“Isn’t that what you tried to . . . ,” started Pippa.
Bellerophon blinked. He pounded the ground again with his cane but said nothing.
“And there was lots of rule breaking,” continued Pippa. “Everyone was . . .”
“Everyone was not switching horses,” stormed Bellerophon, finding his tongue.
“Ares will be furious,” cried Bas, in a panic. “If Kerauno had won, even with you on his back, Pippa, that would have meant Ares had won. He wouldn’t have cared that it wasn’t me riding. But now . . .”
Bas was right.
“Foul! Foul!” Ares had left the stands and was now on the ledge, shaking his spear in the air. His face was red, his hair wet from the storm. “That’s my rider, but that’s not my horse.”
“And that’s my horse, but not my rider,” called out a woman’s voice. Behind Ares strode a goddess.
She was wearing a long chiton that was neither dyed nor decorated, and her hair fell down her back in wet tangles. No black kohl emphasized her eyes or exaggerated her eyebrows. No beetroot flushed her cheeks or lips. She was not wearing rings or mulberry clusters in her ears. Her mask had made her out to be prettier. She was surprisingly plain. If it wasn’t for the rose decorating her fan, and the fact she stood taller than any mortal, Pippa might not have known it was her, the goddess of love.
“This is not what I expected,” said Aphrodite. Her face was twisted with emotion, and Pippa could not tell if the goddess was about to cry or laugh.
Ares pointed his spear at the great groom. “Bellerophon, were you not overseeing our riders?! How did you let such a thing occur?!”
Bellerophon pulled at his hair. He looked unsure of what to say, afraid of the god’s great wrath.
“If these children have bent the rules, don’t blame him,” said Aphrodite.
“Then I shall blame you!” cried Ares. He swung his arm and flung his spear. From it burst more spears that shot through the air toward the goddess.
With a grand sweep of her fan, Aphrodite conjured a wall of roses that climbed from earth to air, blocking the spears. They fell to the ground with a clatter.
“SILENCE!” ordered Zeus. He leaped from the platform down to the ledge, landing so hard it seemed like the rocky outcrop might crumble away.
“Why are you two fighting again?! What in mortal’s mayhem is going on?!”
Despite the rain, his beard was still as big as a treetop. His eyes sparked like lightning.
Fear coursed through Pippa as she gazed up at the mighty god.
She should have listened to Sophia. What was going to happen now? Zeus was angry—furious—at Ares and Aphrodite most of all, it seemed, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t exact his wrath on them, the mortals. There were plenty of examples of that. Zeus could do anything. Make them endlessly roll a stone up a mountain—or even turn them to stone!
Riders and horses, gods and goddesses, nymphs and dryads alike grew silent and still. Even the mountain itself was quiet.
“Tell us what happened here,” Zeus demanded, shaking the golden crown. Pippa could see now that it was made of three interwoven golden feathers. “Who is to blame? Who must be punished?”
Ares opened his mouth, but Zeus hushed him. “Not you! I’ve heard enough from you. The mortals. What have you to say for yourselves?”
Pippa could see Bas was near tears.
“It’s my fault!” she burst out.
“Really?” said Zeus, his eyebrows rising.
“Let me explain . . . ,” she started, but her voice stuck in her throat. She looked up at Zeus. His eyebrows were relaxed now. And the flash of lightning in his eye seemed more like a twinkle. She saw him glance up at the sky, then touch a feather pinned to his robes. It was a winged horse feather, but bright as a star. Was it from Pegasus, his first horse? Zeus must have been going to visit Pegasus when she saw him flying the other night. Maybe the feather was a way to remember the steed, when Zeus had to tend to business on Mount Olympus. He must really love Pegasus, just like she loved Zeph.
And that gave Pippa hope and courage. Maybe Zeus, all-powerful as he was, would understand.
“Let . . . let me explain” Pippa started again. “We switched horses. Bas didn’t want to win. He wants to go home. I love Zeph—Zephyr. I want to stay here with him. So I thought that if we switched horses, I would win on Kerauno and he would lose on Zeph.”
“But how then did Zephyr win?” asked Zeus.
