Pandora Gets Heart

by Carolyn Hennesy

  When Homer reached Pandy, Hermes was already standing over her. Homer was too concerned to ask why he’d made Homer run and hadn’t simply transported both of them at the same time.

  Pandy was in agony. The pain in her left arm was excruciating; it was compounded by the fact that the strap of her leather pouch, now restored to its full size, had somehow gotten tangled up and was binding her arm to her side. Homer loosened the strap and gently helped her to sit.

  “I’m gonna go get Alcie and Iole.”

  Pandy, hunched over, nodded weakly.

  Homer raced up to Alcie, still on her side and flailing.

  “Who’s . . . who’s that?” she asked, panic in her voice.

  “It’s me, Alce,” Homer said, getting her to her feet. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

  “Oh, Homie,” she said, tears running from her sightless green eyes. “I can’t see.” Then her voice dropped to a murmur. “She blinded me.”

  “We’ll fix it,” Homer said, lightly kissing her cheek, then holding her close and whispering in her ear. “We’ll do whatever we have to.”

  “The gods don’t take back what they do,” she sobbed.

  “Hermes just did,” Homer said softly. “And if he can do it, so can Aphrodite.”

  At that moment, they heard a moan coming from close to the ridge. Homer looked over and saw Iole trying to stand, then crumpling back into a heap.

  “Alce, I have to go get Iole. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t leave me!”

  “I’ll be right back.” Then, for only the second time, he kissed her very softly. “I’ll never leave you.”

  Alcie was so astounded by his words and the kiss . . . the kiss . . . that for a moment she forgot she couldn’t see. Homer sat her down again and before Alcie could recover enough to say anything, Homer was off again, running to Iole.

  “Can you move?” he said.

  “Only my upper extremities,” Iole hissed, the words coming out choppy as she fought to keep her breathing under control.

  “You mean your arms?” Homer asked.

  “Yes, Homer. My arms,” Iole replied, then she flickered a smile in spite of the pain. “Gods . . . he tries so hard,” she thought.

  “Hang on,” Homer said. Carefully lifting Iole up, he draped her around his neck just as he had done when she was a dog. Walking back to Alcie, he got her on her feet again and gently steered her toward Pandy and Hermes. Almost there, Homer momentarily looked up from the path he was finding for Alcie and she tripped over a large rock. Down she went, her hands keeping her from hitting the ground face-first.

  “Oh!” cried Iole.

  “Uh!” Pandy blurted out.

  “Alcie!” Homer yelled, then quickly set Iole on the ground next to Hermes. When he turned back, Alcie was rising out of the grass.

  “LEMONS!” she screeched at the top of her lungs. “Did you not happen to rotten-apple notice that I am tangerine blind!”

  Unknown to Alcie, however, her back was to everyone as she yelled.

  “Alce,” Pandy said, suppressing a smile. “We’re over here.”

  Alcie paid no attention.

  “One figgy minute you say you won’t leave me, and the next you’re hurtling me to my death!”

  “Follow my voice, Alcie,” Iole said, then she broke into a soft giggle.

  “Do you want to see me dead? Is that something that floats your barge? Huh? Dating a dead girl?”

  “Alcestis,” Hermes said, smiling. “Turn around.”

  “Who’s that?” Alcie said, spinning too far and shouting to the right.

  “It’s Hermes, maiden.”

  “Oh.” Alcie’s voice quieted for a moment. Then she plunged right on, marching across the field and waving her hands, widely skirting the group. “Well, can’t you do something?” she blurted to a large ewe, which was chewing very slowly.

  At this, Pandy and Iole burst out laughing.

  “What’s that? What’s that?” Alcie said, turning toward them at last. “Oh . . . oh! . . . that better not be . . . are you? . . . if you guys are laughing at me . . .”

  And down she went again, her foot catching in the grass. When Homer reached her and sat her up, Alcie’s face was nearly beet red with fury. Then she opened her mouth to speak but instead broke into a huge guffaw. When she actually snorted a few times, Iole and Pandy fell back in the grass, which made the pain of her broken arm shoot all over Pandy’s body. Still, they all went on laughing hysterically. Even Homer and Hermes couldn’t help themselves.

  “Okay,” Alcie said, after several minutes. “So . . . why are we laughing?”

