Pandora Gets Greedy (3 page)

“He's had it!” shouted some in the crowd.

“Let him go!”

“Iugula!”

Furious, Lucius Valerius was on his feet, his hands clenched at his sides, his face nearly as red as his daughter's, who was now slumped where she sat. Varinia saw her husband's face.

“Why do you fret, Lucius?” she said calmly, her tone only hinting at her disgust. “Remember, mighty Caesar will pay your debts. You will lose nothing if this young man loses his life.”

Then …

Callus took the blade away from Homer's neck, brought it swiftly up in front of his face, and bowed in salute to Homer. Then Callus turned toward Julius Caesar and brought his sword to his side.

Alcie stood stock-still, but a small moan escaped her lips. Pandy realized that Alcie had a good idea of what was happening, and so did she. In their weeks with Homer, he'd taught them a great deal about what it meant to be a fighter in the ring.

The crowd also knew. The battle had been relatively short, but incredibly fierce. With this one action, Callus was letting everyone know that he respected Homer, his bravery, and his skill, and he was asking Caesar to spare Homer's life.

All eyes turned toward the man with the golden wreath on his brow, and Caesar, in turn, cast his eyes over the crowd. What did
they
want? Did they want to see this young man perish? His mind spun: he wanted to give his people their desire, but, with his reputation for bloodthirsty victories, he wanted to show a more generous side to his nature—at least in the first few moons of his rule. Fortunately, what Caesar saw most was compassion for the youth on the field. Many in the crowd were showing their approval for mercy by pressing their thumbs and forefingers together—the
pollicem premere.
Caesar didn't necessarily have to turn his thumb up or down to signify death. All Caesar had to do was turn his thumb at all. Even the tiniest bit.

Caesar raised his hand high for all to see. Pandy and Alcie held their breath.

Then … ever so slightly, Caesar pressed his forefinger into his thumb.

Pandy let out a terrific whoop as she felt Alcie slump against her, sobbing. The crowd went wild as Callus tossed the sword to one side and began to walk off the
field. Then he turned and, extending his hand, helped Homer to his feet. This sent the crowd into a deafening fit of good cheer; bread was thrown onto the field and many people danced in their seats. Rufina woke up and demanded to be fanned but Varinia shushed her.

“But I'm hot!” Rufina whined.

“It's all over and we'll be home soon enough. Pandora and Alcestis, clean up now. No one is going to fan anyone.”

Suddenly, Varinia was aware that Lucius was standing beside her—not moving. She stood and followed his gaze. He was staring straight at Julius Caesar. Moments later, there was a small lull in the roar of the crowd and that was all Lucius needed.

“Mighty Caesar!” Lucius bellowed.

“Lucius!” Varinia cried, clutching his robe. “What in the name of Mars are you doing now?”

“Mighty Caesar,” Lucius called out again, shaking Varinia's hand from his toga. The crowd between them quieted as more and more people began to look from Lucius to Caesar and back again.

“What is it you wish, friend?” Caesar said, a tiny frown creasing his brow for only an instant.

“Your mercy is great.”

“Indeed,” Caesar said. “But I believe it was the will of the citizens.”

Those who could hear murmured in assent.

“Yes, the youth would have been killed had it not been for the citizens,” Lucius said, as Varinia stood by, her eyes wide. “But you alone had the power to spare him and he lives. My champion lives! Is that not some sort of victory for me? Will Caesar not pay his debt to me?”

“
Lucius!
” Varinia spat.

“You cannot be serious, Senator,” Caesar said.

“I am.”

The crowd began to mutter among itself. They were used to spectacle, but not from their chosen leaders who attempted to demonstrate only noble and dignified behavior.

“Then you have been in the sun too long, my friend,” Caesar said after a pause. “Your champion lost and I am paying off your wagers with others, is this not enough? Do you want more, even if it were to defy logic?”

“I merely wish you to render unto me that which is mine.”

Caesar was dumbfounded and stared hard at Lucius.

“Very well,” he said finally.

