink with lashings of citrus and cedar. And finally a white with hints of fern and a sassy, naughty attitude! The wineskins are not labeled because that would be tacky, so
get familiar with each one before the guests arrive. Get them confused, and I will have you flogged. I’ll send someone to help you.”
Homer, having said nothing, watched her walk away, then he bent underneath the bar to inspect the wineskins.
Several minutes later, he heard a voice above him calling hello. Raising his head, he collided with the bar and lifted it off its base.
“Oh, hey! Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you! Here, let me help.”
A slender, brown-haired youth of about Homer’s age rushed to grab one end of the marble bar and set it back in place.
“Thanks,” said Homer, rubbing his head.
“I’m Dimitris of Cyphus.”
“Homer of Crisa.”
“Crisa? Huh. Never heard of it.”
Homer suddenly realized that there was a very strong chance that Crisa hadn’t yet been established as a thriving seaport.
“It’s small.”
“Well, it’s nice to know you,” Dimitris said. “The skinny woman who looks like a chicken said you’d tell me everything I need to know.”
“Oh, okay. Well, there are, like, four wines. One tastes like a flower, two taste like trees, and the last one has a bad attitude. And you can’t talk to anybody.” Iole, who had been standing in a corner of the bridal dressing room for twenty minutes, was somewhat surprised (and a little pleased) to learn that, even after all her adventures and everything she had witnessed in the last few months, she still had the capacity to be . . . shocked. After she had dressed in a fresh toga and run a damp cloth over her grimy arms and legs, Ireneus had all but shoved her into the bridal dressing suite. It was a beehive of activity; half a dozen maidens, clothed just like Iole, were rushing around the edges of the rooms with goblets and ewers of water and wine, plates of delicacies, and armloads of clothing. She was almost knocked over as two maidens raced up to Demeter (whom Iole recognized by Pandy’s description of her ever-changing hair), who was reclining next to Calliope, the muse of epic poetry, and Euterpe, the muse of lyric poetry, on a divan close to the bride’s dressing table. The maidens presented Demeter with two different golden outer robes for the bride to wear. Demeter chose one and the girls ran off again.
Initially Iole had tried to help. She called to the passing girls as they rushed by but was told to just stay out of the way, so now she stood, almost motionless, mesmerized by the real activity in the center of the room.
Four of the most beautiful, pale-skinned nymphs Iole had ever seen stood in a wide semicircle around the seated bride, Silver-Footed Thetis. In the center of this semicircle was a giant slow-spinning vortex: brushes, pins, combs, red-hot hair irons, tiny clips, pots of hair wax, and all manner of decorative hair jewels and accessories were whirling through the air. With a mere flick of their fingers, the nymphs would send a brush or a comb to do their bidding. At a gesture from one nymph, Thetis’s long, silver hair swept itself up into an intricate pile of curls and dangling ringlets. Not liking the style, the nymph let it fall. Then they braided the hair and coiled it like a serpent on top of Thetis’s head. Again, the nymphs shook their heads and the hair cascaded down Thetis’s shoulders. Up, down, poofy, flat . . . style after style they tried, as Demeter and the muses called out suggestions. Iole watched all of this, entranced. But what truly amazed her was the bride herself.
Thetis sat at her dressing table before an enormous mirror, sobbing like a child who had just been spanked.
She was surrounded by everything any goddess could desire on her wedding day: dozens of pots, jars, bottles, and bowls. There were smoothing creams, colored powders for her eyes, crushed berries for her cheeks and lips, black kohl for her lids, and several glorious perfumes. There were resplendent golden garments (the traditional color, Iole knew, of every bride on her wedding day), willing handmaidens, and a celebration on the horizon. And yet, by Iole’s reckoning, the bride was a complete and utter mess.
“I . . . just . . . just . . . don’t understand why I had to get . . . m-m-married!” she wailed. No one in the room was actually paying any attention to Thetis’s cries, concentrating more on simply getting her ready to walk through the hall.
“Huh?” she choked. “C-c-could someone just exp-p-plain that to me?”
“Because Hera wanted it and Zeus decreed it, darling,” Demeter said, not looking away from the maiden at her feet and the two girdles she was deciding between. “Amethysts . . . hmmm? They are royal, but for the final unveiling, I’m just not seeing it. Let’s go with the diamonds, shall we? Gold with diamonds. Elegant and tasteful.”
“Thetis,” Euterpe said, “didn’t we all have fun last night at your proaulia? Huh? The feast your father held was a wonderful kickoff! The food was great, all your sisters were there, and you made some wonderful sacrifices to Artemis, Aphrodite, and Hera.”
