For who could ever learn to love The One who doesn't know love?
By Asso
Chapter Seventeen
The ninth day
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"So then?"
Zeus turned his head with ostentatious annoyance.
Sometimes Poseidon's attitude was really irritating.
So... direct!
So cheekily curt!
But he was his brother.
And he was the mighty God of the Sea.
And, last but not least, he was not used to meddling in business that was beyond the confines of his kingdom. Unless it was "skirts". Yeah. He was not dissimilar, Poseidon, from him. The females ... well the females counted a lot, for both. Even if both of them had tied themselves to a single female in the sacred bond of marriage. Without having too much to worry about the aforementioned female, though.
Another point of contact.
Really different, he and Poseidon, from their older brother.
From their brother made of shadow.
From the brother, however, who had now decided to get out of the shadow.
An instant. Just an instant. Long. But only an instant in the Gods' eternity.
A tremendous instant, however.
An instant that had shaken the universe.
And that had pushed Poseidon out of the depths of his kingdom to ask him, Zeus, to provide explanations.
He was Zeus. The Lord of the Gods.
So he had to know what had happened. Or at least he was in possession of the means and the authority to know it.
And... and it was suspicious, somehow, that he had remained silent for eight long days, without letting know anything about it. Especially... especially considering that he was the lord of the storm and that a storm - a terrible storm - had for long moments overshadowed the world. And that, in the middle of that storm, his voice - his angry roar - had been clearly perceptible.
Zeus sighed to himself.
He felt his wife's amused look on him.
His wife.
That damn female!
Who had been right.
The whole world, a crowd of gods, had poured out in front of his palace!
One after the other, they had arrived. In small groups or alone.
Oh yes, of course! He and... well, yes... he and his wife had planned everything, had arranged everything, point by point.
But one thing is to program, another thing is to act.
And, as far as he was the personification of the resolute force and the brazen boldness... well, in that case...
In that particular case...
Oh, in short!
It was not easy! It was not easy at all!
So hard that he had ordered Hermes to let everyone know that he did not want to be bothered, because ... because...
Well, it was his business!
Ed Hermes - with wide open eyes and full of unspoken questions - had obeyed.
But those had not left. They had waited. There. In front of his palace.
Amazed and uncertain.
But they had not left.
And after eight days of waiting, he had no longer been able to play dumb. He had had to grant an audience.
And, on the other hand, how to deny the audience to those who were the Great Gods? Apollo, Athena, Aphrodite, Hephaestus... Hermes himself... yes, him too.
They too had rushed. And amazed at not being able to be admitted to his presence.
And the coup de grace had been inflicted by him. By Poseidon.
In the end he too had arrived. Covered with algae and foam.
And he was Poseidon.
It was unthinkable to deny himself to him.
So, in the end, he had had to resign himself and, now, they were all there.
Inside his palace.
To know.
And Poseidon, impetuous as usual, had overpowered everyone, with the rip-roaring waves of his fiery temperament.
He had raised his blue and thick eyebrow.
And had posed the question in his own way.
"So then?"
Just this. Nothing else.
More than enough, though.
Such as to silence all the others.
Because those two very short words summed up everyone's question.
Zeus felt everyone's gaze on him.
Oh, for that bastard of his father Cronos!
What the hell was wrong with him?
It was not really the case to feel embarrassed!
That was a term that was not part of the baggage of terms that could describe him!
He didn't...
He was Zeus!
He could not and should not feel embarrassed!
What embarrassment could there ever be in answering that he had no idea what had happened?
He was the Lord of everything! Not the causal factor of everything! He was not at all required to know the cause of everything!
What was that strange thing? How could he feel embarrassed?
Perhaps because...?
Zeus felt something strange inside him. Something that hurt.
Something he had never felt.
Why did he feel embarrassed?
Perhaps because...
Perhaps because he knew the why of what had happened?
Perhaps because he knew exactly what had happened?
And he had to deny he knew?
Because... because...
Because he could not reveal that he had bowed his head in front of Hades?
Because he could not let people know that - he being consenting, for more! Although this was really something not to be said! - ... that the claw of the Avernus had grabbed...
