Excellency.”
“You heard the bells. You’ll need to ready the carriage. My people are beckoning me.”
“Of course, Excellency.”
He holds the door to the hallway open for me, remaining behind as I stride to the stairway that leads to the third floor of the Solon’s villa—to the Gods’ Room. The click-clack of my sandals slapping the hall’s marble floor echoes in the vast interior of my mansion.
As always, the climb up the sweeping staircase’s forty-two steps gives me time to guess what Hera wants. No doubt this time her visit relates to the call to the arena, but I hope whatever the situation is won’t take long. In only a couple hours there is a party that I have no intention of missing. The Karadimos, the one family in Portaceae City whose company I can bear, will be breaking out some vintage Illamos Valley wine. Wine that costs over three hundred drachars a bottle being poured for free. One doesn’t miss an occasion like that for a mere public meeting.
The thought of the party brings a parched tightness to my throat. Gods, I could use a glass of wine even if it’s the kitchen swill made by the people of the city using scraps of fruit they’ve gleaned from outside the city gates. Hera is never an easy goddess to deal with, but a helping of the grape makes any meeting with her go much more smoothly. I try to keep stashes of wine in the wall niches along the stairway. Unfortunately, the servants always tidy up my stockpiles. My peek into each niche, just in case one bottle has been left unnoticed, causes me to lose count of the steps.
If only I’d been born to the Illamos Valley, I think as I trudge up riser after riser. Dionysus always strikes me as an amusing god to serve. But, alas, I’ve been blessed with the rule of Portaceae. And Hera. Rumor has it that decades ago she was an amiable goddess. Maybe not friendly or warm, but she at least cared for her polis. To think of the things I could get Adneta if I’d been Solon in my grandfather’s day when Portaceae was the envy of every other city-state in Osteria.
I pass the final wall niche—as empty of wine as all the others—and pause at the top of the stairs to catch my breath and gather my composure. After wiping the sweat from my brow onto my sleeve, I grip the door’s peacock-shaped handle and mutter to myself a curse on Hera if the door doesn’t open. If Hera has changed her mind and gone on to other business, the knob won’t turn and I’ll have made the climb for nothing. Whether it is her idea of a joke or she simply changes her mind, her abandoning the Gods’ Room after summoning me is something Hera does much too often. I clench the knob tighter and give a twist. Today my leg-burning efforts are rewarded by the clasp slipping out of its latch and the door swinging open.
An assaulting brightness forces me to squint my way into the vast room. The brilliant summer light streams in from the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up each wall except the one I’ve entered through. The God’s Room isn’t a room, but an entire floor of my home Hera had insisted upon when I had the abandoned villa refurbished. I would love to use the space for drinking parties or for a good romp with Adneta. Unfortunately, as part of Hera’s design, the door remains locked unless Hera waits inside.
Despite the sun blaring in, the room is blissfully cool. I hear the snap of fingers and the windows darken enough for me to fully open my eyes. Hera, lounging on a simple, yet elegantly curved chaise, eyes me. She manages to grin and scowl at the same time—an unnerving expression she’s quite good at, but one that I can’t manage no matter how much time I spend trying to copy it in front of my dressing room mirror.
The sight of her briefly pushes away thoughts of Adneta’s delightful body. I can’t fathom how Zeus, Hera’s wandering husband, doesn’t lust for his wife. I thank the gods for the layers of silk that cover my groin as Hera’s shimmering
“You heard the bells. You’ll need to ready the carriage. My people are beckoning me.”
“Of course, Excellency.”
He holds the door to the hallway open for me, remaining behind as I stride to the stairway that leads to the third floor of the Solon’s villa—to the Gods’ Room. The click-clack of my sandals slapping the hall’s marble floor echoes in the vast interior of my mansion.
As always, the climb up the sweeping staircase’s forty-two steps gives me time to guess what Hera wants. No doubt this time her visit relates to the call to the arena, but I hope whatever the situation is won’t take long. In only a couple hours there is a party that I have no intention of missing. The Karadimos, the one family in Portaceae City whose company I can bear, will be breaking out some vintage Illamos Valley wine. Wine that costs over three hundred drachars a bottle being poured for free. One doesn’t miss an occasion like that for a mere public meeting.
The thought of the party brings a parched tightness to my throat. Gods, I could use a glass of wine even if it’s the kitchen swill made by the people of the city using scraps of fruit they’ve gleaned from outside the city gates. Hera is never an easy goddess to deal with, but a helping of the grape makes any meeting with her go much more smoothly. I try to keep stashes of wine in the wall niches along the stairway. Unfortunately, the servants always tidy up my stockpiles. My peek into each niche, just in case one bottle has been left unnoticed, causes me to lose count of the steps.
If only I’d been born to the Illamos Valley, I think as I trudge up riser after riser. Dionysus always strikes me as an amusing god to serve. But, alas, I’ve been blessed with the rule of Portaceae. And Hera. Rumor has it that decades ago she was an amiable goddess. Maybe not friendly or warm, but she at least cared for her polis. To think of the things I could get Adneta if I’d been Solon in my grandfather’s day when Portaceae was the envy of every other city-state in Osteria.
I pass the final wall niche—as empty of wine as all the others—and pause at the top of the stairs to catch my breath and gather my composure. After wiping the sweat from my brow onto my sleeve, I grip the door’s peacock-shaped handle and mutter to myself a curse on Hera if the door doesn’t open. If Hera has changed her mind and gone on to other business, the knob won’t turn and I’ll have made the climb for nothing. Whether it is her idea of a joke or she simply changes her mind, her abandoning the Gods’ Room after summoning me is something Hera does much too often. I clench the knob tighter and give a twist. Today my leg-burning efforts are rewarded by the clasp slipping out of its latch and the door swinging open.
An assaulting brightness forces me to squint my way into the vast room. The brilliant summer light streams in from the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up each wall except the one I’ve entered through. The God’s Room isn’t a room, but an entire floor of my home Hera had insisted upon when I had the abandoned villa refurbished. I would love to use the space for drinking parties or for a good romp with Adneta. Unfortunately, as part of Hera’s design, the door remains locked unless Hera waits inside.
Despite the sun blaring in, the room is blissfully cool. I hear the snap of fingers and the windows darken enough for me to fully open my eyes. Hera, lounging on a simple, yet elegantly curved chaise, eyes me. She manages to grin and scowl at the same time—an unnerving expression she’s quite good at, but one that I can’t manage no matter how much time I spend trying to copy it in front of my dressing room mirror.
The sight of her briefly pushes away thoughts of Adneta’s delightful body. I can’t fathom how Zeus, Hera’s wandering husband, doesn’t lust for his wife. I thank the gods for the layers of silk that cover my groin as Hera’s shimmering
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