Chapter 8

What kind of fit would Hera throw at even such a suggestion. The heavens would split asunder from her anger! This problem had to be resolved, and quickly, before the return of Zeus and Hera!

Nereids and naiads, they came. Sea nymphs and mountain nymphs. Beauties from far off forgotten corners of the world, and others from nearby. All with one thought in mind - to claim that promised gift from Zeus!

"Ah, Ladies, charming Ladies - I must retire to my chambers and give this matter careful thought. Return when the sun has reached its zenith." Demo smiled, bowed, and escaped quickly before their anger could be vented on him.

It would certainly be simpler if - well, dalliance on such a scale! It had never entered his mind. Zeus?

Anyway, whether real or imagined, these angry young ladies were convinced. What could be done?

Enter Cupid. Helpful child, he considered the dilemma faced by Demo. In his childish way he quickly arrived at a solution. A solution of great moment to Demo.

Cupid's arrows flew!

Unfailingly they struck the heart of each victim! Unfailingly they elicited a well-known result!

Love and ardor possessed each target. Love and ardor, no longer for Zeus. Rather, for Demo!

Cupid's arrows flew! And flew!

The approach of noon weighed heavy on Demo. How best to extricate Zeus from an untenable situation came not to mind. What to do? A really deplorable situation, with very little room for maneuvering. My, what would Hera say!

Aha! An idea came to mind. A contest, to chose one from the mob! Cut the problem down to size. What kind of contest?

Of course!

These, the most beautiful of women - what else? A beauty contest!

A problem still remained. Who dare judge such a contest? Certainly not Demo! He shivered at the thought. The anger of the losers might well be vented on him. No, someone better qualified must decide. It had to be someone impartial, and unassailable. Someone not subject to feminine wiles.

But who?

Oddly enough, Cupid entered the throne room at that very instant.

Demo smiled.

A child! Why, of course, a child! Who could be angry at the decision of a child? And certainly a child would hardly be swayed as might an adult.

"Cupid, my lad, I have a chore for you."

Cupid listened carefully, nodded in understanding, and agreed to participate in this new game. He would indeed judge the beauty contest.

"Janus, bring on the ladies, if you please."

The meeting did not go as planned.

The ladies entered. They sat around the room, stood, fidgeted. Each was unique, beautiful in an individual way. In look and action they differed. Yet they all did one thing in common.

They stared at Demo with undisguised desire, boldly caressing him with ardent gazes.

Demo felt the hair on his neck rise, and a shiver raced down his spine. With an effort he announced, "There is insufficient space in the throne room for all you fair ladies. So we propose to have a beauty contest, the winner to set beside Zeus and guide him in matters of the heart. Cupid has volunteered to be the judge."

They seemed little interested. Rather, they watched Demo's every move with strangely glistening eyes. At his direction they paraded across the throne room.

Cupid made notes, assigned points for various and sundry qualities, and finally arrived at a conclusion. He brought his notepad to Demo, stood quietly beside the throne, cherubic in appearance. That alone should have forewarned Demo.

It was a tie! All the contestants had attained identical scores!

Demo's eyes opened wide, and he quivered. This was unexpected! He hesitatingly announced the result, readied himself for the angry outburst he expected.

There were a few yawns. Some of the ladies engaged in quiet gossip. All continued to regard him with interest.

There was no outburst.

"Who cares." A comment came from the back of the room.

"Sit beside Zeus! I'd much rather keep company with a charming boy." The lady stared meaningfully at Demo.

"Hardly!" Another beauty stood up. "He is certainly mine!"

In moments the room was filled with rancorous voices, angry and loud. Turmoil followed, and the crowd quickly moved to the outer court, accompanied by pummeling and hair pulling.

Demo sat wide-eyed, glaring at Cupid.

The boy smiled. "Well, I must practice my archery."

He strolled away, humming softly.

Was that a smirk I noted, Demo thought. I'm sure not. After all, he is only a child.

I think I'll cut his bow string.

A maiden clothed in white gazed with tear-dimmed eye across an endless plane. Sulfurous fumes rose from boiling liquid ponds dotting that dread surface. Manlike creatures, yet men no more, staggered blindly from place to place. In their ceaseless walk they fell hapless into the open pits and screaming in agony clambered out, only to resume their endless wandering.