Eight days had passed.
Eight strange days.
Persephone lay in her bed.
In her room.
Without sleeping.
Thinking.
Of those strange days.
Eight days.
During which nothing had happened.
By and by, the daybreak would dawn.
If it was possible to talk of dawn, there.
A change, barely hinted - nothing more - in that dark light that enveloped everything; a slight toning towards something someway more like the true light than the darkness.
But, anyway, that livid dawn would come up and that would be the ninth dawn of that dark realm that Persephone would see rise.
And, like all the other dawns, it would bring with it... loneliness.
All day long.
Until evening.
When he would appear.
To keep her company during dinner.
In silence.
Almost without eating.
By staying to watch her eating.
For then leaving her at the end of the dinner.
With a slight bow.
With a whispered "Good night, Persephone".
So it had been during all those days.
During which nothing had happened.
Persephone sat up on the bed.
She curled up on it, gathering her knees against her and wrapping herself tightly in the blanket.
Because it was cold.
That too, strange. Like light.
The air was warm.
Yet it was cold.
Persephone enveloped herself even more tightly in the blanket.
A very soft blanket.
And really precious.
Of black and of gold. And interwoven with silver threads.
Precious.
Like the clothes that she would wear during the day.
She knew that, when she would get up, she would find them in her room.
Every day different.
Every day more and more precious.
But always of black and of gold. And intertwined with silver threads.
Even that day it would be like that.
As it had been in those days.
During which nothing had happened.
Persephone's gaze turned to look at her room. It lingered over it.
It was a very large room. Very, very large.
The walls...
She remembered the impression those walls had made to her when Hades had led her to it, guiding her through the long, huge, winding corridors of his gigantic palace.
They were stone, those walls without windows.
Stone.
As the whole palace.
They were cold.
And yet... they were also strangely warm.
They were dark.
Yet they shone tenuously,
By the myriad of tiny lights that seemed set in them.
Lights like those she had seen shine in the rest of the palace and even before, in the high rocky vaults, in the deep rocky cliffs and in the rugged rocky walls of that stone kingdom.
Persephone could not understand how - maybe it was just by virtue of those lights - yet to her they did not appear gloomy, those gloomy walls.
Just as the room in the whole.
And the furniture in it.
All strictly in black and gold. And dotted with silver.
That large, austere room of living rock, enriched by that precious and austere furniture - austere, sure, yet both of them so mysteriously and subtly appealing, like... like their master - had been the place of her rest and her dinners... with him... for all those days.
During which nothing had happened.
Yeah. The place of her rest.
But not of her vigils.
"This is your room, Persephone. I hope it pleases you."
His words, when he had made her come into what would be her lodgings, resounded in her mind.
"Here you can rest and stay at your leisure and here I will come to see you, if you want it. But the whole palace is at your disposal. You can travel through it far and wide, how and when you want. Do not try to get out, though, outside the palace. It is not... it is not safe places, these, and only with me you can wander around safely in my kingdom. And I will do, if you ask me to do it."
Her gaze, which until then had remained to examine the large room, had rested, questioningly, on him.
His arcane eyes had then assumed a strange, unprecedented expression. As if they wanted to apologize.
And strangely uncertain had sounded his voice.
"I do not want to force you anything, Persephone, I told you. I will do what you ask me to do."
Then his voice had come back strong and firm.
"But here in the Palace, you are the Lady and Mistress. Only..." And his voice had taken on a strange tone, between the amused and the apologetic. "... I regret to tell you that you will not have anyone who can keep you company in the Palace."
The voice had become somber.
"I am a solitary king."
He had stood watching her for a moment, then had bowed his head, as if in polite greeting, and finally had turned for heading towards the wide door of the room.
He had gone out into the corridor and from there he had spoken to her one last time.
"Whatever you need, it will be enough for you to say it or even only to think it and it will be done." A slight bow of the head yet. "Now I leave you, Persephone. My kingdom ..." A slight laugh; sardonic; but even... bitter. "... does not allow his King to neglect it for long. I'll be with you tomorrow, for dinner, if you allow it."
And, closing the door softly, he was gone.
And she had remained there. In what was now her room.
