Part 42

Demo frowned. To my attention!

"It's time for my ambrosia. Return when the sun begins its descent. I'll give you and answer then.

He mused. He thought. He worried. He ate.

Delicious, this ambrosia. Not equivalent to his Mother's cooking. But certainly good enough for Zeus.

He carved the food carefully, munching on each savory bite. And as he carved a thought came to mind.

Okay, I've a solution. With my knife I shall rend the picture from top to bottom and each may keep his half."

He took picture, laid it on the table before him, face up, pulled out his hunting knife.

Bacchus rose, looked at the picture, then shrugged. "Very well, Sire. It will serve me just as well. It is but an ornament to decorate my wall."

Vulcan looked at Bacchus, at the picture, and then at Demo.

"No, I would have my picture. Still, let it remain whole. Though Bacchus may own it, it shall ever be mine. Better it decorate his wall in its entirety than suffer the sacrilege of dissection."

"Upon further thought, Master Vulcan, I consider the picture to be yours. You speak true, it is the picture of a maiden. All else is there only for her. And you would lose your masterpiece rather than see it destroyed. Take it."

"As for you, Master Bacchus, I find you to be deceitful in this matter. I would have you accompany Master Vulcan. For six months you will serve him. And he, in that six months, shall teach you the rudiments of his art. Now, begone, for Cerberus' pup grows hungry."

Was I right? Demo questioned himself. Perhaps, after all, Bacchus did paint the scene. What would Zeus have done?

Ah, Zeus would have done much the same. And, being Zeus, he'd be right by definition. So, of course, as Zeus' surrogate I too am right by definition.

Demo smiled. This God stuff wasn't too bad at that.

So he thought!

Children are lovable. As babies they, sweet and cuddly, invite one's kind adoration. As toddlers, though underfoot, they laugh and chatter, bring brightness into our dull lives. Older, they play, are now defiant, now dependent, as they seek to find their place in the world.

Then, there was Cupid. Not quite the child. Yet not an adult. Ever with the prankish nature of youth. Armed, nevertheless, with a bow. Armed with arrows of the most pernicious kind. Sly, at times. Open and outgoing at others, he shared the faults - and the virtues - of his mother, Venus.

The second day started off nicely. Demo gave the world a little extra twirl, and it hummed along smoothly. He did note a slight wobble, and gave it a slight extra spin to compensate.

He checked the progress of the sun, the positions of the stars, and kept a weather eye on earth and underworld.

No problems surfaced.

He was being lulled into an unwary mood.

The attack began!

It was ruthless! They came at him in droves, never giving him time to think. His face whitened, reddened, turned blue.

Demo tried to think of the terms Zeus might use under such circumstances. They didn't come.

Zeus' old flames - angry, petulant, pleading, demanding!

Demo was caught off guard.

They informed him that they had an audience. Zeus plainly had forgotten to pass on the information to him. They waited impatiently for the promised audience.