Pandora Gets Heart

by Carolyn Hennesy

  Aphrodite was—there really was no other word for it, Pandy thought— naked. No tunic. No sandals. She wore her enchanted girdle and several long strands of dramatically large pearls, which covered everything that needed to be covered, no matter which way she turned— but just barely. And her hair was long, thick, golden, and free. She wore no makeup. She needed nothing. Perfect pink lips, round cheeks, arched brows, and the most glorious smile.

  The same thought was going through everyone’s mind: it would have been a daunting choice for anyone.

  Pandy looked up at Homer, who was frozen in place, a small goofy grin on his face as he gazed, completely mesmerized. Then she looked at Alcie, also staring at Homer, just as Alcie was lifting her leg over Homer’s foot.

  “Don’t!” Pandy yipped.

  “Fine,” Alcie yipped back. “But he doesn’t look at me like that.”

  The three goddesses slowly approached the dumbstruck shepherd.

  “Wow!” said Paris.

  “You understand what you are to do?” Athena said, her voice at first severe. Then, when she saw Paris was justifiably intimidated, she purred, “My handsome youth.”

  “I have to pick the prettiest,” Paris answered.

  “That’s correct, you charming lad,” Hera said coyly.

  “And whoever you pick gets this,” said Aphrodite, placing Eris’s golden apple in the palm of his hand, Zeus’s enchantment keeping him from feeling the power of Lust. As she turned away, she whipped her hair out and around, and suddenly the air was filled with the faint scent of fresh roses. Athena frowned, inhaled sharply, and exhaled a lavender fragrance that washed over the entire meadow. Then Hera puffed up her cheeks and blew the wonderful scent of grapefruit and bergamot toward Paris. She also accidentally blew his chair over; Hermes righted him instantly.

  Paris took in a deep breath, his eyes glazing. His head rolled from side to side as he tried to focus on the three beauties, and he began to shift the golden apple slowly from hand to hand.

  “I . . . don’t . . . it’s hard . . . I . . . can’t. . . .”

  Athena stepped forward and thrust her shoulders back, her eyes flashing.

  “Let me make this terribly easy for you, dear one,” she said. “First off, know this. You, Paris, are not of low birth. You, my handsome youth, are a prince and heir to the House of Troy. Why you are tending sheep on a mountainside is a story for another time, one which shall be unfolded to you in every detail . . . let’s just say, don’t trust your father when you finally meet him.

  “But for the moment, let us consider what would best befit a man of royal blood such as yourself, so long denied his birthright. When you choose me, I shall give you wisdom beyond your wildest dreams. Your prowess at the art of war, your skill on the battlefield, your ability to formulate the most ingenious strategies, your acumen against any opponent will be surpassed only by my own. No mortal man will match you. You will lead what ever army you choose on to glorious victories, and you will deal justly and fairly with those you conquer! Your name will be hailed as that of the mightiest warrior the known world has seen, sees, or ever will see!”

  “Really?” Paris asked.

  “Why would I lie?” Athena replied.

  “Cute,” said Hera out of the corner of her mouth.

  “I thought so,” Athena said softly.

  Paris looked at Homer.

  “I get stuff!” he cried.

  Alcie turned to Pandy and rolled her eyes.

  “And you’re a prince,” Hermes said. “You did hear that part, correct?”

  “Oh . . . yeah!”

  “Yes, well,” Hera said with a yawn. “That’s very nice if all you wanted to do was kill people.”

  She sauntered toward Paris, taking his face in her hands.

  “However, I will give you something that will let you do anything your royal heart desires, including killing people, if that sort of thing suits you, without getting yourself the least little bit dirty!”

  “Ohhhh,” Paris exclaimed. “No more dirt!” He tossed the golden apple once in a low arc from right hand to left.

  “When you choose me, from that moment on, you will indeed take a throne, something your family has for so long denied you. You, Paris, will rule over all the lands of Asia Minor. You alone will have utter dominion over countries, cities, people, monuments, borders, temples, roads, rivers, mountains, valleys, schools, scholars, the arts, artists, marketplaces, market prices, libraries, liberty, agriculture, any culture, inventions, armies, money, laws, politics, politicians, who comes, who goes, viaducts, aqueducts, tear ducts, religions, priestesses, philosophers, philosophies, progress, death, and . . .”

