Category: Posts

Ordinary life in the Age of Dionysus

Part of character development involves showing the daily lives of different individuals, revealing through their conduct what kind of people they are. Since daily life consists of ordinary tasks and unremarkable events when we first meet Alethia Kostopoulos, she seems perfectly ordinary, a widow who lives on the Greek island of Tzia. But we soon discover she is secretly a Maenad, a devotee of Dionysus. She believes herself to be the last one until Dionysus appears to her when she is in a trance state, revealing to her that not only is she not the last, she will be undertaking the task of training new Maenads for Him. A grandmother in her late seventies, she finds this a daunting task but devoted to her god, she willingly undertakes it. She journeys to America where her children and grandchildren live…..

It wasn’t until spring when finally with her passport in hand, Alethia passed through the Athens International airport, boarding the jet that whisked her away to a strange new land. The past months had crawled by, it seemed to her, but her son reassured her everything was going normally. Now it was finally happening. It was the first time she had ridden in a jet so she was dreadfully nervous. Peering out the window from her narrow cramped seat, her heart thumped at the sight of clouds beneath her rather than above.

New York City greeted her with a bewildering swirl of traffic, humans, incessant noise and acrid exhaust fumes. The only thing that made it bearable was being surrounded by her grown children and numerous grand-children who Alethia had only seen in photos or on Skype. As her oldest son drove the van crammed with her own offspring and theirs, her three youngest grandchildren, ranging from 8 years to 12 years excitedly pointed out landmarks to her. Trying to look up at the skyscrapers made her dizzy but she persisted, not wanting to appear as if she was overwhelmed by the scale of things compared with her tiny island home. The mad extravagance of it all amazed her. But it was the sad sight of beggars and homeless which brought home the corruption that underlay the mind boggling wealth that made this awesome city possible.

“Look, Yaya! Look!,” cried Hannah, the youngest. “That’s the Empire State Building! That’s the one King Kong climbed up.”

“Oh, don’t tell her that!” said ten year old Adrian scornfully. “She doesn’t watch movies.”

“I most certainly do.” replied Alethia crisply. “Your poor old Yaya isn’t so out of touch as all that! I know all about the silly movie about the giant monkey who carried the screaming lady to the top of the building. I saw that one when I wasn’t much older than you!”

Adrian sat back pouting. There seemed to be a game of one-upsmanship going on between him and his younger sister. Alethia smiled to herself. She had seen that game played many times by her own children at that age. Well, now it was her son’s turn to referee. She would just sit back and pretend to enjoy the tour her family were giving her. Inwardly she wondered how Dionysus planned on getting Maenads recruited. In the old days her aunt had told her they selected certain women and occasionally men and brought them to ceremonies where they drank the sacred wine to induce the trance state which allowed Dionysus to come to them. A mystical inner sense allowed them to determine who would be suitable. But it was a different world here and Dionysus was already here among mortals, though as yet He had not appeared to her.

“Mother, look!” said her second oldest child, Dionne. When her daughter was younger, Alethia had hopes she would be interested in becoming a Maenad. But she had never felt the inner push that would have shown her daughter was a candidate for initiation. Instead Dionne had gotten a business degree and now worked for a fashion agency. “That’s where I work.”

She looked at the building but saw only a decorative facade with an elegant canopy over the entrance. A tall slim dark-skinned woman chic in a handsome embroidered tunic and pants so tight Alethia wondered how the woman could bend over in them was just entering the building.

“Heavens!” She exclaimed in spite of herself. “Is that what young women wear these days?” Dionne laughed as Alethia went on. “Oh, I know I’m old fashioned. And I don’t know why I’m so surprised, especially with what some of the tourists who visited my island would wear.”

“Well, that is one of our models. We recruit men and women as models and train them. We represent them and get commissions by finding work with all kinds of fashion designers and advertising agencies. It’s a high pressure job but I’ve always enjoyed working there as an agent.”

As her daughter spoke, an idea began flickering in the back of Alethia’s mind. Even as a mortal in appearance, Dionysus would be an eye catcher. As a model, His picture would be everywhere, attracting anyone who might be a potential Maenad. She knew any god exuded a divine glamour. Would that show up in a photograph? He often appeared to her in dreams. She would have to try and remember to ask Him.

She stared wistfully at Central Park as they drove by it, fighting back a surge of homesickness. It would be nice to see something green once in a while.

“Do you have to pay to visit that park?”

“No, of course not, Yaya.” said Hannah. “You can go there any time. They have a merry-go-round and a zoo. In the winter, there’s a skating rink. Or you can just have a picnic. I like going there.”

“Well, I’m a little old to learn skating but a picnic sounds very nice.”

Well, once you’re settled in, we can arrange for one.” Said Dionne. “I’ll see if I can get everyone to come. That way we can have a big family get-together.”