To think about what her new life would be.
And about his words.
That was the room where she could rest.
And she was tired.
Exhausted.
Emptied out.
Her gaze had settled on the large bed which towered imposingly against a wall of the room.
An instant. And she had found herself lying on the bed.
An instant. And she had found herself in a deep and dreamless sleep.
And the dawn had come. Her first dawn in that world with no night and with no day.
She had awakened in that bed.
Her brain had laboriously focused on the room. Had realized where she was.
Had remembered what had happened.
Had - in awe - recalled her choices. The choices she had made.
She had been kidnapped.
By... by Hades!
But she was there for her own choice!
The first truly autonomous choice of her life. Not made... not made under the influence of her mother!
She had got up, almost with difficulty.
For the first time, she had scanned attentively the room. And the furniture in it. Dwelling on every detail.
And for the first time she had seen the garments. Dresses prepared for her. On a sofa.
Black and gold robes and intertwined with silver threads.
Beautiful dresses. Precious.
And... provocative.
She... she had worn them, after having satisfied her physiological needs in a not little ancillary room, specifically set for this purpose in one of the walls, and after having washed herself in the dark and fresh water that flowed quietly from a beak on the wall, pouring itself into a large tub of dark stone.
She had looked at herself in the mirror.
A large, huge wall mirror, with a frame of black and gold and dotted with silver.
She had...
She had liked herself!
She had liked the reflected image of that girl dressed in that black dress sustained only by a single thin shoulder strap and with that deep neckline that fully revealed the turgidity of the breasts and that wide slit at both sides that let see the thighs at every step.
She had looked at herself for a long time and then, suddenly, she had felt hungry.
And then, just then, as her mind had suddenly started to picture inside itself food and drink, she… had smelled the perfume!
She had turned abruptly around and she had seen.
On a large dark marble table. Fruit. A lot. Of all kinds. And honey. And bread. And other viands, by the fragrant and appetizing aroma. And pitchers full of fresh water and some other kind of unknown drinks.
She had eaten. Voraciously and with pleasure. The foods she knew and, albeit with some hesitation, even the foods she did not know. All exquisite.
She had quenched her thirst. Greedily and with pleasure. Both the fresh water and, albeit with some hesitation, the other drinks. All delicious.
And then...
Then...
"... the whole palace is at your disposal. You can travel through it far and wide, how and when you want."
So he had said.
And, at that moment, she had looked at the door. A long stare.
She had averted her gaze and had looked at herself in the mirror one more time.
With a sudden gesture, her hands had untangled her long and red-blond hair, making it fall in wild waves on her bare shoulders.
She had contemplated herself for a few moments, then she had turned her eyes to the sofa, looking at what lay on it yet. She had gone to the sofa and had grabbed the black and gold cloak woven with silver threads still lying on it, and with a broad gesture she had thrown it on her shoulders.
Because she knew that, out of there, she could feel cold. And she… she would…
She had walked to the mirror and had watched herself one more time in it, while arranging the volutes of her hair on the wide collar of the hood.
Her reflected image had nodded to her, satisfied.
Then, with an air of decided, she had headed for the door.
She had reached it.
She had opened it.
She had peeked out into the corridor.
She had gone out into it.
She had looked around.
She had closed the door behind her.
And she had advanced into the palace.
And from that day on, she, every day, had explored the palace.
For all those days.
During which nothing had happened.
And even that day would be like that.
Yeah. Even that day.
Suddenly, resolutely, chasing away all those thoughts, Persephone jumped out of bed.
Her eyes went to the sofa.
There they were.
The clothes.
Stupendous.
Precious.
Different from those of the day before as well as from those of all the previous days.
Of black and of gold and interwoven with silver threads.
Daring and provocative.
Quietly and slowly, Persephone did what she had done in all previous days, after getting out of bed.
She satisfied her bodily needs.
She washed herself.
She combed herself.
She ate and drank the delicious food and fresh drinks waiting for her on the dark marble table.
Then she dressed, looking then in the mirror once again at the surprising and alluring image of that unknown girl by the provocative beauty.
Then, after wearing the hood as usual - another yet, similar and yet different and even more precious than those of the previous days - she headed for the door, as she had done every morning of those days.
