A Dream Come True

6. Zeus and Hera-1

Zeus and Hera

Keisha knew they had to be in the presence of Zeus and Hera, the king and queen of the gods. She had to keep reminding herself she was dreaming to avoid feeling overwhelmed.

Both Zeus and Hera looked more mature than Hermes and made the group feel much more intimidated. Zeus’s lightning bolts (thunderbolts as the Greeks called them) glittered and crackled threateningly in a quiver next to his throne. The large eagle perched nearby and eying them as if they were dinner made Keisha wonder if it was the same one that had eaten Prometheus’s liver.

Zeus himself wore a bright white robe, a purple cloak, and a crown of olive leaves. His expression was neutral at the moment, which was just as well—none of them would have wanted to face him when he was angry.

Hera, wearing a golden crown and holding a lotus-tipped scepter, was no less imposing, though at least the peacock strutting near her throne was not as scary as Zeus’s eagle. Unlike Zeus’s eyes, her eyes looked sad, as if something was bothering her, but she was doing her best to cover whatever it was.

“Father,” I bring you guests!” said Hermes, who then bowed. The rest of them stood awkwardly, not quite sure whether bowing themselves could be construed as an act of worship.

“Be at your ease, friends,” said Zeus in a voice loud as distant thunder, but warmer. “You may bow to us as a sign of respect, the way you would to any earthly ruler. We expect no worship from you.”

Relieved, they all did their best to bow to Zeus and Hera, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“Husband,” said Hera in a softer voice, “perhaps refreshments should be provided to our guests.”

Zeus looked annoyed. “Wife, you know how seldom we have human guests these days. We have nothing suitable, just the nectar and ambrosia reserved for the gods.”

“If we ate that, would we be trapped here?” asked Yong.

Zeus laughed heartily. “No, it is not like the food of the Underworld that binds someone there forever. The problem with nectar and ambrosia is that too much would make you immortal—and immortality is something we offer very rarely, if at all.”

“Why is that?” asked Fatima. “Didn’t you have loyal followers that you wanted to reward?”

“We see a great deal, but we do not see everything,” replied Zeus. “Mortals we think were worthy sometimes turn out not to be. Even our own kin cannot always be trusted.

“Consider the case of Tantalus, my own son.”

Hera squirmed a little on her throne but said nothing. Keisha recalled the amount of pain Zeus gave Hera through his numerous affairs.

“His mother was Pluto, a nymph whose father was said to be Cronus.”

“So she was your half-sister?” asked Mateo.

“I am his full sister,” said Hera in a tone that suggested Mateo had wandered into dangerous territory. The queen of the gods might be trying to restrain herself from bickering with Zeus in the presence of guests, but she might not be reluctant to take issue with one of the guests if he offended her.

“Such relationships are forbidden to mortals,” explained Zeus, “but among the gods, they are accepted. In any case, as my son, Tantalus was welcomed to Olympus and dined with us frequently. He betrayed that trust.” Now it was Zeus’s turn to look sad. Clearly, he still remembered how his son had let him down.

“Tantalus revealed some of our secrets to mortals,” said Zeus after an uncomfortably long pause. “Even worse, he stole nectar and ambrosia to give to them. Think of it—completely unworthy mortals might have become as the gods are.”

Given the faults the gods had, Keisha wondered if adding a few “unworthy” mortals would have made that much difference, but, not being Patrick, she kept that thought to herself.

“Even so, those were not his worst crimes,” Zeus continued. “Not satisfied with being our guest, Tantalus wanted to prove to himself that he was our equal. He chose to test the limits of our knowledge. When we came to visit him, also an honor we bestowed upon few mortals, he killed his own son, Pelops, chopped up his body, cooked him and served him to us.”

“Gross!” said Patrick, looking thoroughly disgusted.

“It was indeed,” said Zeus. “Thus he became not just a doubter of the gods but a murderer of his own son. We realized what he had done, of course. Only poor Demeter, then looking for her lost daughter, Persephone, was too distracted to notice at first and ate a part of the boy’s shoulder before she realized the truth.”

“For such vile acts, Tantalus was condemned to suffer in the Underworld,” replied Zeus, his eyes looking off into the distance as if he could actually see Tantalus enduring his punishment. “He is doomed to hunger and thirst forever and never be satisfied. Though the branches of a fruit tree hang almost right over his head, they pull back if he tries to pluck fruit from them. Similarly, he stands in a pool of water from which he should easily be able to drink, but it recedes from him whenever he tries.”

“Tantalus may have been the worst example of a trusted mortal betraying that trust, but he was not the only one,” said Hera. “Ixion owed us more, yet still betrayed us.

“Ixion was king of the Lapiths. His parents are variously named in different stories, though the theory that his father was Ares rings true to me. Ares is our son, but even we cannot deny he is overly violent, and so, alas, was Ixion.”

Zeus frowned. “Yes, Ares has always been something of a problem.”

“Why was he so…difficult?” asked Patrick, oddly sounding as if he cared about Ares. Keisha figured they were both jerks, so that made sense.

“He is a bully,” said Hera, looking at the floor. “War may sometimes be necessary, but Ares delights in it. However, he is only happy when facing foes he can easily defeat. Confronted by someone who is his better, he quickly runs away.”