With a sob the maiden turned to her companion. Hideous though the manlike creatures were, the visage of her comrade was more hideous still. A body twisted, scaly, not of this world, well-suited to this dark and gloomy clime, supported the grotesque head.

"Have you no pity? Is there nothing to be done for these, the suffering?"

A voice between whine and growl responded. "They chose, while on the earth, their own brand of eternity. I am but the keeper. Yet, for the kindness of your soul, shall their pain be eased for a brief moment. I shall give them sleep. I can do no more."

"And for me? I who would choose another world, I who have not yet passed through death's portal - what have you to offer me?"

"I offered you a goblet from the River Lethe. That would have soothed your tears, and washed away all memory of yesterday, and of all yesterdays. Sadly, you would not drink. Perhaps it is better." He spoke musingly, as though unsure.

"You know full well that you are to abide with me until once more the sun pass through one half his journey. Then may you return to your mother's lodging, to green grass and gardens, for a time. Were it within my power the confines of Hades would be such a garden, that here you might too find beauty. It cannot be!"

The creatures of the nether region lay quiet now, a short respite from their eternal pain. Tears welled from the eyes of Persephone. Where they fell bloomed sweet violets, even bloomed in Hades.

But too quickly they wilted and died.

11. The Sound of Regulus

"My dear boy, how are you? This weather! I must apologize. I've been despondent, down in the dumps. I'll try to cheer up, really I will. Tomorrow you shall have sunshine." And in fact Zeus did indeed sound cheerful.

"Your poor dear Mother! I know she washed today, and then to have that awful deluge! Well, well, I shall have to make amends. Ah, she does cook such delicious berry pie! Ummm! Ah, I have it! You will soon notice, on the hillside to the south - I'll arrange to have the most scrumptious berries grow. Tell her to pick from that patch. Ah, those pies!" He paused, leaned back on the throne, eyes closed. The smile reflected that even the memory of the pies was appealing.

"But I mustn't waste your time. My snake charmer, poor soul, has lost his snake. Not literally. It has just grown old (Cronus, you know) and can't hear his flute to well. So he needs a snake. And he won't settle for just any type of snake. No, he tells me the regulus is the only one that will do. Would you be so kind as to dash off to the Cush and pick up one for him. The northwest corner, I believe. No, sorry, that's the northeast corner. I think. Oh, never mind, you'll find it all right. It's called the Nubian Desert. And do hurry back. He'll be so very pleased. Yes, he will. And so will I." Zeus smiled benevolently, and Demo knew it was time to go.

It was.

With a final word, "What you don't hear can't hurt you," Zeus waved good-bye and Demo found himself partially immersed in a sand dune. Slowly, cautiously Demo worked his way out of the dune, slid down the side. Overhead the bright sun beamed down as the heat became ever more oppressive.

In the distance he heard a steady beating sound, drumlike yet metallic. It disturbed him. The dull monotonous beat, reminiscent of the clang of shields, spear butt struck, announcing doom and death song.

Demo shivered. It did not bode well. Where had Zeus placed him, and where would he find the regulus? And the last words from Zeus, what did they portend. "What you don't hear cannot harm you." Strange words indeed.

But he heard well, and what he heard was that steady beat, and suddenly the sound of footstep in the sand. He turned to greet in friendly manner the native of this strange land.

Striding toward him, tall and imperious, spear in hand, a dark yet ghostly white sinister figure!

"Are you of Cush, or are you from the Northland?" The voice was emotionless, but the spear point bore upon his chest, a handsbreath away.

"Neither. At least, I think neither. I am Demo, and I am here on a mission for Zeus. I know nothing of Cush, nor of the Northland. I am here to find the regulus, to take with me to Zeus. I mean you no harm, and implore your aid."

The stranger listened stoically to his plea. He silently marched in a wide circle around Demo, always at spear length. Seeing no weapons he sat down at the edge of the sand dune.

"Zeus? Is that the name of the pharaoh? Are you an emissary of this pharaoh, Zeus?"

"Of Zeus, yes. But he is no pharaoh. He is, well, he is Zeus. And I'm here to perform this little chore for him."

"Strange, you don't resemble us. Neither the Nuba nor the Mirikan. Nor the people of the Northland. Very well, I'll take you to Jebel Bakhal. There your fate will be decided." He rose slowly.

