The Poison In The Blood

Copyright © Tom Holland 2006 The moral right of the author has been asserted.

ISBN 978-0-349-11964-9

Cast of characters

Alcmena -
mother of Heracles
Aphrodite -
daughter of Zeus; the goddess of love
Athena -
daughter of Zeus; the goddess of wisdom
Cronos -
son of Sky and Mother Earth; father of Zeus
Dianeera -
wife of Heracles
Helen
- daughter of Zeus and the Queen of Sparta
Hera
- wife of Zeus; Queen of the Heavens
Heracles
- son of Zeus; world’s greatest hero
Hermes
- son of Zeus; the messenger of the gods
Iolus -
boy who helped Heracles defeat the hydra; the brother of Dianeera
Odysseus -
love rival of Philoctetes; husband of Penelope
Paris -
Prince of Troy; lover of Yonani; kidnapper and lover of Helen
Penelope –
Helen’s cousin; wife of Odysseus
Philoctetes -
goatherd who lit Heracles’s funeral fire; future king
Yonani -
goddess of the mountain; lover of Paris
Zeus -
King of the Universe

There once lived a goddess in a forest on a mountain. Her name was Yonani. She was wise and beautiful, but also very shy. She never climbed on the winds to Mount Olympus, where Zeus, the King of the Universe, had his palace. Yonani preferred trees to marble. She preferred grass and moss to gold. She would rather run with deer and speak to birds than feast with her fellow gods. On the mountain Yonani could be happy. On the mountain she could be alone.

Below the mountain there stretched a plain. A city named Troy stood on it. The King who ruled there was the richest man in the world, so nowhere had more towering battlements, or lovelier daughters, or braver sons. Bold as they were, however, the Trojans were afraid to visit Yonani’s mountain. They never saw the goddess, but they knew that she was there. They did not wish to anger her, so they left her to herself.

Sometimes a shepherd might climb the mountain, if he had to, if a sheep were lost. But he would never stay after dark. No one would. Then, one night, when the Queen of Troy was pregnant, she had a terrible dream. In it, she gave birth . . . but not to a child. Instead, the Queen dreamed that she gave birth to fire. The flames leapt from her room. They set all the wide streets ablaze. The city’s towers came crashing down. Troy was burned to the ground. The Queen woke up screaming. What had the dream meant? The priests knew and they told the Queen. The baby in her belly would prove the ruin of Troy. The Queen wept. The King held her in his arms . . . but he wept as well. Both knew what they had to do. When the baby was born, it was a beautiful boy. The King gave him to a shepherd who was told to take the baby to the top of the mountain and abandon him there to die. The shepherd left Troy. The Queen watched him go. Still she sobbed. She knew that she would never see her baby boy again.

Years passed. At the foot of the mountain, Troy grew richer still. Her ships sailed over all the seas. Her golden chariots raced across the plain. Her king fathered a host of brave princes. Meanwhile, in her forest, Yonani still lived alone. Then, one day, by a spring, she saw a man. He was young and very strong. The silver water shone on his shoulders as he swam. Yonani felt her heart rise into her mouth. The man turned and looked up at her from the spring. His blue eyes glittered. Yonani gasped. She thought she had never seen anyone so desirable - not even a god. Suddenly a longing for him came over her. She did not recognise her feelings at first, but then he stood and rose from the water, and she understood perfectly what she felt. She had discovered what it was to be in love.

Yonani was used to men feeling terror of her. The stranger, however, did not seem afraid. He fixed Yonani with a cool and easy gaze. His name, he told her, was Paris. He was a shepherd. He lived with his father and his mother at the foot of the mountain. He stepped out of the spring. Behind Yonani, leaves moved in a breeze. “Beware,” they whispered in her ear. Yonani turned. She melted into the forest. As she vanished, as fast as the wind, she glanced back over her shoulder. Paris was still standing there.

The next day, Yonani returned to the spring. Paris came to find her. He was carrying a lamb.

“You are the goddess of the mountain,” he said. It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

Yonani nodded.

