“Alms, great lady?”
The voice was hardly above a whisper, but the warmth that meant Hades inside the shell that closed her off from the world burst out of its little core and flooded her as his head lifted. The skin was brown, the hair grown into long tangled elf-locks, the beard now covered his cheeks and was longer and unkempt over his chin, but the great black eyes were his as was the love for her that poured out of him. The piece of metal she held fell from her nerveless fingers.
“Careful!” he whispered, scrabbling in the thin grass for what she had dropped.
He seemed to find it and rose, but not to his full height. Bent over a thick staff, he bowed and bowed again, meanwhile steadying her with the arm hidden by his body and hers. His caution brought back all Persephone’s fears. A thrill of terror, sharp and hot, dispersed the numbness of a shock that had almost caused her to faint. If Poseidon sensed him and caught him all alone, unarmed, defenseless…
“Beggars are not permitted on the road to Lord Poseidon’s palace,” she said, struggling in vain to keep her voice from trembling. And then a murmur hardly above the sound of her breath, “Come to the last house on the hill above the road down to the docks.” And though she felt as if her heart would be wrenched out of her body and left behind with him, she turned and walked away.
She heard an uneven step behind her and bit her lip, fearing that he would follow her closely and awaken the suspicion of the guard, who could still see them. However, the shuffling stride grew closer, and the bent old beggarman passed wide of her, shambling on down the road, making quite a good speed despite the crablike, sidewise gait. Despite her shaken state, Persephone had to smile. She had known that Hades had quite a turn for histrionics, but she was surprised at how convincing was his portrayal of an old cripple frightened out of his wits.
What was hard after that was restraining herself from running after him. Although she knew exactly how long it took to walk from the palace to Pontoporeia’s house—she had done it often enough—and she was unable to resist walking somewhat faster than her usual pace, she still felt that years were passing before she turned into the familiar street.
He was not waiting by the house. Her heart sank, Were there other roads down to the docks? Other houses he could have mistaken for this one? She looked quickly at the house across the road somewhat farther back, but no one was near, and the house was still and dark. Unable to think what to do or where to look for him, Persephone opened the door. A dark bulk turned the sea-side corner of the house, rushed along the front wall, and swept her inside. The door slammed shut.
* * * *
Poseidon woke in the great bed he shared with Amphitrite, sated with sweet agreeableness. He felt a bit as if he had eaten nothing but honey for a week. A soft glow suffused the chamber, and when he lifted his head he could see his wife’s lovely face. The faint green tinge of her luminous complexion, the darker gold-green of her hair spread on the pillow, which he had found so enticing when he first pursued her—and a long hard pursuit it had been—now added to his feeling that he was drowning in sweetness. She had been much more interesting when she resisted him, when he had believed there was something new and fresh in her cool, scaled skin, some mystery behind her dark green eyes.
The word “mystery” reminded him of Persephone. He snorted faintly. She would be no different. All women were much of a muchness once they were caught and tamed. And yet, from what Hermes said, Hades was utterly enchanted with her and he had lived with her for two years. Of course, Hades was a simple soul, a fool with limited desires. But that fool had denied him Olympus, had left him to rule fish and monsters. He owed Hades a bad turn, and what way to strike at him more deeply than to violate his wife? Nerus said she would rule beside Hades for many years. Let Hades drink the bitter cup of regret, as he had drunk the loss of Olympus, for all those years. Poseidon sat up abruptly and swung his legs out of the bed.
Amphitrite opened her eyes. “Do you desire my service, my lord?” she asked softly.
“No, go back to sleep. I have business in Aegina.”
“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, and obediently closed her eyes.
He stood staring down at her for a moment, exasperated, then shrugged and launched himself through the shimmering veil of water that made up one wall of the chamber. Beyond, he seized a twisted, glowing shell tethered to a frond of seaweed. When he put his lips to it, a mellow song echoed through the water. Not long after, a huge dark shape began to circle just above him. He rose effortlessly through the water, caught the tall dorsal fin, and lay down along the creature’s back.
The sun was barely tingeing the eastern sky with gold, when Poseidon rose through the pool into his bedchamber. A maid uncurled from beside the pool where she had been sleeping and presented a large, soft drying cloth. He passed it over his body briefly—little water clung to his dark skin—and clasped around his waist the kilt she offered, waving away the tunic she held over her arm and the tray of ornaments for which she reached.
Without saying a word, he walked out, turned the corner of the corridor, and made his way to Persephone’s room. He opened the door and slipped in, closing it softly behind him. The room was still dark, but he heard nothing and advanced quickly but silently toward the shadow he knew must be the bed. It was not until he reached out to grasp her that he realized the bed was empty.
He straightened up with an odd feeling of relief. On and off during the journey from the palace in the sea to Aegina, doubts about the wisdom of forcing Persephone had risen in his mind. He was almost certain Demeter would have no objections if he seduced her daughter, particularly since she would assume that if Persephone transferred her affections to him she would be content to remain on Aegina. Rape was another matter entirely. If Persephone held a grudge for that—and a surprising number of women did not accept it as a compliment and hated bitterly the man who forced them—Demeter might also take offense.