Shock ran through the crowd, which began to openly dissent; voices were raised in anger and disagreement. The citizens of Rome were proud of one thing, above all: their collective ability to understand what was logical. This dispute was not.

“Bring the youth to me!” Caesar called.

“Gods,” Alcie mumbled to Pandy. “He's gonna do something to Homer! This is so not good.”

In the time it took Varinia to explain to her husband that his family was about to become a laughingstock, Homer was led up through the tiers of seats and made to kneel in front of the ruler. Caesar looked at Homer, his face devoid of expression. When he looked at Lucius again, his face was unreadable.

“I shall pay you, Lucius, as well as your losses,” Caesar said. Then he raised his voice for the entire Forum to hear. “And I thank you, honorable Lucius Valerius, for your gift to me of this worthy champion! He will be a prized addition to my household. And, once his wound is healed, perhaps we shall wager again the next time you send a warrior into the ring … whenever you obtain another warrior, that is. Perhaps I shall even bring him as my attendant to the feast you will hold. In your home. In my honor. Mere days from now.”

Lucius's face turned violet, but Varinia stepped in front of her husband before he could speak.

“Thank you, Caesar. Your generosity—and patience—are a blessing upon us all.”

With that, Varinia yanked on Lucius's robes with such force that he was nearly knocked over—which caused some of the crowd to twitter.

“Rufina, help me get your father out of the Forum,” Varinia whispered as she led Lucius away.

Moving slowly to follow the senator, Alcie and Pandy both tried to get Homer's attention as he was raised to his feet. Pandy watched as Caesar gave some instructions to a nearby attendant without ever taking his eyes off Lucius.

“Whadhesay … whadhesay? Pandy? Did you catch it?” Alcie asked.

“Something about stables. I think I saw the word ‘stables,'” Pandy answered.

“I just know I'll never see him again,” Alcie moaned.

“Alcie, stop it,” Pandy said, handing her the fans as she gathered the wineskins and Lucius's water pitcher. “Five ticks of the sundial ago, we thought he was dead. Now, we know where he's going. We might not be able to get to him, but we know he's alive!”

“You like?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hermes replied, surveying the tiny room. The dim light from the single rusted torch cast large shadows as he surveyed the cracked, nearly crumbling walls, the water seeping onto the dirt floor from unseen sources, and the rank, fetid smell. “Yeah! It's disgusting. It reminds me of her. Perfect-o.”

“Not too small?”

“Not at all,” Hermes said, shaking his head, then gazing up at the ceiling, which looked like it might cave in at any moment. “Now if she were together—reassembled, you know—then we might have a problem. But the pieces will fit quite nicely in here. This room makes me think of her brain: tiny and empty. And that long corridor we took to get here … that's her heart. Dark and cold.”

Mercury shook his head and set against a wall the beautifully wrapped package he'd been carrying.

“How can you talk about her like this, Brother?” he said. “Aren't you worried about the consequences she might deliver? You could end up as a block of marble at the bottom of the ocean or as a lump of granite in a hill on some faraway island. And where, I might ask, would that leave me? What would I do with no counterpart? Did you ever think of that, huh? The balance of things would shift tremendously all over the known world. What if she were to find out about all these yowza oh-no-he-didn't! things you've been saying?”

“First off, it's not just me who's talking, it's everyone who's ever
met
her and you know that. And how would she find out? How could that possibly happen?” Hermes asked, his eyebrows waggling and a grin spreading out over his perfect face. “Her head is still in Persia! Her glorious, empty head is still under the transformation spell that turned it into a pair of red leather sandals, which I was graciously allowed to stuff under a couch in the home of Douban the Physician … the new Douban … the young man that Pandora likes so much. It will only be when I carry Hera's head, which includes her big ears, over the Persian border that the enchantment will lose effect and her enormous mouth will start yapping and her brain will start thinking her ugly
thoughts. We can speak freely, Brother; the peacock can't scream just yet; Hera has no idea what is happening at the moment.”

Hermes casually tossed his package alongside the other.

