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The underworld was very unlike what I had expected. The Styx was startlingly clear, not black. Its depths glinted with silver fish that darted around in never ending circles. The vast land on this side of the river had appropriately been dubbed "Erebus," after the god of shadow. Only a dim red light was visible in the distance, cast from a far corner across the Styx. I felt grateful for this twilight, for the darkness served to protect me from ogling eyes. In death, my body had somehow returned to its female form. I had never been pretty, but I could be considered shapely. Also, my threadbare tunic was skimpy enough to draw attention.
I had thought the afterlife would be peaceful, but it was anything but. A soul or two would occasionally burst into song, which signaled an entire hoard to start dancing, stamping, and singing along to ease their sorrow and boredom.
I ducked out of the way just in time to avoid the flailing arms of a woman in high spirits. "If you do not have an trinket, you have but a hundred years to wait!" she trilled. "Why be sad, just dance and lift your gait! Your final judgment shall not be abate, so simply wait!"
A trinket! In the calming effect of death, I had nearly forgotten. I reached into my mouth and pulled out- a feather? The woman at my dying side had given me a feather? At the command of Athena? Surely it had been the mad hallucinations of my last moments. I twirled it between my fingers. Even if the woman had been Athena, how would I present it to the Rich One himself? I had nothing of value to offer as fare to cross the Styx. Show it to anyone who stands in your way, the woman had instructed. Right. Hopefully it would work.
"Phassa? Phassa is that you?" came a familiar voice.
I spun around to an astonishing sight. It took me a moment to recognize the last man I was expecting to see in Erebus, a man who had been a father to me when I had none. The last time I had seen him, his skin had been bleeding raw, his hair matted, and his clothes in rags. In death, his soul bore none of the wounds of the living flesh but his eyes were clearly pained. We stared at each other in shock until I finally spoke.
"Dievon," I whispered. When I embraced him, he gripped me so hard that I winced. "But I buried you properly," I protested. "You should be in the Elysian Fields! Those brutes must have desecrated your body again."
"We must get out of here. We were both sent here too early," he insisted fervently.
I drew back. This was not the Dievon who was always calm and accepted that some matters were out of his hands.
"How can I bear it when my wife and children mourn me?" He paced and muttered to himself.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. It was terrible to see him in this state. "What would your life have been like if there had been no one to mourn you? It would have been better to have never lived at all."
"You do not understand," he half shouted. "Without my wages, my daughters will have to beg in the streets, maybe even sell their bodies. My wife will have to give herself to a new husband."
I watched sadly as this once mighty general wandered from me and raved like a madman. It was unjust that this should happen. He had risked his own life to save Athens. I had risked my own life to ensure him the afterlife he deserved. If he were to cross the Styx, he would drink from the Lethe Pool, lose all the memories that tormented him, and await his family in the Elysian Fields, where heroes belonged. I tried to run after him, but someone restrained me.
"Leave him be," the spirit told me. "They all act like that at first."
Of the many souls that wandered about, not one of them appeared to be afflicted by death. In the agonizing last moments of my life, I knew that my body had been gangrenous and wasted away, but now I was merely thin.
The line for the ferry was long but moved quickly, perhaps it was because there were not many who could afford the passage. Charon's boat grew smaller in the distance as it sailed to the other side of the river.
I trudged to the end of the line for the ferry. When I neared the end of my wait, I blinked with surprise. Instead of a cranky old demon, I found that my passage across the Styx would be provided by a smiling and burly young gentleman. Surely this could not be Charon, the legendary ferryman? Instead of rags, he wore a fancy and colorful outfit that was possibly a silly uniform. As he sailed up to the bank, I saw that his smile was strained. He tied his boat to a piece of wood that was jutting out the ground.
"One passenger at a time, please, a trinket for the fare," he said with feigned politeness. He reluctantly reached out his hand to steady each soul that climbed into the vessel. Charon's bowl of "trinkets" rattled each time someone added a ring, token, or some other valuable metal. I anxiously counted the people ahead of me. Surely there would be room enough for me. I feared that any further delay would anger the Rich One. Clink, clink, clink, and I was next!
"I am so sorry, but you need a trinket." He did not sound sorry at all, but managed a sympathetic expression.
As instructed, I showed him the feather. To my great surprise, Charon's eyes widened and he actually bowed. "Come in, come in!" he said.
As Charon rowed us across the Styx, I tried to hide my shaking hands in the folds of my tunic. More than anything else, I longed to jump out and swim back to the other side of the shore.
I flinched when the boat thudded to a stop. I dreaded my meeting with the god of the underworld, although I was most determined to see it through. As I stood and stepped onto land, the ferryman lifted a finger. "You must be on a very serious mission. The gods do not like those who fail them."
