Samantha stops me as I leave the house. It's early evening but the sun is
still peeking over the horizon, giving the Tennessee hills and Tennesee
trees a reddish hue.
"Can I come up there with you?" she asks me. "I'd like to watch, see what
goes on."
"There's nothing to see; it's all going on up here." I tap my temple,
hoping she'll take the hint and not follow me.
"Still..."
"Please, no. It's a very private experience."
She looks crestfallen for a split second before the next question can
spring to her lips. "How did you change who you were before you found
this hill in America? They didn't know about America for thousands of
years."
"The American Indians knew just fine about it."
"You know what I mean. What did you do back then?"
"The actual hill itself isn't all that important. I have several places I
can go to all around the world," I explain. "The important part is being
safe, sheltered and away from prying eyes." I look at her meaningfully as
I say the last bit, finishing with, "I'm very vulnerable when I change."
"Okay, okay, I get it. I won't follow you or anything."
"Thanks."
"Think of some good stories to tell me tomorrow."
"Good ones? All right."
Much later, I come down off the hill dazed and feeble-minded again. The
friendly girl finds me knocking on the door of the wrong house and leads
me away to newer house with a decent bedroom I can sleep in.
I wake in the morning to an insistant shaking of my foot. "Get up,
sleepyhead. It's time for breakfast and stories."
"Can't you let a man sleep in for an hour or so?" I whine plaintively, my
eyes shut against the sun's harsh, early light.
"Eat," she says, ignoring my protests. "Tell me stories. Good ones."
"Good ones," I echo. She puts the breakfast tray in my lap and I eat,
considering as I do so what stories I should tell her. I had lived a
normal man's life consistently down through the ages, and only
occasionally had I ever come in contact with somebody famous, or been
present at an important historical event. There were a few exceptions
though; chance played just as much a part in my life as any other man's.
"Tell me about Adam and Eve," she prompts.
I wince. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same."
"Please?"
"How about something else?"
"Were you one of those strange people that Adam and Eve married their kids
off to? The ones only mentioned once or twice, but never by name?"
"If I answer that, will you let me change the subject?"
Her eyes light up. She thinks she's got it. "Sure!" she exclaims.
"No, I wasn't one of those mysterious people Adam and Eve married their
kids off to. Sorry."
"Oh." Her brows furrow in thought as she mentally crosses off another
possibility from her list.
"I was a hero in Greek mythology though. Want to hear that story?"
"Tell me!"
I close my eyes.
"Greece, a beautiful green land. I came to the city of Calydon as a
traveller and explorer. Like many of the traditional greek heroes, I was
a great liar and braggart. I told wild tales of the lands far beyond the
meagre maps of the Mediterranean that the Greek cartographers made. I had
travelled to China the year before much like Marco Polo would do centuries
later, and stories of dragons and magic told in the pubs kept myself
popular and in beer.
"Eventually the King of Calydon, Oeneus, caught wind of the tales I was
telling and ordered me brought before the court. His wife Althaea was a
lovely yet shrewish woman with a voice that seemed to shriek even when she
whispered. King Oeneus ordered me to tell my tales to amuse him and I did
so, breathing such life into my stories that Oeneus' eyes sparkled as he
imagined the lands on the other edge of the world.
"He kept me in the Palace, calling on me occasionally to entertain him,
his guests, and visiting dignitaries from the other city-states of Greece.
He and I eventually became good friends, and the good king took me into
his confidence about many things. I even told him about my secret: that I
was immortal and couldn't die from wounds, disease or old age. He thought
me a child of the gods but I never disabused him of the notion.
"As the years passed it became clear that Althaea was barren in her womb;
no heir was forthcoming from their marriage. She refused to allow the king
to sire children by another woman and the king accepted her endless
selfishness and henpecking with great sorrow. His bloodline would not be
continued, the succession to the throne was in jeopardy.
"Eventually he struck on an odd idea. During one of the great feasts we
held on the summer solstice he proclaimed me his long-lost son, blood of
his blood, found at last. I was just as surprised as everyone else at the
feast, especially when the King winked at me. Oeneus didn't have a
long-lost son but with this lie he would assure an orderly procession to
the throne when he died or stepped down, not to mention giving a trusted
friend his throne."
"What was your name."
I stop, confused over who I actually was for a moment. "What?"
"Your name. If you were a greek hero I should recognize your name from
history class."
"I was called Meleager back then."
"Never heard of you."
"Yes, well, please don't interrupt me -- I lose my place easily."
"Sorry."
I close my eyes again and try to pick up where I had left off.
"Three witches claiming to be the Fates came to the palace not soon after
my adoption by the King. This was not an uncommon occurance; witches
could call themselves anything they wished, and would often be given
shelter and provisions for a night in exchange for a prophecy. Oeneus had
them prophesy for me, and they gave the usual claptrap about how I would
lead a noble and brave life, be a good king, and so on. The oldest,
claiming to be Atropos herself, added an odd bit at the end:
"'This one shall die when the last log in the fireplace there burns
completely,' she told the king. I had seen and learned too much over the
centuries to believe such feeble superstitions but Oeneus nearly set
himself on fire in his haste to remove a branch from the fire. I found
out later he didn't believe in the prophecy either but simply pretended so
no one would think he wished his 'long-lost son' harm. The branch was
sent down to the treasury to be guarded day and night along with the
king's gold and finery.
