For who could ever learn to love The One who doesn't know love?
By Asso
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I think "Close Encounters" may be the correct preamble to what follows.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Hades raised his eyebrow.
"What do you mean, Persephone? Why do you say it is a fake test?"
"The why lies on what you omitted to tell me, my Lord."
Hades couldn't help but smile. Once again he happened to do it. Well, maybe he would have done well to get used to the idea that it would happen to him more and more often.
"Apparently, my girl, we seem to be twisting in on ourselves. Let's see to get to the point. What would I have omitted to tell you and why would such omission on my part show that we are talking of a false test?"
"My Lord, allow me to show it to you in deeds and not in words."
Persephone straightened her shoulders proudly.
"Take me to the Guardian, Hades, my Lord, King of Underworld."
Persephone's bright eyes shone with fierceness.
"Take me to Cerberus. Take to him the Queen of Underworld."
Yeah, there she was.
Hermes looked at her.
In the midst of the whirlwind of the wind and that never seen before thing, that thing made of soft, white, icy flakes twirling tumultuously, he looked at her.
Keeping himself in the air with difficulty in the whipping wind, he looked at her.
Demeter.
Wrapped up in a whirlwind, mirror of the whirlwind that was in her.
Demeter.
The Goddess in whose hands the fertility of earth stood, the abundance of crops, their very possibility.
The life.
Demeter.
Motionless.
Prisoner of her unyielding, blind wrath.
Of her resentment of being cheated out of her role of mother.
Or, rather, of the unique mother role she was capable of conceiving.
Mother-Mistress.
This was the point.
Hermes understood this much more than the other gods, even more than Zeus himself. Not for nothing he was the clever and cunning Hermes, shrewd and swindler - and thief - so much so as to be able to penetrate the dark motions of the soul much more and much better than the other gods.
It wasn't only because her daughter had been stolen from her - and in what manner! And by Hades, on top of that! By the awful, dark, abominable Hades! - that Demeter was doing to the world what she was doing.
It was not only because of the injustice, the violence, of such a hateful event.
This would have at all been understandable, although her reaction was decidedly disproportionate. Of course. Because it would be Humans to pay for it, and dearly, and all living species. And this was unacceptable. More unfair and more loaded with violence even than Hades' misdeed in itself.
The truth, the real truth in all its entirety, was that she had been deprived of the role of her daughter's Mother-Mistress.
Which, for her, was destructive.
To the point of pushing her to be destructive to the whole world.
For revenge.
For grudge.
Out of anger at no longer being able to decide her daughter's fate.
Not simply because she wanted her daughter back to her.
For this too, of course.
But why did she want that? Because she wanted her Mistress-Mother role back.
The sole architect of her daughter's destiny.
Indifferent and even intolerant of the longings of this daughter.
She would not be in the least interested in whether Persephone was happy or not at being kidnapped by Hades nor if, somehow, being kidnapped could have been a way - unexpected, unwelcome, most likely, not to say revolting and odious and frightening to her - but effective, to get herself free from the stifling cloak her mother had wrapped her up in.
Nothing of all this.
Not that it wasn't fair that she wanted Persephone back to enjoy again the world she was born into; not that she didn't love Persephone, far from it! But hers was an exclusive love, a love clipping wings, and... yes ... for this simple reason, unjust. As much as if not even more than the kidnapping perpetrated by Hades.
Who - Hermes had understood it well - had no other means of getting Persephone.
Her mother would never have granted her hand to him.
To nobody, in reality, but to him, least of all! Not even if Persephone herself had wanted it!
Not even Zeus would have succeeded in such a feat, the feat of convincing Demeter to allow such a thing to happen, to concede Persephone permission to choose her destiny!
The crux, the real crux, was that she was no longer Persephone's Mother-Mistress and this blinded her, urged her to extinguish Nature in the same way it had been extinguished her position as Mother-Mistress.
It made her prey to the utter unreasonableness.
And how can one reason with the unreasonable?
And yet he, Hermes, had to do it. He had to try to do it.
He had to face her.
Demeter.
The corners of Hades' pale lips curled up slightly in the shadow of a smile.
His diaphanous eyes shone with that otherworldly light of theirs.
He was proud. Yes, he was proud of her, of the woman whom the arcane flickers of Fate had wanted to come and shatter the gelid prison that had encaged him since forever and that was now gone.
By virtue of her.
She had understood, she really had understood.