The grandchildren squealed with delight at her words. Alethia smiled. They drove to her eldest son’s home on Long Island. She had only brought a small amount of luggage with her, not wanting to burden herself with too many possessions. Two suitcases of clothing, plus another with a few books and keepsakes were quickly taken inside. Both Hannah and Adrian jostled each other as they ushered her to her new bedroom.

“This used to be my room.” announced Adrian. “But now I have a new room in the addition we had built. Papa repainted this so it would make a guestroom but we decided it would make a good room for you.”

“We put in new curtains and rugs.” chimed in Hannah.

“I was going to tell her that.” shot back Adrian, heatedly, clearly annoyed over being robbed of his role as a tour guide.

“All right, you two.” said Lucas, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Let’s give your Ya-ya a chance to settle in, not just make her stand there listening to the pair of you arguing.”

He escorted the two pouting youngsters out, then returned to give his mother a hug.

“Were Dionne and I ever like that?”

“Constantly.” She laughed. “Your father was usually the peacemaker. You’ve taken over his role, I see.”

“They seem to mind me more than they do Kathy. Margaret’s still at soccer practice and won’t be home until supper. Do you want me to help you get your things put away?”

“No.” She replied sighing. “It’s all been a bit overwhelming and I think I’m feeling a little touch of that jet lag you told me about. I’ll wait until tomorrow to unpack.”

“Of course.” He replied, hugging her again. “You can come down and take your ease on the sofa while the children argue about how you should be entertained. Margaret’s been very anxious to meet you in person for the first time, instead of on Skype.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting all my grandchildren. Somehow seeing them only on a computer screen just isn’t the same.”

Supper was thankfully a low key affair after the exhausting day. Margaret dashed in just before they started eating, a slender dark haired girl just putting on her first teenage growth spurt. She proved to be more quiet in person than on Skype as her younger siblings easily out-talked her. Well, there would be time enough to get acquainted with her in the days to come.

The next day as Alethia sorted out the contents of her luggage, placing items on the bed, she was assisted by Margaret. Hannah and Adrian, the novelty of their grandmother’s arrival having worn off, were outside playing, giving their older sister a chance to shine. As the pair went through the various items in the suitcases, they chatted about Alethia’s homeland. Margaret, at thirteen already showed promise of great beauty, her dark eyes thoughtful, her generous mouth quick with a smile. She was eager for stories about her father as a child which delighted Alethia who had plenty to tell…….

Back Stories for Gods

Goddess Athena

Writing about characters who are gods includes noting something about their backgrounds. A problem which quickly crops up is that how the ancients viewed their divinities doesn’t really sit well with modern audiences. Zeus with His endless peccadillos and Hera (who’s His sister!) as the perpetually jealous spouse is one example. The late poet Robert Graves pointed out that one of the functions of myth is to justify an existing social system so the ancient myths say far more about the ancient Greeks than they do about the gods Themselves.

The simplest solution is of course rewrite the myths so they are more palatable for today’s readers (and make a little more sense). The tale of Semele, Dionysus’s mother, asking to see what Zeus’s true form was and getting fried as a result, with Dionysus subsequently being incubated in Zeus’s thigh has been changed to her dying in childbirth and Zeus’s son being given to Silenus to foster. The image of Athena popping full grown out of the head of Zeus after He swallowed Her mother Metis just to evade the prophecy of Her giving birth to a son that might overthrow him always seemed to have an element of the absurd about it. So I gave that a major rewrite in the following section from my book in progress.

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They were known by many names; the Moirai, the Parcae, the Sudice, the Norns. They existed in a place that was not a place, in the Otherworld yet not of it. Seated on a great dais suspended in the Otherworld mists, looming even mightier than the primeval Titans, They sometimes had the appearance of males but the majority of the time They were female, either taking the form of young or old women. An colossal tapestry inched its way out from Their hands, colors both worldly and unworldly spun with inconceivable intricacy, stretching out into the amorphous distance, even beyond Athena’s ability to see. So They had been weaving even before the beginning of time. They drew out thread, wove, adjusted, rethreaded and snipped implacably, seldom speaking, never stopping. When She came into Their presence, They rarely acknowledged Her.

It was a conceit of humans that the Moirai governed every moment of each human’s life from birth to death. To a certain extent that was true but Their constant weaving and reweaving ensured the coherence of the ever shifting universe. Because of that, mortals could freely choose the course of their lives within the confines of the laws of the material realm. Events affecting both mortals and divinities went into the tapestry, creating a pattern so complex even Athena for all Her wisdom could not fathom it. In Her early efforts to probe the essence of the Fates work, She once had a vision of the mighty tapestry reaching out into the measureless distance, merging with other tapestries woven by other Fates forming a thread which still mightier Fates took and wove with yet other threads into vaster tapestries in Their turn.

