Finding Cupid

by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

  “This place really is magnificent, isn’t it?” Zeb asked as they left the dressing room and walked down the art-lined hall, Sabby trotting by their side. “I’ve never felt so at home anyplace before.”

  “I told Lula you’d feel that way. Me? I feel like I’m in a museum. Too big, too marbly, too artsy, you know?”

  Zeb laughed. “I’m not surprised. This isn’t your style. Cinnamus told me about the waterfall cave on your side of the garden. How did you like that?”

  “Now that I liked,” Dake said as they rounded a corner, entering a long gallery of huge framed paintings and sculptures. “Very cool. It was like something right out of a romantic chick movie, with all the flowers and candles and chanty music. All the stuff women eat up.”

  Zeb stopped in front of a pedestal holding a four-foot-tall stone sculpture. “I’ll bet you any amount of money you can’t guess the name of the artist who created this statue of Cinnamus.”

  Dake studied the statue. It reminded him of something he’d seen in history books. Then he remembered the kitchen. “Michelangelo,” he said, snickering as Zeb’s jaw dropped in surprise.

  Zeb’s hand flew to his chest and he gasped. “How in the world did you come up with that? I didn’t even know you knew who Michelangelo was.”

  “He was a contemporary of Leonardo da Vinci.” Zeb gasped again and Dake laughed. “Hey, I’m not completely lacking in artsy-fartsy knowledge, you know,” he scoffed. “Mom took me to museums and made me read books too, remember? Besides,” he grinned, “I saw Cinnamus’ kitchen.”

  The sound of Lula’s laughter caught their attention. Dake pointed. “Follow that sound.” A moment later, they entered the kitchen.

  “Oh my goodness, Dake, how very handsome you look,” Lula said. “You too, Zebulon.”

  “Thank you.” When Zeb reached Lula, he lifted her hand and kissed it. “And you look like a goddess, darling.”

  Dake stared at Lula a moment. She looked so beautiful she took his breath away. “Zeb’s right. You look really hot, sweetheart. Super classy and elegant,” Dake said, eying the white floor length gown, draping in soft folds as it meandered down Lula’s curves. Her gold curls were piled high atop her head, crowned with a woven ring of laurel leaves. A gold coil wound around one arm a few inches above her elbow.

  “You look just like one of those sexy chicks out of a Hercules movie.”

  Lula cocked her head. “Oh, is he making movies now?”

  “She does look magnificent,” Cinnamus said. “All eyes will be on her when we enter the auditorium.”

  Lula blushed peppermint pink. “Thank you all. I must admit I do feel quite pretty today.” She patted the back of her sophisticated hairdo.

  Cinnamus turned his attention to Dake, “And you certainly clean up well,” he said. “It’s a far better look than those raggedy clothes you had on earlier.”

  “So you don’t think I look silly—like a girl?”

  The toga-clad Cinnamus rose from his seat, hands fisted at his hips and a scowl across his features. “Does anything about my appearance strike you as girlish?”

  “No.” Dake held up his hands in surrender. “No way. I didn’t mean to imply you look girly in those dresses you wear, I—”

  “Togas,” Zeb corrected, elbowing Dake in the arm.

  “I mean togas,” Dake quickly amended. “It’s just that I’m used to wearing men’s clothes.” Cinnamus’ frown deepened. “Uh…pants, I mean. I’m used to wearing slacks. Jeans.”

  “The toga is a time-honored tradition, Dakin. Strong, brave, intelligent men have been wearing them centuries longer than denim jeans.”

  Dake nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. Good point.” Shit, the last thing he wanted to do was piss off the one god he could depend on. “Lula showed me your artwork yesterday,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “And she told me all about it. It’s amazing. Some of the best damn stuff I’ve seen anywhere. You’re one helluva painter, Cinnamus.”

  He nudged his brother and gestured to the wall at the far end of the kitchen. “See, Zeb? That’s what I was talking about.”

  Zeb squinted and then gasped. Reaching for Cinnamus’ arm, he clasped it. “You painted that? It’s exquisite.”

  “There’s an interesting story behind it,” Cinnamus said, covering Zeb’s hand with his and walking with him to the other side of the kitchen.