  “Yes?” Paris cried, sitting up in the chair.

  “Yes?” murmured Homer from beside the tree.

  “Taxes!”

  “No kidding?” Paris asked, now casually tossing the apple into the air.

  “Ultimate power shall be yours,” Hera cooed, her lips only millimeters from his ear. “Nod your head and thousands shall do your bidding. King, pasha, potentate, emperor, sultan, majesty . . . how do you wish to be known? Smile and the days shall be glorious; frown and all will know your wrath. And, if I may say, it’s a big piece of land. You wouldn’t be bored.”

  “We’ll take it!” Homer blurted.

  “Hey!” Paris shouted. Without warning, he hurled the golden apple at Homer in a mock fury. The goddesses all inadvertently gasped, seeing their prize tossed about like so much hay. As the golden sphere hurtled through space, the noon sun glinted off its surface. Out of nowhere, Pandy had an overwhelming urge . . . but to do what, she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She only knew that her body jerked slightly as she watched the apple sail overhead. Just as quickly, Homer threw the apple back to Paris.

  “Sorry!” Homer said, looking around. “Sorry. Sorry. Like, not here. I’m not here.”

  He glanced over at Hermes, who was biting his lip and trying not to laugh.

  “It’s quite an offer,” Hera said, turning her back on Paris. “You won’t get another one like it.”

  Paris looked down at his feet, shaking his head listlessly from side to side, a look of abject frustration on his face, the apple clenched in one hand. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and curious as he— and everyone else— looked directly at Aphrodite. His mouth twisted into a strange grin and he tossed the apple again . . . high. Aphrodite stopped twirling the ridiculously large pearls of her necklace and looked up in the silence that followed.

  “Oh?” She giggled. “Me? Is it my turn?”

  She blushed and Pandy noticed Aphrodite’s nail lacquer turning exactly the same shade of lustrous pink as her cheeks.

  Paris opened his mouth to speak, but Aphrodite cut him off with a big, girly shrug of her alabaster-hued shoulders.

  “Well, first of all, prince, I can’t offer you wisdom. I don’t really have any to speak of and Theeny has that covered. Second, I can’t give you lands or any of those other terribly important things that Hera’s offering. I can only give you one thing. You might not think it’s much . . .”

  Paris’s face quickly registered disappointment.

  “. . . but if—and it’s only an ‘if,’ mind you—if I’m lucky enough to be chosen, I will give you the undying, unyielding, eternal, and complete love . . .”

  Paris’s face showed that he had no clue as to what would come next.

  “. . . of the most beautiful mortal woman in the world.”

  The instant the words left Aphrodite’s lips, Paris looked like he’d been smacked by an enormous frying stone. Homer, Pandy, Alcie, and Iole couldn’t tell if his tiny mind had gone even more blank or if many thoughts were flooding in. They only saw that he’d been rendered incapable of speech or motion.

  Paris, for his part, was thinking of embracing in his arms something other than a tree trunk, which made for incredibly slow dancing. The other offers were really, really . . . great, but he knew he wasn’t the sharpest sword in the arsenal. With both Athena’s and H
era’s gifts, there were so many things he could bungle. He couldn’t even keep his sheep in one place, how could he lead men into battle? How could he rule over lands and people? He’d be killed in his sleep within days, for sure. But this new feeling— something that had rushed into his body only a moment ago— this was bliss! There was nothing wrong with this; nothing horrible could come of it. Now he would not merely dream of holding the pretty flaxen-haired daughter of the village vegetable trader, but he would possess the most beautiful woman in the world . . . whoever that was.

  “Her name is Helen,” Aphrodite purred, reading his thoughts. “And she resides in Sparta.”

  “And?” said Athena.

  “And that’s about it,” Aphrodite retorted, glaring.

  “I hardly think so,” said Hera.

  “Oh, that.” Aphrodite gave a little giggle. “All right, for Olympus’s sake. This woman happens to be . . . currently . . . involved with someone else.”

  “She’s married!” cried Athena.