"Come, perhaps your blood shall stain the sands of Cush. Others shall decide. That way!" The tall stranger pointed with the spear, waited for Demo to move out. As Demo hesitated the spear point was thrust forward, stopped a finger's width from his skin.

Demo nodded, moved quickly in the indicated direction.

So this is Cush, he thought. And somewhere in Cush I'll find the Regulus. Or will it find me? Ah, the sun is blazing. Would I were swimming in the streams of home!

Heat, dreadful heat!

Heat, humidity, and air that pressed upon the chest - how shall I escape?

Here, prisoner of love though she were, she knew only suffering. She glanced at the creature by her side. Pluto gazed out upon his kingdom deep in thought.

The moans of unremitting misery rose from countless throats, at times drowned by the screams of horror, the imprecations against Pluto and all his minions. Persephone cowered at the sounds, pressed palms to her ears, to no avail.

Pluto sighed, rose slowly. Sad-eyed he gazed upon the woman child by his side. Why had he brought her here? Though his, she would never be his. Though loved, she would never love. What a fool, to have stolen her from Ceres! And yet, he would not exist without her.

God, ruler of the nether world. Then why the sadness, why the remorse?

Pluto sighed.

Dunes gave way to wasteland, sand strewn with stones. And this in time to regions where grew sparse vegetation, small trees. Soon copses of thorn trees rose. And beyond, shimmering as an illusion, dark hills faintly seen.

Though his companion strode seemingly without effort through sand and stone Demo grew ever more weary. And even as the sun neared the horizon and a light breeze tokened cooler air he paused, exhausted.

His companion eyed him suspiciously, once more walked in a wide circle around him. "Uhmm, sit. The river is beyond. We shall sleep here this night. And tomorrow we shall know your fate. Here."

He was offered dried food, a mixture of fruit and nut and meat. There was little taste, but at least sustenance. "I need water," he breathed.

"No. Tomorrow there shall be water. Here there is none. Sleep now. When the moon rises we shall move on. Over there." He motioned toward a slight rise between dark boulders and above one of the scattered termite hills.

Demo lay down, shivering in the air, rapidly cooling with the setting sun. The sandy earth, still warm from the sun's rays, was welcome. And he fell rapidly into a strange sleep broken by even stranger dreams.

A dream in which a giant with a spear stood over him, spear raised. And a bright glow enveloped the giant's head, gleaming white.

Suddenly he sat up.

It was no dream.

The point of the spear touched his stomach and he slid hastily away. His companion stood at his feet, and the full moon gleamed brightly behind his head. "Quickly, we will be in Jebel Barkal by daylight. Quickly."

"Ah, Regulus!" They looked, one to the other. "The Master of the Cobras! The Guardian of the Desert!"

These were the priests, the wise men. Each wore the mystic crown, the sun disk with the protecting uraei, the twin cobras, sacred to Amun. All of gold, even the band of the crown. Clothed in gowns of white, trimmed with gold. The chief priest held a golden rod, nearly equal in height to himself.

The pillars supporting the roof were gold, and at the peak of each pillar the ram's head, above which was the sun disk, and a single cobra seeming to view with disdain those before him.

"Tell us of this Zeus. What has he to do with Regulus? Why would Regulus deign to visit this one in his far off kingdom? What manner of Pharaoh is this Zeus?"

"Zeus? Zeus is the Father of the Universe. All that is, is, because Zeus so wills. You and I and Regulus and . . . and everything. We are but the product of Zeus' power."

Ezah raise his spear, a look of shock on his face.

"Wait, wait! Do you speak of Amun? Is this Zeus but a different face of Amun? There is no Zeus here. And all that you say, that is the work of Amun. We know not this Zeus."

"Yes, it may be. In my land the supreme being is called Zeus. In your land the name may well be Amun. And he has sent me."

They whispered, looked at him askance, whispered again.

"You are but a stripling. Ezah could dispose of you with one blow. He could pierce you with his spear, and you would be no more. What kind of emissary is this for a God to send our temple, this temple dedicated to Amun?"

"I, well, I have chores to perform. And this was laid on me as one of those chores. I have no special magic, no special skills - I am merely the chosen one."