Those words, the way she had referred to herself, as the Queen of Underworld, proudly... telling him, almost enjoining him to take her to Cerberus…
Yes, she had understood everything.
She had understood what she had to do.
What he, as she had comprehended, had omitted to tell her, because, if he had told her, the last link in the chain - that magnificent chain that he would never have thought could take shape - would not have got welded.
She was the one who had to make that ring weld.
His love for her and hers for him weren't enough alone.
She had to... she had to believe in him.
Totally.
She had to believe he really wanted her as his bride and Queen.
As the Queen of Underworld.
She had to believe that his weren't empty words. She had to make the law of the King of the Underworld her own and make of it her own law.
It had to be her, the law of Underworld!
And, this taking place, neither Cerberus nor anyone else wouldn't be able to do anything else than welcoming her as his Queen.
As their Queen!
Could all this be avoided? Could what she had realized she had to do be avoided? Could it be avoided what she had understood that he had deliberately - necessarily, on pain of the nullity of the action - omitted to tell her? Sure, it could. But then he would have Persephone's body and soul, as she would have his, but she would not have the crown.
She would simply be Hades' woman.
And nothing more.
And that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her to be his bride and Queen!
The Lady of Beyond Grave!
Persephone!
The Queen of Underworld!
He wanted her to be the Mistress not only of his heart, but even of everything he was the Master of!
However...
However Cerberus was still Cerberus.
The slightest thing would be enough! A nothing, the minimal trifle, the slightest wavering of Persephone's trust in him, in the face of that abominable beast, that beast capable of making anyone's veins and wrists tremble, that beast that - until now - only he could dominate and…
And...
And…!
Certainly, he would intervene, but... but Cerberus was a quick wild beast.
And deathly feral.
A hellish beast that could… that could hurt even a goddess!
His heart, that heart now beating again and beating with that thing he once couldn't even understand, that thing called love, trembled.
Exactly so.
It trembled with fear.
Maybe… maybe Persephone didn't need to reveal herself to Cerberus.
Okay, okay, she wouldn't be his Queen, nor, even less, the Queen of Underworld, but would still be his woman.
It wouldn't be what he wanted, not at all. He wanted her to be for the netherworld and for the whole universe the one that everyone would call the Queen of Underworld.
The bride of Hades!
The Queen who would reign by his side, together with him.
Which was what she herself wanted, with infinite contentment and infinite pride on his part. Not his concubine, not his bed partner, but his wife. In full. The other half of him.
But was it worth taking such a risk, was it worth challenging the blind and brainless fury of the hell dog to accomplish this goal?
Perhaps...
Perhaps no.
Perhaps no!
"Persephone ..." - Was it his, that voice? The voice of Hades? So uncertain? Was that the voice he heard sounding to his own ears? - "...Persephone, maybe... maybe it's not the case to go to Cerberus. If... if he will sooner or later notice you, your presence, as I told you that it will surely happen, even if you don't introduce yourself to him just now, well... when this will occur we'll see what to do. But now..."
But Persephone cut him off.
With a sweet yet resolute gesture of her hand.
And she smiled at him.
A smile that Hades would never forget.
Like the melody of her voice.
"I trust you, Hades, my Lord"
Hades found himself staring at her with wide eyes.
"My trust in you will never falter, Lord of Underworld and of my heart."
No. He would never forget her voice, her words, her expression, the simultaneously sweet and imperious tone of her talking.
"Take me to Cerberus, my love."
Hermes landed on the ground, on the cold, hard ground, covered with that white, shiny, slippery carpet that the world had never known before.
Right in front of her.
She had her back to him. And she didn't seem to have noticed him at all.
But Hermes knew this was not the case.
She was perfectly aware of his presence, but she was not at all willing to demonstrate she was inclined to grant him an audience, to listen to what he had to say to her.
Or, rather, she wanted him to make the first move.
And he did.
A little hesitant, to be honest.
And even in a little silly way.
Eh sure.
Because, come to think of it, it was rather silly doing what he did.
Call her.
Only that.
But he did not find better.
And, on the other hand, in a way or another he had to begin.
"Demeter."
Nothing.
As if he hadn't spoken.
He called her with more force.
"Demeter."
And he thought it best to add a "My Lady."
Nothing yet.
Then Hermes got irked.
"It is Zeus' herald he who's calling you, Demeter!"
And, at this point, she turned to him.
Slowly.
And looked at him.