  “Because when the human spirit is devastated to the point of madness,” Iole said, “both mind and body work in concert to bring it back to some sense of normalcy. It’s a balancing act, if you will. A tension reliever.”

  “Because there’s nothing else we can do, Alce,” Pandy said simply. “The apple is gone. We’re hurt. And I think I have . . .”

  Pandy’s voice became almost inaudible.

  “. . . have failed the quest.”

  They were all silent for a while. The only sound was the chewing of the large ewe.

  “So, you’re giving up?” Hermes finally asked.

  Pandy looked at him.

  “What, do you suppose, ever happened to the thing that got away, hmm?”

  Pandy knew that if Hermes was still talking, not every chance was lost.

  “What do you think happened to the apple?” he went on.

  Immediately, Pandy’s curiosity took over.

  “Aphrodite used it to win Helen for Paris.”

  “And after that?” Hermes asked.

  “I don’t recall any other legend or story of it being used again,” Pandy replied. “Iole?”

  “Not that I know of,” Iole said, shaking her head.

  “Me neither,” Alcie said quickly.

  “Helen certainly didn’t keep it,” Iole mused.

  “That means . . . ?” Hermes asked.

  “That means . . . that . . . ,” Pandy answered. “Okay, Helen couldn’t eat it. So my guess is that she only needed to touch it, right? Somehow, some way, Eris put pure Lust into the apple. That’s why it affected the goddesses the way it did. Then Zeus put the enchantment on it, only to be broken when Paris made his judgment. Paris touched it for a moment, but the enchantment was still on it. Then me, then Alcie, and then Iole. Then Aphrodite actually got it in her hands, which was Zeus’s condition, but it didn’t affect her as much as it would a mortal. But when Helen touched it, it all flowed into her. Then when Helen died, pure Lust must have gotten back into the box . . . somehow.”

  She looked at Hermes.

  “I’m not saying no,” he said.

  “Then it got out again thanks to me and went back into the apple, right? Right. The apple is gold, so it wouldn’t spoil. Nowhere in the legend does it say that Helen kept it. So that means . . . that . . . Aphrodite still has it!”

  “Gathering dust. Just sitting on her . . . dressing . . . taaaaaaaaable!” Hermes sang, bending toward them for emphasis.

  “All right!” Pandy exploded.

  “Quest back on?” he asked.

  “Back on!” Pandy yelled.

  “Let’s go find Aphrodite!” Alcie said.

  “Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute,” Pandy said. “We can’t go to her now.”

  “Why not?” asked Alcie.

  “Because I haven’t been born. I haven’t taken the box to school. All the Evils, except Lust, aren’t out yet in this century. She won’t know what I’m talking about. She’ll think I’m nuts. Just a crazy maiden who wants her apple. She might even recognize me as the dog who stole it in the first place.”

  She looked at Hermes, who nodded.

  “We have to go forward in time. To the future; what is our present.”

  “Good girl,” said Hermes. “Very well, are you all ready?”

  “Wait!” Alcie cried. “We’re going like this? There is
nothing that can be done?”

  “I cannot alter any enchantments but my own, Alcestis.”

  “Pears.”

  They were all silent for a moment.

  “Okay,” Alcie said. “Then . . . I guess we go.”

  “You might be surprised at what time can do,” Hermes said.

  “We’ll see,” Alcie said. “Or not, in my case. Hah!”

  “Homer, your assistance, please,” Hermes said. “See to it that all are touching my garment.”

  “Yes, Messenger.”

  Homer draped Iole again around his shoulders, then guided Alcie to Hermes as Pandy got up. Everyone took hold of a small bit of Hermes’ garment.

  “Keep your eyes open this time,” Hermes said. “It’s interesting!”

  “Would if I could,” Alcie thought.

  Obeying his words, everyone except Alcie took note of the meadow and the trees, the stream running close by.

  ”Here we go!” said Hermes.

  In the very next instant, it was evident that some of the trees had grown much taller while others were dead or dying. The sun had shifted slightly in the sky and the meadow was smaller by almost one-half, the other half now occupied by stones and dirt. The stream was now on a different course; not cutting cleanly down the middle but meandering off to the right.

  “What happened?” Alcie asked.

