Without warning, a voice called out from a distance.
“You there! Maiden with the meatballs!”
Pandy had heard Athena speak, and Hephaestus, Apollo, Hermes, and, of course, Zeus. Each had a voice like no other human, or immortal for that matter. Each was its own astonishing combination of characteristics: low, high, soft, harsh, and each was imbued with something Pandy couldn’t put her finger on . . . the quality of simply . . . being a god.
But nothing compared with the voice of Aphrodite. She remembered the few notes she’d heard Apollo pluck on his lyre when she’d stood at the great teardrop table on Mount Olympus. She’d thought then that it was the most beautiful music she’d ever heard. Now, with every call of Aphrodite for more meatballs, all that was changed. Not even the music of Orpheus could compare. This was wind, sun, laughter, pure love, and a sweet cream apricot cake all rolled into one. For no reason at all, Pandy was instantly happy. Pandy felt a subtle ripple in the crowd around her and knew that Aphrodite was headed her way. But the initial tingle of her voice was wearing off and Pandy, now slightly disoriented, retreated a few steps in confusion.
“Meatball maiden!”
There was the tingle again, and Pandy tried to turn toward Aphrodite’s voice, but her foot, again, caught on something hard. This time, she went down like a toppled tree; her last glimpse as she hit the floor was of an ornately carved gold throne.
Fortunately, she managed to catch herself before her head smacked the blue tiles, but only because she let the silver tray fly out of her hands. Immediately, the crowd around her parted. Pandy could see meatballs rolling off in every direction. Then she lifted her eyes and, without thinking, looked directly into the scowling face of the Supreme Ruler himself . . . Zeus.
Who was covered with meatballs and boar sauce.
Even the musicians went silent.
With a flick of his finger, Zeus had Pandy on her feet immediately, her tray back in her hand. She was too terrified to say anything. Echidna raced up. Looking at the mess, she heaved for a moment, then turned to Zeus and bowed low.
“I cannot begin to express—,” Echidna began, but she was silenced by another flick of Zeus’s finger.
“I require music,” Zeus said, and Echidna bowed low again and scurried over to Orpheus.
Zeus stared straight at Pandy. Then he picked up a meatball from the arm of his throne and popped it into his mouth.
“Five-second rule,” he said.
Pandy almost let her jaw drop but felt it would be decidedly inappropriate, so she hid her lips in a straight line across her face.
As he chewed, Zeus closed his eyes and all the meatballs, on the floor and in his lap, flew out a nearby window, and his robes were gleaming white once again.
Sitting on a smaller throne next to her husband, Hera sneered.
“Mortal.”
Zeus gazed at Pandy, but one corner of his mouth turned upward slightly.
“Indeed.”
And in that instant, Pandy knew that the chasm of the centuries didn’t matter at all. He knew who she was and why she was there. And she knew it. And he knew that she knew that he knew.
“Approach,” he said, and Pandy took two steps closer.
Out of thin air Zeus produced a gold coin, larger and shinier than any other Pandy had seen, and dropped it onto her tray.
“For your service,” he said.
Almost at once, the coin was snatched up by two fat fingers.
“I’ll just hold on to this for you, my dear, until the evening is through,” Echidna said. “All right?”
“It is not,” said Zeus evenly.
“But Sky-Lord,” Echidna said, forgetting her greed and suddenly terrified, “she has no place to carry such a token. I hold on to all the—”
“She can place it in the pouch at her waist.”
The gold coin disappeared out of Echidna’s palm, and Pandy felt it secure inside a small red leather pouch now dangling from a cord around her girdle.
“Why . . . uh . . . well, of course she can. Silly me,” Echidna said.
“Indeed,” Zeus replied. Then he paused, and Pandy watched his eyes glaze over for a second, taking him far away.
“Very well,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Begin.”
“I’m not certain that the bride is quite ready, Cloud Gatherer,” Echidna said.
“She’s ready,” Zeus said flatly.