“They say you can heal anything you care to. They say you only have to see a sickness and at once you know the cure.” Paris paused. “Is this the truth?”

Yonani nodded again. She still said nothing.

Paris held the lamb up to her. The creature’s head was lolling. All its body was limp. “Please,” he begged.

Yonani took the lamb. She laid her hand upon its fleece. And at once she knew what was wrong. “A snake,” she said. “It was by the river. The lamb went to drink and was bitten by a snake.”

“Can you heal him?” asked Paris.

Yonani laid her hand upon the lamb’s head a second time. She closed her eyes. She listened to the clouds, to the breeze, to the sap rising in the trees. She felt a surge of power. It was like gold in her blood. She felt the lamb raise its head. She opened her eyes. The lamb began to struggle in her arms. She placed it down on the grass. “It is cured,” she declared.

Paris smiled. Thank you.” He did not bow, as a mortal should to a goddess.

“Beware,” she heard from the leaves. This time, Yonani ignored the warning. She waited for Paris to take her in his arms. When he did, she let out a puzzled sigh. Then she met his lips. And with the kiss, all her puzzlement vanished away.

Yonani and Paris lived together. They were in love. Yonani showed Paris all the secrets of the mountain. She showed him how to talk to the animals. She showed him how to talk to the trees. She would still sometimes hear the leaves rustle. “Beware,” they whispered. “Beware.” Yonani ignored what they said. Her joy was too strong. She wanted her happiness with Paris to last for ever.

One day he lost a sheep and went to look for it. Yonani sat by the spring where she had first met him. Suddenly she saw a flash of gold reflected in the water. She looked up. The sky filled with light, then it was gone. The light had plunged into the forest. Yonani rose to her feet. She was afraid. She knew what the light had been: a god. But why had another god come to her forest? And where was Paris? Yonani’s heart pounded. She began to run. As she ran, all the leaves began to whisper again: “Beware.”

Ahead of her there was a parting in the trees. Yonani stopped in the shade of the trees. The clearing shimmered with a strange glow. Paris was standing in the middle of it, but he was not alone. A god was standing there, too. He was taller than Paris. On his head he wore a helmet with beating wings. His sandals had wings as well. In his hand he held a long pole. Two snakes were entwined around it. Yonani knew him at once. His names was Hermes. He was the messenger of Zeus.

From where she was hiding, Yonani could hear every word that was spoken.

“I have come from Olympus,” said Hermes. “My father, Zeus, has sent me to find you. Here” - he held out something - “take this.”

Yonani looked at what Hermes was holding. It was an apple. The apple was made of gold.

“This was given yesterday as a gift to Zeus,” said Hermes.

Yonani watched as Paris took it. There were words written on the apple. Paris read them aloud. “"For the fairest."“ He frowned. “"For the fairest"? Who does that mean?”

Hermes smiled. “That is what Zeus has ordered you to decide.”

“Why me?”

Hermes smiled again. “Because who in the universe is fairer than the wife and the two daughters of Zeus? But which of those three is the most fair? Zeus does not wish to have to choose between his wife and his daughters. The apple can be given only to one. The losers would never forgive him.”

Paris turned pale. “But why would they ever forgive me?”

Hermes didn’t answer this question. He only smiled again.

“What if I refuse to award the apple?”

“Then Zeus will kill you.” Hermes shrugged. “He will burn you up with a thunderbolt.”

Paris swallowed. “so I have no choice.”

“It would seem not.”

As Hermes said this, a splendour filled the clearing. It was even brighter than it had been before. Paris cried out in pain, then held an arm up to his eyes. When he lowered it, a woman was standing in front of him. She was tall and regal. She wore a crown on her curling black hair. Her robes were purple. Her sandals were made of gold. “I am Hera,” she said. “I am the wife of Zeus. I am the Queen of the Heavens.”

Paris cried out in pain again, for Hera’s beauty still hurt his eyes. But he could not stop looking at her.

“Give me the apple,” commanded Hera, “and I will make you King of the World. You will lead great armies. You will win great victories. Everyone will bow and kiss your feet.” She held out her arm. Her fingers brushed Paris’s head.

