Seeds (12 page)

     “Well, the gods often argue amongst themselves. I can honestly tell you that it is not worth worrying about.”

     “Really?”

     “Yes, really.” He smiled at her warmly. “It is much better to focus on the world around you, rather than the bickering of others. I find my surroundings far more interesting, anyway.”

     She considered his words, nodding as she saw the wisdom in them. Had she been older, she might have caught on the double meaning of his words. When he reached down to place a hand on her shoulder, she did not flinch. His hand was surprisingly warm – everyone expected Hades to be as cold as his realm, and this warmth comforted her.

     “Kora!” she heard her mother yell. She turned her head in the direction of the door she had come through. In a moment, Demeter appeared through the doorway, a hand on her hip. When Kora looked back, Hades was nowhere to be seen.

     “Kora, we are leaving now,” Demeter stated as her daughter made her way down the marble-lined path and up the steps. When the younger goddess turned around, still there was nobody, though she could almost swear she was still being watched.

     “Goodbye, Kora. Thank you for coming. It truly was a joy to meet you,” Zeus said, raising his hand. Demeter quickly tugged her along, though not before Kora returned Zeus's farewell with a cheerful wave of her hand. She did not tell Mother about her meeting with the Lord of the Dead.

o0o

     Hades had been in a contemplative mood ever since he had returned from Olympus. Even though he had known the young goddess but for a few minutes, he was captivated by her. He was no stranger to the pleasures of the female body – having had the nymphs Minthe and Leuce as lovers – but never had he been stirred so powerfully as when he had gazed into this goddess' green eyes. She had been a bit afraid of him at first, but that had quickly changed, and her smile had brought to him a certain light that not even Apollo's most radiant brilliance was lacking in.

     These feelings startled him. They were completely foreign to him, for he honestly had never felt such a way about anybody or anything, nor did he think or imagine that he'd ever be capable or aware of such emotion.

     When Hades received a summons from Minos to aid in the judgment of a particularly wicked soul, he was glad for this distraction from his thoughts.

Chapter VII

o0o

     Two years came and went, and Kora had all but forgotten her meeting with Zeus and Hades. Ptheia gave birth to another girl, naming her Deianeira. Sometimes Kora wished she had a little brother or sister of her own, but Auntie let her visit whenever she wanted, and with her aunt's ever-increasing brood, Kora had no shortage of playmates.

     The summer solstice came with one of the festivals that was now commonplace in Enna, and she became thirteen, that age where a girl usually experienced the subtle changes in her body that signaled the departing of childhood. It was something she looked forward to fervently as she felt and saw the almost imperceptible changes of burgeoning womanhood, something she first noticed just a couple of months ago.

     She was tired of being a little girl. She loved her parents, but they were rather protective. It was okay for her to play with Phemos or other neighbor boys, but over the last couple of years, Mother had grown increasingly overbearing, refusing to let her run off alone with the boys. They could only play with her if they remained within the bounds of her family's lands, where her mother or another adult could keep an eye on her. Kora chafed at this watchfulness.

     She knew what it was boys and girls – at least, those older than her – did. Anyone who was raised on a farm was usually subject to the sights of animals copulating at least once in his or her life, and Kora certainly was no exception. She had made this connection with the noises she heard from her parents' bedchamber, and the swelling of Ptheia's belly. No one had ever discussed the particular details of the dynamics between a male and a female, but being curious and intelligent, Kora had figured it out on her own. It didn't strike her as interesting, this joining or the sounds she heard, or the evidence of such intimacy. She didn't desire to couple with any of the boys, but she did feel flattered when they brought her flowers or other small tokens. Besides, these young flirtations came to the same end, with Demeter soundly shooing them away despite her daughter's embarrassed protests.

     Iasion was considerably more lenient – especially when Mother was gone on her tasks as a Goddess – warning her to be careful and not let any boy touch her where her clothing covered her, and if some boy did try to force her hand, she was instructed to kick him in a certain area of his anatomy and run. She had never encountered a situation where she had needed to take such a preventive measure, but it certainly was nice to know!

     She was always glad when Mother was absent on her duties – sometimes for a day or two at a time – so she could cavort around as much as she pleased. Phemos had asserted himself as the leader of the local boys, and often he would invite her – or tug her – along on his adventures. She romped through the woods and over the creeks barefoot, as free as any boy. And ever mindful of her father's words, she did not allow any boy to look up her skirt or touch her in these forbidden areas. Honestly, Mother need not worry!