"The Chosen One!"

They all stood, and the high priest, wide-eyed, bowed.

"Amun has sent you, then. And the will of Amun must be obeyed! Tomorrow you shall be led to the Nubian Desert, to the abode of Regulus. And there we will leave you. For none returns who enters the lair of Regulus."

Sleep was fitful, with dreams that began and ended with a strange serpent eyeing him malevolently. And a hiss that made his blood run cold. He woke often, fell once more to sleep. The moon shone, cold and bright. A slight breeze blew, at times gusting to drive grains of sand across his face, into his nostrils. At times he sensed a musty smell, strange and frightening. The odor of Regulus. He was sure of it, though he knew not why.

Morning came cold with the desert night. But quickly the sun warmed the land an air, and day creatures awoke. Ezah stood silently by his side. They ate, drank a tea sweet with the taste of a strange honey, and Ezah rose. "I brought you here, and I have been chosen to lead you to your destruction. North and East toward the sea. But long before we reach that sea you shall enter the Nubian Desert. There I turn back. And you, Amun willing, you shall meet Regulus. And may Amun protect you, for none other can!"

The earth changed from hard surface coated with sand to sand alone. With each step Demo sank ever deeper into the entrapping grains. As he struggled to keep up with Ezah the sweat dripped in a steady stream from his brow, into his eyes, at times blinding him. He could taste the salt, mingled with the desert dust. Each breath drew in dry dust, clogging his nostrils, coating his throat.

Suddenly Ezah raised his spear high, stopped short of a ridge.

"I have gone far beyond the borders, far beyond my realm. But I can go no farther. Yonder ridge marks the bounds of his lair. I know not how he looks, nor how he attacks his prey. I am told on the far side of the ridge lies but a graveyard, dotted with the remains of those who dared approach Regulus. I have but one weapon, this spear. Take it, and may it render you good service. Before you go pray to Amun, or to your Zeus. Now I must leave you."

Demo accepted the long spear and watched in dismal mood as Ezah turned and quickly disappeared in the direction from which they had come. Reluctantly Demo move toward the ridge, using the spear as a cane to aid his passage.

As he reached the peak his foot slipped. He fell forward in the sand. He rolled headlong over the ridge, and downward. Rolled into the lair of Regulus. Stopped finally. Buried in a dune of sand. Sand clogged his nostrils, forced its way between his lips, packed even his ears.

He tried to stand, to break out from the smothering blanket. He moved his arms and legs as though swimming. He was blind, knew neither up nor down. His heart pounded as he held his breath, for fear of breathing in only the deadly grains.

He felt the spear's shaft, held it tight, moved it from side to side. And suddenly through slitted eyes he noted light.

For a moment he lay still, then gradually worked his way upward, upward to the light.

Hours passed. Or days. He had no sense of time, only of desperation. And finally he emerged from the imprisoning grains.

He forced the grit from his mouth, his nostrils. Rubbing carefully he cleared his eyelids, blinked slowly to regain once more his sight. His heard a continuous roar and he looked around to find the source. Then he realized it came from within him. He could hear no external sound! Both ears were plugged with grit, with desert silt and sand!

He found that, ears plugged, his sense of balance was lacking. With each step he wobbled from side to side, both from lack of balance and from the loose particles beneath his feet.

He could see now, though dimly. His eyes burned and teared. If he only had water to wash his eyes.

And his mouth! Dry, filled with the taste of earth and silt and minute particles of rock. And the rising wind was driving even more grit into his face, into his lungs. He turned his back to the wind, gazed at the bleak landscape of Regulus' Lair.

For the most part there was nought to see but bare desert waste. And yet, dotted here and yon, remains of those who had gone before. A skull, whitened by the windblown grit. The rib cage, each bone in place, lying half buried at the base of a dune. And the horizon darkening as the wind's intensity mounted.

Though he could hear nothing the felt the driven grains striking even through his clothes. And dust devils rose from the desert floor, danced their dance, and faded in the distance. The sun was blotted out as the gusting wind lifted silt and sand and dust into the sky.

He lay down, desolate and knowing not which way to turn. But even as he lay on the desert floor the sand began to blanket him. With an effort he stood erect.