And it wasn't a pretty gaze, hers.
But less harsh than her voice, than the tone she addressed him which.
"Are you announcing me his will, o winged god? But I already know it."
Hermes found himself swallowing, like a mere mortal.
"My Lady..."
"Or has it changed? Does he want to step in and force Hades to return my daughter to me?"
"N... n... no. He..."
"Then save your breath. Go back to him and tell him my will hasn't changed either."
Hermes realized he was facing a boulder that not even Hercules could have moved.
Nonetheless, he had to insist.
"Demeter, please let me speak. I ..."
"And tell him that my will change only if his changes."
And then she turned her back to him, as if he didn't exist.
Hermes stood watching her as she was sitting on her precious oak chair, with her back to him, amidst the icy, rushing wind.
What was he supposed to do? How could he budge her? Especially if, at the end, it was true that she had no other means of getting what she wanted?
It was a blackmail. Sure.
But, putting himself in her shoes, what else could she do?
Eh sure. Only that. Namely acting the way she was doing. Desperately trying to change Zeus' mind.
Without realizing...
Yeah. Without realizing how it would end.
Because, ultimately, how would it end?
It would go ending that not only her daughter but the whole world would fall into the hands of Hades.
Because if the world were over, the only world that would be left would be that of Hades.
The world of Death.
This thought struck Hermes hard.
Yeah.
Maybe... maybe it was from that he had to start.
But sure, for Zeus' sake!
That was what he had to make Demeter understand!
He squared his shoulders.
"Demeter!"
Aloud.
Imperious.
Her shoulders jumped.
He saw it perfectly.
"Do you want the whole world to fall prey to the clutches of the Lord of Underworld?"
She turned around.
Briskly.
Her eyes were wide open.
"What do you mean, Hermes?"
"You understood perfectly well, Demeter."
No awe now. No hesitation. Firmness and imperiousness.
This way it was to be done.
"In order for your daughter to return to you, you are condemning the whole world to join her in Hades' domain. And us gods too, Demeter. Because how can gods ever exist if no one remains over whom they can reign?" "
Yes. He was making it. Demeter's gaze spoke volumes.
Go on like this!
"Zeus will never cede, he can't do it, Demeter. His dignity as Lord of Gods and Humans imposes it on him, on pain of loosing his credibility, ultimately his own power, which is the power that allows us gods to be what we are. And if you too don't, the end will be that the only god to remain will be Hades. Because his Realm is the only one that can survive the end of all. He will have everything, Demeter. Your daughter, the whole world and all the other gods too. Everything, Demeter. Everything. You will have destroyed the world for nothing."
Well, not bad. All in all he had been really eloquent, hadn't he? Just as Zeus had told him he was capable of doing.
Thing that Demeter's gaze was confirming.
It was terrified, that look.
And...
"What should I do, Hermes?"
Yes. He had been decidedly eloquent.
"I cannot give up on my daughter, Hermes, I cannot accept that she is prey to the darkness. I... I love her, Hermes! Tell me what to do. Tell me, Hermes!"
Indubitably eloquent.
But there was not the moment of boasting.
Eh sure!
Because...
Damn! And what on earth could he possibly suggest Demeter to do?
Oh sure, he had made it! He had been worthy to be what he was, the god of eloquence and shrewdness! He had managed to make Demeter understand the absurdity of her actions! But... and now? Now that she — desperate, humble — was asking him what she had to do to get her daughter back, what had he to say to her, with his damned eloquence? To give up? To surrender? To leave her daughter to her fate? Exactly how Zeus wanted him to do? But... but it was a mother, the one who was now looking at him with tearful and pleading eyes! A desperate mother! Imbued with excessive and blind love for her daughter, but still steeped in love for her! She had been wrong in suffocating her with this love and she had been wrong in trying to get her back like that. But it was the desperate love of a distressed mother what he now saw in her eyes, in her pleading gestures, in her heartbroken voice, in her desperate plea to him!
No. He wouldn't do that. He would not use his sly duplicity, his shrewd eloquence to persuade Demeter to give up on her daughter. He would not resort to his vulpine word to make Demeter give up raging on the world while giving up being able to hold her daughter again in her arms. He wouldn't do it! Okay being the god of thieves, but robbing a mother of what is dearest to her, however erroneous and distorted in her feelings she could be, eh no! This no!
And okay. Alright. But... so what?
What the hell, just to stay on topic, was he supposed to tell Demeter to do?
