Zeus's Condition

Arcadia

I stood in the backdrop of a stage, looking out; I see the lineup. A line of boys, all on the cusp of manhood trail along the village center, an archon stood on a stage behind, trying to silence the crowd gathered there. Everyone in the mighty town of Arcadia comes down and congregates here once a month on the evening of the full moon. All with a task to do, to vote on who the sacrifice would be.

The lineup consisted of ten boys, all wearing white chitons and looking their best, all looking fearfully at the crowd, trying their best to put on a brave face, but failing.

"Quiet!" yells out the Archon, a portly man with a white wig and a face like a cherub. He wore a dark blue chiton.

The crowd went quiet.

"We have gathered ten of our eligible young men here today to present one of them a great honour," the Archon begins, "this honour bestowed is of much importance and is set in place to make the Gods happy…."

I zone out, having heard this speech hundreds of times before. A lie is what it is; there's nothing honorable about it. I hear silence and look up and into the crowd; many have their hands up. The voting has begun.

I look down again, hating to see this part; it's always the same story; Every month, they vote, and the mothers cry while the fathers try to be strong as they say their goodbyes. Goodbyes that will ring in my ears for days.

Suddenly I hear the crowd start celebrating; it seems some poor soul has been chosen. Then, looking up again, I see a boy looking no older than thirteen staring into space with utter terror on his face. He's led up on stage by a burly man named Georgios, assigned runaway duty.

The boy will be paraded around town, fed his last meal, dressed in the finest clothes, and finally, sent off to death.

I don't hang around for the "festivities"; instead, I make my way back to my house. Once there, I prepare for my unfortunate evening task: the deliverer. I grab all the tools I'll need for the evening and lay them on my bed. Next, I wash my face and put on my nicest clothes, a chiton and a himation over the top. Finally, I add my belt and grab my kopis, a knife I'll use for the sacrifice, unsheathing it and making sure it's sharp before sheathing and hanging it from my belt.

Once I deem myself ready, I walk over to a mirror in the corner of the room. I look at my reflection and sigh. Starring back at me is a man that's seen it all: a tan complexion hidden behind a black beard and curly dark hair. The eyes, some might say of a mad man, a dark tone, almost black, gaze back at me. Seeing as it's nearly sundown, I turn away and make my way out, heading back to the boy,

Getting back to the town center is easy; the festivities are ending, and most of the towns folk have gone back home. Huffing to myself, I pick up the pace knowing I have a deadline and not enough time to complete it.

I make it back to the stage and find the boy. He's been cleaned up, dressed in the purple ceremonial toga, his dark hair brushed, and a leaf laurel is adorning his head. His face was splotchy and red from crying. On closer inspection, I realize I know this boy; It's Alexio.

Alexio is surrounded by his family when I step up, his mother, father, and two sisters all weeping, with tears rolling down their faces as they say their goodbyes.

I give them a few more moments, then make my presence known. Clearing my throat, I approach them; they turn, having been startled, I beckon for the boy, and he comes to me with no fuss, I nod to his family, and we turn and head out. A mournful wail cries out from Alexios mother as we leave. A sound that makes me hate myself.

We keep going, though. Out of the center of town. Down the road. To the path. And finally, up the mountain.