  “Same as before,” Iole answered. “The landscape changed. Only this time, we got a glimpse.”

  “Like, so cool,” Homer said.

  “Once again, a master of vocabulary!” Hermes laughed.

  “We’re home?” Pandy asked.

  “If by that you mean the correct year, then yes,” Hermes replied. “You are also still on Mount Ida in Phrygia.”

  “I think I can walk,” Iole said. Indeed she could, but with a pronounced limp in her gait.

  Pandy looked down at her left arm, now free of pain and movable but crooked at an odd angle.

  “Your arm and leg have healed! Now, if we’d had to go back in time from where we were, of course you wouldn’t have any injuries at all, but since we went forward, time healed your wounds! Isn’t that super?” Hermes said. “Naturally, without being properly set, the bones and muscles are a little deformed, but you have your limbs back!”

  “I’m still blind,” Alcie said bitterly.

  “But you have three trusted friends to guide you where you need to go!” Hermes said, kicking the grass with his winged sandals. There was a tone in his voice that Pandy recognized as regret, as if he himself didn’t quite believe the lightness of his own words.

  “All right then, I’m off,” he said.

  “Wait!” Pandy burst out. “You’re just going to leave us here?”

  “Until you figure out what’s next, it’s naptime! This has been quite the day.”

  And he simply disappeared.

  “Can I take a nap too?” Alcie asked.

  “No,” Pandy replied. “We need to figure out, alpha, how to get off this mountain fast, and, beta, where to go once we’re down.”

  “We have to get back to Greece. Perhaps there’s a way up Olympus,” Iole said, hobbling about. “We could ask Aphrodite there.”

  “No way up Olympus,” Homer said.

  “We’re going to lose a lot of time just getting to Greece,” Pandy said.

  Alcie quietly began fumbling at her waist, groping for her red-leather coin pouch.

  “Gods,” she muttered. “Will somebody help me get this open? Apparently, I have also lost the use of my fingers.”

  “What are you doing?” Pandy said, opening Alcie’s pouch.

  “Same idea, different day,” Alcie replied. “Look at my coins. Gods, now I realize . . . Hermes was dogging me yesterday at the wedding. I thought he just liked the silly soup. But it’s like you with Zeus and his big coin, Pandy. Now I realize that Hermes was constantly tipping me with these . . .”

  Pandy emptied the coins into her hand.

  “You’ve got a lot of silver, some gold. What’s this? You’ve got a gold one that says Cyprus. And one that says Kythira.”

  “And you’ve got another one that says Tarsus,” said Iole, looking over Pandy’s shoulder.

  “Here’s Byzantium,” Pandy went on. “And Narbo. And Aphrodisias.”

  “Great Athena. We’re supposed to choose!” Iole said. “Oh, grapes,” said Alcie.

  Pandy hung her head. Zeus still had to make it difficult. Couldn’t have made it just a little easier. No way, no how.

  “What do they say on the back?” Alcie asked.

  “They all have ‘two weeks,’ ” said Pandy.

  “We have to make the right choice or we will just be going from one place to another until we find which one is correct,” Iole said.

  “And we could lose all the time we have left,” Pandy said.

  “A puzzle!” Iole said, clapping her hands together, startling Pandy and Homer. “I’m excellent at these. Let’s use reason and logic! Let’s deduce!”

  “It’s the one that sounds like her name,” Alcie said, but she had accidentally turned away from the others, so her words were lost.

  Taking the coins from Pandy, Iole limped slowly in a small circle, gesturing with her hands.

  “Zeus knows we’re heading to see Aphrodite, right?”

  “Has to,” Pandy said.

  “So the place must have something to do with her,” Iole said. “Narbo, Tarsus, and Byzantium. What do these have in common?”

  “They’re all freaky names?” said Alcie.

  “They have nothing to do with Aphrodite,” Pandy replied.

  “Correct! Nothing that I know of, at any rate. So you take these,” Iole said, thrusting three coins into Pandy’s hand.

  “All right, then . . . Cyprus and Kythira both have temples to the goddess, but they also both claim to be her birthplace, so they cancel each other out.”

  She put the coins in Pandy’s hand.

  “Guys, it’s the one that sounds like—,” Alcie began.