“Absolutely,” Echidna replied, and scuttled away toward a purple curtain at the back wall, gesturing frantically at the orchestra. Instantly, a beautiful melody filled the air as a large, round cedar dais was rolled in from a side terrace and set in the middle of the hall. Pandy raced to the staging room and deposited her tray, noticing new red leather pouches on all the servants. She was about to rush back into the main hall when she remembered her and Alcie’s tips hidden on the adjoining terrace. Trying to be discreet amidst the servants hurrying about, she snuck outside, swiftly grabbed the bundles from behind the stone bench, and stuffed them into her new pouch. Then she heard a soft sniffle from across the marble flagstones. It was so soft, she wasn’t sure at first she’d actually heard anything. But looking down the length of the terrace into the growing darkness, she saw someone standing alone at the far end, hunched over against the railing. Even in the dim light, she knew instantly who it was.
Her father.
But not her father . . . yet, she reminded herself.
Without thinking of the consequences to the future, she approached him cautiously.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said softly. “Are you all right? May I get you anything?”
“Oh . . . uh . . . no. Thank you, I’m fine. Thank you.”
There was the faintest hint of a tremor (which he was attempting to hide) as Prometheus spoke, and even though Pandy could tell that there was something obviously wrong, the sound of her father’s voice still made her instantly comfortable.
“Is there anything the matter, sir?”
To him she was only a serving girl, she knew, and still he wouldn’t look at her. He stared far off into the darkness.
“Anything the matter?” he echoed. “No. Not really.”
Inadvertently, he wiped something from his eye.
Pandy reached into the pouch at her waist and awkwardly dumped the coins from one of the bundles into the pouch, and then she handed the cloth to Prometheus. Finally, he turned, seeing her for the first time. He smiled.
“It’s just,” he said, dabbing his eyes with the cloth, “that I have always wanted one of these for myself.”
“What, sir?” Pandy said.
Prometheus puffed his cheeks and blew the air out slowly.
“Keep a secret?” he said, after a pause.
“Absolutely,” Pandy replied.
“A wedding,” Prometheus said, straightening up. “A wife, family . . . someone to come home to after a long day of . . . heroic deeds.”
Pandy felt closer to her father in that instant than at any other moment of her life. And he was confiding in her, something she knew he didn’t do lightly, without knowing who she was . . . or would be.
“Foolish of me, probably.”
“I’m sure you’ll have that, sir.”
“You think so?” he said, smiling.
“I know so,” she answered, then realized she may have gone too far.
“Oh, you know so, eh?” he said, looking at her, amused.
“Well,” Pandy said, choosing her words carefully, “I think there must certainly be someone out there who will be just right for you, sir. And she’ll be beautiful. Really beautiful. Like, scary beautiful. And then you’ll have the family you want.”
“Scary beautiful? All right then. I’ll be on the lookout,” he said, leaning his back against the railing. “And thank you for that vote of confidence; I will take it to heart. Now, if you wouldn’t mind keeping the fact that I was crying like an old woman to yourself, I’d be grateful.”
“It will be our s
ecret, sir.”
From inside the palace, there was a loud call of a trumpet.
“I guess they’re starting,” Prometheus said.
“Yes,” Pandy replied. “I need to take my place.”
“See you later,” he said.
“Yes, you will. I mean, uh, I hope so, sir.”
Prometheus looked at her as if she were both odd and amusing, then walked into the staging area and disappeared into the hall.
“You don’t how right you are,” Pandy thought. “I will most definitely see you later!”
She rushed back into the throng of guests and headed toward the staircase, where Alcie was already waiting. Reaching the top, she motioned Alcie over to the back wall near the doors.
“Have something for you,” Pandy whispered.
She pulled out the remaining bundle of coins and handed it to Alcie.
“Here.”
“Where’d you get that?” Alcie asked softly, looking at the pouch.
“You have one, too. All the servants do now. They were a gift from Zeus when Echidna tried to take his tip from me.”