She had begun a tapestry of Her own in the hopes of counteracting Her Brother’s actions. But She had to be careful it did not work to cross purposes to anything the Moirai were creating. Sometimes She could catch a brief glimpse of the underlying harmony contained withing Their weavings. It finally occurred to Her that anything She did would simply be incorporated into Their own work. Better to save Her worries for what Her half-Brother meant to do. But She couldn’t shake Her anxiety.

“I weave to derail His plans.” She said, more to Herself than the Moirai. “But I have to be careful not to counteract what You are doing. He’s so certain what He’s doing is right. He doesn’t understand that events work themselves out of their own accord. It doesn’t need to be pushed or manipulated. We only need to work with what happens.”

The Moirai continued Their work on the endless tapestry, seemingly oblivious to Her. But She suspected They were listening. Her Father said They heard everything. At one time He had stood where She did, attempting to consult Them. He had returned with a scowl on His face. Either They never answered Him or the answer was not to His liking.

But Zeus had gone ahead with His War against the Titans so many ages ago certain He was doing the right thing, Her Mother Metis pushed aside when She attempted counseling against it. The schism this created between Them never healed. Athena watched sadly as Her Mother quit Her throne and left Olympus eventually Transcending, leaving Her Helmet, Shield and Great Owl for Her Daughter. The chaos set off by the overthrow of the Titans and the ending of the Golden Age took several millennium to stabilize. Hera became new co-ruler of Olympus with Zeus but the peace of the Golden Age was gone, replaced by a brittle calm. It would not always remain this way. There were Great Cycles within Great Cycles. The ancient harmony of old would return but in its own time and way. Her Brother’s efforts to rush it based on the signs He was convinced were there would only prolong the Age of Iron, not end it.

“He won’t listen.” She said quietly. “I’m the voice of the past. He thinks His is the future. What can I do to ensure His failure?”

She hadn’t expected any response from the Moirai. But one of the veiled figures, Clotho, suddenly turned towards Her and threw a spool of thread to Her. Although startled, She caught the spool deftly.

“Use or do not use. It is Your choice.” It was Atropos the Unturning Who spoke. The enormous figure resumed Her snipping and re-threading. It was the first time Athena had heard more than two words from any of Them.

The thread was darker than night. The spool would have fit in the hand of a human but was so heavy a half dozen would have been needed to lift it. Athena shuddered when She looked at it. Thread this dark could only have one purpose. But the Moirai said it would be Her choice. With the constant morphing of the vast tapestry under Their hands, nothing was truly carved in stone. Did this mean She could still turn events? She felt a scowl not unlike Her Father’s beginning to furrow Her brow. She relaxed Her face. Her father had no doubt received a similar enigmatic answer which would have infuriated Him. He preferred certainty to ambiguity. But Athena was more comfortable with uncertainty. She tucked the spool into her pouch.

Do not use. That would be Her goal. Stubborn like Their Father, Dionysus would plow ahead. Her task was to stymie his actions with so many obstacles, His plans would fall apart. Turning, She left the place which was not a place, through the Otherworld, back to Her pavilion, where a great loom awaited. She had the warp threads strung. Now for the weft. She pulled yarn out of the great ball beside Her seat. After hesitating, She took out the spool of black thread and after looking at it a moment, set it down beside the ball of yarn. Just in case. She thought. Just in case.

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The Character of Gods – Part 2

Several months ago I posted an excerpt from my novel-in-progress, introducing the character Xipe Totec, an Aztec god, who decides to go into the service of Dionysus in an effort to regain some of His former strength. Another divinity decides to ally Himself with Zeus’s son as well but with motivations that are decidedly more mixed than Xipe Totec.

The God Marduk

In the Age of Dionysus, Marduk is a genuine god, not some alien from another planet as some recent rather puerile books have tried to portray Him and His fellow Annunaki. As with Xipe Totec, Marduk has fallen on hard times and yearns to regain His former status.

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Marduk hunkered down in a ruined pile once a Babylonian temple dedicated to Him. He kept it hidden from nosy archaeologists with a simple glamour giving it the appearance of a nondescript rock pile infested with scorpions, vipers and other unpleasant vermin. There He recreated a small altar dedicated to Himself, decorated with a dragon image, and brooded over lost glory. He often took the form of a flickering lightning bolt, but when He physically manifested Himself in the ordinary world as He did now, He looked like a huge squat human, with a curly black beard and glowing embers for eyes. Dressed in a royal purple fringed shawl wrapped about His body and held in place with a golden belt, He could pretend He was still the mighty Lord some called Baal and others Moloch. But a quick glance outside His ruined temple always shattered that illusion.

The Golden Age had collapsed when Zeus and the Olympians broke the power of the primeval Titans. Marduk Himself came into being during the following chaotic times humans insisted was a Silver Age. He supposed it was for them as they learned large scale agriculture and husbandry replacing the simple hunting, gardening and gathering of more idyllic times, built small towns which began growing and became more centralized. The child of a minor water goddess, He took advantage of the humans increasing desire to have a powerful divinity which would overshadow others.