Even that day she would go to the exploration of the palace, waiting for the evening and the dinner, when he would come.
That day too, solitude would have been her only company.
Not that loneliness displeased her.
She had always looked for it.
She had never been able to be alone, at least until the day of her abduction; stifled in her mother's overprotective embrace and heavily guarded by maids and watchmen.
And she remembered well the amazement she had felt when, on that day, she had been granted permission to stroll alone in the meadow.
It was a gift, that solitude. The solitude she had there, in that palace.
Just as it was a gift the wonder of the palace.
Going into it, exploring it... it was priceless!
Arcane, dark and mysterious environments, completely different from any environment she had ever seen, arising from the one another like dark jewels nestled in each other.
Each one different, each one to be savoured in its mystery.
Yes. Even that day would be like that.
Even that day, she would go in solitude to the exploration of some other obscurely and uncannily seductive environment of that huge palace.
Even that day...
Even that day nothing would happen.
No!
Like a flash.
Sudden.
Unexpected.
Unforeseen.
Incomprehensible, too.
That word.
That single, powerful word.
In her mind.
NO!
That day would not be like that!
Was that why he had kidnapped her?
Were these the answers he had told her that she would find in his kingdom?
Was that why he continued to make her find those sumptuous and provocative clothes to wear?
Only to continue to make her remain alone?
Without...
Without ever him doing anything?
Never?
Persephone could not understand herself, she could not even understand her own thoughts themselves.
But those were her thoughts!
And she...
She did not send them away!
If he wanted her, if he really wanted her, he had to... he had to...
He did not have to leave her alone!
He had to...
No. That day would not be like that!
On that day, she would not leave her room to continue exploring the palace.
That day she would stay in her room to...
To get ready!
Persephone looked at herself in the mirror again.
With an almost rabid gesture, she briskly seized the long hood that covered her entirely, took it off herself brusquely and hurled it away. Far away.
So, in this way, dressed only in the precious, daring dress that revealed so much of the exciting secrets of her young lush body, she saw herself for what she... yes... for what she not only appeared, but, also, really was.
A wonderful, splendid girl by the provocative beauty.
By the dark beauty!
And, on that day, she would make that beauty even more overflowing.
Even more...
Even more exciting!
Persephone sat on the black marble seat in front of the mirror.
She knew what she had to do.
It was sufficient for her to think.
And she thought.
Creams, perfumes, ointments.
And lipsticks of various shades, but all tending to red or black, among which she would choose.
And maquillages and toiletries of various types, but all pale and diaphanous, among which she would choose.
All of this appeared on the dark marble table.
Persephone had no idea how to make good use of them. The only knowledge she had, came to her from her observations of how Aphrodite used them. She had watched her so many times make herself beautiful, as the goddess, who more beautiful couldn't be, was coquettishly used to say.
Persephone smiled.
She would be able to make good use of them and, on the other hand, she had the whole day available.
The smile on Persephone's fresh face grew mischievous.
Yes. All day available to make herself a little more in harmony with the place where she was.
And… with Hades.
And she began to get ready.
All the day available.
She would use it well.
And, in the evening...
"PERSEPHONE!"
That name exploded in the air, before his thought could go to completion with the same name.
Zeus turned suddenly to look surprised at the one who that name had made burst out as a thunder, well knowing whom it belonged to that excited and shrill voice.
Demeter.
There she was.
Dishevelled.
Beside herself.
"Sister, what ...?"
"She disappeared! Persephone disappeared, Zeus!"
The most total frost fell into the palace.
Demeter watched wild-eyed Zeus, who was silent in everyone's stunned silence.
Her voice rose angrily.
"Did you understand, Zeus? Did you understand, brother?"
Her voice rose an octave.
"Persephone disappeared!"
Then it was as if something got broken inside Demeter.
Her eyes filled with tears.
So, with the cheeks streaked of those tears, she stood still for a moment and then, suddenly, she snapped.
She ran furiously toward Zeus, confronted him, grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him.
She shouted in his face.
"Disappeared, Zeus! Disappeared!"
