Hera: Chapter Two: Memories of a Merrier Time

So, I don't know about you but I'm tired of not having this story completed, especially since this is one of the stories that I have finished! I'm not going to make any promises, but I want this who story to be up, even if it kills me. Hopefully I haven't lost my readership. I really enjoy your comments guys, so please don't abandon me! =>

Chapter Two:
Memories of a Merrier Time

“Isn’t it a lovely day today? If I were a mortal I would believe I had done something wonderful to merit such a beautiful day. Perhaps I danced well at the brook last night or enchanted someone with my singing. Soon the god I pleased might materialize before me, disguised of course, and snatch my up, spiriting me away from family and farm to some remote cloud where he shall shower gifts upon me,” a starry eyed nymph chattered happily.

“Are you so sure that would be a good thing, Echo? With my luck I would be kidnapped by one of the more undesirable gods,” Hera replied, her tone lighthearted but her eyes full of irony.

“For a mortal it would be convenient. Gifts are better than work and if your lover is not fair to look on than close your eyes! Coarse hair and ruddy skin can fade into golden locks and tanned muscles as long as ones mind’s eye is open.”

Hera smiled, the first real smile in several days. “You will never find yourself a consort if that’s your standard.”

“That’s just the beginning. My consort will have: icy blue eyes, long lashes, a strong jaw, wheat colored hair, a slightly crooked nose, not really crooked mind you but just enough to . . .”

Soon Hera began to stare down at the earth below, Echo’s list of perfect attributes politely ignored. Echo was a sweet nymph, bubbly and lively as a forest spring, but her incessant chatter could be exhausting.

Echo once lived on earth near a stream where she somehow quietly watched hunter’s come and go. Hera met Echo not long after the wedding and found herself enthralled by the nymph’s constantly enthusiastic attitude. Echo’s chatter kept Hera’s depression at bay though sometimes Hera needed to be alone.

“ . . . Polite, kind, witty, brave, heroic-” Echo was still rattling off her ideal man.

“Thank you for staying with me,” Hera interrupted as nicely as possible, “but I’m feeling a little fatigued. They should be serving mid-day meal soon. Please tell them I’ll be joining them in a while.”

“Of course, I’ll see you soon! Rest well,” Echo skipped out of the room, gaily singing as she continued down the hall.
Hera relished the silence.

Hera gazed down at the Earth below, trying to resist the temptation to spy on her beloved, Takis. She had been faithful to Zeus the past several weeks although she couldn’t say the same for her husband.

One little glance won’t hurt. She rationalized to herself and peered down at the mountainous countryside.

Even though only two and a half weeks had passed for the Gods it was now late summer, early fall for the mortals below. Harvest sacrifices lay on stone alters near the fields, still smoldering as the workers sweated under the golden sun.

Takis was working in the olive groves when Hera spied him at last. She was sure he was the hardest worker out of the lot, and the best looking. Oh to run her fingers through his dark hair and . . . she stopped herself mid-thought. It wouldn’t do to think like that, now that she was married. At least no one could say she wasn’t faithful.

It wasn’t that Takis was just good-looking, though. If Hera were going by looks she wouldn’t have any qualms about womanizing Zeus.

Evidence of Takis’s hard work lay below. As the owner of the orchard, he was well off enough to just hire villagers to do the work for him. Instead he worked along side them, doing as much if not more than the hired help. The house he lived in was made by his own two hands, the elegant woodwork all his own.

He was also kind. Hera knew this from personal experience. As it was custom among the gods, Hera would sometimes transform herself into a beggar by use of disguises. Roaming among the mortals, she would test them, deciding how dedicated they were to the gods. Some mortals had to be punished for their impudent ways if they mocked or mistreated her while others were blessed for their kindness and goodwill.

Hera had been disguised as a crippled woman, her legs lame and her back stooped with age. Stationed near Takis’s property on a dusty, blistering road, she watched, waiting to see what would happen.

Within minutes she was helped inside the cool house and offered food and wine. Takis even sat and ate with her, something no one else had done yet. The mortals had been taught to feed and clothe those who were in need but not many, if any, treated the unfortunate like equals. Granted, Hera really was above Takis but he didn’t know that. Chatting quietly, it didn’t take much to impress Hera. With an extensive knowledge of the surrounding areas and a respect for every creation of the gods, Takis was an admirable conversationalist. Hera found herself captive, her heart stolen by a mortal.

After a bath and a long night’s rest, Hera vanished and that was the last time Takis ever saw the crippled woman.
Whether he noticed it or not, Hera did bless him for his hospitality. His crops were excluded from any pestilences and his stock was kept healthy and strong. And she was sure that he was unaware of her infatuation. That was the real irony. The man she loved worshiped her but had no idea that she worshiped him more.

“Hera?” Echo knocked on the golden plank door and opened it, peeking around cautiously.
“Come in,” Hera replied, dazed.

“Are you alright?” Echo approached Hera slowly, afraid for disturbing what ever vision Hera was having.
“I was just daydreaming,” looking up, Hera smiled sadly. “Do you need something?”

Within seconds Echo brightened, returning to her cheery, babbling self. “You will never believe what just happened! One of the muses . . .”

Hera nodded appreciably and made the necessary obligatory noises at the right moments. Her thoughts still lay below on Earth. Oh that she had never been born! A tear of self-pity slid down her cheek, sparkling like a twinkling star.

“What’s the matter?” Echo exclaimed. “I know that the satyr is going to be in pain for a season or two but it isn’t worth one of your precious tears.”

“I’m sorry,” Hera built a lie around the excuse Echo had just given her. “You just tell the story so well I feel the poor wraith’s anguish. Maybe the muses have lost their touch and now you have become the patron of story-telling.”

The sun wasn’t as bright as the beams that radiated from Echo’s being. “Thank you Queen Hera. Praise from you is praise above any other.”

Hera’s lips parted into a real smile, not the feigned one she had practiced for so many weeks, and it was nearly natural. “You’re welcome, Echo. And thank you.”