His brethren Annunaki, all Children of the Silver Age like Himself, had similar ambitions so a struggle ensued. Decade by decade, century by century, He clawed His way by sheer might to eminence, defeating any god or goddess who opposed Him. Not surprisingly humans copied the behavior of their divinities by engaging in warfare. This in turn increased the need for a potent god reflecting the humans’ perceptions of themselves. It was a role Marduk was happy to fill. He smiled broadly at His memories of the rise of the Bronze Age as human towns expanded into cities and populations boomed, fed by the rich bounty their crops yielded. The raids of conquest his followers conducted under His aegis brought in great wealth. Mighty temples had been raised to Him. Hymns sung to Him, stories composed about Him. Yes, that had been a good time.

But His mistake was forgetting about Zeus. The Olympians had seemed remote and disinterested, Their sacred mountain shifting in and out of the ordinary world in an almost whimsical manner. But Zeus must have had His eye on the up and coming rival growing to power in Babylonia. As Marduk’s worship began spreading around the Mediterranean, the wily Olympian finally made His move. It had caught Marduk by surprise. A vicious strain of smallpox broke out, spreading throughout the lands decimating populations, even penetrating the royal house of Egypt coupled with a time of prolonged drought bringing the additional scourges of famine and chaos. It didn’t take long for Marduk to realize this was the meddling of Zeus but while His own powers over the rain kept the drought from completely wiping out His worshipers, the work of a minute virus was beyond His ability to touch.

Marduk’s fury at the memories made His hands dig into the altar leaving imprints. At least He hadn’t been stupid enough to invest all His divine strength on the adulation of humans but still the sudden drop in population had been sufficient to break His power, reducing Him to a shadow of His former self. Zeus quickly moved Himself into position when human cities began rising again, blocking any effort by Marduk to regain His former glory. While His worship was rebuilt among the various tribes around the Twin Rivers, it never again achieved the unrivaled might He had know before. Zeus had simply become too powerful. All the erstwhile Storm Lord could do was wait. All things change but whether they would change in His favor was debatable. Even after the Olympians had moved permanently into the Otherworld, Marduk’s attempts to renew His worship were upended by the shocking rise of monotheism.

The ruins about Him suddenly shivered. An earthquake? He extended His senses searching for an epicenter. No, it was not a motion of the ground but rather of the mystic energy patterns which spread like an invisible web through the ordinary world. Some major shift was underway. Casting His vision further, the image of the Great Bull leapt into focus. It was not an astral image but a real physical manifestation. Dionysus! The son of Zeus! But what was He doing?

And how had He become so powerful? Marduk always remembered Him as a minor god, favoring intoxicating wines and ecstatic celebrations. He had gone into the Otherworld when Zeus had pulled up stakes and withdrawn from the mortal sphere in preparation for Transcendence. Now He was back? Marduk realized He had been spending too much time lurking in His self-imposed bitter isolation. Straightening, He strode out into the brilliant sunshine and began searching for one of the minor desert spirits inhabiting the area. A wandering goat herder spotting Him, threw himself to the ground terror-stricken, praying to Allah for protection from what was clearly a demon while his charges bleated in fright. Marduk ignored the mortal wretch as He walked.

Ages of cultivation combined with warfare left the surroundings a sorry hardscrabble mess. If He had still been in the fullness of His power, He could have done something to correct that but at the moment His capabilities were still too attenuated. After a brief search, He came across an ancient stone well. Peering down into it He could see the faint glimmer of water.

“Are You still there, little water-spirit?” He bellowed down the shaft. “Marduk would have speech with you!”

“Marduk the forgotten?” came the prompt reply. “Marduk the disregarded? I thought You Transcended long ago. Are you still gnawing on that altar You built for Yourself?”

“Enough!” growled the Storm Lord. “I can tell You’re not doing so well Yourself! I see the water table has dropped again.” He lifted His hand, electricity arcing finger to finger. “I’m not so feeble I couldn’t dry up Your fly-spot realm if You annoy Me too much.”

“Ah, once and future mighty Lord, that will not be necessary.” The water-spirit formed in the pool at the bottom of the cistern, a vaguely female form with snaky legs, Its voice becoming unctuous. “Pardon My rudeness. I quite forgot My manners. It’s been so long since any humans did ceremonies or even tossed in a coin for Me.”

“The monotheist lunatics would more likely fill Your well with stones and offal if they knew You were down there.” Chuckled Marduk. “They would ruin a perfectly good drinking source just to rid themselves of any reminder of their past.”

“Truly.” sighed the water-spirit. “So what brings You here? May I hazard a guess it is the Advent of Dionysus?”

“I want to know why a third-rate Son of Zeus has returned to the ordinary world and is revealing Himself! Does He really think He can take His father’s place?”

“Ah, You need to listen to gossip more. Dionysus made His appearance posing as a mortal over a year ago. His purpose, and He has made no secret of it, is to bring an end to the Age of Iron and inaugurate a new Golden Age.”