  “To King Menelaus of Sparta,” Hera said.

  “But that can all be fixed, if you will, by simply handing that apple to me. With it and my skill, she will willingly leave her husband.”

  “And?” yelled Athena Aphrodite pursed her lips.

  “And her daughter,” she said rather sheepishly.

  “A nine-year-old girl,” Hera said, seeming to plead with Paris. “Would you do that to a nine-year-old girl?”

  “Rough,” Homer said involuntarily.

  “Hermione,” said Athena. “Lovely girl, slightly horse faced, but she gets that from her father. And her mother would simply abandon her!”

  “For you!” Aphrodite said, suddenly bright again. “She will sail with you back to Troy, where you will be received at the palace with all the royal splendor and honor you so richly deserve.”

  “Think carefully, mortal,” said Athena. “My offer is much safer.”

  “So is mine, and you get to tax everybody!” said Hera.

  Without warning, Paris heard Aphrodite’s voice in his mind.

  “The most beautiful woman in . . . the . . . world.”

  Suddenly, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his mouth dropped open, and, leaning back, he bellowed the most raucous laugh any of them had ever heard. Ever.

  “And won’t she be charmed,” Aphrodite murmured to herself.

  “Done!” he cried.

  He drew his arm down, alongside the chair, and with a great sweeping motion tossed the golden apple high into the air toward Aphrodite.

  And in that instant, in that split second as the apple flew overhead, glinting in the sunlight, Pandy knew what she had to do. It was what her canine form had instinctively tried to do earlier . . . obviously something for which her breed was particularly adept. And she could see no other way. This was it: this was the moment.

  Time seemed to move very slowly as Pandy’s eyes followed the spinning orb. While everyone else was startled, gasping at the fact that Paris hadn’t actually handed the apple to the Goddess of Love but had, in fact, oh-so-casually lobbed it in her direction . . .

  Pandy leapt.

  She used every muscle in her hind legs and sprung with only one purpose.

  The apple had just crossed the midpoint of its arc and Aphrodite, astonished that something, even the thing she most desired, was being thrown at her, had put her hands up instead of reaching out. Pandy had a clear path to the apple without anyone’s fingers in the way. She caught the apple clean in her mouth and, before anyone knew what had happened, she was down on the ground and running fast.

  Alcie and Iole took off and were quickly running beside her, no one barking or yelping or saying anything.

  “Run,” thought Hermes.

  “Run!” thought Homer.

  “Good catch,” thought Paris.

  Hermes realized his mistake when Hera turned to stare at him sharply. Inadvertently, he had been caught in the moment, urging Pandy in his heart to complete this portion of her quest. But he knew that the future would be what it would be; he quickly hid his thoughts from Aphrodite and Athena.

  Pandy was like an arrow across the meadow, heading back toward the ridge. Alcie was at her side, Iole trying hard to keep up. They ran as if they were on fire.

  “Oh, that’s cute!” said Aphrodite. “The doggies like shiny things.”

  “Look, Hera,” Athena said. “The dog is stealing Dite’s trinket.”

  “I love dogs,” Hera replied.

  Aphrodite giggled.

  “Alrighty, bring it back, doggie . . . come on, bring it back! Pup! Pup?”

  Pandy was more than halfway across the meadow.

  Homer watched Aphrodite raise her little finger.

  “I didn’t want to do this.”

  With only a few meters to go, the ridge clearly in sight, Aphrodite crooked her little finger inward and the bone in Pandy’s left front leg snapped in two. Down she went with a sharp yelp of pain in a rolling ball of tail and legs. Alcie quickly turned back and found Pandy panting in the grass, her leg twisted at a horrible angle.

  “Take it!” she growled, and looked at the golden apple, now lying a short distance in the grass. Without a moment’s hesitation, or even knowing exactly where she was going, Alcie set her teeth around the apple and took off again.

  “Oh, delightful!” said Hera, smiling.

  “Are you going to help me?” asked Aphrodite.

  “I shouldn’t think so.”

  “Fine.”

  Alcie hadn’t even built up speed and had gotten only slightly more than one meter when Aphrodite blinked her pale eyelids. Suddenly Alcie stopped short and howled, dropping the apple in front of her. She began turning fast in tight circles and when Iole reached her, she had spun herself dizzy.