I gulped. "If you would but direct me to the palace, I shall bother you no further. "
Charon pointed at a giant, oddly shaped structure in the distance. In the dim twilight, I could only make out only a silhouette. "Go through the Meadows and follow the golden path. If any of the guards try to stop you, show them that feather."
"What's so important about this feather?"
"It came from Athena's owl!"
That was reassuring.
As I walked further into the underworld, the light grew brighter and the surroundings more pleasant. To my great surprise, the Meadows was very much like the living earth, only more crowded. There were also three suns in the sky, which was as blue as the one above the earth, instead of the rock ceiling I was expecting. The suns were considerably larger than what I had been used to seeing on earth, and the air was as warm as that of a summer day. The shades were solid and busy, just like living people. I wanted to stay and explore, but I feared I would fall prey to some enchantment that would keep me from reaching my ill sought destination.
The golden road led me straight to a gigantic oddity, a mix and match of foreign and futuristic artistry. It sported gold domes, silver points, blue towers, white arches, and all sorts of strange structures that somehow held themselves together. I had expected something darker, more frightening. Surely this was not the abode of the horrible god of the underworld. I turned to one of the many souls that wandered about, going on with their afterlives as if they were not dead.
"Would one of you direct me to the palace?" I asked.
She pointed at the curious building before me, making me feel a bit stupid.
"Thank you."
The gates of the palace were wide open, as if daring fools to enter without permission, so I did.
I gawked at the splendor before me. Silver, not bronze, weapons adorned the walls. Strings of diamonds sparkled from the high, arched ceilings and cast speckles of light everywhere. The master of the palace apparently had a shortage in neither finery nor troops. An endless line of guards flanked the balconies above me, all of them equipped in the sturdiest armor. I could not imagine the wealth that was required to suit an army so thoroughly. Their spears glinted and their swords jutted imposingly from their belts. I could feel their hostile stares but I tried not to let them intimidate me. It did not help that they all had their bows drawn.
Their lower lips and eyelids were painted gold, their eyes lined with kohl, and cheekbones smeared with a streak of copper. It was quite frightening, they looked inhuman.
"I seek the Host of Many with the hopes that he will receive me with hospitality," I called, while holding up the feather. "Where in this vast palace can I find him?"
One of the guards pointed. "Keep following the golden path but beware. He who approaches without a summons is subject to eternal damnation."
"Yes, I know that already, thank you," I muttered.
I eventually reached a chamber that was so large that I could see neither the walls nor the ceiling. It was filled with hundreds of people dressed in beautiful colors and fabrics. About ten small dogs, there were too many to count, ran around the room or perched on cushions. Their long coats were a lovely mix of brown, black, and white.
As I walked inside, a horrified hush fell over the entire room but the dogs started barking immediately. I saw many scribes scribbling away, perhaps describing my stupidity for the benefit of posterity. I shivered although it was not cold.
The god before me well deserved his reputation as the Rich One. He sat on a throne of gold, obsidian, and many other gems of the earth. Obviously, he surrounded himself with finery to console himself of his dreary lot.
To my great relief, he was only a blurry figure through a small fog that hovered in front of him, I had no desire to see his hideousness. The dogs yapped as I walked closer to the throne. I had never thought such a small, fluffy animal could be so ferocious.
When I was but a few paces from him, I threw myself before the feet of the only god who was more feared than Zeus himself. I was careful to avoid the purple carpet, it was sacrilegious for a mortal to trample on the sacred color of the gods.
"This humble wretch is Persephassa of Eleusis, blessed by bountiful Demeter, slave of chaste Hestia, commanded by fierce Athena. In death, she has nothing to offer. In life, she did too little to serve you. She is but a speck of dust at your feet, and yet she is bold enough to beg for your mercy. May you strike her to the bowels of the earth should she displease you," I told the ground. My forehead and palms were freezing against the stone floor, my knees were already sore, and my heart was pounding so fast I thought it would bore a hole through my chest.
Flattery. The Key Bearer to Hestia had always told me that flattery was the best way to appease a man. Especially the immortal ones. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be an eloquent prayer/salutation came out sounding more like a series of squeaks and gasps. It was not every day I came before the lord of the underworld. Actually, it was my first time. I coughed quietly and continued.
"As she took her last breaths upon the living earth, Pallas Athene came to her and charged her with the task of bringing you this token." Without raising my head, I extended both my arms before me with the gray feather in my trembling hands. I heard a chorus of astonished gasps from the assembled courtiers.
After what felt like the longest pause in my life (or afterlife, should I say) I was rewarded with a, "Persephassa of Eleusis, blessed by bountiful Demeter, slave of chaste Hestia, commanded by fierce Athena shall approach the divine master!"