Marduk guffawed in derision.

“He’s been drinking too much of that sacramental wine He brews if He believes He can do that!”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss Him if I were You. Our Son of Zeus is a sly one. He waited until the humans’ civilizations have begun quaking as their precious oil diminishes and the ravages they have committed on the land rebound on them to their detriment. The chaos sure to follow will be their undoing. All He needs to do is speed things up a bit. He has already acquired many followers among the humans, all madly devoted to Him. Have you bothered looking outside what’s left of Your domain to see how many humans there are now? They rival any locust swarm ever generated. Our Mother Earth groans under their combined weight! Is it any wonder the Lord Dionysus has grown so strong and will grow stronger yet?”

Marduk scowled as He listened to the water-spirit. He had noticed the extraordinary boom in population and wondered if He might make use of those numbers to rebuild His strength. But when He had tried posing as Jibra’il, an angel the local monotheists revered, His efforts had quickly and unexpectedly been slapped down by none other than Al-lat, the Desert Mother Herself. He had been stunned by the unexpected appearance of this latest aspect of Sekhmet and even more by the power She wielded. Humiliated and injured, He retreated to His ruined temple, nursing His wounds and stewing over yet another setback.

“What do the Others make of His rise?” Asked Marduk, the germ of an idea beginning to sprout in the back of His mind.

“Like You, They dismissed Him at first, though that has recently begun to change.” The water-spirit laughed. “They’ve been sitting around all this time like lazy slugs, waiting for the tidal wave of monotheism to recede. A few of Them have begun acquiring followers again but not many have made the active effort as Dionysus has done to build a power base. Now They must try and catch up! If They don’t hurry, Dionysus will become as powerful as His Father and it will take the Mother of all wars to topple Him.”

“I thank You for this, little water-spirit.”

He flicked His fingers and brought a gold coin into manifestation. He dropped it into the well and watched its inhabitant greedily snatch it up drawn by the energies of the metal. Turning He began walking back to His temple, His mind racing with possibilities. There had to be some way to turn all this to His advantage. The Others would no doubt ally Themselves, or try to, in order to oppose Dionysus. He might try offering Himself as a leader but He would likely find Himself contending with Those Who also craved power. No, He had a better idea.

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To be continued…..

The Character of Gods

So far on the posts for my novel in progress, I have introduced a number of gods from different cultures. There are the Greek gods Dionysus and Athena, the Norse god Odin, the Celtic god Manannan Mac Lir as well as the Trickster Coyote and the Inuit goddess Takanaaluk. Other gods and assorted divine beings also show up here and there throughout the novel.

Given that gods aren’t human there comes the challenge of portraying them in a way that shows they are not human and yet have characteristics we can relate to. The ancient Greeks often ascribed many human motivations to their gods such as jealousy, compassion, desire, anger, sometimes to the point that their divinities came across as mere petty often heartless humans who just happen to be immortal and very powerful. Unfortunately being only human ourselves, we can only relate to beings who share something in common with us. Make them too cosmic and they become abstract and unreal. So in portraying divinities in the story, I had to give them understandable motivations. They are larger than life, embodying aspects of nature, time and human ideals.

Ancient gods were never viewed by their worshipers as pure good or pure evil. That peculiar innovation only popped up with the advent of monotheistic religions. A being that’s pure good or evil would actually be rather boring to read about, not unlike the two-dimensional Sauron from Lord of the Rings who wants to conquer Middle Earth, though it’s never quite clear why he hates its denizens so much. So the divinities who show up in my story are a mix of good and evil in varying measure.

Some divinities are a little tougher to do this with than others. One example already introduced is Santa Muerta, an old Aztec goddess who’s reinvented herself for a new age. She’s the goddess of the dead and has become oddly popular in recent years largely among drug cartels and other elements of the criminal world. Her dark nature appeals to those steeped in violence and bloodshed. While I don’t want to sugarcoat her, I tried not to portray her as pure evil but as an individual with logical motivations that move her to assist Athena and her companions.

Another god being introduced into the narrative is also an Aztec god; Xipe Totec. This guy is really a toughie.

statue Xipe Totec

The above picture is actually one of his priests wearing the skin of a sacrificial victim. Xipe Totec himself is known as Our Lord the Flayed One. But I picture him looking much like this. He was the god of vegetation, agriculture and springtime and some distinctly gruesome rituals were conducted in his honor by the Aztecs. Thankfully that’s all gone by the wayside but the idea in the story is that he’s lost his former status as a major god and wants to make a comeback. So the goal is to portray this being as being understandable if not really very likeable.

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The orange glow of the torches lighting the cavern fluctuated with the air currents. The soft rainfall-like patter of dripping blood falling into the receiving bowls under the altar echoed back and forth. Xipe Totec raised the human heart He had just extracted from its owner’s chest. The organ beat weakly for a few seconds then stopped, releasing its istli which He absorbed before it could dissipate. Reverently He placed the heart on a miniature stone jaguar. Now came the part which in ancient days would have been done by the priests but now He had to do Himself.