It would be stupid to annoy Demeter, Poseidon had thought. She could withhold this spring the fertility she had brought to his island last planting season. Worse yet, Demeter might be so angry, she would think Zeus the lesser offender and return to Olympus. That would spoil his revenge against Zeus. One revenge balanced against another, but that against Zeus might bring a substantial profit too. If the mages rebelled against Zeus because of the famine, and Demeter, who could end the famine, was his ally, he might be welcomed as ruler in Olympus. Revenge on Hades would bring no profit beyond his satisfaction in rubbing that pompous prig’s nose in the dirt. But Hades… If Persephone told Hades she had been forced…
Poseidon suppressed that thought, but the frisson of fear that had run up the sea king’s spine had made him very angry. He did not fear Hades. There was nothing Hades could do to him, no way that pitiful creature who had allowed himself to be content creeping about under the earth in the dark, could confront him. He would bed Hades’s queen to show he did not fear his cowardly older brother.
That angry mood had carried him through the palace to Persephone’s bed, but he was not altogether sorry to find her missing. Actually, he thought, as he left the chamber, his revenge would be much the sweeter if he seduced her. Nerus’s vision said she ruled beside Hades. That meant that either she would never tell her husband she had found his brother more to her taste—or, she would tell him and he would be slave enough to keep her anyway. Out in the corridor again, Poseidon laughed aloud. That would be a true revenge.
He returned to his chamber, ordered food be brought despite the early hour, and summoned Neso. “Find Persephone,” he said, “and tell her I would like her to join me. If she has not yet eaten, she can share my meal.”
He would have grown irritable again, because Neso did not return as soon as he expected, but Nerus begged admittance and when he received permission, presented a problem of rising animosity between two island populations. It was a matter of fish changing their feeding grounds so that the two, who for years had fished separate waters, now came into conflict
. While Poseidon was considering whether it would be best to discover what had caused the change in the habits of the fish and correct it so they would go back to their original areas, to introduce animals that preferred the new conditions, or to let the two populations fight it out, he forgot Persephone. Thus, when Neso returned to say she could not find her anywhere in the palace, Poseidon was mildly puzzled rather than annoyed.
When he had finished breakfast, he sent for Demeter and asked her whether she knew her daughter was missing. He was intrigued by the flash of irritation that she swiftly masked under an indifferent shrug.
“I suppose she is in the town,” she said with a sigh. “I do not know where I erred with that child. She has the coarsest and most vulgar taste in friends. She turns up her nose at the suitable and elegant young folk of your court and has taken up with, of all people, a potter.”
“A potter?” Poseidon echoed, thinking that if the little bitch were already unfaithful to her husband he would have a threat with which to seal her mouth and would not need to woo her.
“Yes.” Demeter might want to slap Kore silly for rushing off to town to make up with her unsuitable lover, but she was not about to betray her daughter to Poseidon. “She is forever running off to the woman’s house and sitting gossiping with her. They go to market together. Kore even buys things—I suppose to make herself seem more ordinary. She once brought home a fish! A fish!”
“How do you know where she goes?” Poseidon asked.
“When I first learned she had left the palace, I was afraid she was stupid enough to try to escape from Aegina. I did not want to warn her that you could easily bring her back if she tried because I did not want to put the idea of escape into her head if it was not there already. You remember that she had been bespelled by Hades and only wished to return to him. Well, that has worn off. I asked your scryer to watch her, but she never went near the docks or made the smallest attempt to speak to any person who sails.”
“The scryer watches her constantly?”
“As long as it does not interfere with any task you set for him. That comes first, always, of course. And once she is settled in the potter’s house or at some familiar occupation, he only calls her image now and again to be sure she is not doing anything new. I understand it is tiring to hold the spell at full strength for more than a few minutes at a time but no trouble to set it and invoke it periodically to see whether the subject has moved. After all, who could care what she said to the potter? It was all lies anyhow. She was afraid to admit she came from the palace, lest her low friends begin to fear her.”
Poseidon laughed. This habit of Persephone’s of wandering into the town would make everything much easier. He could try seduction, and if that did not work, pursue her to the potter’s house and carry her off. He was sure he could find some indiscretion to use as a threat to prevent her from complaining to her mother—possibly he would only need to say that he would forbid her to go to the town if she did not yield. After all, she was scarcely a maiden who needed to guard the prize of her virginity. In any case, there was no great hurry in dealing with her. He had better see what had caused whole schools of fish to alter the behavior of many years. That might be significant even if he decided not to interfere in the affairs of the islanders.
“So long as you know what she is doing and are satisfied,” he said to Demeter. “Neso told me she was missing from her chamber, so I thought I had better tell you.”
“Thank you,” Demeter replied, smiling sweetly. “You are always thoughtful of my well-doing.”
Poseidon nodded gravely. “I wish you to be happy. It is good for me and for my people. In fact, the reason I disturbed you so early is that I must go out at once to discover why two islands are about to come to blows.”
“Then I will not keep you,” Demeter said, rising. “I am sorry Neso troubled you.”