"I saw Althaea narrow her eyes at me and flick her eyes to the branch
before the guards left with it. She held me in ill-favor, thinking I had
conned her husband into naming me successor. I paid her no mind.
"Contrary to popular belief in mythology texts, I was not an Argonaut. The
Argonauts tried to talk me into joining their ranks several times but I
would have no part with that crowd of drunken, lying scoundrels. I had an
image to maintain as the Prince of Calydon.
"At the King's urging, I married a beautiful woman named Cleopatra and
with her had a daughter I loved immensely, whom I named Polydora. This
was one of the happiest marriages I've ever had through the ages, filled
with love and the least strife-filled I could wish for.
"About ten years later my marriage bliss came to a sudden end when a local
forest burned down, sending the wildlife scurrying this way and that into
the fields, including the rather large boar population. The king set down
a reward for each boar slain and commanded me, the prince of Calydon, to
organize a hunting party.
"Many of the drunkard Argonauts signed on to accompany us in hopes of
getting some gold to buy whores and alcohol with. Some of Althaea's
brothers came along too, much to my dismay. When I saw the three men
conspiring among themselves I knew they planned my death during the hunt;
in their minds I had stolen the the succession to the throne from them and
their children and they meant to take it back.
"A great beefy huntress also volunteered to join us, a rather famous
warrior-woman named Atalanta. I allowed her to come in spite of my
adopted Uncles' protests. In fact, I allowed her to come because of their
protests, just to irk them.
"The boar hunt went badly. Argonauts were gored right and left, often
killing each other in their haste to get to the boar. Our hunting party
dwindled day by day but the boar hides we carried as prizes became quite
an impressive stack.
"The final boar we hunted was a great mother boar protecting her children.
One of my uncles fell in that fight, not to mention a few more Argonauts.
Atalanta scored first on the beast with her bow. During the battles, she
would simply climb a tree and pepper friend and foe alike with arrows.
One of the braver Argonauts, Amphiaraus, leapt at it next. He cut an
impressive figure as he ran away from the enraged boar's razor-like
tusks.
"Not having to fear death, I closed with the boar and let it gore my arm
badly as I repeatedly stabbed it in the heart. It died at last and I
quickly bandaged up my arm with my shirt so that the other hunters
wouldn't see the terrible wound or how it would heal without even a scar
within minutes.
"Atalanta claimed the boar's skin for herself by right of first blood. My
two remaining uncles insisted the skin was mine by right of kill. I didn't
require a cash prize, being a Prince after all, and relinquished my claim
to Atalanta. My uncles grew angry and began to argue with me as one of
the servants skinned the boar. When the servant had finished the job, one
of my uncles snatched the skin away and thrusted it at me for me to take.
"The knife he held hidden behind the skin slid cleanly into my gut.
Feeling rather angry and foolish myself, I killed him with a single slash
of my sword. My last uncle fled but Atalanta fired on him at my request,
felling him easily. I disemboweled him for the hateful man he was and
left him there to die in the woods slowly.
"I stalked off into the forest after that, leaving the hunting party and
Calydon behind. I had had enough of politics and royalty for a while. I
planned on returning after a week or two of calming down, but when I
didn't return with the hunting party, tales were spread that Althaea had
burned the log from the fireplace and killed me in revenge of her
brothers' deaths. I kept away from the city as I thought out my next move
-- everyone, including my wife and daughter, thought I was dead.
"I heard a while later in a small road-side tavern that Oeneus had finally
found the strength to stand up to that terrible wife of his and had killed
her with his bare hands. I visited with him the next day by sneaking into
the palace disguised as a soldier. When I found him alone in a sitting
room I removed my disguise, receiving his warmest greetings as I did so.
He sent for my family as we spoke. After talking with him a while I found
out that he had destroyed the 'magic' log himself to point blame at his
wife. He had a pretty new wife now who was already pregnant and didn't
need me to take the throne anymore, which I was immensely glad of
personally.
"I left Calydon with my wife and daughter and lived peacefully with them
for several decades before a plague killed them both, along with my
son-in-law and my grandchildren. I didn't return to Calydon myself until
long after everyone who had ever met me as Meleager was long, long dead
and I had Changed. And that's the end of my story."
She stares at me. "Those Greeks really were kind of loopy, weren't they?
All that killing and plotting and stuff."
"I'll have to agree with you there," I say with a slight smirk. "The
Greeks were definitely among the more excessive of all the cultures I've
known."
"Tell me another story?"
"Take a walk with me, I'll tell you one as we go."
"Okay. How much longer will you be staying with us anyway?"
I felt at the blankness of memories in my head. "A day or two, no more."
"Guess I'll have to get all my stories and questions in as quick as I
can."
"I guess so," I reply noncommittally.
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