And then, again, the crying broke out on her face.
She collapsed, fell to her knees in front of Zeus. The head bowed, the arms inert, the shoulders shaken by the sobs.
"Persephone disappeared." Like a mantra, her tremulous voice kept repeating it. "Disappeared disappeared disappeared..."
Then the ravaged face of Demeter lifted watching her brother.
"Kidnapped, Zeus."
An astonished murmur passed through the crowd of Gods.
"Yes, brother."
Demeter's voice rang out dull in the palace.
"I feel it, I know it."
The voice lowered in tone even more. Tragic. While Demeter lowered her head again.
"My daughter... your daughter... was kidnapped."
The evening was slowly approaching.
The morning had passed, light.
Persephone had used it well.
The image that she saw of herself in the mirror spoke volumes.
That was not the lilied girl who sighed for something she did not even know, enveloped in her virginal white tunic.
That was a provocative young woman whose tempting beauty could awaken the desire of a marble God.
And Hades - Persephone could not make sense of her thoughts, but she could not ignore them. Nor did she want it! - ... Hades had the alabastrine complexion of the marble, but… of marble he was certainly not made!
It was time for lunch.
Customarily, she was wont to be back at that hour to her room, knowing - after the experience of the first day - that she would find there something to refresh herself.
So she had done in the previous days.
Now, there was no need.
She was already there, in her room.
She turned.
There they were. The fragrant and tasty foods and the delicious drinks.
Usually, she nibbled absently something, before resting a little and then going back to the Palace for her exploration.
That day no.
That day she ate and drank with desire and with taste.
She needed it.
She was excited.
Pleasantly excited.
And... and also scared.
Of herself.
She finally stopped eating and drinking.
And she decided she had to rest.
A fortiori, today more than in the previous days.
She needed to be fresh and rested.
And in strength.
For the evening that would come.
"Persephone would never have left me spontaneously."
Demeter had got up and turned away.
She was speaking in a low, gloomy voice, her back turned to Zeus.
"There can be no doubt, brother. She was kidnapped."
She turned around.
She looked at Zeus with a desperate face, streaked with tears.
"My baby girl is in the clutches... in the clutches..."
Demeter could not continue.
Silence reigned sovereign.
Then, somehow, she managed to compose herself.
Eyes down, she whispered.
"I looked for her everywhere, for eight long days. In vain."
Then she shook herself.
She raised her face.
"Brother!" Rabid. "Brother, you..."
"I know everything, sister."
If before, when Demeter had asserted that Persephone had been kidnapped, there had been stupefied silence, now you could have clearly heard the stunned onlookers suck the air in through their teeth.
Demeter was dumbfounded.
She could do nothing but look at her brother with wide eyes, in which you could see astonishment and incomprehension.
It was Poseidon who broke that spell of silence.
His voice seemed to have in itself the dull and frightening sound of far, deep and lethal marine eddies.
"Explain yourself, brother."
Of course, he did not mean to put his brother in awe and, on the other hand, how could Zeus be put in awe? But no one who was not Zeus could have stay not shaken at the tone of that voice woven of the threatening, mighty force of the sea abysses.
Zeus looked at his brother for a moment with a hard and haughty look, without deigning Demeter for a glance.
Then he turned around.
He turned his back to the crowd of gods, as if he did not care about them.
Then, in a low and powerful voice, he spoke.
It was Zeus the one who spoke.
The King of the Gods.
"I rule the universe and the storm is my mark."
Zeus' voice grew even mightier.
"Of the storm I am the master and I alone can unleash it under the sky."
The King of Gods turned around.
His deep blue eyes pierced Poseidon.
"Not even you, my brother, can equal with your marine storms the disruptive force of my sky storms. And, without me, without the powerful and wild winds of my storms, vain would be the strength of your waves."
Zeus' eyes darted around. They flickered on the silent crowd of gods and goddesses.
"It is by my will that the blue of the sky can become black. It is by my will that the sun can be darkened. It is by my will that darkness can envelop the world."
His voice sounded like thunder.
Low, yet mighty like it.
"Only my wrath can trigger apocalypse."
Zeus' voice lowered again, yet it resounded mightier than ever in everyone's ears.