She left, returning a few minutes later to retrieve the scarf she had let fall when she rose. One of the maids always on duty admitted her and handed her the scarf. Poseidon was already gone from the chamber and Demeter saw with some relief that the margin of the pool was awash, showing that the water had been violently disturbed as it would be if a large man dived in. Poseidon had gone into the sea, which meant he had not sent for the scryer. She wondered uneasily what had aroused this sudden interest in Kore; he had never asked about what Kore did nor questioned the scryer before. Perhaps some power had leaked through Kore’s shield and he had felt it?
He had not lied. Demeter did not doubt that Neso had told him Kore was missing. However, Demeter knew quite well that Neso would be most unlikely to look for Kore so early or report her missing to Poseidon without first telling her mother she was gone. Neso was fond of Kore, and would not voluntarily make trouble for her. Thus, Poseidon had sent Neso to find Kore—very early, before the sun rose—and Kore had already gone to the town. Little slut! Demeter was exasperated, but then she sighed. In this case it was just as well she was gone. What could Poseidon have wanted with her so early in the morning?
There could be no answer to that question—unless Kore knew? That thought irritated Demeter all over again, and she went to check with the scryer just to be sure Kore was where she thought she was. The man was barely awake, but he apologized, excusing himself with the fact that Kore had never before left the palace so early. Demeter agreed, soothing him, and said she merely wished to be sure her daughter was not in some unexpected, possibly dangerous, place or in trouble.
The scryer brought out the specially bespelled bowl and invoked the spell. “The shielding on the house is much weakened,” he reported with some surprise, peering intently. Then he shook his head. “She is there. My spell found her, which it could not do when the no-see-no-hear was at full strength, but I cannot really see… Oh!” He glanced sidelong at Demeter. “She—she is with a man. They are—”
“That is what I thought,” Demeter interrupted. She did not want a blow-by-blow description, and she did not want the scryer to watch either. “Please put the bowl away,” she said stiffly. “I only wished to make sure my daughter was where she said she would be. You need not continue to watch her today.”
Kore would be back for the noon meal, Demeter thought. That was why she decided to meet her lover so early. She will want to visit another shrine in the afternoon. Perhaps the Mother does not mind that Kore comes to her dripping the stench of lust, and lust with an unworthy partner— She is said to be lenient in such matters—but I mind. I will go out to the second shrine this morning. Kore can just wait until I get back, as she seems to expect me to wait for her. I can make clear how I feel then.
Filled with righteous indignation, which screened the fact that Demeter was not too eager to see again the favor the Goddess showed her erring daughter, she returned to her chamber and sent for Neso. “I am going out to look over the fields near Khalas Méni to see that they are ready for blessing,” she said. “Tell Kore I will not be back for the noon meal but that she is to wait for me.”
* * * *
Some time earlier, while Poseidon was still being carried swiftly from the palace in the sea to Aegina, Hades had limped crabwise along the road to the docks. He had passed Pontoporeia’s house as if he had no interest in it, then carefully circled back and waited on the seaward side. When he heard the door open, he rushed forward.
Persephone gasped with shock as she was thrust into the dark interior of Pontoporeia’s house. She would have fallen from the violent push, but arms were supporting her, turning her around. Lips fell awry in the dark and in haste on her temple and cheek before they found her mouth. Persephone kissed him back feverishly; she had not seen his face when he rushed her into the cottage, but she knew him—the taste of his mouth, the smell of his big body, the feel of his beard against her cheek and chin.
Too soon he lifted his head. Persephone clung, but he took her face in his hands, broke the kiss, and murmured, “Whose house is this? Are we safe here?”
“Yes, safe,” she sighed, reach
ing for his lips.
He kissed her again, pulled back her hood and stroked her hair, then her back, but then he pulled away again and murmured, “For how long are we safe? Will the owner return soon?”
“No one will come,” Persephone said. “It is my house. The woman who carried my message owned it. I bought it from her, and it is bespelled against scrying.”
“I am so hungry for you.”
“And I for you.”
The touch and taste of him blotted out all else. She was one ache of longing, her nipples so hard and sensitive that the faint movement of his breathing against her set her breasts aflame and started a pulsing between her thighs. She scrabbled at his cloak, found the pin, pulled it and cast it aside. The cloak fell too, and she managed to unbuckle his belt, but it did not cover the familiar ties of his kilt. He was wearing a tunic, which defeated her blind effort, and beneath that there was something hard. Persephone whimpered with frustration.
“Let me, beloved,” Hades muttered.
She hated to release him, even for the few moments he needed to undress, but her own clothing had become a burden and shedding it distracted her just enough to remind her of the bed. She doubted it was clean and it was certainly damp from being unused, but it would be better than the floor. She reached out to take Hades’s hand and lead him, but she caught his hip instead and could not resist the urge to slide her fingers across his abdomen and touch what she wanted.
He dropped whatever he had been holding and caught her to him, holding her buttocks and lifting her a little. She took him between her legs most willingly, but the position did not give her the full satisfaction she wanted. And from the wordless exclamations Hades was making as he shifted her, he was also frustrated but enough caught up in the pleasure the pressure of her thighs was giving him to be unwilling to let her go.
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