Alcie looked at her waist: sure enough, there was a red pouch dangling from a chord. She untied the bundle and looked at the coins.
“Wrong cloth,” Alcie said, handing it back to Pandy. “I had some funky-looking coins that had words like ‘Cyprus’ and ‘Kythira’ engraved on them and they’re not here.”
“Oh, Ares’ beard,” Pandy muttered. “Like it really matters.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
Pandy emptied her pouch into her hand and handed all the coins to Alcie.
“Okay. Satisfied?”
“Yes,” Alcie said calmly. “Except this one is yours. Because I’m honest.”
Alcie handed Zeus’s oversized gold coin back to Pandy, who was about to put it back into her pouch when she looked at it closely. The words MOUNT IDA were engraved on one side, and LOSE TWO WEEKS on the other.
“What does that mean?” asked Alcie.
Suddenly there was another loud blast of the trumpet and the crowd quieted, waiting. Pandy and Alcie moved into a better position and tried to look ceremonial. From their vantage point, they could see everything and watched King Peleus and Thetis’s father, Nereus, step onto the dais with great formality. Peleus acknowledged all assembled with a nod of his head. Then the music stopped and all eyes turned toward the purple curtain, now being slowly drawn aside.
Then the curtain stopped.
“Unh . . . wait!” screeched a female voice.
“Move!” yelled someone else.
The curtain began to move again.
Suddenly a loud wail shot though the hall.
Everyone turned to look at King Peleus, who chuckled graciously to the crowd, then cleared his throat, wringing his hands behind his back.
The children Pandy had seen on the main walkway with baskets of bread appeared again, this time with jars of white orchid petals. As the crowd parted, they created a white runner leading past Zeus and Hera, on toward the dais.
Euterpe stepped through the curtain, walking slowly and elegantly. Calliope followed several meters behind her. Then Demeter appeared with Iole holding her long hair of summer wheat. Within only seconds, Demeter’s hair changed to autumn leaves, which fell amongst the orchid petals, leaving Iole with nothing to hold. Then Demeter’s hair became winter icicles and Iole found herself sloshing through petal-filled puddles. Instantly, these dried as Demeter’s hair grew into green spring tendrils, and Iole rushed to catch her hair once again.
As all three goddesses took their place around the dais, the four nymphs who had been dressing and styling the bride stepped through the curtain and into the hall.
Then Thetis, her lips pursed but her head held high and her eyes staring straight ahead, walked into the room. She was resplendent in her gold gown and robes, her hair piled high on her head and studded with rubies and pearls, matching the gems on her long, slender neck. But no sooner had she appeared in the entryway than, before anyone could get a look at her face, the four nymphs dissolved into a gold mist, swirled about Thetis for an instant, then settled over her hair and face, creating an exquisite golden veil and giving Thetis a golden glow. Even Zeus gasped as spontaneous applause broke out among the guests.
Walking forward, Thetis acknowledged her reception through the veil, nodding to as many of the immortals as she could. Then she spied Zeus on his throne, and her step faltered. Zeus bit his lip and furrowed his brow, subtly jerking his head toward the dais. Within moments, a soft sobbing could be heard underneath the golden shimmer.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Cry those pretty tears, but keep walking,” Hera muttered.
With another flick of his finger, Zeus moved Thetis forward quickly until she reached her father and her waiting groom. As she stepped up onto the dais, the musicians ended their melody and the crowd was hushed once again. Iole, so close to the proceedings, was fascinated by the unfolding, symbolic drama. But Thetis’s sobbing was slightly more than symbolic, and an uncomfortable tension began to build until Zeus, unseen by anyone, silenced the bride once and for all. Peleus just stood in front of Thetis, awestruck at her beauty, even hidden by a veil, until Nereus prodded him with his elbow.
“Oh!” Peleus said. “Right . . . right.”
He grabbed Thetis’s wrist to show to all assembled that she was now his “property,” while Nereus said the traditional words:
“In front of witnesses, I give this girl to you.”
