Chapter Two

Chapter Two
The Divine Father himself spent a few moments waving and gesturing to the crowd before, letting out a chuckle that echoed in the crowd’s laughter. With that, he seated himself on a nearby ornate chair upon the dais, pulling a passing temple attendant upon his lap in passing. As the attendant giggled in anticipation at receiving such attention from the father of the gods, Zeus gave her a cursory glance. She was of age, though likely a virgin still. Her brow was not marked but she had beautiful amber eyes and lips that conjured tempting thoughts in Zeus’ mind. Remembering the moment, Zeus threw his eyes to his children. “Artemis! Lovely to see you, daughter!”

Zeus could not hide that he had a genuine preference for his daughters over his sons. He was well-aware that his children knew of the discrepancy between the genders of his offspring, so he saw little point in disguising his favor.

The smile of the god quickly faded as Artemis did not reciprocate his warmth. “Still mad at me then?” he asked with a certain mirthful tone.

“Yes,” Artemis said with a decisive bite.

He thought to ask why it was she was angered at him, but he was certain that only make her more wroth with him. Honestly, he could not be bothered to keep track of how he had disappointed her recently. She was so easily offended and so disapproving of his personality, it was difficult to even attempt to remain on her good side for any prolong period.

“We’re here, too, father,” said Apollo.

Zeus smiled. “I see that, sons,” he chuckled. Often one to play favorites among his children, Zeus also made it well known that of his many sons, Apollo and Hermes were the ones he valued most, simply because they were the ones most like him. Both were charismatic, laid-back, and shared his love of carnal pursuits. “How fare you today? Quite the festival, eh?”

“Very much so,” said Apollo. “Hermes here was just telling us that you had sent a letter for him?”

“Aye,” said Zeus with a glance to Hermes. “And can Hermes not speak for himself?”

“I can,” said Hermes with a playful smirk. “Eloquently, if I must. How about you father? Are you not feeling eloquent as of late?”

Zeus raised an eyebrow to his messenger. “Pardon?”

“No matter,” Hermes said, shaking his head and tucking a parchment into his vest pocket. “You summoned me here. Well? What is that you need, father?”

“So quick to business?” Zeus asked with a chuckle, turning his gaze on the attendant on his lap. He now realized that his hands had helped themselves to loosening her blouse’s strings and she was now on the verge of becoming quite immodest, downright indecent. Though, she seemed nervous, she did not object and thus he allowed himself to carry on as he turned his attention back to Hermes. “We are at a festival! There will be time for such trivial discussions later, son,” Zeus told his son. If truth were said, Zeus was stalling for selfish reasons. The matter of which he had needed to speak with Hermes was urgent and yet Zeus could not bear to put his mind to that task at that moment. He needed distraction. He needed release.

“If you insist, father,” said Hermes, glancing about the festival for a spell before his eyes settled back on Zeus. “Though, I cannot help but wonder… No, no matter. Have your way with the girl, father… then Perhaps I might have your attention once that is concluded.”

To be honest, Zeus had not really processed what Hermes had said as his focus was on the parts of the attendant that had now spilled from her clothing and the accolades of the crowd in the courtyard below the dais. Caught up in the moment, Zeus passionately proceeded to engage with the young priestess and before long; he swept her off her feet and carried her back to the temple. Zeus may be a showman, but he fancied himself a considerate lover and not one for public spectacles of this magnitude.

Zeus took the disrobed young mortal woman to the temple’s bathhouse and into the private adjoining bath that was kept sealed and protected by the temple guards at all times. These sentinels did not bar Zeus’ way and allowed him entry into the room where a small pool of Nektar awaited.

As his feet lowered himself into the pool of glowing golden liquid, the priestess let out a reverent sigh, she was still a virgin Zeus could tell and this would be the first time she had seen the Sacred Bath as the only attendants allowed to attend the gods’ needs in this chamber were those that had been previously approved by the gods through the same intimate blessing that Zeus would soon impart upon this temple initiate.

Over the centuries that the Olympians had spent on Elysium, molding the world to fit their needs, Zeus had lost count of the number of temple attendants he had personally initiated into the sacred sect known as the Sworn Servants of Hebe, but more often called Cupbearers. They were known as such as their order were the only mortals allowed to handle the sacred liquid by divine decree.

After this act, this young woman would be a Cupbearer and be allowed to wear the mark of Hebe, a yellow curved line upon her forehead which symbolized the golden glow of Nektar and a rudimentary basin or chalice. She was giving Zeus her virginity, but he was giving her a great honor, or at least that’s what she thought.