     The summer beat on, the days long and warm, but nobody had any real reason to complain as there was always plenty of shade to sit under, succulent fruits to enjoy, and cool water to drink. She would play hide-and-seek or tag with her father sometimes, running up and down the rows before Iasion would pick her up, tossing her in the air and laughing at her delighted shrieks.

     But one day, that was all to change.

o0o

     The long days were just starting to cool as the people of Enna made preparations for the harvest festival. Kora always enjoyed the harvest. Her mother had given her a small sickle a couple of years ago so that she could help with the crops. Rather than use her powers to make everything easy, Demeter often did the work herself, using her hands, plow, and sickle to plant and reap her bounty. Kora had received the sickle so that she could harvest, her mother wishing to instill that same work ethic in her daughter that she had in herself. Kora would not be a spoiled little goddess, and so far, Demeter's method of child-rearing had produced satisfactory results.

     After a morning with her grandmother and aunt gathering berries and honey, Kora decided to return to her father's plot. She had already washed the honey off herself, unmindful of the few bee stings she had earned for her efforts. Insect bites and stings had never been more than a mild annoyance to her. These stings were mere pink spots on her lightly tanned skin and would be gone within a few minutes, while her aunt would be nursing her own for considerably longer. Kora sometimes felt sorry for her mortal relatives. If they cut themselves or were otherwise injured, it always took time to heal, from a few days to a few weeks. For her? She had never suffered any serious wounds, but she had cut and scraped herself a few times throughout her childhood – what child ever escapes that fate – but they would always be gone within a few moments, and never with any mark or infection left behind.

     “Daddy!” she called out, moving between the thick rows, the stalks heavy with wheat the color of her mother's rich tresses. Demeter had once explained that each god usually had something to their appearance that reflected their gift. Demeter's warm golden-green eyes and blond-streaked light brown hair were the color of grass and wheat respectively. Her body was strong, and when she hugged Kora, warm and comfortable, rather fitting for a goddess of bounty. Dimly, she recollected Zeus and Hades. Hades's appearance was dark like the realm he ruled. Zeus had a powerful presence, his beard and hair silvery-white, the color of lightning, his eyes the color of the heavens he resided over. She wondered what other gods would look like. Would Apollo be bright and shining? Was Ares red-faced and thick-muscled? Was Artemis a wild-haired creature, long-legged and graceful like a deer?

     Her stray thoughts amused her for a while as she skipped through the field, her arms sweeping gently from side to side to brush the tall stalks out of her way.

     “Daddy!” she called out again. Usually, when she called for him, he would answer back so she knew where he was. This time there was no response, and she wondered if he was using the little shack set away from the house, the one he had built so that everyone could have privacy doing what he called private business. So she waited for several minutes, her skip turning to a casual stroll as she took her time. After a while, she called again. She frowned when she saw the wooden door to the shack was ajar. He wasn't in there, so where could he possibly be?

     Entering the house, she did a quick exploration, running from the large central chamber into the pantry, and then opening the door to the bedroom her parents shared. Nobody lay on top of the large bed.
Hm
. Even though she knew there was probably no need, she checked her room. As she expected, it was empty. If Daddy had any kind of errand to perform and Mother was not here, he would inform Kora as to where he was going, or take her with him. This was odd...

     “Daddy!” she screamed, running from the chicken coop to the goat-pen before dashing along the edge of the vegetable garden. With increasing concern, she climbed onto the fence and strained her neck, wishing she was taller so she could see better over the stalks. No telltale movement of head or the swaying of stalks being cut or disturbed alerted her to his presence. Her young heart thudded in her chest as her stomach tightened.

     As far as she could remember, there had always been an olive tree on Iasion's lot, not far from the border of the hills. It was a favorite spot to take a break or have some lunch, or play games. The wheat obscured her sight of the base of the tree as she made her way back through it.

     Iasion lay against the tree, his eyes closed, his left hand over his heart. Oh, he was taking a nap... wasn't he? Her stomach twisted even more as she saw the oddly slack expression on his handsome features, his dark beard sandwiched between his chin and chest. No one who was sleeping looked like
that
. This was more than the mere peace of unconsciousness.

     Hesitantly she approached him, her footsteps shuffling as she called for him a couple more times. He still did not move, not even when she touched his shoulder. There was no rise or fall of his chest, and no gentle, rumbling snore made its way from between his slightly parted lips. She touched his hand, the one he held over his heart, and picked it up. Due to the warmth of the day and his recent death, his flesh was still warm. But she felt no life within. And when she let go of his hand, it dropped onto the dirt with a small puff of dust.

