Seeds (5 page)

     But Europa had been dead a long time, and Zeus had had many lovers since then. There were times when he appreciated the company of mortal maidens more than his own kind. Mortal women were usually more appreciative of his favor, though some of them did tend to run into misfortune due to his attentions despite his efforts to protect them.

     He shook his head, not wishing to dwell on the frailty of mortals. What he enjoyed about mortal lovers was that they appreciated life more. Their lives were ephemeral, and he was glad to not face the jaded wisdom or bored ennui that afflicted most of the gods and goddesses alike. Mortal women also had an especially lovely glow after he made love with them. It was one of the few things now that gave him any joy in life, seeing that glow in a woman. In fact, it'd been a while. Hmm. But at the moment, he was in the mood for a lover that lacked mortal fragility. He needed someone who could keep up with his appetite.

     How could he woo his estranged wife this time? As she regarded him coolly, he plucked out a rose – a fine, deep red one – and raised it, making it clear that it was for her. Her expression did not change as far as he could see, though he could have sworn he saw her upper lip twitch a bit. He lifted his hand a bit higher, making sure she could see the rose.

     “Dearest wife, the moon will be full tonight. Perhaps we could take a walk in the orchard. And if you are up to it, we could... frolic. It would be just like the good old days.”

     “Why do you care about preserving these... good old days? You do not care enough to honor them.” Her usually warm eyes were now hard, and seemed almost gray.

     “I know that I have erred, and I am sorry...”

     “I will hear nothing of it.” She lifted her chin, staring at him imperiously. “I am needed in the mortal realm, and there I am more honored than I am here.”

     “But...”

     “My mind is made up. My decision stands. I will not lie in the bed that my husband refuses to honor. It is clear that you lack respect for women who honor their marriage vows, anyway.”

     Her tone was icy, and Zeus turned away in defeat. How the hell had his wife known? He had tried to be careful and discreet in the affairs of his bed, and had ended the relationship not long ago. The last thing he had wanted to do was get Melia in trouble with her husband! Too late now to ask questions, anyway, He retreated to his throne room and sat there contemplatively as the sky darkened. He needed a distraction to ease himself from his guilty conscience.

     He rose from his seat and stalked off to the home that Hera had established for herself. It wouldn't be the first time he had sneaked into his wife's house. After being cheated on by him so many times, she had finally moved to a house of her own, telling him that she would waste no effort in warming his bed since he sought fit to seek such comforts elsewhere, nor would she even bother to keep house for him.

    Even though he acted as if it were nothing, deep down inside he was hurt, and even more so since he knew she was right. He loved her – he always would – and sometimes felt that she was too good for him. He remembered their early years. Such happy years they were, before his eyes had started to wander and he resumed the activities he had engaged in during his bachelorhood, before and after his failed relationships with Metis and Mnemosyne.

     Hera supported him publicly as his consort, performing her duties as Queen. Sometimes he wondered why she didn't just rebel against him and take a lover of her own. Oh, how jealous he became at the idea – yet he continued to stray from his wife. He couldn't help himself. It wasn't that he didn't care for Hera – he just liked some variety. Did that make him a terrible person?

     After several days, his need for a bed-mate overrode the patience he attempted to maintain. Sometimes he was able to wait long enough to get back into her good graces. Now simply was not one of these times.

     Hera's villa was silent as he entered through the back way. The nymphs that attended to Hera were asleep, and he slipped through the hallways. There was one very important reason he had sneaked into Hera's residence.

     Her scrying glass was where it had always been, giving him no small amount of relief. Once in a while it was moved, and he'd have to search for it frantically, but it was in the same spot as it was last time, hanging on the wall in her bedchamber. As he approached the silver-backed glass mounted on the wall, he studied his own reflection. Healthy tanned skin and a youthful complexion, thick, wavy white hair – he preferred white over black, liking the dignity it gave his appearance – and flowing but neatly-trimmed beard, and his biceps bulging as always. He was proud to be one of the most handsome gods in the entire pantheon, and shot his reflection a grin before he came closer to it.

     Normally, he wouldn't resort to using Hera's mirror to find a new lover, but at this time, he wasn't interested in making the effort to search for one, which could sometimes take quite a while. And he kept himself from getting caught by using this mirror infrequently. If Hera ever knew or suspected, she never let on.

     The mirror was easy enough to use, should one know the proper gesture and incantation. The mirror had been a gift to Hera on her wedding day from the skilled hands of the Cyclopes, and he had seen her use it a few times when he had come to her for advice, and she would consult the mirror as he listened. Memory served him well. Lightly tapping the smooth surface with his finger, his utterance was barely audible.

     “It is my desire to have a lovely maiden, a lonely one who will welcome my affections.” The affair before Melia had been a failed one. The woman he had tried to woo had already been married, and even the fact that he was a god had not swayed her loyalty to her marriage vow. A failed seduction led to an accidental death on her part as she ran away from him. And she had been pregnant with her first child, leaving her widower husband without a family.

     The image of his reflection rippled away, revealing a tower on a small cliff at the seashore. Sharp rocks jutted out of the water that crashed against them in thick flurries of sea foam. A tiny window opened into a large chamber, the furnishings comfortable but not overly luxurious. A lamp burned amidst the darkness that surrounded the single ray of sunlight that shone on the table at one side of the room.

     From the mirror came the sound of soft weeping, and he saw movement. In the darkness, barely illuminated by the lamp, he saw the form of a scantily-clad woman lying in bed, her cheeks wet with tears. Suddenly, she rose from the bed and plunged further into the darkness, where her fists banged against what was apparently the sealed door to what he now realized was her prison.