Using an obsidian blade, He carefully made incisions and gently scraped, peeling away the flesh from the sacrificial victim, a woodcutter who had ventured near the cavern searching for firewood. Once the flaying was complete, He would place the skin in yellow dye, afterwards wearing it in celebration of the equinox. True, it was well past that time, but luring a potential victim into the cavern had been difficult this year. While a glamour hid the entrance from mortal eyes, the disappearance of people was probably giving the area a bad reputation so humans had begun avoiding it. He would have to move again.

Once the flayed skin had been placed in the dye vat and the heart burnt to ashes, He intoned prayers celebrating the arrival of spring. After finishing He then walked to another part of the cavern where the Helm of Ares sat gleaming on an altar slab. It had been a constant fixture in His existence ever since the Catastrophe which extinguished so many of His brethren. The shocking invasion of the monotheists from Europe with their diseases and weapons surged like a dark tidal wave overwhelming the societies He and the Others had grown so dependent on. The temples ruined, the priesthood destroyed, the sacred Day Count of the holy calendar year, all lost or neglected. Xipe Totec Himself barely managed surviving by doing His own sacrifices. But the Others for the most part perished with one or two fleeing into the Otherworld in a desperate effort to survive. Whether They had succeeded or not, He never knew.

Too weak now even to return to the Otherworld though He could see it flickering out of the corner of His eye, He eked out His feeble existence using the Helm as a lure for bringing victims close enough to cast a glamour over them, capturing them. The Helm had been discovered by the Aztecs before the Catastrophe and hidden away as a sacred object, displayed only at certain times of the year. Some of His priests had moved it to a cavern, in an effort to hide it from the rapacious Spaniards. The priests disappeared, never to return. Xipe Totec found the Helm useful for attracting sacrifices. He had even managed capturing a few of those vile conquistadors. The feeling of satisfaction in claiming their istlis did little in changing His situation. He knew it was a pathetic way to live, unworthy of the divinity He knew Himself to be.

But now a glimmer of hope had appeared. The advent of Dionysus made clear a new order was on the way. Xipe Totec meant to take advantage of that. Occasionally He contacted the sacred quetzal bird in an effort to monitor Dionysus’s progress. It was one of the few birds which would still speak to Him, the other birds, particularly the eagle, snubbing Him as no longer of any importance. The day before He took the woodcutter, the quetzal brought a precious tidbit of information. Dionysus was searching for the fragments of Ares’ Armor. He ran His fingers over the Helm. Parting from It would be difficult but Dionysus would make better use of it than Xipe Totec could. Serving the Olympian would help regenerate His own power. If Dionysus was a generous master, and He had no reason to suspect He wasn’t, He could reestablish His own worship under His aegis.

But how would He manage getting to the Son of Zeus? If He had been stronger, He could have just journeyed through the Otherworld bringing the Helm with Him. He could send a message but needed someone to carry it. Rummaging through His collection of tanned hides, both human and animal, he pulled out a section of deerskin and set it out flat on the stone altar with the Helm. He brought over pots of pigment and brushes. Meticulously he brushed glyphs of His own name and that of Dionysus. Then with delicate strokes He painted an image of the Helm. Writing in Nahuatl, He briefly made His offer, then sat back waiting for the inks to dry. Dionysus would be able to divine the meaning of the script. Now all that remained was finding a messenger.

A male resplendent quetzal came in answer to His summons but shook its head at His request.

“Too far for me.” The bird replied. “Only the eagle could and he has already made many rude remarks about You. I don’t think he will help You.”

“But there must be someone.” Said Xipe Totec mournfully. “I don’t have the power to get the message to Dionysus Myself. Is there no one you can think of?”

“There might be one.” Said the quetzal thoughtfully. “But I haven’t seen him in a while. Do You want me to go look for him and ask?”

“Yes, whoever it is. I’m not too proud at this point. Even if it’s just a wren.”

The quetzal flew off. Xipe Totec sat waiting, pondering what other options might be available. There were still minor spirits here and there. But He doubted any of Them would help. He began regretting His association with the other Aztec gods. At one time He had been a minor vegetation god but quickly joined the Gods of the Thirteen Heavens when They invited Him, rising to great power but in the process forgetting the lesser divinities He had once been allied with. Now in the aftermath of the Catastrophe, He was left a weakling, scarcely worthy of the name god. Dionysus was His only hope of getting any power back.

He blinked as a great shadow momentarily blotted out the sun. The quetzal flew into the clearing. Behind him came a gigantic condor, far larger than any of the ordinary ones still living, nearly the size of a cessna. It was the messenger bird of the Inka gods. Unlike the Aztec, the Inka divinities had Transcended, avoiding the loss of power which came with the collapse of the Native cultures. The condor, not being a god, remained behind, perhaps waiting for a time when Someone would have need of him. Was he willing to carry the message?