"Only my wrath can unleash what all of you have seen get unleashed."
The cerulean eyes of the King of the Gods stared again at Poseidon.
"Tell me, brother, could you ever think that what happened may have been caused by some other than me?"
Then his gaze settled on Demeter, who was listening open-mouthed gawking at him with the most befuddled expression.
"And you, sister, tell me. Did not you hear my voice, my unmistakable angry roaring voice, in the middle of the pandemonium that enveloped the world?"
He sneered for a short instant.
"Oh sure, I can understand you, sister." His tone was harsh and sardonic. "Hard for you to understand anything at that juncture, at the moment you realized that Persephone had disappeared."
Demeter remained silent, the purest dismay in her wide eyes.
She realized. Yes, she realized for the first time. It was true! IT WAS TRUE! Such had the turmoil of her heart been that she had not noticed it, but it was true. In the middle of the pandemonium that had occurred, the voice of her brother - the thundering angry voice of Zeus - had been heard...
"...clearly."
She sensed more than hearing the voice of Poseidon. Her first words had escaped her, but that 'clearly' echoed inside her.
His following words resounded in the silence.
"Yes, brother, of course. I have heard it, and certainly all the others and the whole world. Your voice. Angry and roaring."
Poseidon did not appear in any way shaken or resentful by the words of his brother. He was Poseidon and he was mighty. Tremendously. And that was incontrovertible and was enough for him. And, moreover, he knew his brother well. He was the King of Gods, sure. But he had also remained a little a child, maybe because he had not experienced the stomach of Cronos. He needed to affirm and make his power and rank stand out in every way and at every turn. But they both, as well as everyone, knew that if he was the King of the Gods it was because he - Poseidon - along with the other great one of the great gods, their dark brother Hades, had consented. Useless and foolish to resent the words of an eternal child, though mighty and, at bottom, also wise, someway, as Zeus was. And, on the other hand, it could not be forgotten that it had been him, Zeus, with undoubted daring, to challenge Cronos and free his brothers and sisters from the darkness of their degenerated father's belly. Even if... well, sometimes, in Poseidon the subtle doubt arose that Zeus had done it also and above all to get mighty allies in the fight that inevitably would come after. That against the Titans. The struggle for supremacy. That to which Zeus aspired.
Poseidon let the haughty and impudent words of his brother quietly slip on his shoulders as if they were the water of his sea when this was calm and focused instead on what really mattered for him to know and that, for some reason, he sensed it was extremely important.
But all this did not prevent him from speaking with a well-perceived complacency to his brother in a tone that, of respect, had very little, not to say anything. And this just not to say blatantly that it sounded openly sarcastic.
"Make us understand, bro. Ultimately you, with your rants about your being the lord of the storms, are telling us that the cause of all the mess that occurred, it was you? That your angry voice was nothing else than your habitual way of accompanying with your golden uvula the manifestation itself in the world of your anger? And, if so, anger for what, if it is lawful to know? Because you had realized, you too, that Persephone had disappeared? That, as our sister Demeter says, someone had managed to make a mockery of her careful and rigorous surveillance and, worse still, of yours?"
Zeus did not reply. He did not react in the way that was his own, as it could have been to be expected, to the unconcealed mockery of his brother.
He assumed a serious and contrite expression, instead.
And nodded solemnly. And grimly.
And solemnly and grimly he talked.
"What an immense sea vortex would you have unleashed, brother, and how furious your angry voice would have resounded, if you had realized that the blood of your blood, that your most precious treasure, had been taken away from you? And, in addition, just in the moment, when you, for love of him, or, better said, of her, to meet her legitimate desires, have loosened your loving, but necessarily strict surveillance? Wouldn't you have risked precipitating the entire world into the maelstrom of your livid rage?"
Then he turned to Demeter, who kept looking and listening open-mouthed, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.
His harsh, hard voice rumbled in her ears.
"Yes, Demeter. I know everything. I sensed the danger hanging over Persephone even before you wised up to it. And I saw her disappear from the world. Suddenly. Inexplicably. Abducted. Yes. As you say. Stolen from your and my love, from the love of all."