     “Please let me out! I will dedicate myself to Hestia and remain forever virgin if you let me out!” she cried out. There was no one outside that would answer her. “Have I not always been a good and obedient daughter? Please, I beg of you! Gods, help me! I am so lonely! I have had nobody to talk to in months!”

     She was beautiful, with wavy dark brown hair and blue eyes, and her form was lithe and curvy. Her pleas made her need for attention and interaction very obvious. Whatever she was locked up for, she seemed innocent enough. She was a fair maiden that was being unjustly punished for something, and he was loath to let such a pretty girl suffer so...

o0o

     As spring rolled around, the seeds that Iasion had planted sprouted a couple of weeks early, and the little shoots grew faster than he had ever seen. The ground had been softer and considerably easier to till and plant, and the chickens that Alestis left him seemed happier, and happy chickens meant more eggs to eat. It took less time to get the work done, and Hyalos' wife was rosy-cheeked and content, her belly growing along with everything else on the farm. In the woods, flowers and food grew as nobody had ever seen before, and Iasion even saw several birds and a squirrel one day while he was gathering wood – an unusual occurrence so early in the year.

     All the formerly sluggish, almost brackish streams and ponds in the valley were now cold and sweet, and drinking it made one feel revitalized. Wild and domestic creatures grew fatter and there were more and bigger litters born than anyone could remember. Early spring gave way to mid-spring, and still everything grew, bigger and healthier than before.

     Iasion had always been scrawny. No one in the village had a well-muscled bulk, no matter how much they worked. Even the men who were tall and broad of shoulder still had a certain leanness around them from the constant drain of lifeforce they had unknowingly endured. But Iasion now saw his limbs become tanned and strong, his biceps bulging in a comely way to the women – and their fathers – who came to admire him and size him up as a prospective husband. He walked with his shoulders back, his step now sure and proud as he went about his work or leisure.

     The days became longer as the summer solstice approached. There could be doubt. Demeter – if it really was her – had blessed everyone. The marketplace was busier now – not just for bartering, but as a gathering place to talk and gossip, or sit at the tavern and play games.

     Iasion dug up a new well on his land. He now had a small but ample herd of goats, and he let Mother and Ptheia milk them, happily sharing his resources with his family. The wheat was now waist-high, another thing that had never happened this early in the season. Never before had he been so rewarded.  He could barely squeeze between rows of wheat because they were so thick, and the leaves of the olive trees were plenty, giving him ample shade to take a nap or sit when he wished to stop working.

     The hills that had once housed Ouranos started at the end of both Iasion's family property and his own, just beyond the fence. No one had ever wanted that land, because nothing grew from it despite efforts to till it, and the trees were twisted, their branches seeming like claws. He always got a feeling of foreboding when he ventured to the foot of the hills, and hadn't approached it in quite a few years. Now he saw the small green leaves on these almost-dead trees. He climbed over the fence and waited. There was no ominous feeling hanging in the air. And to his surprise, he saw grass growing in a nice, even layer where before there had been only dust and rocks, giving the hills a pleasant rolling appearance that promised bounty to anyone who wanted to herd goats or sheep there. Why hadn't he noticed before? He walked further, climbing the hills and enjoying the view that this afforded him. He envisioned a vineyard here, and made a mental note to suggest it to his brother.

     He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

     “Demeter, if you are here, please answer me. If that was you I saw before... I would like to thank you for what you have done for us. Everyone is so happy. You have my undying gratitude.” He swallowed. No one was here. Demeter apparently wasn't listening, at least not at that moment. He found the courage to add, “And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

     He turned and went back to his fields. He would explore the hills more later. He grinned as he saw his mother at the edge of the field, a bundle in her hands. She had made him lunch, and with the fresh water from his well, the meal was heaven. He sat down, stretching out his legs and enjoying a break from the weeding he had just done – the weeds grew just as well as everything else – and appreciating the shade of the old olive tree, thinking about what could be done with these juicy olives when they were ready to be collected this autumn.

     “Do you truly think I am so beautiful?” He looked up, seeing Thermasia. Her head was uncovered, and the thick amber-colored waves pinned around her head like a crown were the color of the wheat that surrounded them. Her curves were more visible under the peplos she wore since she didn't have a cloak. A dark green girdle sat around her waist, showing off her ample hips.

     “Demeter!” he was immediately on his knees, his head pressed to the ground. “Most gracious goddess... I did not think you heard...”

     The laughter he heard was full-throated.

     “Since the curse was lifted, I hear the prayers of everyone here. But you have yet to answer my question.” She didn't sound angry, so he looked up, seeing her stare down at him openly. Their eyes met, and he shivered slightly, and certainly not from any kind of cold.

     “The most beautiful I have ever seen. No one else could ever compare. I dreamed of seeing you again. I hoped and prayed...” How could a red-blooded man not appreciate a woman with the curves in the right places?

     “Take my hand.” Her smile was warm, and her flesh was as warm as he had thought.

     The summer heated him in more ways than one. Demeter did not explain why she had not made an appearance to anyone all winter or spring, but with the way the year had been going, he wasn't about to complain to a mighty goddess. Under the balmy afternoon sky, using the neatly-planted rows as a cover for their activities, he found out that her body was even more delightful to touch than to look at.

     And to his immense joy, it was not a one-time occurrence. He pleased her so much that she welcomed him time and time again. He lavished all his attention on her, and paid no attention to the girls trying to catch his attention. He was Demeter's, wholly and fully. He loved the feeling of her strong limbs around him, her body smelling of flowers and the soil and her own feminine musk. Like the earth beneath him, Iasion had suddenly become alive.

     Every time Demeter visited him from her remote spot hidden in the hills, he focused his attention on her. He pleased her so much that as time passed, she would visit him more often, even spending nights within his house and familiarizing herself with his family, becoming more than just a lover.