Hera coughed loudly.
“And it’s about time,” she said under her breath.
Pandy and Alcie reached for each other’s hands. This was the moment, the one every other aspect of the ceremony had been leading up to . . . the formal unveiling; Peleus would look upon Thetis for the first time as his wife.
Pandy squeezed Alcie’s hand tightly. A hush fell over the crowd as everyone held their breath and guests strained over one another to get a first glimpse of the bride. Peleus reached for the hem of the shimmering veil and as he did, a single nymph broke from the bottom of the mist and soared overhead, regaining her own form.
The crowd gasped in delight and Peleus reached forward again.
Without warning, the hall was rocked by a huge crash as something enormous hit the wooden doors behind Pandy and Alcie. It was so loud that several immortals screamed as everyone turned to look. Another crash followed quickly; the bolt held firm but the left door was beginning to crack and splinter.
“Centaurs!” Alcie cried.
But Pandy knew in a flash that it wasn’t centaurs. She had been so caught up in the spirit and beauty of the celebration that she had all but forgotten the major twist in this famous wedding. The horrible event.
“Get away from the doors,” Pandy said, pushing Alcie behind her.
Zeus nodded to Hermes, standing beside his father’s throne, and instantly Hermes materialized at the top of the stairs . . . only a second too late. A third crash blew open the doors, sending one door straight into Hermes, knocking him aside, before it careened down the staircase. The other hurtled high into the air; where, and on whom, it would have landed was anyone’s guess, had not Zeus slowly lowered it to lean against the wine bar. A woman stood in the entryway engulfed in a deep crimson light and thick smoke. Stepping out of the billows, she picked her way gingerly over Hermes, walking to the edge of the stairs to address the astonished guests in a high, delicate voice.
“Did I miss anything?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Eris
“You must forgive my rather loud entrance,” the woman said sweetly, “but the doors . . . well, I think they were barred!”
Pandy, trying to hide with Alcie and several other servants behind the curving banister of the staircase, took note of the woman’s mismatched robes and the odd colors woven throughout the messy rat’s nest of her hair.
“I am so sorry to be late, but my invitation arrived only . . . only . . . gosh, now that I think of it . . .�
�
For a moment, the woman’s voice turned hard and cold.
“. . . it never arrived at all! Why is that, I wonder?”
Peleus sprang from the dais and strode swiftly across the hall at the same moment that Hermes was on his feet again.
“Perhaps it is still at the stonecutters, hmmm?” she said, now smiling.
Pandy looked across the hall at Zeus, who was sitting motionless, his mouth a grim line as he watched the woman. Then Pandy caught Iole’s stare as she stood next to the dais. Iole was on alert. This had to be why they were here.
“Perhaps the runner lost his way to my home? Hmmm?”
Hermes was now standing directly in front of the woman only two steps below. Peleus, Prometheus, Hephaestus, and Apollo had formed a line at the bottom of the stairs. Pandy noticed that Ares, standing close to the other gods, had not joined them but was, instead, smiling broadly at his sister.
“At any rate, I’m here . . . now!” the woman said, spreading her arms wide. “Let the fun begin!”
“You are not wanted here, Eris,” Hermes said, his voice low and threatening.
Behind Pandy, several servants gasped.
Eris, the Goddess of Discord, squared her shoulders and smiled even brighter.
“Out of my way, errand boy,” she said sweetly, but with an edge. “I’ve come to pay my respects to the bride and groom.”
“Leave my house,” Peleus called from the bottom of the stairs. Eris met his glare for a moment before sighing.
“What a tone to take with an immortal,” she giggled.
Pandy was suddenly aware of raised voices in several areas around the hall.
“Eris needs to go!”
“Don’t tell me I’ve had too much to drink!”
“Well, I think she should stay!”
“What do you mean I look fat?”
“I never liked your mother!”
Quarrels and disagreements began popping up everywhere as strife erupted throughout the room. Eris looked across the hall to Thetis.
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