What the hell...?
And in that moment Hermes remembered the second option, the one that Zeus had said that he, Zeus, would follow - but that, at the end of the day, would have to be performed by him, just by him, Hermes, as herald of Zeus' will - if it hadn't be possible to convince Demeter to give up her blackmail retaliation.
Convincing Hades.
Of course.
Convincing Hades to let Persephone return to Demeter.
A no-brainer!
A trifle!
Talking to Hades.
Hades!
Hades!
Whenever he had had to venture into his kingdom, going beyond the boundary marked by the Acheron, going beyond his task of accompanying the souls of the dead to Charon's boat... every time he had had to do it to comply with the will of Zeus...
Well, every time it had been... it had been traumatizing!
He had sworn he would never do it again!
That never again he would bear the terrifying vision of that hideous and gloomy God, neither from afar, as he fortunately had been able to do the times he had to, nor up close, as... as he should have done now!
Ta... talking to him!
In person!
To get him to let free Persephone! To let her go back to her mother!
To her native world.
A doddle! Really a doddle!
And by no means frightening! Oh no! Really no!
Yet this was precisely what he would have to do. Of course. Because, if he had failed in his task of convincing Demeter, Zeus would order him to carry out the second option, that of convincing Hades. And since he had no intention of convincing Demeter, the consequence would be that he would have to return to Zeus informing him that he had not been able to convince Demeter. Eh sure! Certainly it wasn't like he could tell Zeus he hadn't even tried!
Result?
Well, it seemed to him he could already hear Zeus' thundering injunction.
"Then go to Hades and convince him."
Damn Zeus! Damn Hades! Damn Demeter! And damn Persephone, too!
Damn them all!
Damn all!
Yeah. Da...
Hermes stopped abruptly his mental invectives.
A wacky, subtle idea suddenly snapped inside his wacky, subtle brain.
Yeah. Damn.
Or, better, damned.
Yeah, yeah.
Damned.
All of them. Zeus, Hades, Persephone...
But Demeter?
That Persephone were among the damned... well, that was a fact. Hades... well, Hades was the King of the damned and, let's face it, himself damned forever. Zeus... well, Zeus was damned to be Zeus. Which was even worse than actually being damned. If you wanted to see things with a minimum of objectivity, Zeus was the most damned of the damned. He would have a place of honour in the kingdom of Hades and, in a way, it was as if he was constantly there. He had relegated his brother to reign over the Beyond Grave, but the shadow of what he had done hung over him. The shadow of Hades.
Okay.
It was all adding up.
All down there. In the Underworld. Physically or virtually.
But there was someone who was missing from the roll call.
And that someone was Demeter.
So...
The shadow of a mischievous and sly smile hovered across Hermes' face.
So, why deny her what her daughter and Hades and even Zeus had?
He immediately suppressed that ambiguous and sly smile.
He raised his arm gravely and gravely addressed Demeter.
"Demeter, my Lady, what you have to do is talking to Hades."
For a moment, everything stopped.
The wind, the storm, the swirling of those frozen flakes.
Everything.
Like her.
Like Demeter.
All immovable in amazement.
Like her.
Then the living statue, Demeter, came back to life.
"Me, talk to Hades?"
An astonished whisper, her voice. And a whisper also the storm. As if amazed and incredulous, unable to understand, as her.
But, a few moments, and the wind rumbled again.
Like Demeter's voice.
And flashes and lightning streaked across the dark sky again. Coruscating and sparkling like her eyes.
"What nonsense are you saying, Hermes? How can you think I can talk to that unclean being?"
"I can think so, Demeter, because it is the only way that lies before you to get your daughter back."
This manner. Without fear nor awe. He had really to be, now, the shrewd and eloquent and clever Hermes.
"Hermes! You are..."
"I am in the right, Demeter, I am not talking nonsense. Zeus has no intention of intervening. You know it well, since that is why you have unleashed your anger. Poseidon does not even dream of opposing Zeus' will and, on the other hand, it is not that he likes too much the idea of having to do with that other, with his dark brother. And the other gods can do nothing against Hades. None of them, Demeter. You know it well. But you..."
Hermes was silent for a moment.
It was time to do it. To powerfully underline with a brief instant of silence what he was saying. And to give strength to what he would say.
Demeter's attention was spasmodic and he knew he had to ensnare her even more than how was evidently happening.
He looked at her intently.
And then he went on.