I shivered. I had no desire to approach anyone. The ice in the speaker's voice was warm compared to the sweat that burst from my brow. Nonetheless, I half crawled, half slithered my way through the mist, keeping the feather held out before me and my head so low that my hair kept trailing along the ground. I stopped before the steps that led to the throne.
"Persephassa of Eleusis, blessed by bountiful Demeter, slave of chaste Hestia, commanded by fierce Athena, shall rise!"
I obeyed, rather unsteadily. I kept my gaze fixed on the purple carpet before me, but an invisible force lifted my chin, forcing me to look straight at him. I gasped. This god was no monster. He was beautiful! As he inspected me, causing my face to turn from one side to another, I stared back. His cheeks were smooth, save for a tiny little beard that looked like a goat's. He held his chin up with a haughty tilt. His eyes were large, like a fawn's, and they almost made him look wary. His pert lips were pressed together in annoyance. I thought he rather resembled his sister Hestia, only she had been cheery, while he was stern. He appeared to be cloaked in darkness itself, his robes were blacker than an abyss but covered in swirling patterns that appeared to be made of fine gold threads. His diadem of gold and diamonds was as high as the length of his face and flared out on either side of his head. Loops of thin gold chains started from the temples of his diadem and dropped to his waist. The back of his throne reached so far up that I could not see where it ended. The seat was literally radiant, as it was encrusted with the polished gems of the earth.
He put Mycenaean extravagance to shame. Clearly, the god surrounded himself with finery to console himself of his dreary lot. When the invisible force released its hold on me, I hastily lowered my gaze before he could turn me into a monster, or blind me, or something like that. He lifted his arm in a waving gesture, which revealed that his sleeves probably ended at the floor. At this command, a flurry of servants stepped out of the crowd. One of them plucked the feather out of my hand, dipped the pointy end into a small bowl filled with black liquid, and gave the feather back to me. Another brought out a square of stiff, yellowish cloth and held it out to me, while everyone stared expectantly. I just stood there, looking at the feather. The god made an impatient gesture, and somehow the feather leaped out of my hand and began to write, all on its own, while leaving a trail of the black liquid on the cloth. Instead of making an impression as a stylus would on a wet clay tablet, it stained the fabric. I watched, fascinated as it wrote out words in a neat, clear script. One of the servants read it aloud:
"To Hades of the Third Generation, Grandson of the Heaven and Earth,
Master of the Underworld, Deliverer of Justice, Protector of Souls,
Warrior, King, Friend,
I, Athena, salute you.
I must beg for your assistance in a small matter.
A human soul is now in your hands. He has served me well in life, I desire to see him in the Elysian Fields after death, but his body of flesh rots in the open air. I implore you to allow this mortal girl to return to the living earth in order to give this man a proper burial. He is Dievon of Mycenae, savior of Athens."
Then with a flourish, the feather signed "Athena."
The god stared at me. Then, he finally spoke.
"Why, you are just a little girl," he scorned.
"I am almost seventeen," I offered.
He threw his head back and laughed. It was a wonderful, melodious sound. "And we are almost 35,812."
His audience chuckled sycophantically.
"We have never been visited by a little girl. Heroes and fools alike, yes, but never a girl of almost seventeen." He returned to his throne and sat in a graceful sweep of robes.
"Why would our gracious niece choose you, a girl of no consequence, to bury a mighty hero?" he mulled.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the scribes jabbing at their tablets as if deeper inscriptions could illustrate their master's wrath. A court artist picked up his own brush and painting a vase, only adding to my self consciousness.
"What madness could bring a maiden before us. You must have come all this way to admire our beauty."
"We shall renew your life so you can go back and bury your friend," he said graciously.
"That is not fair," I lashed boldly. "His body will be hard to find among many, and it may be well guarded. There is no guarantee that I will succeed."
"But if you do, we will be that much more impressed. Do not attempt to negotiate with our generosity."
And so I did not.
The Unseen One turned his palm up and a pomegranate appeared in his hand. "Do you know the significance of the pomegranate?" he asked as he broke the fruit open.
"Marital fidelity and fertility," I responded immediately. Every girl hopes to enjoy both someday, but it is often too much to expect the former.
He stared at the pomegranate, almost in disdain. He turned in around in his hands. "A goddess planted the tree that bore this fruit. It comes from the tree of knowledge. It will overwhelm you and kill you. She is the Pandora of the divine race, and this gourd is her box."
He touched the pomegranate to my waist, against my tunic, then looked puzzled. Then he drew back. "Humans have yet to invent pockets," he muttered to himself.