  “Whew!” Dake wiped the sweat from his brow. “That was a close one. So how are you feeling, sweetheart? Ready to face the gods?”

  “As ready as I can be.” Lula sighed. “At least we shared a magical night of love together beforehand—one that I shall never forget. And you, Dake? Are you prepared to stand before the council?”

  “Yeah.” Dake nodded and then leaned close to whisper, “Except I’d feel a whole lot better if I wasn’t all dolled up in this bed sheet.”

  Lula giggled. “Have no fear. You look magnificent and very mannish. Just pretend it is All Hallows Eve and you are attending a masquerade party.”

  A gong sounded, similar to the one Dake had heard the night before.

  “Another message?”

  Lula shook her head. “A single gong signifies there is someone at Cinnamus’ door.”

  A moment later, a big, burly, handsome guy who looked to be about fifty-ish entered the kitchen. Nodding his head in a short bow, he said, “Your chariot awaits, Master Cinnamus.”

  “Thank you, Hercules,” Cinnamus called from across the room. “We’ll be there momentarily.” His manservant nodded again and left the room. As they walked across the length of the massive kitchen, Cinnamus and Zeb exchanged loving looks, speaking to each other in hushed tones.

  Dake swallowed hard and looked at Lula. She had the distinct look of a deer caught in headlights. “It’s going to be okay, honey,” he assured, drawing her near. “Before the day is over, the four of us will be celebrating. Trust me.” Dake just wished he could believe his own words. He was practically shaking in his sandals worrying about what might happen, but if he let Lula suspect that, she’d be a basket case.

  “We must make haste,” Cinnamus said, leading them from the house to his chariot. “The council’s center of operations is a goodly distance from here.”

  The long walk through the house and through the front garden to the chariot reminded Dake of a death march. All that was missing was the sound of a death knell—or maybe the wail of a screaming banshee.

  “What a stunning vehicle,” Zeb said.

  Dake studied the ultra fancy white chariot, complete with extensive raised gold scrollwork, fine black detailing and rows of what appeared to be inlaid turquoise. The horses were big, black and shiny. Proud looking animals with jeweled harnesses.

  The best part, as far as Dake was concerned, was that the chariot was outfitted with black, leather upholstered seats. One up front for the driver and a passenger and another seat big enough for two in back. While the back of the vehicle was open, at least this chariot had two large side doors, one on each side, allowing easy step-up access.

  “Great-looking chariot,” Dake agreed. “I like the horses.”

  “Thank you both,” Cinnamus said, ushering them into the chariot. “It’s one of my formal chariots. I felt it was befitting the occasion.” He patted Zeb’s hand as Zeb stood next to him. “The horses are my finest obsidian-black stallions.” He paused a moment and then added, “Dakin?”

  “Yes?”

  “I apologize if I seemed rather cross earlier. I admit I find myself unduly stressed over today’s impending events. I should not have taken my apprehension out on you.”

  “Hey, no problem. Thanks, Cinnamus. I guess we’re all a little tense.”

  They all sat there for a long moment, exchanging glances and silently speaking words of love and support with their eyes alone.

  Filling his lungs with air and expelling a loud breath, Cinnamus, reins in hand, signaled his horses and they were off.

  ———

  “Interlopers. I s
imply can’t abide by interlopers,” Venus growled. Pacing back and forth, the stunning woman perfumed the air with the delicate scent of lilacs.

  “Cupid assures me they’re worthy of the council’s time,” Psyche said, hurrying along to keep up with her mother-in-law. “Remember, there was a time you thought of me as an interloper too.”

  Venus stopped her pacing long enough to hike an eyebrow at Psyche and ask, “And when did that time stop?”

  Psyche laughed. “Yes, but at least I’m an interloper who can put up with your mischievous, naughty son—and keep him out of too much trouble.”

  A smile curved Venus’ lips. “Yes, I’ll give you that.”

  “My ears are ringing,” Cupid said, strutting into the large auditorium stretching and bellowing a lion-like yawn. “What are my two favorite girls saying about me, hmm?” He draped his arms around their shoulders, giving each woman a kiss on the cheek.

  “We were discussing the plea of Cinnamus, Lula and the mortals, darling,” Psyche said, snaking her hand around her husband’s arm. “They’re expected soon. And, of course, we were also extolling your countless virtues. Isn’t that right, Venus?”