"But you, Demeter, are Demeter. Sister of Zeus and eldest of him. As of Poseidon and Hades himself. And you are the mother of Persephone. If there is a voice Hades can pay attention to, that is yours, Demeter."
Demeter jumped to her feet.
Her eyes fired lightning, even more than it was happening in the sky.
"Should I speak to Hades? Should I speak to the beast who stole my daughter from me? Should it be me - me! - to bow down to him, to persuade him to return the daughter he treacherously kidnapped from me? To bend her to his desires? To his lust? To make her his slave and lover?"
Hermes didn't let himself be intimidated. He just couldn't do it. And... well yes, he had to speak clearly to Demeter. It was time someone would do.
"What do you know, Demeter, of what fate Hades may have in store for your daughter? His slave? His lover? And what if it wasn't so? What if he wanted something more for her?"
And as he said this, Hermes realized he perhaps wasn't fantasizing, he cottoned on to the fact that what he was saying could also be true. Eh yeah. It could. And that thought, that idea, all in all not so bizarre, pushed Hermes even more down the road he was walking on.
"What do we know about his intentions, Demeter? What do you know?"
"He kidnapped her, Hermes! He kidnapped her!"
"Sure. But would you have granted her to him if he had asked you for her?"
And at this point Hermes dared. He went all the way.
"And would you have let your daughter express herself about Hades' request? Would you have let her give voice to her own will?"
"Hermes, don't you dare!"
"I humbly ask your forgiveness, my Lady, perhaps I have gone too far, but I am sure that a great and intelligent goddess like you are cannot fail to recognize the truth of my words."
"The truth, Hermes, is that filthy dark beast dissembling himself in the shape of a god has kidnapped my Persephone and nothing can justify such a hideous act! And least of all it's you who can do it!"
"You're right, Demeter. I can't do that. But I can't oppose the Zeus' will either, just like you, nor do I have the strength and the power to oppose Hades'. And, with all my cunning and eloquence, never would I be able to convince him to give you back your daughter. He wouldn't even deign me of a mocking and teasing look. I am nothing compared to him. But you, Demeter, you ..."
Hermes walked over to Demeter, who was now staring at him with wide and flashing eyes.
Wrath, yes, but uncertainty and doubt too in those eyes of hers.
He stopped right in front of her.
"...You can do it. You are Demeter, one of the great goddesses, if not the greatest. Even Hera herself is not at your level, since her authority largely lies in being her the wife of Zeus. The whole world depends on you. The life itself."
Like this, yet! In this way! Without giving Demeter rest!
"Since when have you and Hades not talked to each other, Demeter? Since when does he live locked up in his dark world, with no one approaching him? Now he's come out of that tenebrous world! He wants a spark of life! Of real life! And to have it, he acted in the only way he knows! Because no one, ever, gave him any warmth, anything capable of making him something else than the grim god he is! You - you, Demeter, and only you! - can make him understand that he was wrong! Break that cold and hideous circle you too! The circle imprisoning him! That cage he's entrapped in! Go to him! Tell him, make him understand, that it is not with the fraudulent abduction of your daughter that he can get the warmth he's seeking for. And that only by returning Persephone to you and to us the way could be found to give him some of that warmth."
There. Now he had said everything. Now it was a question of seeing if his much-vaunted eloquence was really such.
It was a few long moments before Demeter said something, before she shook herself.
And one could see in her eyes, in her face, in her expression, the emotional storm stirring inside her, more impetuous than the storm raging around.
"He will never listen to me, Hermes. He will not!"
Okay.
It was done.
Now only one last little push was needed. And it had to be calibrated well.
"And why shouldn't he, Demeter?"
"Because he is Hades, Hermes! Deaf to the whole world!"
"But not deaf to the righteous demands of the dead that he finds himself judging, Demeter. The voices rising from Mortals say he is terrifying and we gods, all of us, even you, my Lady, well know how this corresponds to the truth. They say, those voices, that never would they, the Mortals, want to meet him, which, of course, is entirely logical, because meeting Hades means for Mortals to be dead. But those voices also say that he is an inflexible yet just god, that he listens to the words of the dead, that he is far from not caring of them, that he considers them carefully and that, if he judges the requests right, he accepts them. And if he is not deaf to the righteous demands of mortals, why should he be deaf to the righteous demands of a goddess? And of what a great goddess, Demeter! You! His august sister! Companion to his first steps in the world!"