They all looked at Zeph, who was nuzzling Pippa’s hand. She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was the lightning . . .”
“It was love,” said Aphrodite emphatically. “Don’t you see? Zephyr saw Pippa and flew to be by her side. Love should be rewarded. Besides, it is my horse that won, is it not? The right thing to do is for Zephyr to win and to allow Hippolyta to stay with him here.”
Ares stomped his foot. “But that mortal didn’t win! You can’t reward her. Or that pathetic creature!”
“Zeus won’t choose war over love,” snapped Aphrodite.
A look of frustration passed over Zeus’s face. “Can’t? Won’t? How dare you presume! I choose what I wish.”
Zeph snorted. His ears were turned back. Pippa could tell he didn’t like the arguing. “Shhh,” she murmured, her own breath tight.
Zeus stared piercingly at both of them. “Love, hmm . . . ,” he muttered, stroking his beard.
Pippa’s hand went in her chiton, reaching for her coin. Please, she thought. Please. . . .
“I choose”—the king of the gods paused dramatically—“neither! Send the two mortals back to Earth—at once!”
“So we both lose?” cried Ares.
“Hush, Ares . . . ,” started Aphrodite.
“This is all your fault!” The two began, once again, to argue.
Bas looked elated, but Pippa felt as if Zeus had actually turned her to stone. But this was worse. She would never see Zeph again. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his mane. She couldn’t leave him. Not after everything. She looked over defiantly at Zeus, whose attention was on the arguing pair.
“No!” she said.
“No?” Zeus boomed. He looked away from Ares and Aphrodite, and glared at Pippa. His eyes flashed red.
What have I done? thought Pippa. She clutched Zeph’s neck.
“You dare challenge me? For a horse?”
“Yes,” said Pippa, barely believing the words coming out of her mouth. “For a horse. For Zeph.”
Zeus looked like he was about to say something, but instead he touched his feather again, and his expression softened. He gave Aphrodite a nod. “Now that is love. You may be a mortal, but you have a mighty heart. Bah,” he sighed. “Take the horses with you. I’ve had enough of troublemakers for more than a mortal’s lifetime!”
Ares groaned with displeasure. But Pippa’s heart swelled.
Had Zeus really just banished Zeph with her? As he waved his hand to enforce his decree, Kerauno reared up.
With a sharp screeching whinny, like the sound of a thousand dying crows, the black horse lurched into the air and sped off into the sky.
Zeus sighed again and rubbed his temples. “So be it! Let that one banish himself. Come, riders, it is time to feast. Not you,” he said to Bas and Pippa. He glanced at Aphrodite. “Take them away.”
“But someone needs to win!” roared Ares.
Zeus paused. “I do need a new horse to carry my lightning bolts,” he said. “Very well. The first two places are disqualified. The winner of the race is Athena’s horse, Ajax. Zeus has spoken!”
Ares cried out in rage and stormed off.
Pippa looked over at Sophia, still astride Ajax, who stood so proudly he almost glowed. Was Sophia proud, too? It had not been a clear victory. But Sophia’s grin told Pippa how happy she was. After all, she had chosen not to cheat. She and Ajax had won fairly.
Pippa smiled.
“Goodbye, Sophia,” she whispered.
Sophia smiled back. �
�Farewell,” she mouthed.
Aphrodite took Zeph’s reins and gestured to Pippa and Bas to follow. “Come. Come with me. Quickly, before he changes his mind.”
Pippa would miss the feast and the grand celebration, when Nikomedes flew into the sky and became a constellation near Pegasus. She’d miss Ajax taking his place by Zeus’s side. Most of all, though, she’d miss Sophia. But no one deserved to win more than she and Ajax, both honorable and wise, and her friends, besides.
Twenty-Three
The mountainside was wet from the rain. Trees dripped and rocks glistened as Aphrodite led them down. Bas walked on ahead, a bounce in his step, obviously excited to be heading home, while Zeph flew near Pippa and the goddess, skimming the ground. Once, Pippa had so many questions to ask the goddess, but now she didn’t know what to say.
