Читать книгу Electra - Kerry Greenwood - Страница 12

The Gods were quarrelling, as the Gods often do. Olympus, the abode of Immortals, was crowned with the marble cirque where the Wells of Seeing lay, deep waters wherein the Makers could view the earth.

Aphrodite the Stranger, Goddess of Erotic Love, and Apollo Sun-Bright, God of Learning, son of Zeus, had not resolved their wager.

Cassandra, daughter of Priam, and Diomenes the Argive, the Healer-Priest of Asclepius, had been their puppets, acting out the play of the Gods through war and the fall of Troy. The city lay in ruin, and enslaved Cassandra was being brought to Mycenae by Agamemnon, the victorious king. Diomenes followed in the wake of the army.

Aphrodite had wagered the golden apple on her own power, that of love. Apollo had set against this, fate and death. The outcome was still in the balance.

The golden apple spun in the air, the gage of Aphrodite's wager with Apollo Sun-God. As he reached out a hand to catch it, a great bell sounded, shivering the drowsy eternal afternoon.

'Children,' announced Zeus the Father with solemn majesty. 'Leave your squabbling over the daughter of Priam, much-tried Cassandra. Troy is dust.

My son Apollo, your favourite, Diomenes Chryse the Asclepius Priest, shall love or not love as he wishes.

Your favourite, Lady Demeter, Cassandra, captive of Agamemnon, shall live or die as fate wills. Cut the strings of these minor puppets, children, make peace with each other. There is a greater matter to be considered. Your intervention has woven their threads into a tapestry in which all the Gods are interested.'

'Lord?' asked Athena of the glittering helmet. 'What matters?'

'The House of Atreus,' the great voice intoned.

The golden apple fell to the marble floor unheeded.