Truth was that prolonged exposure to Nektar, even simply handling the essence rich liquid, while rejuvenating for gods, was taxing for mortals. Not that they would notice it, or even mind it. The touch of Nektar would make a mortal feel warm and soothed and ingestion gave them strength and would heal old injuries; but with the passing of years, such constant contact with Nektar would wear a mortal’s body to ruin.

Most high priests and priestesses had the look of being old and wizened, but it was not due to their age. Most were no older than forty years, but looked twice that age, as they had been Cupbearers at some point and had handled the drink of the gods as keepers of the temple’s stores, servers in a god’s residence, or had been a bather.

Speaking of the bathers, two entered from a separate adjoining room, one man and one woman. They no doubt had heard Zeus’ entrance and the lightly splashing of Nektar and had entered to see if their services were needed. If they were surprised to see the father of the gods himself in the midst of initiating a priestess into their order, they did not show such by expression and stood on either side of the door they had entered from, ready to be instructed.

Zeus put them out of his mind for a moment and focused on pleasing his new lover. When that business was concluded, he beckoned the attendants into the pool with him to clean their new inductee while he watched the process. The ritualistic cleansing had just begun when the guards opened the great doors behind him and allowed another to enter the chamber.

“Enjoying the show, father?” asked Hermes as he walked in fully clothed and let the guardians close the door behind him.

“Very much,” he said, returning his eyes to the naked mortals. His words got a blushing smile from the youngest of them, which in turn amused Zeus. Unlike many of the gods, Zeus truly did care for the mortals beneath him in his own way. He received no small enjoyment out of observing their interactions, often rationalizing his intimate pursuits with them as an intense desire to give himself to them. But even he knew that was an empty lie. He was hollow inside and this perversion of his was the only way he knew to distract himself from his own haunted memories.

Well, one of the only ways he knew. Remembering another, he grabbed a nearby chalice and banged its metallic rim against the edge of the pool. The clanking alerted one of the attendants. “Wine,” he commanded and the bather nodded before departing from the bath.

The dripping naked man looked to the messenger with a raised eyebrow, silently seeking to know if the younger god wished to drink with his father.

“No thanks,” said Hermes, shaking his head.

“He’ll drink,” said Zeus, overriding his son.

“On second thought… I’ll have a drink,” said Hermes with a snicker. Once the attendant left to fetch the wine, Hermes took off his Talaria and his boots, setting them aside so that he could remove his socks and roll up his pant legs to dip his feet in the Nektar bath. “Is now a good time to speak then?”

“If we must...”

“You’re the one who summoned me, father.”

“Indeed,” said Zeus with a slow nod.

“Just have out with it!” exclaimed Hermes, directing the two naked women before them to stare at him for a long, awkward moment.

Zeus dismissed their stares with a wave of his hand a mirthful laugh. Then once the mortals returned to the cleansing ritual, Zeus glanced at his son and let out a sigh. “I hate complications. I like to keep things simple…”

“And yet you wanted to be king, father.”

“At the time, per-“

Hermes’ expression shifted. “We should not be having this conversation among the mortals, sworn servants or otherwise.”

Zeus scoffed. “They are templars! They know of our faults, Hermes. Do not fool yourself into thinking all mortals believe us to be perfect. These are those who recognize our shortcomings and still find us worthy of adulation and exaltation!”

“Out of respect or fear?” asked Hermes, glancing at the mortals for a brief second, prompting them to cast their eyes downward to avoid eye contact with the messenger.

“Does it matter why they worship us? No. It never has. Whether it is love, fear, belief, or duty… It matters not. All that matters is that we receive their worship and that psychic energy so that we might mold it into Nektar to maintain our bodies and Ambrosia to power our essence and maintain our divinity,” Zeus said with a harsh tone as the doors opened behind his son to welcome the attendant with their wine.

“Forgive me, father,” said Hermes, shaking his head. “I did not mean to offend or disturb you, least of all incite you to anger. I am merely uncomfortable discussing our weaknesses with those I do not know.”

Zeus saw the hitch now. Hermes was the God of Thieves. Zeus saw so much of himself in his son that he often overlooked that Hermes had used his cleverness in a similar vein to that of Zeus’ own brother, Hades. While Hermes could be care-free and even a trickster, he was a being of guile, a secretive god.

“No,” Zeus nodded. “Perhaps you are right. I lack the forethought that you do, son. Discretion is likely the better course here. Leave us,” Zeus said the moment his chalice was filled with wine.

“But, your grace, the welcoming ritual has yet to be completed,” said the female bather as the male bather began pouring Hermes’ drink.

Zeus sighed as he gathered himself from the bath. “Very well, finish here… Hermes, if you’ll accompany me to the garden,” Zeus said, trailing off as he took the first sampling of his wine as he made his way to the third and final door in the chamber, that which led to the Garden of the Divine, another part of every temple reserved for the gods.