  “Which leaves only this one,” Iole said, tossing the remaining coin into the air. “And I happen to know that they are in the middle stages of building a temple to Aphrodite at . . . Aphrodisias!”

  “Which is exactly what I said,” sighed Alcie.

  “You’re certain, Iole?” asked Pandy.

  “Pandy, in my house, we pay extra for runners with news from around the known world. At least we used to. And it’s not just a temple; they’re basically building the entire city to honor her. So, yes, I am certain.”

  “What were you saying, Alce?” asked Pandy.

  “Not a thing,” she sighed again.

  “All right,” said Pandy, taking the coin. “Now, how do we use it?”

  “Call Hermes,” said Iole.

  “Swift and Fleet-footed Messenger,” Pandy called, lifting her head up, her face to the heavens. “Most cunning and artful, I call to Hermes!”

  Nothing.

  “Hermes? We’ve decided! We know where we need to go now.”

  Nothing.

  “You think he sleeps that soundly when he naps?” asked Iole.

  “I have no idea,” Pandy said, gazing up at the clouds. “None.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  On Olympus

  Hermes’ vast apartment was, by popular immortal opinion, the destination spot of Mount Olympus, and all the beings who either lived on or visited the home of the gods wanted to spend as much time there as possible. He occupied a single, enormous room on the topmost floor of one entire wing, and when he moved in, he’d had the ceiling removed so the sun, stars, clouds, and tall, flowering potted plants were his canopy. He had a small lyre (an instrument he invented) quartet continually playing the au courant tunes, and great gold bowls filled with individual silver cups of ambrosia on ice. He also allowed gambling and other games of chance provided that, if he was playing, he won. Which usually wasn’t a problem when anyone else went up against the cleverest of all gods. It was only Athena on whom he
once had to use the “hey, look over there!” ruse in order to move a token to the winning spot, and she had retaliated by turning him into a housecat for a week.

  But many simply came for a cup of nectar, to pet the roosters and tortoises (his protected animals were allowed free rein), and to gaze at the amazing walls and the floor.

  To the right and left as one entered, the walls were covered with poems and hymns to the Messenger, usually given to him framed when he went to speak at various academies. At the other end was a broad terrace from which one could look down onto the clouds covering the steep downhill slopes of Olympus and onto the terraces of other apartments.

  One ridiculously long sidewall had written on it many of the things for which Hermes was patron— and every single individual who was blessed by that patronage. Under bold gold lettering spelling out BOUNDARIES was the name of every person who had ever crossed a boundary in his or her life. SHEPHERDS AND COWHERDS were combined because, in comparison with other rosters, their number was few. TRAVELERS also had comparatively few names. The list of ORATORS AND POETS took up hardly any space at all, but there were thousands of ATHLETES. At the far end, however, was a long list of CONSORTS AND CRONES, a huge portion of the wall was taken up by the seemingly endless names of THIEVES, and over half the wall was dedicated solely to LIARS.

  The fourth wall was an enormous map, stretched lengthwise, with tiny red footprints indicating every place Hermes had ever been. It was almost completely red.

  But the floor was most astonishing and frightening for anyone new to the room. It was as if one were suspended in space. The floor tiles projected a view, from a single angle that changed on a daily basis, of the earth from a high vantage point; essentially a bird’s-eye of a section of the planet, as if the bird were flying a different route each day. One day it would be a stretch of Syria, the next a portion of the Greek Islands, and the day after, the coastline of Aquitania or Belgica.

  Hermes had returned, not only from Mount Ida, but also from thirteen centuries earlier, and was unusually tired. He shooed the roosters onto the large terrace, sent the musicians away, and gently but firmly ushered out a handful of nymphs who had come to see a glimpse of Britannia as it passed beneath their feet. Removing his winged sandals and hat, he set his Caduceus on its special stand and settled onto his giant sleeping cot in the center of the room. Within seconds his chest was rising and falling rhythmically, indicating, to the intruder who silently stepped into the entryway, that the god was fast asleep. The day was warm and there was no need for any kind of covering, so Hermes, even deep in slumber, was slightly surprised when he felt something fine and filmy settling over him. At that moment, one of his roosters wandered in from the terrace and crowed raucously at the strange figure in the room, someone who rarely visited and when she did, delighted in viciously kicking the roosters out of her way. Hermes woke in alarm.