  “Iole? Iole!” she barked, falling onto her side.

  “What is it?” Iole whined. “Alce!”

  “I can’t see! I can’t see!”

  “Oh, Gods! I’ll give it back!”

  “No! You’ve got to take it!”

  “Where? Where do I go, Alcie?” Iole barked.

  “Anywhere! Just run!”

  Iole took up the apple.

  “Assistance, Theeny?” asked Aphrodite.

  “I suggest you look elsewhere,” Athena answered.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  Aphrodite, with a hint of regret but more than a little bewildered at the dogs’ behavior, tightened all the muscles of Iole’s right hind leg into one large spasm of pain and Iole dropped like a stone.

  “That is the strangest thing I have ever seen,” Aphrodite said. Then she gazed at Homer. “Youth, you have odd dogs.”

  Homer looked out at the meadow. Having watched his three best friends tortured and felled, he was too stunned and horrified to answer.

  Aphrodite crooked her forefinger toward the far end of the meadow and the golden apple began to rise into the air, taking Iole with it. Iole, rigid with pain was still clamping down on it with all her might, dangling a meter in midair.

  “Poor thing,” Aphrodite said, and exhaled softly.

  Iole’s jaw relaxed enough that she released the apple and fell to the ground, watching helplessly as the apple floated back across the meadow and into Aphrodite’s waiting hands.

  “Aaaaaannnndddd . . . thank you very much!” she cried when her fingers finally curled around the golden sphere. “I know it’s difficult,” she said, turning to Athena and Hera, “but you didn’t really think the outcome would be different.”

  “This isn’t over,” said Hera.

  “Oh, but it is.” And Aphrodite began to sing and dance, thrusting her hips out with each last word. “Paris likes me best, yes! Chose me as the fairest! That’s cause I’m a beau-ty. You are simply snoo-ty!”

  “Excuse me,” Paris interrupted. “But . . . when do I get the lady?”

  “What?” Aphrodite stopped singing. “Oh! Of course! Well . . . we can be off at any time. Shall we go now? Why not? After all, Helen�
�s not doing anything except getting older!”

  Paris arose from his chair, which promptly disappeared. As he strode over to Aphrodite, Hera and Athena stepped into his way.

  “You’ve made your decision, youth,” Athena said, her voice low and hard. “Now you will see exactly what your consequences are.”

  “You’ve allied yourself with one ridiculously silly goddess,” Hera said, the anger in her voice causing it to rise. “But you have earned the eternal enmity of two others. Two who are decidedly more powerful.”

  “And more clever,” said Athena.

  “And just plain mean,” Hera said.

  “Sleep well tonight,” Athena cautioned.

  “Perhaps the last good sleep you ever get,” Hera said.

  The next instant the meadow was on fire. The instant after that, there was a full meter of hard ice on the ground, and Pandy was covered with a thick layer of frozen water. A fierce, violent wind blew from the north and the ground shook for several seconds. Before anyone could panic, the wind, ice, Athena, and Hera disappeared in a puff of putrid-smelling black smoke.

  “Sore loooosers!” Aphrodite said with a tinkly laugh. “Pay them no attention. After all, I’m on your side and we’re off to get the girl. And it’s not as if this is the first time a man has stolen the heart of a married woman. I ask you, what could happen?”

  At Paris’s blank look, Aphrodite grabbed his arm with one hand and raised the apple high with the other.

  “Oh, never mind. Hermes, see you later! This was fun! We’re off!”

  And they were gone in a silver flash.

  Homer looked at Hermes, his eyes brimming. Hermes read his thoughts.

  “No, I can’t do anything. Not my enchantments.”

  “Can you at least turn them back into humans?” Homer managed to whisper.

  “Oh! Yes . . . of course,” Hermes replied, snapping his fingers. “There.”

  Homer just stood, staring, shocked and paralyzed by everything he’d just witnessed, knowing Pandy, Alcie, and Iole were lying hurt far out in the meadow.

  “Homer?”

  He just stared at the god.

  “Go to them.”

  And Homer began to run.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Decisions, Decisions