Hermes followed with haste, careful not to leave his boots and Talaria behind. So untrusting, Zeus thought.

In the garden, Zeus was still dripping of excess Nektar, giving his skin an ethereal glow as he sat upon a bench under the shade of a Maenad Maple tree. He was as naked as the day he was born so many eons ago, but he had no shame. Hermes was no stranger to the nude form either and paid it little attention. They were primal beings. Modesty was for mortals.

“Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” asked Hermes, leaning against the nearby tree, his eyes constantly shifting as he began to drink from his chalice slowly.

“I have need of an assignment for you, son,” said the divine king.

“Very well,” said Hermes, “what is the message and where need it be?”

“Not a message,” said Zeus, “an assignment.”

Surely Hermes was not alarmed by this. He was a versatile god and doing tasks not in his official duties was something he was quite used to by now. His expression reflected this as he remained unfazed as he let out a soft breath. “Whatever it be, tell me, father. Send me on my way or leave me to my own devices. I care not; I just want to be free to go.”

“Always wandering and yet you still seek to continue roaming,” Zeus smiled. “How I envy you, son.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“Impatient, though.”

“Is this a lesson in patience?” asked Hermes.

“No,” Zeus shook his head. “Actually, it is quite urgent. I am just not comfortable with the ramifications and consequences once I set you on this task.”

Hermes sighed. “If it is a matter that needs delicate handling, I assure you, there is no other god better suited for it than I.”

“It may require some brute force as well,” said Zeus with an uncomfortable chuckle.

Hermes clutched one hand in the other, massaging his knuckles. “I invented boxing, need I remind you. I am no stranger to throwing a punch if the situation calls for such.”

Zeus nodded. “How up to date are you with the political climate between Sparta and Athens?”

“I visit both locales with frequency, father,” Hermes said with a simplicity that seemed too bland to be anything but honest, not Zeus or anyone could ever tell if Hermes wanted to tell a lie undetected. “I doubt there is a single god better versed in that political theatre than I.”

“Athena and Ares? What of them?” asked Zeus with a smile, thinking he had outwitted his most witty son.

“I said no single god,” Hermes said with a flash of a grin. “That would be the pair more in the know on that matter than I.”

Zeus chuckled. “Very well, son,” he said, nodding with a sigh. “Apparently, there was an incident two days’ past. An airship crashed just outside a Spartan border town. The ship was Athenian Aerial Fleet and had drifted off course due to weather.”

“Ah,” said Hermes.

“For whatever reason, the Spartans denied this happened yet there is evidence that the Athenians have which indicates that statement as false. I’d like you to find out why that is.”

“Sounds like a mystery,” Hermes said with a smirk. “Don’t you normally put your brother on such tasks?”

“Hades is busy with an ongoing investigation into the heretic movement.”

“The Broken Book,” Hermes said with a nod. “That is right. Pardon my forgetfulness. Well, if you’d like, I can investigate that and let this matter be-“

“No! Zeus blurted out. “You are better suited to this task. Its need for investigation is little, but its need for diplomacy is great. Hades is blunt and to the point. He does not negotiate or compromise. You are subtle, manipulative, and discreet. You are also clever and able to think outside the proverbial box.”

Hermes scoffed and smiled. “I cannot argue with you when you flatter me so, father. Very well. I accept. Where shall I begin?”

“The Spartan capital,” Zeus said. “Go there and speak with your brother, Ares-“

“Half-brother,” Hermes corrected.

Zeus did not favor the distinction and carried on. “Speak to Ares directly. You should find him at the temple. According to what I have heard from his mother, he spends most of his time there working with Hephaestus around the clock.”

“This can’t be good,” said Hermes. “Ares working with someone. What madness is this?”

Not amused by Hermes’ wisecracks, Zeus gave his son a certain glance that put an end to his smile. “Find out why the ship was shot down, why the Spartans are denying it, and above all, avert war at all costs. Am I clear, Hermes?”

“Practically invisible, father,” Hermes said with a nod. “I best be off. I imagine enough time as been wasted on this urgent matter already.”

Zeus sighed as Hermes strolled away. “You’re probably right… I just hope that my delays have no caused further complications.”

Hermes did not have the words to say to his father to comfort him. He simply stared at him in empty silence for a long, lingering moment before showing himself back into the temple through a different doorway than they had entered.

Characters

 * Hermes - Messenger of the Gods
 * Apollo - God of the Sun
 * Artemis - Goddess of the Moon
 * Zeus - King of the Gods

Notes and Trivia

 * Artemis resents her father because of the role he played in the death of her lover, Callisto. Zeus has impersonated Artemis in order to seduce Callisto, and she was killed when she jumped in front of an arrow Artemis had fired at her father.