“This one time, I will carry a message for You.” grunted the condor. “Others are beginning to call for me as Dionysus grows in power. If One Who is opposed to Him takes me into Their service, I will not help You again.”

“I understand.” replied Xipe Totec. “It will be for this one time only. I thank you for your help.”

The condor accepted the message bundle, holding it firmly in his claws. A mighty stroke of his wings launched him into the sky where he circled once then headed north. Xipe Totec watched him until he was out of sight. Now He would have to wait. The quetzal watched also, then turned to the Aztec god.

“If You are successful and come back into Your power, You will remember me?”

“I shall. You will have a favored position unlike the eagle who I will only sneer at!”

The quetzal laughed and flew off. Xipe Totec sat down. The condor was a very fast flyer. He was confident it wouldn’t take long for an answer.

………………………………………………..

Will Xipe Totec succeed in his quest? Only time will tell……

resplendent quetzal

The Deeds of Gods – Part one

Divinities both great and small populate the pages of the novel I am working on. They are not portrayed as all powerful but they are definitely Beings to be reckoned with. Dionysus drives the action of the story which shows the effects of what He does both on mortals and on other gods. His goal is to usher out the Age of Iron and bring in the new Age of Gold, completing a primeval cycle and starting a new one. His ambition is to be head of the Gods of that new age just as His father Zeus commanded the ages previous to that. As you might imagine, some of the current gods take exception to this but others welcome His actions. Below is some sample text. I’ll post the second half in a few weeks.

The god Dionysus

Dionysus stood on a stony shore of Baffin Bay waiting. It was a bleak isolated spot, unspoiled by human habitation. Grey hills sprinkled with snow loomed around Him. While the air was chilly, the ice that normally filled the bay was gone, sea birds skimming the waters. Low hanging dark clouds spitting sleet and fat raindrops came and went. A pale gray arctic fox paused and stared at Him, then seemed to shrug its furry shoulders and went along its business. The carcass of a polar bear lay yards away from Him, a flock of skuas, ravens and other scavengers feeding on it. A few seals popped up in the waters and dove back under, their faces momentarily having a human look. But the face He was watching for was neither a seal’s nor human.

He saw Her finally, surfacing and swimming in His direction. She slowly heaved Her massive body up onto the stony beach, a sack clutched in Her teeth. Black wet braids trailed along the ground. Her face had sacred markings tattooed on her dark skin . Short stubby fingers on Her front flippers gripped at the stones as She pulled Herself close to Dionysus and dropped the sack before Him.

“I only found the greaves.” Spoke Takannaaluk in a thick echoing voice. “I had the fish search for other parts but if there are other surviving pieces of Your Brother’s armor, they have not fallen into My domain.”

“This is actually more than I hoped for. Ares journeyed through all the mortal realms, avoiding our Father who insisted it was time to fully transition to the Otherworld. I’m not sure why He broke the Armor up and scattered it, unless it was to spite Zeus.”

“You best hope He didn’t drop any in Pele’s domain. She would have made short work of them in Her fire-pits.”

“If She finds them, She certainly will. But breaking the Armor up as He did makes it impossible to detect the pieces unless you are right on top of them.”

“True enough.” replied Takannaaluk. “I only chanced on the greaves after I had sunk a fishing trawler for violating sacred waters. Their nets had accidentally snagged them from the sea bed.”

“I thank you for contacting me.” said Dionysus, removing the greaves from the coarse woven sack. They gleamed a brilliant gold but the metal was Otherworldly in Its hardness. Hephaestus never did second rate work if He could help it. “What reward do you wish for your assistance?”

“Only that you put an end to the vile creations of humans that devastate My ocean. Their disgusting plastics, the nets which will not break down catching the innocent in their mindless grip. The huge boats with their stinking oils, poisonous radiation and endless streams of waste of every sort. I will be many centuries cleaning up after them.” Her voice grew mournful. “The many animals whose like will not be seen again; the Sea Cows, the Great Auks, the mighty whales who dwindle every year. Fah! If all the humans died, I would gladly celebrate their extinction. But you’ll want worshipers, I suppose.”

“Most gods do. But the number of humans will be greatly reduced. And I will teach them to honor our Mother Earth. You’ll be glad to hear I’ve already decontaminated many radioactive sites including a few underwater. It will take some time to eliminate them all but Gaia will be cleaner for it.”

“That sounds like a good start. Manannan mac Lir showed up recently at the borders of my domain warning me of the hazards of aiding you. I thought He had His nerve, telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. He’s not the god His father was, but Lir moved into the Otherworld long ago. Now there was a sea god! His son can’t hold a candle to Him. I threatened to eat Him if He kept bothering me. So He left.” Takannaaluk smiled grimly, Her razor sharp teeth gleaming. “If He thinks the humans are so wonderful, let Him be the one to clean up their messes.”