Hermes was sure of that. Demeter was biting her lip.
And then, finally, the capitulation.
"Cerberus will never allow me to reach Hades, Hermes."
It was not easy for Hermes to suppress the self-satisfied smile that wanted to appear on his lips at hearing those words and it was even more difficult for him to do so in listening to what Demeter added immediately after.
So many words, finally, even too many, a river in flood. But those words were music to Hermes' ears at least as much as they were liberating to Demeter. He understood this well.
"You know it well, Hermes. Hades' ancient will, his order to Cerberus to prevent anyone, god or mortal not yet dead, from crossing the boundaries of his kingdom, both to enter and to leave it, in the case of dead mortals, is imperishable and not circumventable. Only Zeus can do it and he is patently very far even from merely thinking of doing it. Nor it is conceivable to bypass Cerberus by crossing the border between our world and the otherworldly world by passing through the ancient forest where... where my daughter was kidnapped. That is not a road that allows reaching Hades. That road allows the gods, if they want it, to enter the Underworld, but not to walk the road that leads to his abode. To him. And then also in this case Cerberus' sense of smell will eventually discover the intruder and the hellish dog will drive him away. Nobody can go to Hades that he doesn't want to."
Hermes allowed himself a frank, broad smile at last.
"You are telling the truth, Demeter. But you are forgetting one detail, and not a small one."
The storm rumbled more lowly now, as if waiting.
Exactly like Demeter.
"There is someone else who can reach Hades besides Zeus, regardless of the will of the Lord of the Underworld. Another god."
Demeter's eyes widened.
"You!"
"Exactly. Me."
Demeter's voice was almost a whisper. "You!" Again.
Hermes' smile broadened even more.
Then his face became serious and his voice grew grave.
"I am the Psychopomp, Demeter. I guide the souls to Charon's boat. And if Zeus' will wants me to go beyond or..." And on Hermes' lips a slight, cunning and sly smile peeked. "...if other needs impose it, I can get around Cerberus. And whoever is with me can do the same, if I allow and want it. And, with my guide, reach Hades."
Demeter was now silent and silent was the storm.
She finally spoke. Incredulous and uncertain.
"And you would do it, Hermes? You would do this for me?"
Hermes grinned.
"Well, Demeter, I don't like too much the prospect of ending up as a poor god with no followers in a dead and deceased world, if not even of ending up, me myself, as well as all the other gods, between the claws of your tenebrous brother. Therefore, yes. If this is the way, the chance that's open to us, I will."
There was silence.
Demeter was silent.
Hermes was silent.
The wind was silent.
It was the looks that spoke.
Until the silence was broken.
By Demeter's firm and determined voice.
"Let's go then. Take me to Hades, Hermes."
If earlier it had been difficult for Hermes to suppress the smirk of self-satisfaction that had tried to surface on his lips when he had realized he had won, now it was even more difficult for him to avoid letting out a big sigh of relief.
But he succeeded.
He had made it. Now it was at all certain.
Sure, he had taken the liberty to... how to say?...to bring together the two options expressed by Zeus and without asking him for any permission. And now he even had to go where he had sworn never to go again. But that was it. Besides, if things had gone wrong - he snickered to himself - he most likely would have to get used to Hades' close-up view and neither Zeus nor anyone else would have the opportunity to blame him. There would be nothing left to picking on for. But... eh, but if things had gone well, if his plan had worked, Zeus would certainly not scowl because of his spirit of initiative. And as for Hades... well, goodbye to him!
None of this, of course, transpired in his face or in his words.
He spoke absolutely sternly and gravely.
"Very well, my Lady. Follow me, then."
But then his damn mocking and raffish sprite showed its face, unable to keep tranquil.
"Oh... ahem... maybe it's not the case to continue to rage on the world, as waiting to talk to Hades, don't you think, Demeter?"
The answer was clear, in Demeter's attitude as well as in the sudden furious resumption of the storm.
"Let's see first what Hades will have to tell me, Hermes."
Hermes raised his hands, as if in a funny gesture of surrender.
"Okay, okay. Like unspoken."
Then he composed himself.
"So shall we go, my Lady?"
"Let's go, Hermes."
End of Chapter Twenty-Nine
TBC
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
And these "Close Encounters"?, you will say, my friends.
Well, they will happen, they will happen, be sure of that. The road is marked out, don't you think?
But a pinch of suspense doesn't hurt, right?