“Plus, Zeus would never permit her to harm me; he's having too much fun watching what Pandora does to his wife, whether or not he would ever admit it.”

“Jupiter is enjoying it as well,” said Mercury. “So, what do we have? I mean, which parts of her are here and what's still back in Persia?”

Hermes looked at the packages.

“Well, as you know Hera was transformed into five pairs of walking sandals with extra cushiony comfort … easy to do because she's so gargantuan … to get Pandora and her friends across the Arabian desert.”

“I know this indeed,” said Mercury.

Hermes walked to one wall and, with a great flourish, swiped his arm in front of it. Immediately, the gray wall seemed to dissolve and a scene appeared before both gods. It was Pandy's last moments in Persia:

Immediately, the spell was broken. Pandy and Douban quickly turned to look at Alcie and Homer, both having stepped over
the Syrian border, both now barefoot. In front of Alcie, lying in the sand, was Hera's right leg complete with one golden sandal. Lying at Homer's feet was Hera's left arm, her rings and bracelets glinting in the sunlight.

No one spoke for a long, long time.

Then Pandy had an idea.

“Iole and Douban, please remove your sandals,” she said, taking off her red leather footwear. Then, with her hands, she dug a shallow pit and buried all three pairs.

“Pandy!” cried Iole.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Pandy cried desperately. “We can't have her following us!”

“No, you can't,” said a familiar voice. “At least not for a while.”

“Ah,” said Mercury. “And
that's
where you came in and whisked them here to Rome!”

“Right. Alcestis and Homer actually reversed the transformation on their particular pairs of sandals by bringing them out of Persia, so here we have a leg and an arm. The other leg and arm, in sandal form, are safely hidden in a tiny little border town and Hera's head and torso are, as I said, in Douban's home—hopefully being peed on by the family dogs.”

“But Pandora and her pals have been here in Rome now for almost three weeks!” Mercury said. “Why have you waited until now to bring the pieces together?”

Hermes stopped and slowly turned to look at Mercury, his almost exact double in every way right down to the winged sandals and helmet. He stared at the same perfect face—only now
that
face had a silly, questioning expression—and hoped against hope that
he
would never be that dumb.

“Okay, I'm gonna let you think about what you just said for a tick or two.”

“Whaaa …?”

“
Why
didn't I bring Hera here sooner? Why didn't Zeus want me to reassemble the demon so she could terrorize Pandora a little bit more?”

“Stupid question?” asked Mercury.

“Why does
everyone
want me to wait until the last possible moment to piece together the cow? Knowing that when she's fully formed and fulsome in a blue robe there will quite probably be Hades on earth? That Pandora possibly—no, probably—no, definitely
won't
finish her quest? That when Hera assumes ultimate power, not only will she decimate Pandora and her friends, but she'll begin to ruminate on exactly how she'll punish all of the rest of us for the assistance we gave Pandora here and now? That I will be so
very, very lucky if I only end up at the bottom of the ocean?”

“Stupid question.”

“
Why
does Zeus want his wife back only when absolutely necessary?”

“I give! I give …,” Mercury said, laughing.

“You bet you do! Watch what Hera did after she murdered Alcie in Aphrodite's own temple,” Hermes said, swiping his arm in front of the wall again. The scene playing out was Hera and Aphrodite in Aphrodisias.

When the last flames were out, Hera instantly turned on Pandy, her chest heaving and her arms raised again, and found Aphrodite standing in her way.

“Move!” she commanded.

“I'm sorry,” Aphrodite said sweetly to the smoldering, hairless goddess with the blackened robes. “Come again? I didn't quite catch that. Certainly you would not be giving me any orders in my temple, would you?”

“Aphrodite, get out of my way!”

“Why? One little girl a day isn't enough for you? All I see is you having a rather bad hair day. You know, I could fashion a wig for
you. Would you like that? Borrow some of Demeter's leaves … or just put a sheep on top of your head?”

“I still can't believe Aphrodite actually
insulted
Hera while she prevented her from killing Pandora in Aphrodisias,” Hermes said, watching the scene go dark.