“Zeus can change his mind like the weather,” said Aphrodite. Unlike the Grace who’d spoken in musical tones, Aphrodite’s voice was ordinary. “I would have liked to win, of course, but this is a good outcome for you.”
Pippa wasn’t sure. She had no home to return to. How could she keep Zeph? And how would a winged horse live outside of Olympus? Bellerophon had said they couldn’t exist. What did that mean? He would never let harm come to one of his horses, would he?
Pippa’s worry grew with every step she took until it could grow no more and burst out as anger. She glared at Aphrodite and scolded, “You never came to see me. You never brought me gifts. I had no one to ask what to do. I had to make all my own decisions.”
“When I went down to the mortal realm,” Aphrodite said slowly, “I was planning on choosing your master’s son.”
“So I was a mistake . . .” Pippa felt her anger growing.
Aphrodite shook her head and remained calm. “Zeph, however, had other plans,” she continued. “He pulled me away from the stables, toward you. I wanted to let something grow out of love. Not force a match with might. That’s why I didn’t meddle, like all the other gods would have. I knew you had Zeph. I trusted you, Hippolyta, to do the right things. True love is trusting. Completely.”
There was a long pause, as the words settled in the air. Pippa wasn’t so sure, but . . . “Do you think I should have trusted Zeph?” she whispered.
“Perhaps,” said Aphrodite, with a nod. But then she added, “Had you not been ahead of him, would he have flown to catch up? Who is to know?”
“The Fates. They knew all along,” thought Pippa aloud. “Oh . . .” She pulled out the map of Mount Olympus from beneath her chiton. “This belongs to them. I promised I would leave it behind.”
She handed the map to Aphrodite, who looked surprised. “A gift from the Fates. That is rare. See, Hippolyta, you found your own gifts. Your own way.” She handed it back. “You may still need it.”
“They told me I would lose.” Pippa went on, “Did they know Zeph would win? Did they know all along?”
“Don’t give the Fates too much credit, my dear,” laughed the goddess. “They are merely three old ladies, and even they can only see so much.”
Pippa glared at her. She didn’t want to be so easily enraptured by this goddess, who seemed both nice and knowing. “If you know so much, what is this? Why was I left with it?” She pulled the coin out. “Does it have something to do with my parents?”
Aphrodite looked at it. “I am not sure, other than it is a sign that you were loved—and love horses.”
“I was not loved,” insisted Pippa, anger welling in her. She couldn’t believe that’s all the goddess knew. After all this time. “I’m a foundling. My family abandoned me.”
“But not because they didn’t want you,” said Aphrodite softly. “People make choices. . . .”
“But . . . ,” Pippa started.
“You made choices,” finished Aphrodite.
Pippa clenched her fist . . . then slowly relaxed it. It was true. She had left Zeph and chosen to ride Kerauno because she loved Zeph so much. She knew it now—that’s why her parents had left her. For a greater reason.
“They really loved me,” she whispered.
“Yes,” answered Aphrodite softly. “They did. Perhaps you or I will learn more one day. But you know the most important thing now—”
Pippa nodded. It was enough. For now.
They walked in silence, Bas still in the lead, lost in thought, too. Zeph was no longer flying but trotting along beside Pippa. Considering his earlier exertion, he was still remarkably energetic.
At length, they reached a spot where a stream gurgled, and they stopped so Zeph could take a drink. “I’m afraid I cannot go any farther with you,” said Aphrodite.
“But . . . ,” said Pippa, flashing the goddess a disappointed look.
Aphrodite took a deep breath. “I wish I could. But I must be present at the feast. I’ve caused enough trouble already.” Aphrodite placed her hand gently on Pippa’s shoulder. “Despite my words, I should have been there for you.” From the pockets of her chiton, she drew out a bundle wrapped in cloth. “Some food for your journey. Follow the rosebushes and you will find your way. They mark a secret path, a shortcut.”
“What of Ares? Will he harm my family?” Bas asked.
“I will do all I can to help you and yours,” said Aphrodite. She sighed. “That god. At least there is the monsters’ Pankration for him to bet on. Boxing and wrestling with the minotaur. Such contests distract him from all he’s lost. More than this race, yes. He had a family once. I was going to wager with him again . . . but . . . well, I suppose we’ll see. Maybe it’s better to let him win one.”