Paris brought his hands to his eyes. He fell to the ground in pain. When he looked up again, Hera had gone. In her place there was a second goddess. Her grey eyes were bright. She wore a helmet on her head. In her hand she held a spear. An owl sat on her shoulder. When Paris looked at her, he moaned. She, too, was so beautiful that her beauty hurt his eyes.

“I am Athena,” she said. “I am the daughter of Zeus. I am the wisest of all the gods. Give me the apple, and you will share in my wisdom. You will know the secrets of the universe. Nothing will be hidden from you. You will see to the depths of the earth. You will see to the heights of the stars.” She held out her arm. Her fingers brushed Paris’s head.

Paris brought his hands to his eyes. He fell to the ground in pain. When he looked up again, Athena had gone. In her place was a third goddess. Her hair was of the purest gold. Her body was clothed in the sheerest silk. Around her waist she wore a belt of jewels. Where she trod, flowers sprung. Doves followed her. Her perfume filled the air. She was so beautiful that even Yonani had to blink. Paris could not stand to look at her. He fell to his knees. He pressed his face against the flowers that had bloomed around the goddess’s feet.

“I am Aphrodite,” she whispered. Her voice was like a stirring of lust. Yonani heard Paris moan. “I am the goddess of love. I do not promise you a crown. I do not promise you wisdom. But give me the apple, and I promise you something more. I promise you beauty. I promise you the love of the most beautiful woman in the world.”

At last, Paris dared to look up. “Who is she?” he stammered.

“Her name is Helen,” answered Aphrodite. “Her father is Zeus and her mother is Leda, the mortal Queen of Sparta, a city across the sea, in Greece. All the world desires her. But give me the apple, and Helen will be yours.”

Paris moaned again. “I want her,” he said thickly.

“Then give me the apple.” Aphrodite held out her arm. Her fingers brushed Paris’s head.

Paris continued to look at her. His grip tightened on the apple. He raised his hand.

“No!” cried Yonani.

Paris looked round. Hermes frowned. Aphrodite only laughed.

“No,” said Yonani again. She stepped out from the trees. “Paris, you are mine. Do not do this. Do not leave me. You love me. You love me. Please.”

Paris looked at her. Then he looked down at the apple.

“You are a shepherd,” said Yonani. “Helen is the daughter of a queen. How can you hope to win her?”

Aphrodite clapped her hands together. “A shepherd? He is not a shepherd. He is a prince. The son of a king.”

Paris frowned in confusion. “But my father is a shepherd.”

“No.” Aphrodite looked at Yonani with a smile that showed she’d won. “Did you not realise? Paris is the same baby that the King of Troy ordered to be left on the mountain. There he was found by a shepherd. But that shepherd is not his father.” She smoothed her fingers through Paris’s hair. “Give me the apple, and I will lead you to Troy. Your mother, the Queen, will fall into your arms. Your father, the King, will hail you as a Prince of Troy. Then you will sail to Greece. You will steal Helen from her husband and take the most beautiful woman in the world to your bed.”

“No!” cried Yonani.

But it was too late. Paris raised his hand. He gave the apple to Aphrodite. She clutched it to her breasts. There was a shimmering of light, and she was gone. All the gods had gone. All except for Yonani. She stood where she was. Then she watched Paris rise to his feet, leave the clearing, and start running through the trees, down the mountainside to Troy.

He did not return. Yonani waited. Days passed, then weeks. Yonani felt her heart turning to stone. The mountain grew wintry with her misery. Snow settled upon the trees. The spring where Yonani had met Paris was covered by a sheet of ice. The flow of its waters froze. So did the flow of Yonani’s tears. She sat alone on the bleak mountain. There was no warmth left in her heart.

Spring came at last. Yonani was disturbed by a shepherd. He was looking for a ewe. For a moment, she thought the shepherd was Paris -but he wasn’t. He screamed when he saw Yonani and begged for mercy. Yonani seized him by the arm. He howled. She silenced him with a flash of her blazing eyes. Then she demanded to know the news from Troy.