Iole knew they were talking about the first evening of what would be a three-day event and wondered what Thetis had offered up to the goddesses to ease her transition into marriage and child-rearing.
“And Peleus’s sacrificing a bull to Zeus was a nice touch,” Calliope said.
“Oh, G-G-Gods! Zeus!” Thetis wailed. “I thought he l-l-loved me!”
“Yes, sweetheart, but there is a tiny problem in that he’s already married,” Demeter said, rolling her eyes.
“You and Peleus were so lovely together at today’s feast. And I think that puffy wedding planner was smart to insist on having a little rest. I’m enjoying the changes she’s made to the traditional ceremony. But now you’ve made the procession to this nice, big palace, the guests are gathering again, and all you have left is for your father to hand you over to Peleus and then the formal unveiling,” Calliope said.
“You’re practically home free!” Euterpe sang out. “And don’t forget tomorrow—your epaulia! Lots and lots of presents!”
“I say the sandals with bronze and copper tones,” Demeter said, looking at several pairs. “They’ll show off her silver feet. Girls? What do you say?”
Euterpe and Calliope agreed. Thetis let out a particularly loud cry, and Euterpe, who was known for being almost deliriously chipper no matter what the occasion, decided to try change the subject.
“Peleus is marvelously handsome, Thetis,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t tell the Supreme Ruler that I said this, but I think he’s handsomer than Zeus! Just think of the adorable children you’ll have!”
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!”
It was at this moment that Iole decided Lust was nowhere in this room. No one (especially the bride) was displaying a burning desire for anything.
“Oh hush, Thetis,” Calliope said. “Rubies and pearls at the neck, thank you, maiden. Thetis, it’s already been foretold. You’re giving birth to heroes . . . at least one, so buck up!”
At this, Thetis seemed to calm down a touch. She popped numerous sticks of clove-and-nutmeg chewing sap into her mouth and sat chomping away for a minute.
“Heroes, huh?”
“That’s what we’ve heard, my dear,” said Calliope.
“Well, it’s a nice consolation prize, I guess. And you know what? I had already picked out a couple of cute baby names for when Zeus and I . . . I . . . oh . . .”
She began to sniffle.
“Don’t start in crying again, honey!” Euterpe called. “You’ll run the rest of that kohl right down your face. Let’s hear those names!”
“Well, I’ve always liked Carpus or Cleon for boys.”
Completely involuntarily, Iole gasped hard, and before she knew what she was doing, opened her mouth. “NO!”
Every eye in the room turned to look at the little dark-haired maiden standing in the corner.
Although she was thinking faster than she ever had, even Iole simply could not come up with a way to cover her blunder. There was no hope of saying something like, “Oh! I just meant, ‘Oh, that’s great!’ ” Her objection had been too loud and too distinct.
“You have a better idea, servant?” asked Thetis.
Iole knew, and she was
the only in the room who did, that Thetis was destined to mother perhaps the greatest of Greek heroes, next to Hercules.
“Yes,” she said clearly, realizing that it was a celebration day, after all, and they probably wouldn’t kill her . . . maybe just torture her a bit. “Yes, I do. Um. A beautiful goddess and a great king who will have a strong and powerful heir should have a strong and powerful name. I . . . uh . . . on my way here, I stopped at the Oracle at Delphi.”
Several ohs went through the room.
“That’s right! Very important. And the high priestess agreed to see me. I told her I was coming here. And she offered, through me, to you . . . as a gift on your wedding day . . . the name of your most famous child.”
“Yes?” Thetis asked.
“Achilles.”
The name rippled through the crowd and everyone nodded her head. Even Demeter, Calliope, and Euterpe seemed pleased.
“Why didn’t she tell one of my guests—one of the important ones? Why did the high priestess tell you?” Thetis asked, arching one eyebrow.
“I . . . have absolutely no idea,” Iole said.
Thetis paused, gazing darkly at Iole. Then she shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. It is better than Cleon, I suppose.”
Everyone softly agreed.
“Okay, I like it. And just for that, you can carry the ends of Demeter’s hair as she walks before me . . . whoever you are.”
“What’s with the look?” Alcie asked Pandy as they trudged up a small hill.
“Huh?” Pandy replied.
“The look? You look more worried than normal.”
“Oh. I’m just hoping I hid my pouch enough.”
“Puh-leeze!” Then Alcie dropped her voice. “It’s in a corner of the cave, your toga and robe are on top, and all my stuff is on top of that!”
“And I made sure that the hem of your robe is the first thing anyone would touch because you got a little horse poop on it . . . so, yeah, I guess we’re good.”
“Okay, didn’t know. Thanks for that info,” Alcie said, then nodded to Pandy’s silver tray. “So what have you got?”
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