     Animals had died and she had mourned for them, but not terribly. A few old people passed away here through the years since she was born, but she had never witnessed their deaths, and their funerals were not somber occasions, for these people at least had died happy. Their families had chosen to celebrate their funerals with muted, respectful festivities, praying for his or her safe crossing over the Styx and a positive reception in Haidou. Still, Kora understood it was permanent. These people would never wake up to feel the sun on their faces or see their relatives again. The animals would never get up to their feet and come running when food was offered, or nuzzle her hand when she petted them.

     But death had still been a distant concept to her, something that only happened to old people or animals when their time had come. Never had it occurred to her that her father might leave her mother and herself one day, forever. No. Never had she been so... afraid of the absence of life. This was her
daddy
. He wasn't old or sick. He had been so full of life! She had eaten breakfast with him this morning, and he had been full of good cheer, a big smile on his face as he greeted her after she climbed out of bed.

     Now here he was, no longer smiling. Never would he toss her into the air, or tell her a story, or plant seeds with her again.

     Hot tears burned behind her eyes as she spun away, running through the fields to her uncle's house, wailing at the top of her lungs in a heart-wrenching song that reflected her shock and grief.

o0o

     When the shade told Hades that Demeter was just now crossing the Styx, the Lord of the Dead was astounded. No god ever came down here for any trivial matter, and even Hermes, quick of foot, always hastened to arrive and leave as if Kerberos was at his heels. Not that he blamed them, for this was indeed a dread realm, and one that very few people – himself included – understood, much less embraced. He had been in the library, casually perusing some papyrus scrolls from Aígyptos when he received the news, and he immediately hastened to the shore of the river, its dark waters lapping at the gray sand that lined its sides. Kharon approached the pier, his face invisible under the heavy cloak he wore.

     Demeter sat in the ebony boat, her head hidden under a thick cloak of dark gray-brown. When Kharon anchored briefly, his skeletal head bowed in respect of the goddess. Demeter stepped out of the gently swaying vehicle without losing her balance, entirely unaided after waving away the ferryman's proffered hand.

     Hades waited solicitously, his hands folded under his crossed arms. When Demeter lifted her face to his, he was shocked to see that her cheeks were wet from tears.

     “Do you wish for the privacy of my Palace?” he asked before ushering her along, and she nodded as she started off with him. The walk was silent, but the goddess's grief was palpable, practically rolling off her in waves. What could she possibly have been sad about? Had Zeus played another trick on her, one that was truly unforgivable?

     The grove of dark and twisted trees they walked through was eerie, the tips of the branches looking like claws reaching out for them as they walked along the smooth path. The rock ceiling that hung above the area of souls waiting to cross the Styx faded into an overcast sky – always varying shades of gray – and his palace stood out in stark contrast to the sky, black against pewter. As Demeter glanced upwards, she wondered how Hades could live in such bleakness. Day after day, century after century in this gloomy place, she would certainly have gone mad. Yet Hades had volunteered to take this realm before anyone else could argue about who got stuck with this dismal place. Not once had he ever complained about his lot.

     A shade appeared at his side as the doors to the Palace opened in front of them.

     “Get a comfortable chair,” he whispered. The shade slunk back into the shadows, and near the throne a chair appeared, the frame made of dark metal, with a soft cushion and padding on its curved arms. Normally such a comfortable chair would not be offered to visitors, but Hades was an especially considerate host to those that he felt deserved it. He sat on his throne, propping his chin up on one elbow as he waited patiently, his eyes filled with kindness and concern as Demeter broke out in a short bout of weeping.

o0o

     The goddess took a deep breath, collecting herself, trying to still the tremble in her hands. Oh gods, why did this have to happen? Though Demeter called Enna her home, she would appear at other temples in other cities, answering prayers, supervising festivals, giving out blessings, or in a few cases, handing out punishment as she saw necessary. She had been at Thebes when she was struck with a terrible sense of foreboding, and rushed back home only to find Kora weeping and Eurycleia wailing over Iasion's dead body as Hyalos tried to comfort them.

     It felt as if the earth had dropped out from below her very own feet, casting her into the darkness of sorrow.
Not Iasion
. Not her beloved, the man who she had brought to his fullest potential, the man who had loved her without reserve and worshipped her dearly! He had been in his prime, without one single defect or infirmity to lend any frailty to his strength. His death should have been a long way off, especially with the magically induced extension she gave his life!