“Yeah,” muttered Yong, “definitely a bully.” Yong’s tone made Keisha think that he must have had some experience with bullies.

“Like his presumed father, Ixion was too willing to use violence when it was not needed. He married Dia, the daughter of Deioneus. In those days it was customary for the husband to pay his father-in-law a bride price, but Ixion failed to do so. When Deioneus demanded what was owed him, Ixion invited him to a feast, but instead of honoring his father-in-law, Ixion threw him into a fire pit and burned him to death.

“Like Tantalus’s murder of Pelops, Ixion’s murder of Deioneus was made more heinous because the victim was a family member. Also like Tantalus’s crime, Ixion’s was a violation of the sacred host-guest relationship, though the exact details were different. Tantalus fed us, his guests, the flesh of his murdered son; Ixion murdered his guest, Deioneus.”

“At the very least, Ixion needed to be purified of his blood guilt,” said Zeus, “but his crime was so horrendous that none of his fellow kings would even consider cleansing him. Taking pity on him, I purified him and invited him to Olympus.”

The group was a little stunned by that revelation, even though the three who had the book already knew of it. It seemed out of character for Zeus to show such mercy, especially to someone whose crimes were so enormous.

“Having been saved by Zeus, one would have expected Ixion to be grateful, but instead he treated us as badly as he had treated his own family,” said Hera. “Such was his ego that he dared to cast lustful eyes upon me, the goddess of marriage, as if I would ever betray my vows for anyone, let alone such a notorious sinner.”

“And so again Ixion, this time as our guest, violated the host-guest relationship,” said Zeus. “His act was made all the viler by the fact that he owed me everything. However, as yet he had not actually done anything, merely thought about it, so I resolved to give him one last chance. If he could resist the temptation to pursue his lust, then perhaps he could be forgiven for his sinful thoughts.

“To test him I made a woman, Nephele, from the clouds and gave her the appearance of Hera. I hoped that Ixion might repent before it was too late. Once again, I was wrong.”

“Instead of resisting temptation, Ixion gave into it,” said Hera. “We knew this not only because Nephele told us, but through the inescapable truth of her pregnancy, for by Ixion she became the mother of Centaurus, ancestor the centaurs. With such plain proof of Ixion’s sin, there could be no further mercy, only punishment.”

“Ixion was bound to a fiery wheel, a reminder of the flames which had killed Deioneus as well as the flames of his own lust,” said Zeus. “The wheel was ever turning, spinning at first through the sky, but eventually in the Underworld, putting Ixion as far away from Olympus, the place whose hospitality he had violated, as possible. There he will remain forever.

“Can you now see why we do not bestow immortality casually on mortals?” asked Zeus. “Even those who are related to us and have received our special favors cannot be relied on to be loyal to us and to observe even the most basic morality.”

Before anyone could answer, a handsome young man that Keisha thought was probably Ganymede, Zeus’s cupbearer, rushed into the room.

“Forgive the intrusion, Majesties, but something strange is happening that requires your attention.”

“Pardon us for a moment,” said Zeus. Without another word, he, Hera, and Hermes left them alone in the intimidatingly large throne room.

“I wonder what could be happening,” said Fatima. “Not knowing makes me nervous.”

“We mustn’t lose sight of the fact that we are dreaming,” said Yong. “There is no real threat here.”

“Can you explain what’s happening, then?” asked Matteo.

“I do have a theory,” said Yong.

“You would,” said Patrick. Everyone else ignored him.

“Wasn’t it Sherlock Holmes who said, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth’? I’m not any more of a fan of the evidence for shared dreams than Keisha is, but that or some other psychic phenomenon is the best theory we have.

“We can all agree the gods aren’t real right?” Everyone nodded. “Well, then we have to find some reason we are all interacting with beings who don’t exist. A shared dream whose details are so vivid because all of us are somehow creating it together is the only theory I can’t immediately rule out.”

“It still sounds like a stretch to me,” said Mateo.

“Think about it,” replied Yong. “The gods do act as we—well, those of us who read the book, anyway—would expect, but with some odd differences that work to our advantage. If Hermes were real, would he be a tour guide? Would Zeus and Hera be happy with those tours going through Olympus? That part doesn’t make sense at all—unless we are creating them from our imagination, in which case it makes perfect sense. Because we’re interested in doing well on our test, they’re interested in reviewing the material with us. The gods we’ve read about wouldn’t give us the time of day for something like that unless we offered them a really good sacrifice, were related to them, or were appealing enough that one or more of them wanted to make love to some or all or us.”

“I could live with that last one,” said Patrick.

Before anyone even had time to properly ignore Patrick, Hera returned.

“Ganymede was reporting some trouble in Thrace, but it was just Ares—again. Zeus will have the situation resolved and be back in just a few minutes.”

Although the news seemed good, Hera continued to look unhappy.

“Why are you so sad?” asked Fatima, so moved by Hera’s obvious distress that she managed to overcome her normal shyness.

“Ordinarily, it would not be dignified for me to tell you, but under the circumstances, perhaps I should.” The goddess sat on her throne and looked off into the distance for a moment.