  “Indubitably.” She offered Psyche a conspiratorial wink. “What are you doing here, Cupid? You’re not on the council.”

  “I’m here to support Cinnamus and Psyche is here in support of Lula. Believe me, Mother, if it weren’t for the fact that Cinnamus was involved in this, I’d waste no time in giving that flighty nymph and her mortal boyfriend a big thumbs down. But since Cinnamus is an old friend and since he’s smitten to the point of distraction with the mortal boyfriend’s brother, I’ve agreed to act in his favor.”

  “All these years and I still can’t understand how you ended up being the god of love and eroticism,” Psyche complained. “You should be elated that Lula and Cinnamus have found love matches, Cupid.”

  “I’m thrilled,” he said with another yawn.

  “Mmm-hmm. Well, don’t think you fool me for a minute,” Psyche chastised. “I know how fond you are of Lula. She’s an excellent, devoted student of your academy.”

  “I—” Cupid started.

  “And I saw that sparkle of admiration in your eye,” Psyche cut him off, “as you told me about how the brave mortal defended Lula and stood up to Vibius’ repulsive antics. You should have turned that vile satyr into a horned toad.”

  Cupid shrugged, a smile teasing his lips. “Okay, so maybe Lula and the mortals aren’t so bad. Seriously, how long do you think this will take? I’ve got a new shipment of gold-plated arrows coming in and I want to inspect them.”

  “I’m the only one of the twelve here so far,” Venus said. “But then I’m always the most punctual. If the other eleven don’t get their lazy asses here soon, this hearing could drag on well into the night.”

  “My lazy ass is here, madam,” Mars boomed as he strutted across the floor to the bank of thrones, slumping into his velvet-lined seat. “What is all this nonsense about Cinnamus being enamored of a mortal? He’s always been so levelheaded. What’s gotten into him?”

  “He’s a good guy, Dad,” Cupid said. “And the best teacher I’ve got. Give him a break.”

  “He’s taking up valuable time that could otherwise be spent making war,” Mars grumbled, reaching for a cluster of grapes from one of the platters on the table and plucking the fruit off with his teeth.

  “My, aren’t we grumpy this afternoon?” Apollo said as he skipped into the room in time to the lively melody he played on his golden lyre. “I’m simply dying to set eyes on the mortal who’s finally turned Cinnamus’ head after all these centuries. He must be absolutely delicious.”

  “I agree. It all sounds positively sweet to me,” Diana said as she came toward the group and motioned for Egeria, the water nymph who was her servant and assistant midwife, to take a seat in the auditorium. The seats were filling quickly. “Hello, brother dear.” Diana exchanged air kisses with Apollo. “I say Cinnamus deserves to find himself a hot little stud muffin.”

  “Puhleeze.” Venus rolled her eyes. “This coming from the virgin goddess.”

  “Oh mee-ow, Venus,” Diana countered. “How many times do I have to tell you I’m a goddess to virgins—it doesn’t mean I’m one myself. I mean, seriously. You’re just jealous because I can shoot arrows twice the distance you can.” She raised her empty bow, aimed it at Venus and plucked it.

  “Well, duh, you’re a huntress,” Venus said, pushing the bow to the side and crossing her arms over her breasts. “Must you always carry that thing around?”

  “Are you two at it again?” Ceres said as she crossed the room and deposited a large basket of fruits and flowers on the table in front of the thrones. She carefully adjusted the garland of wheat ears circling her head.

  “Aren’t they always?” Psyche chuckled, looped her arm through Cupid’s and led him to the reserved seating section at the front of the auditorium.

  “It’s been eons since we’ve had two Earthly mortals making a plea,” Ceres noted. “It’s the first time in quite a while that they’ve been brothers. Fascinating. Cupid tells me they’re both quite attractive.”

  “I knew it,” Apollo said with an impish grin before he went back to strumming his lyre, headed to his throne and took a seat. “He’d have to be a hunk to snag Cinnamus.”

  “Ceres, we all know where your loyalties lie,” Venus accused. “After all, you are the goddess of the Earth and all that warm fuzzy maternal stuff that goes along with it.” She gave a dismissive wave.