Zeus turned. He raised his eyes to the sky, as if he wanted to conceal from others the vision of a despair that did not fit in those eyes.
"And..." His voice sounded broken. How never it had been possible to hear in the King of the Gods. "... and I do not know how or by whom."
He turned again.
His cerulean eyes punched through Demeter.
Burning embers, they appeared.
Burning flame, his voice sounded.
"You looked for our daughter for eight days without finding any trace of her? And what do you think I did in these eight days during which I denied everyone the hearing by everyone rightly requested?"
Zeus' voice resounded like the thunder that was his emblem.
"I have been looking for her, Demeter, everywhere, with all the power that is proper to me, with the gaze sharpness that only I possess."
His stare darted all around. Bolt of lightning of the lord of bolts of lightning.
His voice rumbled all around. Thunder of the lord of thunder.
"And I have not found of her any trace."
Zeus' voice lowered, together with his gaze. It almost became a murmur, that, though, everyone - all of them - could hear.
"Disappeared. Vanished. Under my eyes. Without being able - I, the King of Gods - to find the minimal trace."
His voice lowered more.
"Eight days, eight long days, it took me, before I found in me the strength and the will to open my palace to those who wanted to know what had happened. Eight long days, to find the strength and the will to reveal that Persephone had disappeared, that the world had been wrapped in darkness by my anger at having seen her disappear."
Zeus' voice lowered further.
"And that I, the King of Gods, am powerless to bring her back to us."
That voice seemed to get revived, a little. It seemed to regain vigour.
"Because she is alive, she is there, somewhere. She exists. I feel and know it, Demeter, like you, just like you. But…" The voice again became flat and toneless. "… just like you, I do not know where she is, who or what took her away from us. And I do not know how to reach her and how to bring her back to our love. "
A murmur. Yes, a murmur, the voice of Zeus. But deafening like a scream.
"Eight endless, empty, useless days. As many as those you have employed in your equally vain search. As many as those you have employed before deciding to come to me. For what? But to ask for help, of course."
A very low, lacerating murmur.
"A help that your brother, the King of the Gods, with all his power, is not able to give you."
Hera found it hard to disguise her astonished amazement.
Her eyes were looking fixedly at her groom from the defilated position where she was trying to appear the same way as the eyes of the others did.
Her ears, her brain, struggled to fully grasp what he was proclaiming.
To fully grasp his histrionic performance.
Her husband was ineffable!
Yes. She largely recognized in his maddish pantomime the implementation of the strategy that they, together, had planned.
But incredible, really worthy of him, of his sly and stagey astuteness, it was the way by him chosen to proceed on the road they had plotted.
He had skilfully taken advantage of the situation that had arisen. He had taken masterfully advantage even of his own doubts and his hesitation. He had even dexterously taken advantage of the unexpected and theatrical break-in onto the scene of Demeter.
The wait to which he had stolidly subjected the other gods, because he could not make up his mind to face them, had incredibly got turned in the means - in the weapon - that he had cleverly used to reveal the truth.
His truth.
The truth that was convenient to him.
That Persephone had disappeared - and this was true truth, truth that could not be hidden or denied. But also that, because of that, the universe had got plunged in that unheard-of storming darkness. And precisely because of his tremendous wrath for such a fact. Acknowledging, what's more - and this was really a masterpiece - his share of responsibility for this event. His surveillance had guiltily loosened - but, mind you, for his daughter's sake - and therefore it had been possible for the unknown perpetrator of Persephone's abduction to do it very more easily. And all this had made his anger mad, to such an extent as to provoke, as he said, what it had provoked.
He had made everyone believe that the reason for that unprecedented event had been his holy anger for Persephone's disappearance. Indeed, for her abduction. But not being him consenting. No. He had managed to make everyone absorb the awful reality of what had happened without compromising himself.
Indeed, on the contrary, by managing to surround himself with an aura of nobility.
Without hesitating to assert his own impotence. Great, immense thing, on the part of the one he was!
And thus avoiding slyly revealing his connivance.
And without absolutely letting slip out to whom such undisclosed connivance was reserved.
Her husband - Zeus - was... was amazing!