The goddess smiled and turned away from them, heading back up the mountain.
The three continued down the mountainside. Bas was almost skipping now, and Pippa had to hurry to keep up; Zeph trotted behind.
The goddess’s reassurance about his family seemed to have lifted a weight off Bas’s shoulders. Pippa still didn’t know where home was, but at least she had Zeph. She was no longer alone.
She looked back lovingly at her horse. But oh no! His feathers! They were falling out, leaving a trail like snow behind him. His wings were . . . disappearing.
“Stop!” she cried, turning to face him, blocking his way. The little horse obeyed.
He seemed to notice for the first time what was happening. He glanced up the mountain, then back at Pippa. And with a happy whinny took a few more steps toward her, his feathers drifting down to the ground.
“No! Stop, Zeph!” cried Pippa. But Zeph didn’t listen. He didn’t seem to care. He had made his choice.
“What’s happening?” Bas came running back. He saw the feathers. “Is he hurt?”
“No . . . I don’t know. . . .”
Pippa touched Zeph’s side, but too late—his wings were gone.
Tears filled her eyes.
“So this is what Bellerophon meant. Zeus did indeed punish you. Oh, Zeph, I’m so sorry.”
But Zeph didn’t seem upset. A butterfly flew by them, and he tossed his head in its direction and whinnied playfully. The butterfly landed on a rosebush, and Zeph trotted after it.
“He’s all right, I think,” said Bas.
Pippa wiped her eyes. “But . . . but . . .”
“You’re not,” continued Bas. He nudged her gently. “And that’s okay too. I’ve been thinking. Come with me to Thessaly. Zeph too.”
“Really?” Pippa asked, afraid she had misheard.
“Really. You took the blame. You convinced Zeus not to punish us. My parents will let you stay with us. I have six sisters. What’s one more?”
“But surely they don’t want one more mouth to feed.”
“One mouth, maybe, but two hands to help. Trust me.”
Pippa smiled. Trust. Just like Aphrodite had said. Bas was right; she would be all right. Zeph too. After all, it wasn’t his wings she loved. It was him. And he was with her. He had chosen to be. Even if he couldn’t fly anymore, that didn’t mean their adventures were over.
She picked up a single black-tipped
white feather from the ground and slipped it into the rose brooch, just like Zeus had worn his.
Her time on Mount Olympus may have come to an end, but Pippa couldn’t help feeling the real magic was just beginning.
Epilogue
The Fates groaned and moaned. Clotho had insisted on walking rather than riding, and it was a long walk from Mount Olympus to Bas’s farm in Thessaly.
When they reached the top of the hill, they leaned on their canes and peered down at the farm below. They could just see—for their old eyes were weak—a lovely white stone house with a courtyard and stables. In the pasture beyond were the horses.
One stood out from the rest. A white horse raced along with the others, faster than them all. Upon his back, two children rode, a girl and a boy, laughing and shouting and singing the song they’d heard a year ago: “‘Aloft wings beat and feathers fly, hark the horses of the sky!’”
“See. I told you so,” said Lachesis. “Love is greater than might.”
Atropos sighed.
“Bother,” murmured Clotho, shaking her head. “Here we go again.”
But she silently thanked that mysterious force, that tangler of threads, who knew more of love and might and all such bothers, than she ever would. And then, joints creaking, she turned and joined her sisters and hobbled home.
Aloft wings beat and feathers fly,
hark the horses of the sky!
IN MEMORY OF PEGASUS
The first winged horse of the gods and goddesses. His power was such that everywhere on Earth he struck his hoof, a fountain burst forth, the most famous example being the Hippocrene spring on Mount Helicon. But Pegasus is best known for carrying Zeus’s thunderbolts in his later years. Because of his faithful service, Zeus honored Pegasus by transforming him into a constellation in the night sky for all eternity.
Measurements
One palaiste = one hand
One pous = the length of one foot
Judge—Zeus
Wings of Olympus Page 11