After mulling for a moment, he made as if to pluck one seed but the rest followed on a golden chain. He fastened the necklace around my neck.
"You shall return to us once your task is complete." Then he pressed an obol into my hand. "Six seeds. Do not delay and try to relive a life already gone."
I raised a hand to the beads. Did he mean for me to poison myself? I hoped it would work quickly.
Before I could ask, I found myself upon the living earth again, exactly where Dievon's body had been. Our own troops must have abandoned the entire camp. There were foreign banners flying everywhere.
I stopped one of the official looking soldiers who were riding on their chariots. "What has happened here?" I demanded. "There was a body here."
The man looked at me. "This is Menestheus' territory now. He ordered all corpses to be cleared." He gestured behind him.
I ran in the direction he showed me and saw several piles of rotting bodies waiting beside gaping holes in the ground. One soldier was digging more graves while two others brought more corpses. I watched in horror as they pushed a stack of bodies into the same grave without even performing the proper funeral rites.
I ran from pile to pile, trying to find Dievon's body. I gagged at the overwhelming stench and swatted at the flies that buzzed possessively.
I finally recognized him by the letters he had carved into the soles of his sandals. They bore the names of his wife and three children, so they would be with him always, he had once explained. He had always hoped to add more names.
I pulled him out of the heap and knocked off other bodies in the process, to the great annoyance of the soldiers who had worked so hard to stack the corpses.
Dievon's body was heavy and decayed, so I barely managed to drag him to the nearest open grave. Even if he would have to settle for a mass burial, at least he would have fare for the Styx.
I firmly slid the obol into his mouth, rolled his body into the excavation as gently as possible, and pushed loose dirt over him until he was completely covered.
"This time, stay in there." I dabbed at my tears and forced a laugh. I walked to where the earth had not been disturbed and collected wildflowers for his grave. However, I dropped the entire bouquet when the earth began to shake violently.
"I didn't mean to!" I shouted desperately. I tried to shove the flowers back into the ground but Gaia only trembled more angrily. I yelped as I was thrown off of my feet. Suddenly, the ground split open and a terrifying figure came charging out in a chariot as dark as the night. His ebony cloak whipped behind him and his cruel whip never stopped flailing. His four steeds strained against the reins and thundered their way straight towards me.
The soldiers dropped their work and ran, screaming. I took flight as well, but the charioteer pursued me on foot. He kept shouting at me, but I only bawled louder. When he grasped my shoulder, I tripped and fell. I tried to get up again but he wrestled me to the ground. I thrashed and hollered for all my life was worth. If this demon was to take me, I would at least make it more difficult.
He kept trying to grab my wrists, but I kicked, hit, and bit him. He finally pinned down my right arm and pried my fist open. A single petal was stuck to my sweaty palm. I panted for breath, astonished, as he carefully peeled off the petal and climbed off of me. I was even more surprised when I brushed the hair out of my eyes and saw my attacker's cranky but familiar face.
"By Zeus," swore the god of the underworld." "Why are women always so difficult? They'll kill over a stupid plant!"
Grumbling, he went over to where I had dropped the bundle of flowers and sifted through it. He carefully picked out a mangled narcissus and somehow reattached the petal. Then he restored the stem back into the earth.
He shot me a look of disgust and I felt a hot flush come over my cheeks. "Of course it is you, Almost Seventeen. No other mortal has ever given me so much trouble."
"Forgive me, Polynomos, I did not realize I was picking your sacred blossom," I stammered.
He sighed in a resigned way. "The nymphs do it on purpose to force us to appear before them, we suppose you meant no harm."
He climbed back into his chariot and looked me up and down in an appraising way. Then reached over, grasped my chin, and stared into my eyes in that probing way. He gazed at my necklace of pomegranate seeds, then sighed heavily.
"I suppose if I just leave you here, you'll do more silly things." He paused as if to think. "Accept me as your master above all the other gods and I will see to the promotion of your welfare."
I did not quite understand. "You want me to dedicate my life at your temple?"
"In my kingdom." He patted his chariot as if inviting me on.
My parents had abandoned me, I had no need to worry about them missing me. I had seen war, death, and the underworld, I could not return to Hestia's temple and pretend to be happy with tending a fire for the rest of my life. I was no longer the content ignorant fool I had once been. I had never wanted to join the army in the first place and regardless, it had a death warrant for me. Hence I made a choice that wasn't really a choice at all. I bowed my head before my new master. "I am your humble servant," I said simply.
He imperiously held his hand out to me. I bent on my right knee before him and kissed the back of his hand while touching my left knee with my left hand. Then he pulled me onto the chariot and we flew back into the underworld.
The wind roared against my ears and my hair scourged my face, but I had never felt safer.