  “Well, the way some of you have a habit of ganging up on mortals,” Ceres countered, “it’s a good thing they’ve got someone like me in their corner.”

  “How are the thrones holding up?” Vulcan asked, seemingly oblivious to the conversation as he strode past the others and headed for the bank of thrones.

  “Good and solid as always, brother,” Mars said. “Not a creak to be heard.”

  “Nice and comfy,” Apollo offered as Vulcan tested each chair, making sure it didn’t rock or squeak. “You clearly made them to last forever.”

  “Don’t bother saying hello, Vulcan, dear,” Venus quipped.

  Vulcan looked up, clearly distracted. “Oh hello, Venus. You’re looking lovely as usual,” he said in such a way that meant he hadn’t really noticed.

  “Of course I am.” She patted her golden upswept locks. “It’s what I do best.”

  A stern-looking woman garbed in a long dress and with her head covered moved past them without uttering a word.

  “There goes Vesta,” Diana whispered. “I swear to Jupiter the woman never even cracks a smile.”

  “She’s been hanging around her adoring Vestal Virgins too long,” Venus snickered.

  “I heard that,” Vesta said, depositing her scepter on the table in front of her throne chair then taking a seat after Vulcan finished examining it. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a serious and solemn occasion. One not to be taken lightly.”

  “So says the goddess of hearth and home,” Ceres said, applauding Vesta before taking her seat next to her.

  “Miserable mortals and nymphs be damned for ruining my holiday,” Neptune groused, striking the tip of his trident hard against the marble floor with each step he took toward the front of the room. “There had better not be any lengthy grandstanding,” he warned, frowning as he plunked down into the seat of his throne. “I want this to be over fast so I can to get back to my vacation.”

  “Where are you vacationing?” Apollo asked, absently plucking the strings of his lyre.

  “Inland.” Neptune grinned, grabbing a skewer of shish kabob from a platter and pulling a handful of the roast meat from the blade. “A marvelous little place on Earth called Arizona where there’s barely a speck of water to be found. Nice break from the daily deluge.” His expression quickly became a scowl. “Until I got dragged back here for this lovey-dovey nonsense.” He popped the meat into his mouth, chewing vigorously.

  “Look,” Venus said to D
iana as she clasped the woman’s arm. “There’s Cinnamus and the other three.” She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “I don’t like the looks of Lula. She’s too attractive for her own good.”

  “For your own good, you mean.” Diana laughed. “It’s a miracle your skin doesn’t turn green from all that envy coursing through your veins. Oh dear, poor Cinnamus looks tense, doesn’t he?”

  “As well he should,” Venus huffed. “He knows damn well we don’t take kindly to the pairing of gods and mortals. Look at the others with him.” Venus chortled. “They look about to faint.”

  “Mmm, but the two mortals are indeed scrumptious, aren’t they?” Diana observed. “Come on,” she tugged Venus’ arm, “let’s take our seats before the head honchos make their grand entrance.”

  “All rise, all rise!” Mercury announced a moment later, holding his caduceus aloft as his winged helmet and sandals allowed him to glide through the air two feet off the floor. Everyone in the auditorium seats as well as the thrones got to their feet. “The great ones arrive!” When Mercury got to the front of the room, he took his place standing before one of the four vacant thrones.

  Trumpeting music swelled as Minerva entered. Wearing a coat of mail and a helmet, she carried a spear in one hand and braced an owl on the other.

  She was followed by her father, Jupiter, and his wife, Juno. In one hand Jupiter clutched a cluster of thunderbolts and on the other an eagle rested. Looking as majestic as ever, Juno wore a diadem on her head while clutching a pomegranate in one hand and leading a peacock on a fine, slender gold chain with her other.

  As soon as the trio was seated, the music ended and all the gods but Mercury took their seats. Unrolling a ceremonial scroll, Mercury read aloud, introducing the Dii Consentes, the twelve major gods of the Roman pantheon, to all in attendance.

  “Here sits before you Jupiter, supreme god. Ruler of the gods. God of sky, lightning and thunder. Protector of the laws. Son of Saturn. Brother of Neptune, Pluto and Juno, who is also his wife.” Jupiter raised his hand and the auditorium cheered.