So incredible to deserve to be who he was!
So incredible to deserve... to deserve to be loved!
But now...
Now...
How would he continue?
How much would he follow of the plans the two of them had set up together?
Or how much would he entrust himself to his impressive art of improvisation?
The words, angry and shouted, of Demeter shook her from her reverie.
They called her back to reality
Just like everyone else.
"And what would you intend to do, o my mighty brother? O Lord of the Gods?"
The most acrimonious and violent sarcasm, the most livid rage, seethed in Demeter's rancorous words. Manifest and evident, it gushed out vehemently from them.
"Nothing? This is what you have in mind to do?"
"Demeter..."
"Tell me, Zeus! Tell me! This is all you will do? Nothing?"
Now that of Demeter was a tearing yell.
"NOTHING?"
"I WILL USE MY DIVINE WRATH, WOMAN!"
Demeter was literally hurled away by the wrathful cry of Zeus.
Everything in the palace was shaken like leaf hit by impetuous wind.
Everyone, Gods and Goddesses, staggered under that bone-crushing burst of rage.
Even Poseidon swayed.
Without getting up from the ground, Demeter laboriously raised his head to look with trembling wide open eyes and the face altered by the wrath of her brother.
Thunderbolts seemed to spill out of Zeus' clouded eyes. Thunderbolts. Like those that only his hand could hurl.
Rumble of thunder was his voice.
"It is not possible to oppose Destiny and Destiny wanted Persephone to fall prey to an unknown predatory hand. All right. So be it."
Zeus seemed to tower and to rise until to the sky.
"But Destiny will not save the owner of that hand from my wrath."
The sky darkened.
Stormy clouds thickened in it.
"Let my curse fall on him!"
The pitchy sky reverberated with Zeus' cavernous voice.
"Now and forever he, whoever or whatever he is, shall be haunted by my curse."
Zeus' voice burst out even more powerful. Intolerable.
"This is the atrocious destiny that awaits him."
Long moments passed before the sky finally cleared again.
Little by little, the black clouds disappeared.
The light returned
The calm was again.
The eyes of all the panting bystanders were fixed on Zeus.
On his mighty and now apparently quietly composed figure.
The eyes of every God and every Goddess.
Including Demeter, still on the ground.
Including Hera, there, on the sidelines.
Swirling thoughts in her mind.
So, in the end, Zeus had followed her suggestion. He had cursed the kidnapper. And there was no way to save oneself from the curse of a God. And if then that God was the King of the Gods...
In this case the accursed one had no escape.
Everyone knew it.
But nobody knew who the kidnapper really was.
And it was a kidnapper against whom even the curse of Zeus could do nothing.
It was Hades.
And neither he nor the other of the three major gods - Poseidon - could be grazed in the least, just as Zeus himself, by the vengeful wrath, by the curse of a God.
Not even if this God was Zeus in person.
The game was done.
Zeus, in his own way, had followed the plans.
It was missing the recourse to Hermes in order to look for Persephone, but it was something that could be said to be completely outdated. The cunning pantomime of her astute and opportunistic husband had made it useless.
Now...
Hera lowered her head. She prevented the sad shadow that clouded her eyes from being noticed.
Now... Persephone's Destiny rested only in her own hands, if what Zeus had said to her about Hades' intentions was true. But, regarding this, Hera was certain that her husband had not lied.
And Demeter would have to resign herself to the disappearance of her daughter. She would have Persephone with her again only if Persephone herself had wanted it.
Demeter couldn't but resign herself.
Hera's eyes lifted to look at Demeter.
She had got up.
She was looking at Zeus, who - silent, dour, without minding anyone, as if no one existed in that room now besides him – had turned his back to her, as well as to all the other gods and goddesses, who, little by little, were leaving, shaken and in dribs and drabs, without need for Zeus to tell them to do so.
Hera looked at Demeter's face, looked at her eyes, at her gaze at Zeus, before she too turned and slowly and ruefully and laboriously earned the exit.
Hera looked very well at that gaze.
Perhaps...
Perhaps Demeter had not in the least intention of resigning herself.
End of Chapter Seventeen
TBC
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Waiting for the evening...