“There are many Who cling to the old order of things, my Sister among them. But times have changed. It’s clear the Age of Iron has reached its end point. If the Golden Age is to have a clean start, it’s necessary to wipe out the artifacts of the Iron Age. But I expect a good deal of resistance to that and not just from the Lesser Ones. Humans will fight tooth and nail to keep things the way they are, even if it does reduce Mother Earth to a waste land. They will certainly pray to their gods for assistance.”

“I wish them good luck with that!” snorted Takannaaluk. “Many of Them have either gone to the Otherworld or stopped listening to Their followers because the humans think they themselves own the world and can do whatever they want. If they pray at all, it’s only when it’s an emergency and they want something. They’ve forgotten that it’s a partnership, that they must give if they wish to receive. Teach them that if you teach them anything.”

“I will.” replied Dionysus, placing the greaves back in the pouch and slinging it over His shoulder. “Keep your ears open and let me know if you hear rumors of where the other Armor parts may be.”

“I shall.” said Takannaaluk. She heaved Her bulk around and crawled back into the ocean. Dionysus Himself vanished in a spray of golden light.

A raven, swallowing gobbets of meat from the dead polar bear, watched with a beady eye until He was sure the two gods had disappeared. Then leaving the carcass to the other scavengers, He flew into the air and headed towards Ireland with a speed far greater than any ordinary bird could achieve.

On the northwest coast of Ireland, Manannan sat on the grassy hillside above the Arranmore Lighthouse, whittling a large chunk of driftwood, the sound of crashing surf off in the distance. His reddish brown beard and mustache were neat in appearance. His dark hair, held in place with a headband, flowed over his shoulders. He wore a homespun shirt delicately embroidered with interlaced birds, their legs and wings woven in a complex design, His dark rugged breeches also homespun. The sea breeze teased a few stray locks of His beard. Hearing the sea gulls squawk in alarm, He glanced up. He watched as a raven dove out of the heavens at break neck speed. Just as it seemed the bird would shatter itself on the hardscrabble shore, it came up short, changed into a coyote and approached Manannan.

“Hail Brother.” It cried. “Greetings, He-Who-Wears-The-Drab-Coat.”

“Well, now.” laughed Manannan. “It’s been a while since anyone has called me that! So, Brother Coyote. What news do you bring?”

“Nothing good, I fear.” As He spoke, Coyote took on the form of a human with dusky skin, His face generously coated with bear grease some of which He wiped away and sucked off His finger. He wore buckskin richly decorated with beads and embroidery. “Takannaaluk found the greaves of Ares’ Armor and has given them to Dionysus.”

“I was afraid of that.” Glowered Manannan. “I suppose it was too much to hope She would heed my warning.”

“Is it true She threatened to eat you?”

“She did hint I was a tasty looking morsel.” Laughed Manannan. “She’s like the other giants; the Jotnar, Gigantes, Nephelim – all with vast appetites and all very old. She remembers how it was before humans. If She thinks Dionysus will bring any of that back with His new Golden Age, then yes, she’s going to help Him no matter what I tell Her.”

He set down the little wooden carving He had been working on, a child’s toy rocking horse. Coyote eyed it with interest.

“Nice. Is a blessed event in the offing for You and Your Wife?”

“Not that She’s told me. This is for some humans who live down the way and still put out offerings for the Good Folk. They’ve been childless a long time but the husband has been pestering my Wife and Me with prayers so I did an unbinding charm to open up his wife’s womb. She’ll be giving him the good news tonight, I think. I’ll leave this on their doorstep. They’ve done enough good work for the land, they deserve a reward for it.”

“I’ll head down south and visit my cousin Spider. See if He’s heard any interesting rumors.”

“I’ll go tell Athena about this latest news. She won’t be happy.”

“Is She ever happy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Her crack a smile.”

“Of course She smiles and laughs.” Manannan leaned forward and lowered His voice. “Of course it helps if a certain Someone would refrain from taking rabbit form and leaving droppings in that kibble stuff She gives Her owl.”

“Why does everybody look at Me when stuff like that happens?” Coyote exclaimed, His tone injured. “Let’s face it, when She has a lot of tricksters around, She has to expect that sort of thing. Not that I would do anything like that!”

“Of course not, an honorable fellow like you?” replied Manannan facetiously. “Just remember She knows how to get Her own back.”

“Oh? …. Oh!” Coyote’s eyes widened. “Well, that might explain the porcupine quills in my sleeping mat last night! Man, I was hours picking those things out. Ha! That was a good one! Didn’t know the old girl had it in Her. Well, I’m off!” He shifted back to raven form. “I’ll get a message to you if I hear anything.”

Launching Himself into the air, Coyote streaked towards the south. Once He was gone, Manannan shifted Himself to the Otherworld and entered the quiet park where Athena was busy working over Her loom.

Trickster Coyote

To be continued ….