How could he find Regulus? Indeed, with the blowing wind, the shifting dunes, and the desert heat how could he do anything. Zeus, he though, I have failed you. I'll see home no more.

Amun the powerful ruled those desert wastes. Amun the merciless drove the sand across its surface. But Amun could relent. Perhaps the pleas of Mut, Goddess Mother, perhaps but a whim, yet the winds died and dark clouds gathered, poured briefly their life giving waters on the scene below.

The huge drops fell, pelting the desert floor, drenching Demo in the deluge of a rare thundershower. And bringing a new and different danger.

For the rain fell in torrents, and water rushed down gullies, down ravines, flushing sand and rocks before it. A wall of water loomed above Demo's head, coming ever closer. He clambered up the side of a dune, fell. He rolled down, but managed again and again to regain his footing. Finally he reached the top.

Standing there he gazed at the raging waters in disbelief. They ate at the dune as though a wild beast. Waves rose an bit away the sand beneath his feet. The dune shrank, began to merge with the surrounding water. The rain had ended, but the stream continued unabated.

And then, as suddenly as it had risen, the stream sank into the desert leaving but moist pools behind. Demo looked in disbelief at the sudden calm. Hurriedly he drank muddy water from a pool at the base of the dune. Even as he drank the thirsty soil soaked up the water. Small pools disappeared under his gaze, and larger ones shrank rapidly.

He knew the winds must have hummed, the torrents roared - and yet he had heard nothing, the silt and grit pounded into his ears. And he was sure that now there was silence - how much he wanted but to listen to that silence. He smiled at the idea, then frowned. How dare I smile at a time like this, he thought to himself.

Distracted by his thoughts he did not note the ripples on the largest pool. Ripples which emanated from movement beneath the surface. Movement that ever became more violent. Nor did he hear the hiss that bubbled up from the depths. Aroused by the torrential rains, the rushing waters, the blast of thunder, Regulus awakened.

"He's seldom gone this long. Demo is such an able hunter. I do believe if there were but one deer in the forest Demo would find it. We're never without venison, you know." She was proud of her son, of his prowess as a hunter.

"But this time the hunt has been long. And I dreamed of Moira last night." She shuddered. "May I never again have such a dream!"

"Moira? I don't know Moira."

"No, and be glad you don't! But enough of that. Come, you shall help me cook the last of our venison. I do hope Demo returns soon with his kill. He's always so proud, you know. Rough, leave those chickens alone!"

Hissing and writhing Regulus rose from the pool, slithered out on the sand. He gazed at Demo balefully. Demo neither saw nor heard. For him the world was silent.

But then he noticed something. A faint musty odor, and odor which he remembered from his dreams.

Demo quickly stood up, looked toward the pool of water. And saw Regulus rising, the brown drops shedding from his slick skin. Wide-eyed Demo held the spear level, pointed toward the strange apparition.

Regulus regarded the spear point with concern, hissed mightily. With consternation he observed Demo, hissed once more.

"Most unusual," he commented, "I must be losing my touch."

He slithered over the sand, undulating from side to side in his progress. He approached Demo, but kept a distance beyond the spearlength. With slow sinuous motion he glided around the boy.

"Hisss! Hissssss!" he breathed, watched nonplused at the lack of response. "You seem not to understand, my boy. Have I failed in some manner to properly enunciate the sound? Perhaps my lungs are waterlogged! Know you not that none survive who hear the hiss of Regulus? How dare you continue to stand there, impervious. Bad mannered, to say the least."

He grumbled, still continued his slow and torturous encirclement of his intended prey.

"You must be Regulus," Demo commented, in part to himself. "I would hope, though my ears are so confoundedly stopped up I can't hear you, that you can hear me. I'm sent by Zeus to invite you to come live on Mount Olympus. No nasty sand storms - and absolutely no floods! Look at you, dripping and with wet sand sticking to your every scale! You could slither comfortably through the smooth green grass, dance to the flute, and sip nectar in sun."

Though Demo was hardly a salesman he was suddenly aided by the elements. A dark cloud was forming above, accompanied by thunder, lightning, wind - and sudden rainfall.

Regulus wriggled from side to side, glissaded down one dune, up another. But there was no place to hide. Grumpily he returned to a spot before Demo, nodded his head in agreement. Whatever Olympus had to offer, it would be an improvement.